#Dark and eerie tote bags

[creativity-island]

🎃 Halloween Tote Bags 🎃

Introducing our Halloween Friends Trick or Treat Tote Bag, the ideal accessory for your spooky adventures during the Halloween season! Crafted with 100% polyester, this medium-weight fabric (6.49 oz/yd² or 200 g/m²) tote bag is not only highly durable bu

[sleekervae]

The Neighbour [3.8]

Masterlist

A/N: I laugh when I think about how I wanted to have this chapter up my Halloween. Whoopsie lol. Anyway, who's been listening to Fever Dream on repeat? Because my go-to-jam is Off with the Head and Toxic in You -- highly relatable 😂

Little shoutout to @imabee-oralizard for inspiring me to finish this latest smut-venture with King of the Damned. I could write a better in-depth version but this pretty much enlists all the qualities I love about that song.

Little disclaimer: There are drugs mentioned within this chapter. I'm not implying that any of the members of Palaye do these specific drugs, it's purely there for plot purposes. But we're also adults and some drug use is referenced in some of their songs so... don't @ me pls.

Warnings: smut ahead, mentions of drug use, alcohol consumption

---

They sat curled up together in the back of an Uber, the hills quiet and glimmering with the eerie haze of orange decorations. This time tomorrow, the neighbourhood would probably be crawling with kids zipping up and down in their costumes, toting giant bags for candy and never being satisfied when parents would assure that enough was enough.

Eva always liked Halloween, though she hadn't embraced it as much these past couple of years. She was excited when Remington suggested matching costumes for the season, never having the opportunity before with past exes. And the gleam in his eye when he pulled out his Halloween decorations was all too endearing to her.

His hand stayed firm on her thigh, just creeping over the hill of her knee. He looked too good in his suit, hair messy and dark makeup smudged beneath his eyes. He reminded her of that meme; "looks like they could kill you but are actually a cinnamon roll" type of joke. He didn't help her case by conveniently going without a shirt under that suit jacket.

"Emerson's gonna' be late," Remington huffed, glancing at his phone.

"You guys live in the same house," Eva pointed out with jaunt.

"And I'm not his keeper," he replied, "One day, he'll just be Shy's problem,"

"Somehow, I doubt she's complaining," she chuckled, "So, besides Caity, will I know anybody at this thing?"

"Of course. Andy's there, Hannah, Ash, and if you meet anybody you don't know, you just tell them you're my girl," his eyes crinkled over his mask.

Eva simpered, "... Or your wife," she joked.

His brow popped and he shifted closer, "Maybe one day you'll be doing just that," he murmured.

"What? Being your wife?" she chuckled, "I'm only twenty-four, Rem,"

"I always forget you're a little younger," he replied.

"Because I don't act like it?"

"Because you're too smart for me,"

Eva slapped his arm, "Oh cut it out, honey,"

A bemused giggle rumbled from his chest as he leaned over, nuzzling her nose through their masks. It was all they could do within the Uber, despite the driver's dismissive glances in the rearview.

"You look amazing in that dress, babe," he whispered, his eyes shooting up and down the expanse of her little black dress.

Eva blushed, squirming in her seat when his hand moved further up her thigh, "You're not so bad, yourself,"

"You know it's not too late," he surmised, "We could ask this guy to turn around, go home, pick out a movie and not watch it,"

She rolled her eyes, "Wasn't that my idea?" she queried, "In fact, weren't you the one who assured me we weren't going to be staying long? And besides, what about our driver?"

"I'll leave him a good tip," he whispered.

"That's very kind of you," the driver suddenly said, and Remington and Eva jumped apart, "But we're here,"

And sure enough, they had pulled up in front of Caity's house. Remington hopped out first, running around to the other side and opening the door for Eva before she could reach the handle. They wished the driver goodnight and made their way inside

It was only nine o'clock and already Caity's house was in full swing of an adult frat party. Billboard hits played in the background to incessant and random chatter, all of it getting lost amid the clinking of empty bottles and raucous laughter from strangers. Eva held tightly to Remington's hand, walking just a foot behind as he tried to look around for Caity. Despite her fears, Eva was put at a little ease seeing there weren't as many people here as she thought.

"Heyy!" Caity suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She threw her arms around Remington first, then Eva, "You guys came!"

"Of course we did," Remington grinned, bumping Eva gently with his elbow. Eva nudged him back.

"Caity, you look beautiful," she commented, and she couldn't lie. Caity was dazzling in her silken black pantsuit and silver heels, her long skeleton acrylic nails clinging to a blue solo cup.

"What about you? You look like the modern-day Vampira! Where did you get that dress?" she beamed back.

"-- Shy," Eva shrugged sheepishly.

"God, she always knows the best places to shop," Caity looped her arm with Eva's, "Remi, I'm stealing your girlfriend! Hayden just bought this delicious apricot whiskey -- you have to try it!"

Eva took one more fleeting glance at her boyfriend, giddily agreeing as she was pulled into the kitchen.

"Caity, play nice with her!" Remington warned.

"Always," The slender blonde winked at Eva before pulling her along.

Caity's kitchen was beautiful as always, and on the counter sat a variety of different liquors, sodas, and juices to mix up whatever the guests wanted. A group of girls were crowded around the bottles, chatting like starlings on a spring morning.

Caity shouted for their attention, "Ladies! Shut up and pay attention!" she hollered, "This is Eva, she's Remi's girlfriend,"

Eva waved politely, "Hi,"

One of the girls, a darker blonde, scoffed dismissively, "Another one?"

"No idiot, this is the same girl from May... right?" a short-haired brunette asked.

"Yes," Caity assured with a huff, "And get off Remi's back, Thea,"

The blonde shrugged listlessly and continued to sip on her drink. Another brunette came running over to Eva, "Don't mind Thea, she's a monogamy-is-a-prison-type of person. I'm Amy! Let's get you a drink!"

Remington meanwhile took a seat beside his pal Andy, watching as he and a few other guys were immersed in a poker game.

"Who's winning, boys?" he asked.

"Ash thinks he is," Andy said.

"Andy's cheating," Ash counterpointed.

"These guys can't keep a good poker face to save their lives," Hayden deduced

Remington simpered, "Deal me in next round. I'll show you a real poker face,"

"You're on, Leith," Ash challenged.

Just out of the corner of his eye, two boys got up from their spot on the wall. They had been chatting between each other when they saw Remington come in, and they couldn't resist striking up a conversation.

"Hey Remington! Long time no see!" Carson, a skinny hipster type with long hair, greeted him first. Andy refrained from rolling his eyes beside Remington, trying to focus on his cards.

"Hey! What's good, boys?" he fist bumped them both.

"Where you been, man? We missed you at the last few get togethers," Sam, a shorter and somewhat stout counterpart to Carson, pointed out.

"He's been busy," Hayden told them.

"Oh, you back in the studio?" Carson asked.

"Sort of, yeah," he nodded.

"He's also been spending his time with somebody who's got long, pretty eyelashes," Ash scooted closer to the singer, mockingly batting his own eyes at Remington. Remington laughed him off.

"Shut up! You got a girl, hot shot?" Sam asked.

"I do," he confirmed.

"Lemme' guess --"

"No, she's not a groupie," Remington stopped Carson short.

"She's not?"

"No! Rem pulled himself a college educated sweetheart," Andy beamed, nudging his friend in the ribs.

Remington rolled his eyes, "C'mon, I didn't exactly 'pull her',"

"That's not what Sebastian said," Ash grinned.

"He's being modest," Hayden added.

"Well, congrats man. Love to meet her, sometime," Carson said.

"She's in the kitchen! I'll introduce you later,"

"Great," Sam then adjusted the lapel of his suit jacket, sitting over his suit and tie t-shirt, "Hey by the way, if you guys are interested we got a new stash in this week," he lowered his voice as he spoke.

"Some of the cleanest blow we could get our hands on," Carson added, "But just because we like you guys, we'll cut you a deal,"

Hayden was the first to shake his head, "Not tonight, man. I'm not feeling it,"

"Neither am I," Ash agreed, "I'd rather drink my poison tonight," he raised his beer can to make his point.

Carson pouted, "Aw, come on. Andy?"

"Count me out," Andy huffed, "Last time I took that shit my head was pounding for twenty-four hours straight,"

"Ah, it's their loss," Sam sighed, "Come on, Remington. You never let us down,"

"Yeah! How about a couple lines?" Carson suggested.

Much to their chagrin, Remington too denied their offer, "Sorry boys, I'm with them,"

"You serious?" Carson huffed, "Lemme' guess, the girl told you she didn't like coke and you're pussying down to get her --"

"Bite your tongue, Carson!" Andy warned.

Remington's grin turned into an unimpressed scowl. Sure, he had done some coke before, he had done a couple of different drugs before. He and his brothers liked to experiment. And he was honest when it came to Eva, he never wanted to hide anything from her -- especially when it came to some of the more explicit poisons. She didn't like the idea of cocaine, and Remington didn't blame her -- he was already hyper enough without a line, so he decided that he would avoid it when he could; especially when he had Eva with him.

"He's got a point, Remi! You used to be one of our best customers!" Sam said, "Is that why we haven't seen much of you?"

"Does the girl even know you did coke?" Carson asked.

"Yeah, of course I told her! And I'm sorry, guys," he shrugged, "I'm just not interested tonight. Someone else here probably would be,"

"That is if Caity doesn't catch you trying to deal," Hayden reminded them.

Sam scoffed, "She hasn't caught us, yet,"

"And the night is still young," Remington pointed out.

"You guys want in on the next round?" Ash asked them.

Carson shook his head, "Nah. Would love to stay but we have a quotta to meet,"

"Good luck, fellas," Sam waved them off as they sauntered off to schmooze their next potential client. Hayden simply rolled his eyes.

"I don't know why Caity has to keep inviting them," he muttered.

"They went to high school together," Andy said.

"You still hang around with your high school drug dealers?" Hayden asked.

"Mine is shipping Bring It On CDs out of his mom's basement," Ash said.

Andy nudged Remington again, "Dude, you told Eva you did coke?" he was smack astonished at the notion.

"Well, it's not like I was doing it every week," he said, "I told her, though, I did it now and again. I don't want to lie to her about that stuff,"

Ash glared at Remington, almost studying him. He then picked up a lower valued poker chip and tossed it at his head. It bounced off of his cheek.

"Hey! What was that for?" he asked.

"Clean shaven, honest, denying drugs... who are you and what did you do to Remington Leith?" Ash asked.

"He's the healthier version," Hayden pointed out.

"The version who's in love," Andy awed.

Remington rolled his eyes, shoving at Andy to shut up when Ash suddenly threw down his cards.

"Full house, fellas! Read 'em and weep!" he announced with pride, showing off like the acclaimed Poker Masters on TV. Andy relented and threw his cards down, sulking in defeat, "Declare me the Poker King!"

"Nice play, man," he huffed.

"Not so fast, Poker King," Hayden then put down his cards, much to Ash's chagrin, "Four of a kind,"

Remington leaned over next to Ash, smirking coyly, "Read 'em and weep,"

"Fuck," and Ash pushed his money over to Hayden.

Eva pursed her lips as the whiskey simmered down her throat, coughing up a little hint of the apricot essence. She wasn't much of a whiskey drinker, but she could get used to this sweeter stuff.

"So, how's your mom doing?" Caity asked, keeping quiet enough so the other girls were out of shot.

Eva shrugged listlessly, "Alright, I guess. I haven't spoken to her yet,"

Caity cocked a brow, "Then how have you --"

"My dad. I think this is the most we've talked since... I don't know. Since I went off to college," she explained.

"And you're leaving this week?"

"Yep,"

"So you're gonna do it?" Caity asked, pointing at her torso, "You're gonna go and... snippety snip?"

"I don't know," Eva refrained from laughing, "I have to get some tests done and then we'll see,"

"Is Rem coming with you?"

Eva shook her head, "No, it's not the right time,"

"To meet the family, you mean?" Caity asked, "Is there ever a right time?"

"Probably a better time than having your estranged mother on dialysis," she shrugged back, "And then to have my sister picking at me: 'you wasted your money on your degree! what the hell did you move to California for? How much money are you wasting over there? Go get an actual job, Eva!' And so on and so on,"

Caity smiled empathetically, "You know you won't scare him away, right? If that's what you're afraid of; the guy's been through hell-and-back himself,"

"I know," Eva nodded, "It's not about me scaring him off though, it's just about the people in my family picking and pulling apart our relationship and then maybe scaring him off,"

"But he loves you anyway, regardless of whether or not you come from a crazy family. Hell, show me a family that isn't crazy,"

A loud smash suddenly echoed from the other room, followed by one of Caity's friends hollering a panicked "Sorry!"

Eva snickered, "I see your point,"

"My actual point," Caity interjected, pouring them both another shot of whiskey, "Is that Remi loves you enough that he wouldn't get scared off by your family; no matter how strict, scary, and dramatic they may be. I mean -- how bad are they, really?"

Eva scoffed, "You know the family from Shameless?"

"Yeah. That bad?" they shot back their whiskey.

Eva held her breath momentarily and swallowed, sputtering out, "Just as toxic but without substance abuse,"

"What if I came with you?" Caity jokingly offered, "Give me a bottle of pinot and a platform stage and I'll Jenny Jones the whole thing,"

Eva paused momentarily, "Um... Caity..."

Caity raised a finger at her, "I'm not promising that it won't end in murder, you see," thus prompting an amused snigger from the writer.

"Don't tempt me,"

Emerson and Shy arrived a bit later, much to Eva's relief as she was becoming lost in a cluster of chattering, sparrow-like girls, trying to keep up between those trying to get to know her and others all-together ignoring and steering conversations elsewhere.

One of the girls, the short-haired brunette with a Tinkerbell face and chunky purple platform heels, had taken a particular interest in Eva. Her name was Gigi, also a Seattle native, and once she found out that she was dating Remington, she had a plethora of questions. She was obviously a little drunk from the way she exaggerated and slurred her vowels, though nonetheless, Eva found her to be quite entertaining.

"There's no way!" the young model gabbed in awe, "There's no way in hell Remington could land a girl like you!"

"Wha -- how come?" Eva queried.

"Because!" she exclaimed, "You're -- like -- super smart and pretty and he's... he's Remington! The boy likes to -- like -- hang upside down and howl at the moon!"

Eva laughed in surprise, "I -- I've never seen him howl at the moon, but -- okay," she replied, "How did you guys meet?"

Gigi smiled casually at her wine glass, "I was -- like -- a model in a music video! Don't Feel Good or something like that; I don't remember. But it was a lot of fun! Oh, the boy was sooo cute! You should've seen him! He was so scrawny and kinda shy but -- oh mama! He got -- like -- a sexy-ass voice!"

Eva brought her glass to her lips, slyly hiding her smirk as she sipped her drink, "He certainly does,"

"Has he asked you to be in a video with him? You should for real do it! It's so fun!" Gigi beamed.

"He has -- I mean, I have!" Eva nodded, bouncing along as Gigi's bubbly attitude began to rub off on her, "I have. I think it'll be out in a couple weeks,"

"Ooooh! What did you do? Do you model, too?"

"No," she chuckled shyly, "I was just an extra. I'm a ghost writer, actually,"

Gigi gasped like a little kid then, "Oh shit! You mean you -- like -- write ghost stories?"

"Uh -- not exactly, I --" however, she was cut short when Thea walked by, casually bumping into Eva to get to Gigi.

"Hey," she tapped her shoulder, hardly acknowledging Eva at all, "I'm going to the bathroom, come with me,"

Gigi pouted, almost appalled at the notion of being dragged away, "What? Why? I'm -- like -- talking to Eva!" she whined, "She writes about ghosts!"

Thea glanced sideways at Eva, nodding dismissively. Eva grinned politely, "Ghost writer,"

"... right," Thea droned, then she took Gigi's hand, "Come to the bathroom with me. Let's go!"

"But Thea --!" Gigi hardly got the chance to protest as Thea dragged her away from Eva. Eva glanced at her shoes, at a loss for words as she looked around the kitchen. Shy came up behind her, tapping her long stiletto nails against her solo cup.

"I never liked Thea," she admitted, "Girl walks one runway in Paris and suddenly she thinks she's Kendall Jenner,"

Eva scoffed, "Is she like that with everybody?" she asked.

"Pretty much," she huffed, "Caity can't stand her,"

"... Then why is she here?"

"Friend of a friend," Shy shrugged, "Besides, someone probably told her Remington would be coming, anyway,"

Eva's eyebrows popped up, "... Why does that matter?"

Shy huffed, "She and Remi hooked up once -- years ago! Like, I don't even think they'd put out their first record yet, she was just a model for a video. Anyway, he told Emerson about it and Emerson told me once because she was being a bitch to me, too,"

"So, what's her problem, then?" Eva asked, "She wants what she can't have so she takes it out on us?"

"I told Caity to stop inviting her to these things but Caity doesn't want the drama," Shy shrugged, "I doubt Remington even knew Thea would be here, he doesn't talk to her anymore,"

Eva wasn't upset over Remington and Thea, it wasn't her business and quite frankly she couldn't care less if they had been close in the past. In the past being the optimal point. Thea wore her disdain for Eva on her sleeve, and if she was going to continue to be disrespectful towards her then they were going to have a problem. Eva didn't take well to confrontation most of the time, however she always stood up for what was fair; after all, it wasn't her problem that Remington wanted her and not Thea.

Gigi bitched and whined the entire time Thea dragged her to the bathroom, tripping over herself in her platform heels and bumping into a few others.

"Thea! Slow the fuck down!" she huffed as she was yanked into the bathroom. Thea slammed the door shut with a loud slam, pulling up her purse and aggressively digging through it.

Gigi pouted some more, "Why are you --like -- upset? Are you mad at me?"

"No!" she snapped angrily, "I'm mad at Caity!"

"Why? I know Caity doesn't have Ciroc but that's -- like -- no reason to be so bitchy!" Gigi replied.

Thea glared at the stumbling brunette, "Gigi, she fucking invited Remington but she didn't tell me that he had a new side piece with him!"

Gigi stared at her friend, completely dumbfounded, "Thea, she's not a side piece. Remington's -- like -- in love with her! Ask anybody! Ash said he's been like a puppy dog all year --!"

"Oh, would you just shut up?" she snapped again. She pulled out a small bottle of nasal spray, shoved the spout up one nostril and inhaled deeply. Gigi meanwhile was plastered against the bathroom door, still watching her friend with hazy eyes.

"Is this all because you -- like -- sucked him off for -- like -- thirty seconds and then he never called you? Are you still mad about that?" she queried.

"It wasn't thirty seconds," Thea grumbled, feeling herself now beginning to calm down, "And yeah, Gigi, he fucking humped and dumped me and the next time I saw him after he could barely look me in the eye. What a fucking creep!"

"Ugh! Who cares?" Gigi whined, "Why are you still so mad about it?"

Thea shifted the conversation, "Did you tell her?"

"Tell who?"

"Eva,"

"Tell her what?"

"About me and Remington!"

"What about Remington?"

"Oh, for fuck sakes!" she threw the nasal spray back in her bag, "Did you tell her that we fucked?"

"No! Why would I do that?" Gigi asked, "It's not her business, and he doesn't like you anyway so what does it matter?"

Thea shook her head, completely ignoring Gigi's rambling, "I could hear Andy going on and on: oooh! She's so pretty! Ooooh! She's so kind! She's got a bachelors degree! Whoopti-fucking-doo! What's she got that I don't? Hmm?"

Gigi stared silently for a moment, her jaw hung open until she drunkenly blurted, "She went to college! You didn't!"

Thea rolled her eyes, "And?"

"... and she's --like -- nice to me," Gigi admitted, "And she doesn't pull on me,"

A raucous commotion suddenly broke out outside, muffled by the door, though it was obvious that whatever was going on had captured almost everyone's attention.

"What's going on?"

"Probably beer pong, I don't care," Thea grumbled, "All I need is one shot. I mean -- how great is she really? She's not in the industry! She could never keep up with his lifestyle!"

"You really -- hicc -- need to move on, Thea," Gigi groaned, "Eva's really nice. You should give her a chance. It's not her fault --like -- Remington fell in love with her and not you,"

Oh, how those sentiments echoed in Thea's mind. She couldn't help the way she felt, she was attracted to Remington -- unhealthily so but it was an attraction nonetheless. She found him fascinating, handsome, edgy and so damn charming! Thea was so young when they'd met, she had stars in her eyes when she -- a young model on one of her first casting jobs -- got to make the acquaintance of a rock star. So he wasn't a full rock star, yet, so what? He was so fucking beautiful to her!

And yet when her opportunity came, when she followed her gut and trusted him, she was left in the dust to pick up what was clearly nothing special to him. It broke her heart, seeing him over and over with different girls who were all the same. They all had the same thing that she did, and just when she speculated that her time had come, he waltzed in with this -- child -- with liked to bat her doe eyes and ramble on about dead poets. What a fucking downgrade, she thought, what does she have that I don't? Honestly!

Whatever rationality that had possessed Caity to pierce his ear on the spot was gone as Remington pinched his throbbing, bleeding lobe. Liquid courage was more to blame than anything else, that and his own willingness to try anything once. Perhaps later on he'd ask Emerson about earring care -- that is if he wanted to wear an earring. It had never really been his thing.

He dabbed droplets of blood between his fingers, reaching absentmindedly for the bathroom door knob when another body collided into him. Gathering his surroundings, his demeanour deflated when he met eyes with Thea.

"Oh! Sorry, Remington!" she awed, quickly smoothing out her velvet skirt.

"It's cool, Thea," he replied swiftly, not eager to get trapped by her again.

Gigi exited the bathroom after, stumbling around Thea and she met eyes with Remington briefly, "Hey Remi. Oh shit! Are you bleeding?" though she didn't stick around for his answer.

Thea however found her opportunity, immediately spotting the stain on Remington's ear and fingers. She reached out with her hand, "Woah! What happened?" she touched his lobe with two fingers, eyeing the wound cautiously.

"It's nothing," Remington pulled away casually, "Caity wanted to pierce my ear,"

"And you just let her?" Thea queried.

He simply shrugged back, "I'll try anything, once," he tried to slide past her again, "Anyway --"

"How've you been?" and like that, the bleeding lobe was suddenly disregarded.

"I've been pretty good!" he nodded, "Busy, but I'm doing well,"

"And your brothers?"

"Them too,"

Thea nodded eagerly, "Oh good. So, what have you been up to? We haven't seen you around in a while. Feels like you're almost forgetting about us," she tried to tease.

Remington smiled politely, "Well, we are smack dab in the middle of a pandemic so I've been distancing myself from a few people. Listen, I hate to do this but --" he pointed to his ear, "I really want to clean this up before it stains my jacket,"

"Oh, of course!" Thea nodded, her gaze momentarily flickering to Remington's jacket and the lack of shirt underneath. An idea then popped into her mind, "Why don't I give you a hand?"

Remington nearly bit down on his tongue from how quickly he refuted, "Uh -- no. That's okay, but thank you,"

It wasn't that Thea was a bad person; well, she was a bit self-absorbed, and she knew how to put her foot in it without realizing. But mostly, Thea represented a time to Remington that he would most rather forget. He was fine acknowledging her, he could be polite and move on; but he was astounded that it had been well over five years and she still didn't get the hint that he wasn't interested in her the way that she wanted.

"Oh c'mon, it'll only take a second!" she urged, stepping closer and closer into his personal space. Her hand reached out again to touch his ear, clammy and cold and not a pleasant feeling.

Before he had the chance to fight her off again, another voice slithered in and cut their tension,

"Pardon my interrupting," it was as though Eva had appeared out of thin air, her arms crossed over her chest and her dark blue eyes staring down both Thea and Remington.

Remington swiftly batted Thea's hand away, panic swelling in his gut, "Eva! It's not what --"

"Sh!" she held up a finger, moving to step between her boyfriend and the pushy model, "Thank you for your help, Thea, but I can take it from here," she assured, "You can move along, now,"

Thea scoffed, "You're the one who can move along, sweetheart. I was having a private conversation,"

"With my boyfriend," Eva pointed out, "Who -- seems to me, anyway -- made it very clear to you that he didn't want you to touch him,"

"But --"

"So I'm going to take him and get him cleaned up. And you can go and do... something else," she shrugged, smiling as politely and stiffly as Pan Am flight attendant, "Thanks for looking out for him, however,"

Thea's lips popped open, either from the shock of being talked back to like that or she was trying to muster up some cocky come back. Needless to say, Eva was smug as she stormed off in a huff. Remington meanwhile was still when Eva turned to meet his gaze. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, but he'd seen Eva be confrontational enough to know that he wasn't eager to be on the receiving end on one of her tell-offs.

"Eva --" she cut him off when she smiled up at him, chuckling to herself when she finally acknowledged his bleeding ear.

"Is this what everyone was yelling about over there?" she asked incredulously, "I didn't know you wanted to pierce your ears,"

Remington was paused momentarily, mustering up his voice while trying to calm his fluttering chest, "I didn't. Caity just talked me into it. How does it look?"

Eva wasn't an expert on piercings my any means; she only had two herself. Though she had gone with enough friends to Claire's to get an idea of what ear piercing entailed.

"It'll be okay. C'mon, we better clean that,"

Remington sat on the toilet (lid down) as Eva ran the cold water and wadded up some tissue. The door was shut and effectively blotting out the other guests and pulsating music. He continued to pinch his lobe, now slippery and sticky from the ooze and it overall wasn't a very pleasant feeling.

"Did it hurt much?" she asked.

"Not really," he shrugged back, "Liquid courage definitely helped, though,"

"Well, you know if you wanted to get your ears pierced we could've just gone to Claire's. You get a free jab with a starter kit," she mentioned, crouching down so she could clean the ear.

Remington chuckled at the notion, inhaling sharply at the cold sensation that rippled down his neck and spine, "You're not upset with me, right?" he asked timidly.

Eva withdrew the tissue, seemingly perplexed by his question, "Why should I be upset with you? This isn't the craziest thing you've done, and I doubt it'll get infected --"

"Not the piercing. Thea," he replied, "I didn't know she was gonna be here tonight, I should've told you about her,"

She moved her hands to his lap, rubbing his knee reassuringly. He was staring at her like a puppy that had just been scolded, even mid-sulk he was easily the cutest person she had ever known.

"Thea," the name rolled off of her tongue with a edge of bitterness, "It's funny, I thought I left girls like her behind in high school. I guess it's true what they say, though," she reached up to clean the piercing again, "We never do grow up,"

"Eva, I'm --" Remington took her hand down, holding it tightly.

"Do you like her?" she asked suddenly, "Just in general, do you like her?"

He shook his head quickly, "No. She's so fucking self-absorbed and whiny. And clearly obsessive," he replied.

"Did you ever feel anything for her?" she asked.

He breathed in slowly that time, "Once, barely a fleeting thing, though,"

"And do you ever think about her outside of when you see her?" this time she squeezed his hand, staring up at him with those big doe eyes that made his heart swell every time.

"I don't have the time because I'm too busy being obsessed with you," he smiled with a false air of smugness.

Eva smiled too, genuinely however, "Then why are you getting ready to apologize for something that you didn't do wrong?"

"Because I do all the time," he huffed in a fit of pity, "I never want you to get the wrong idea and lose trust in me. That shit's my worst fucking nightmare,"

"Rem, I came out with you in a little black dress, mingling with a bunch of strangers I don't know while we're smack in the middle of Rona. I wouldn't do that if I didn't trust you," she explained, "I trust you regardless of where we are or what stuffy wannabe models try to flirt with you. It's my bed you sleep in, anyway,"

He simpered, pushing some of her loose hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed and traced the line of her jaw, basking in how soft and warm her skin was, "Your bed is really comfy," he pointed out.

"Even more so when you're in it," she dabbed at his ear a couple more times before standing and discarding the tissue, "You want to see it?"

Remington stood up, reaching across the bathroom counter and studying his new piercing with intrigue. It still throbbed from the after pain, and God only knew he would probably feel it more in the morning. However he had to admit, it didn't look too bad.

"What do you think?" he turned to Eva. She leaned back against the edge of the counter, eyeing the subtle puncture while shamelessly ogling the rest of him.

"Sweetheart, you can pull off literally anything," she replied, dropping her voice into an almost whisper, "It's kinda hot,"

His gaze shifted from the mirror to her reflection, her sweet and. sultry body outlined in that silky, velvety dress that he could probably tear right off of her in one fell swoop.

"Speak for yourself," he took hold of her hips, fingernails scratchy at the soft velvet, "I didn't know you could be so possessive -- especially over me,"

Her lips curved to match his smirk as she reached out with her right hand, her fingers slid up the smooth lapels of his jacket until they met bare skin. She felt him shudder through her touch, and like a switch had been flipped the color had disappeared from his eyes. The scolded puppy was gone and a lustful predator stood in his place.

"Well, I don't appreciate people trying to take what's mine..." her voice was barely above a whisper.

Remington chuckled gleefully, his spiced cologne flooding her senses as he came down to whisper in her ear, "Aren't you the one who told me that I belong to myself?"

"Absolutely," her left hand traveled a different path, coming down to palm him through his slacks, "This is reserved just for me, though,"

Remington's only rational response was to reach out and lock the bathroom door.

And that was how they'd found themselves here...

Like a claw lock his hands gripped her hips, holding her against him as she sat up on the sink counter top. Her once-cold hands were warmed up under the thin material of his suit jacket, pleased and exhilarated that Remington chose not to wear a shirt underneath. He was so close to her, consuming her every sensory receptor and yet she couldn’t enjoy him fully. How easy it would be to unwrap him from his jacket and slacks, and yet Eva had to wait like an impatient child to get her presents on Christmas. Her only reprieve was rocking against him gently, grinding her hips into his. And from the way he clutched and pawed at her, Remington was restless. On the one hand, he enjoyed teasing her relentlessly; on the other, all he wanted was to take her hard and fast against the bathroom counter.

Caity would fucking kill him if she ever…

Though all thoughts of pause and rational action were scarce to them both. Eva clung desperately to him, her head tossed back as he tasted the sweet salt of her neck with his tongue, soothing the love bites with gentle kisses that made her heart flutter and her stomach coil. His right hand slid under the soft velvet of her dress hem, crawling higher and higher up her thigh until he could stroke over the wet spot of her panties. When she shuddered against him, his smile mirrored that of a smug demon, bending her to his will with hardly a touch.

Just behind her, a long bathroom mirror reflected back their image in what little light was available to them. Remington stole glances between kisses, his dark brown eyes glued to the curve and ripple of her spine, mesmerized by her hair swaying briskly from side to side. He couldn’t bear to tear his gaze away from the mirror, watching her undulate beneath him was the most mesmerizing thing.

"Fuck... you're so pretty," he whispered coarsely against her ear.

His attention refocused on the fingers pulling at his clothes. First it was his jacket being unbuttoned, then it was his belt. He could feel her touch magnified, slathering and stroking him and ultimately undoing his pants. He loved when Eva became needy, watching her sweetness slip away in favor of desperation drove him wild. Her fingers were cold to the touch yet blended so deliciously against his warm skin, and his breath caught when she grasped him.

Eva suppressed a cunning grin, slowly moving her hand up and down. She circled his head with her thumb, Remington bit down on his lip so hard Eva feared momentarily he may draw blood. His eyes fluttered closed, his head falling forward in pleasure; they both giggled as he almost knocked into her.

Remington pulled back from her neck, glaring up at her hungrily. He yanked her in for a quick kiss as his hand slid around to pull at the dress zipper. He was in awe when he found she wasn't wearing a bra. Remington ran his thumb over her left nipple, the sensation of cold hands against burning flesh made her shiver. He latched his mouth around her right nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud before pulling away with a pop.

Eva never let go of his cock once, fumbling her rhythm but she stayed determined to get him off.

The music continued to pulsate outside, voices echoed and carried and there was always the fleeting fear that someone may try to open the door, or Caity or Hayden may have come along and demanded to be let in, so they stayed as quiet as they possibly could in their circumstance. Nevertheless, the thrill far outweighed the crime.

Without uttering a word, Remington stilled Eva's hand, instead working hastily to rid her of her panties. Eva bit down on her lip to suppress the gasp that echoed when he pulled her closer to the counter's edge. He pushed his swollen tip against her pussy. She moaned softly, now pressing her lips together. Remington pushed further into her, thrusting in and out during the process. Eva bit her lip as he pushed further and further, sweaty and relieved exhales leaving them both when he began to fuck her.

He grunted softly when he felt how tight she was, "You okay, baby?" he gripped her hips for better leverage. Eva's eyes began to water from the sensations, every nerve with her body was hot and needy.

"Yes," she nodded swiftly, one hand clutching the counter edge while she stayed clung to him, "Please, Rem,"

"Ah, ah! Don't make a sound," he teased, "Imagine if Thea could hear you right now," he laughed when she punched his bicep.

"Maybe she should," she whimpered, "Listen to how I make you fucking come for me,"

His hips snapped faster and faster, rubbing deliciously inside of Eva. Remington was going to come any minute, and judging by her heavy eyes and stifled moans, Eva wasn't far behind.

"I love when you talk like that," he grunted, shuddering and shaking as he spilled inside of her. And she came not long after, burying her face in his neck to muffle her lustful cries.

They settled down together, the bathroom was still and silent, minus their exhausted panting. Eva sat back on the counter, reaching to push Remington's hair off of his sweat-slick forehead. His lips turned up into a blissed-out smirk, he felt deliciously satiated paired with a rippling sense of pride. He had made a mess of Eva yet again, and yet every time he loved watching her slowly regain her senses. She was a sight to behold; her dress was hanging off of her shoulders, her lipstick kissed away to a faint tint and her dark blue eyes heavy.

He took her in his arms, laying kisses from her jaw and up to her forehead, whispering darkly in between, "Mine,"

Eva whined sweetly as she kissed him, following with a keen grin and a sudden, but brief, lick to his cheek.

"Hey!" he turned his head, giggling like a child, "What was that?"

"I'm laying claim," she decided, "You know the sentiment: I licked it so it's mine?"

He laughed harder, pulling her in to kiss her again, "May I?"

Eva chuckled bashfully, tilting her head back, "You may,"

[unmitigatedsuperiority]

Summary: You make your weekly trip down the beach to visit the local mermaid you've grown rather close to. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word count: 2.1k Category: Fluff Rating: T Warnings: None

read it on ao3 | series masterlist

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite"

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

AUGUST

You’d been visiting the mermaid that lives at the edge of the sea for several months now.

It was difficult to imagine an early Sunday morning without visiting him being a part of your routine. Getting up at the crack of dawn. Feeling the eerie quiet of the still beaches, hearing the waves crash onto the rocky shore. Sharing an early morning sandwich with the creature of the sea you’d come to call your friend. Peanut butter, of course. You always brought him peanut butter sandwiches—his favorite. You’d originally offered him tuna, but he seemed a bit affronted at that remark.

I can’t eat tuna! I know tuna!

You thought of the shock on his face and the way his caramel eyes went all wide at the offending sandwich and chuckled to yourself. You’d since learned a lot about mermaid culture, narrowly avoiding any more tuna fish sandwich mishaps. You still weren’t an expert, but you finally knew enough to laugh along with his jokes, even those which would’ve made no sense to you only several months previous, which in turn only made him laugh more. All crinkles around the eyes and laughter like the song of the sea…you’d do almost anything to make him smile like that.

Recently, you’d been lending him books. Lots of poetry and Shakespeare and other classics. He couldn’t get enough. At first you were surprised that he could read, but that was another one of your assumptions that had made him widen his expression in shock. Apparently, most sea creatures do their best to learn the languages of the land. He was more surprised that you didn’t know that. You had to remind him again that prior to their encounters, you hadn’t even known mermaids were real. He joked that was just an excuse.

You flattened down your shirt as it threatened to ride up against the salty wind. You trudged through the sand – there really was no graceful way to walk across a beach – as you made your way to the rocks. Each step had your veins thrumming in anticipation. You’d come to greatly enjoy these mornings with Spencer, even if you had to get up at an ungodly hour for them to happen. It was worth it. He was worth it.

You held tight onto your tote bag as you carefully maneuvered up and over the beginnings of jagged obsidian edges. The tops of your feet brushed along the mossy hides of the rocks, welcoming the coolness they brought your soles. A splash sounded from your right. Ignoring the pesky waves and ocean spray, you continued down towards the end of the surface. Spreading out the towel you had tucked under your arm, you sat down cross legged at the edge and began unpacking your bag. One peanut butter sandwich. A weathered copy of Twelfth Night you’ve had since high school. Some cool rocks you found on the beach. When you looked up, there was a pair of mischievous hazel eyes staring back at you.

His hair could be described as shaggy if it were to ever stay dry. Right now, bits of darkened brown hair clung to the man’s cheeks and neck. A mischievous face peered out beneath the dark curls. He leaned his arms against the rock you were sitting on, holding himself above the water and resting his chin on his forearms. His eyes narrowed a bit as if he were studying you, every long line of your body, every crevice, every curve on your face. His lips were perked up into a smile.

“Good morning, Y/N,” the man finally spoke.

“Good morning, Spencer,” you returned with a grin of your own. He smiled even wider at the sound of your voice. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were sparkling from that or just because of the sun beginning to reflect on the water. You hoped it was the former.

Spencer lifted himself up to join you on the rock, revealing iridescent blue scales that began at his navel and spread all the way down to the tip of his tail. Water beaded down the smooth expanse of bare chest. He purposefully and thoughtfully spread out against the sun-drenched rocks rather than your towel. You felt the blush creep up in your cheeks watching the beautiful man sun himself out on the rocks, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at you expectantly. You handed him the sandwich and the expectant look turned into one of glee as he hungrily bit into the meal, chewing in big bites as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Guess peanut butter is a bit of a luxury down there, huh?” You joked with him. He laughed his beautiful sea song laugh.

“You’d be surprised at the things that are considered to be luxury items. I know for a fact that Twinkies are a delicacy,” he countered around mouthfuls of sandwich, a smug grin toying at his lips.

“Oh, really?” You challenged as you let a laugh bubble out of your throat. It never ceased to amaze you how easy conversation was between the two of you. He was quite literally a fish out of water, but he seemed to be doing just fine.

Spencer finished the sandwich as the two of you sat on the rocks in comfortable silence, the cool waves lapping over the tips of your feet (and his tail) and listening to the seagulls begin their morning song. This was the best part of your day, the mornings. Morning was when you got to greet the icy waters before the sun did, your feet kissing the shore and getting mucked up with wet sand. A rotation of different towels you could sit on, a tote bag full on conversation-starters, and the best company you could ask for. Spencer. You’d come to relish your time with him. His eyes were inexplicably warm despite the coolness that came from dwelling in the ocean. They were the same color as your coffee order, you’d absentmindedly noted. And his smile. His smile that made your insides feel funny and your hands go numb. You sighed. You could only hope he enjoyed your company half as much as you enjoyed his. Though with that smile—that laugh—in those moments it was hard to doubt that he could feel anything else.

You let the sound of the tides wash over you a moment, closed your eyes, and inhaled the salty air. When you opened your eyes, you were met with coffee-colored irises and a look you couldn’t quite put into words. He opened his mouth to speak at the same time you started talking.

“I brought you another classic,” you nearly stumbled over the words as you broke the eye contact to grab the book off the towel and hand it to him. “Twelfth Night.” He grabbed it and studied the tattered cover and weathered edges for a moment, eyebrows furrowing.

“This looks owned,” he said. He was right. Most of the time you would buy him his own copy, too attached to let your own go, so his books were brand new and ready to be ruined by the saltwater sea. He inspected the inside cover, noting the handwriting adorning the title page. “Is it yours? I don’t want to ruin your book if—”

“Keep it,” you assured him. “I got that copy years ago. It’s run its course and I’m ready to let it go to someone else now. You can see all the annotations I made when I was in high school, too.” You opened the book and flipped through the yellowed pages, his hands brushing against yours and sending sparks shooting through your palms. You glanced over at him, but he was engrossed in the blue ink covering the margins. A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Viola is gay?” he enquired smugly, drawing attention to a passionately scribbled note in the corner of a dampening page.

“Okay, she is, and we will discuss that once you read it and agree with me.” Spencer barked out a laugh at that.

“Of course, I’d expect nothing less,” he conceded. He continued flipping through the book, droplets of water occasionally cascading down from his hair and onto the pages, smudging the ink. You’d previously asked him how reading underwater worked, and to his credit he did earnestly try to explain the physics behind it, but you just couldn’t keep up. It didn’t really matter, though. You were happy to just listen to him talk on endlessly about things that excited him, and books did that. It made you especially happy that you could share that with him.

You studied his features, watching his lips move as he read over the words you scrawled in the margins. Your words. In that moment, Spencer was gaining insight into your thoughts. He sat back on his elbows before turning to the first page and reading aloud. You scooted closer, instinct, feeling the breeze push through the now-small distance between your legs and his tail, between your back and his shoulder. Close enough to touch, familiar enough to not. Spencer glanced down at you, eyes shining, before he looked back at the dampening pages before him.

“If music be the food of love, play on…”

***

When you got back to your apartment, Tara was in the kitchen, making a large cup of coffee to try to wake herself up. She eyed you as you walked in.

“So… how’s your fish friend?” She smirked into her mug. You gave her a look. You should’ve known she’d be up by now.

“He’s fine,” you said, short and to the point. While you had relented and told Tara about why you were suddenly a morning person every Sunday (she didn’t believe your initial, feeble lie about a newfound interest in 5am yoga classes), you still kept most of your relationship to yourself. If you could even call it a relationship. That part was still a bit unclear. Besides, Tara was nosy, and this was still so new. You didn’t want anything encroaching on your little bubble.

“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Tara mumbled smugly, hiding her grin in her mug. You turned to glare at her a bit. It’s still too early in the morning for teasing, which you let her know with a graceful middle finger.

“Oof, I’m wounded,” She replied, mimicking a blow to the chest. Her hands came back to cradle the mug. “But seriously, what do you two even talk about?”

“Today, we talked about Shakespeare,” you answered truthfully. Tara blew out a laugh at this.

“Of course. The mermaid is a fan of Shakespeare,” she chuckled, disbelievingly. “You two are the modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Except instead of having rival families that don’t approve, he’s just a literal fish.”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not a fish.”

“He’s not not a fish.”

“And second of all, we’ve been through this. There’s so much more to him than that. He’s kind and…gentle. He knows so much, and he makes me laugh. When we talk about books it’s like that’s the only thing that matters, you know? Everything else just kind of fades away.” Tara smirked at the far-off look in your eyes.

“You’re so gone for him,” she laughed into her coffee.

“Hey!”

“It’s okay! You seem happy. I like seeing you like this. When can I meet this mystery merman anyway?” You could tell that the logical part of Tara still wasn’t quite used to indulging in your mermaid stories. She definitely didn’t believe you when you came home months ago talking about a mermaid living in the water. But being the supportive ride or die friend that she was, Tara wasn’t actively opposed to the concept. Once you and Spencer had begun your regular Sunday meetings, she’d become a little more open to it. Though you knew there was still a part of her, the scientist part of her, that wouldn’t truly believe it until she saw him.

“He’s nervous around people…”

“Understandable.”

“So, I really can’t say. I’d love for you to meet him, but it’s just…”

“Not written in the stars?” Tara lightly jabbed.

“Sure. Not written in the stars,” you conceded. The two of you stood there in contemplative silence for a few moments. Tara downed the last of her drink and turned around to get on with her day. At the last second, she stopped and spun back, realization dancing in her eyes.

“The Shape of Water! That’s a much better comparison. Damn, Tara, you’re really off your game today,” she grumbled the last part to herself as she left the kitchen.

You chuckled to yourself at the ridiculousness of your roommate. And made a mental note to watch The Shape of Water later.

[next chapter]

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[cyberthot666]

I had… the weirdest fucking dreams?? the first one felt more symbolic it didn’t really make since. I was in an old empty house with white walls & wooden floorboards. and a big mastiff dog was chasing me so I trapped it in a room and then these 2 little girls, they were blonde with their hair pulled back in big white bows & white fluffy dresses on, they were chasing me with a BREAD KNIFE??? lmfao. I could sense that one was actually more evil & the other was just going along but didn’t know why. I didn’t want to but I had to stab them 😪 it was like the only way to get out. then I hopped to the next dream and it was like my parents forced me to go to church by dropping me off at my old youth group? and I was like wtf remember to come back & pick me up bc I have to go to work. and they just left me so I went inside. and it was like this big building in the middle of a big, dark, empty parking lot. and it was full of adults & kids but I kept avoiding everyone to explore the empty halls and I was recording it on my phone and I came around the corner and there was like this conveyor belt that lead you around and it was like if someone installed a fun house in an old abandoned warehouse it was so eerie and I was curious so I got on but it was so fast it knocked me down on my ass so I was just trying to hang on as it rode me around and then it stopped right before I went over a ledge into nothingness?? so I stopped & got off and went to the main lobby where everyone still was hanging out like no one noticed and I was like, you know what, I’m gonna get out of here. so I gathered all my stuff in this tote bag I was carrying and ran out to the parking lot that was fenced in and this older blonde woman chased me & was like no you can’t leave and I was like yes tf I can!! byeeeee marjorie green taylor (lmfao) and then when I exited the gate it was like I was in a whole new city I didn’t recognize and to my right was a long dark street and a woman was walking by & I was like, “hey are you taking the bus?” but she didn’t respond so I turned to the left and it was a bustling city night life & I remember there being a buccee’s??? which we don’t even have one in my state I think so idk where that came from and I popped under the roof of this little outdoor pizza joint & asked these 2 guys if they minded if I sat there but they had foreign accents so they could barely understand me & didn’t care to. and all around me it was like the local fair (it’s fair season irl & my friends have been posting about it so I guess that’s where that came from) and then I found a nice family & asked for directions & said I was considering taking the bus & they were like yeah just be careful & then that’s pretty much all I remember before I woke up but it was so vivid

[grizzlyofthesea]

Ranking my Monster High Collection, just because

I've been into Monster High for...a while. I don't remember how I got into it, but I know that I immediately latched onto Lagoona; I always go for the blue characters (except for TMNT, because Donnie). Though it's not huge compared to what others have, I do have a sizable collection of Monster High dolls. Here, I'll rank and discuss them.

Here's a key for the meaning of the colors: birthday/Christmas gift, bought during initial sales, bought second-hand.

~

S Tier - The Best of the Best

Boo-Riginal Creeproduction Lagoona - I'd always wanted a first-wave Lagoona, but this is even better! Her hair is curly and fluffy, she isn't derp-eyed, and I didn't have to fork over hundreds of dollars for her! There are so many cool details scattered throughout her design, too. For example, her tank top? That's actually a one-piece swimsuit. And her shorts are sparkly! I was lucky to find her and the other creepros at my local Walmart during the initial drop. Wish I could say the same about Reel Drama...

Haunt Couture Lagoona - Man, was I lucky with this one! She sold out in about six minutes, from what I heard. But anyway, people don't like her because she doesn't reference her basic look as much as the others, and I get why they feel that way. However, I feel like she looks the most "deluxe" of the HC line (except for Draculaura, because OF COURSE), and the most couture-like. Her outfit is the only one I could see on an actual fashion runway. And her face is super pretty! I like how they gave her eyes a more segmented look instead of the other ghouls' gradient shine. Oh, and her fish GLOWS IN THE DARK.

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Clawdeen - I'm not particularly attached to Clawdeen as a character, but her design? Beautiful. There are so many flashy elements--the tank top with its sparkly tiger stripes, the fur-lined jacket, the layered skirt, the knee-high stockings--that you'd think would clash, but they really work well together. And like Lagoona, Creepro Clawdeen has wavier, fluffier hair than her 2010 counterpart. Perfect for our "werewolf equivalent of Rapunzel."

School's Out Lagoona - I adore the shoes and tote bag. The material they're made of is super satisfying to touch. The outfit itself is amazing, too. The asymmetrical fishnet details really complement the strapless jumpsuit. It feels fancy and hip, but still Lagoona-like. And the fish skeleton earrings are just amazing!!!

Isi Dawndancer - From what I've heard, Isi is controversial because Mattel combined elements from a ton of different tribes to construct her without consulting any actual American Indians, homogenizing/stereotyping them in the process. I can't say that I have much room to speak on the matter, just that I definitely get why people find her offensive. But good gosh, I can't help but love how colorful she is. And her deer-like features, like her white freckles and her hooves (yes, actual hooves instead of feet!!!)? Absolutely amazing. If she comes back for G3, I hope they handle her more respectfully.

C.A. Cupid (Signature) - Beautiful in every way. Her face? Amazing. The heart-shaped highlights in her eyes are super cool, her heart/rosebud-shaped lipstick really stands out, and the blush on her cheeks is a great touch. Her outfit? Spectacular. All of the fabrics work well to give her dress an eerie yet romantic vibe. Her accessories? Perfect. It's bow-and-arrow everything; her earrings and the heels on her shoes are an asymmetrical bow/arrow set, and her ring is a miniature bow and arrow. Her hair? Needs de-gluing and restyling, but it's still lovely. Shorter hair on Monster High dolls is always awesome. She also has this really cool white-to-black gradient on all of her limbs, plus some lacy detailing. You just need to see her to believe her.

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Draculaura - Pink isn't really my thing, but I can't deny that Draculaura looks cool. Her vest and her cravat are probably my favorite parts of her outfit. I also like how neatly folded her skirt is, compared to Clawdeen's more irregular pleats. Oh, and I de-glued her bangs when I got her, and she looks SO much better that way!

~

A Tier - The Clawsomes

Mad Science Lagoona - Her hair was an absolute mess when I first got her--tangled beyond belief, glue everywhere, braids partially undone... But I've done my best to restore her, and I think she looks better now. I just love her in general. Both her dress and her casual outfit look cute, and the accessories are on point. She has a notebook, a pencil, a beaker, one of those three-eyed frogs from the webisodes, and a gargoyle egg, among other things.

Dead Tired Lagoona (2011) - Yes, I've got the Hydration Station, too. Yes, it's amazing...when it works. I think I might need to replace the batteries and/or clean it. (Any tips? I'll take all the help I can get!!) But right now, I'm talking about Lagoona herself. She may be simple, but she's great. Her blue lips really do feel like her natural lip color, and her ponytail is a nice hairstyle. Her pajamas look really comfy, too (minus the platform slippers, but that's just MH custom), and she even has a matching sleep mask. I'd wear them myself if I were more of a tank top person. Neptuna has a little mask of her own as well. That's just cute. :)

Boo-riginal Creeproduction Frankie - Pretty simple, but also super cute. I love her fishnet sleeves and her belt. G1 Frankie really is the epitome of "simple, but effective."

Skull Shores Cleo - What can I say? I'm a sucker for turquoise and gold. I like short hair on Cleo, too. Oh, and her shoes being little statues holding her feet up? Absolute genius.

Skull Shores Ghoulia - She looks just like she stepped out of the 1950s...except for the blood dripping from her shoes and bracelet, of course, but that contrast is why I love a lot of Ghoulia's designs. Her weird little brain butterfly hair clip is neat, too, and I like how she has green glasses this time around.

Skull Shores Lagoona - Her headband gives me pirate vibes for some reason, and that sparkly fabric around her shoulders never ceases to amaze. Needless to say, I love her.

Skull Shores Frankie (Color) - Frankie in neon blue is awesome. Frankie with short hair is awesome. The industrial nut-themed accessories are awesome. That sounds like a recipe for an awesome doll to me.

Skull Shores Frankie (Monochrome) - The silver lipstick, neck bolts, and swimsuit add some flash where Frankie herself is a matte gray. There are also more obvious clouds on her waist wrap compared to her color variant, adding a bit of additional uniqueness. I just happen to like the color variant a bit more. I think it's because the accessories here are cloudy instead of clear.

~

B Tier - The Greats

Dot Dead Gorgeous Lagoona - Hot take: I think DDG Lagoona is better than DOTD Lagoona. But that's a ramble for another post. Anyway, the oyster-themed hair clip and shoes are cute, and I love how the polka dots on the dress are bubbles. The layers of mesh/tulle/whatever really pull the whole look together. And the purse is a sand dollar!!!

13 Wishes Lagoona - Super strange and kind of heartbreaking, but also super cool to look at. I love her turtle necklace/bracelet, her dragonfly earrings, and her grass shoes. And that sparkly seafoam green fabric on her dress? Absolutely perfect! It looks just like shimmering water. She'd be higher up if she were in better condition; her dress is kinda stretched out, and Neptuna's bowl is shoddily taped together because I was a dumb child.

Fearidescent Lagoona - Blue Lagoona > Pink Lagoona for me, and the polypropylene hair is a bit frizzy at the ends. That said, she's still beautiful. For one, her color scheme is gorgeous. It's one of the first color palettes chosen for G3 Lagoona that doesn't make me want to tear my eyeballs out. Her pearl purse is cute, too, as are her shoes. I mean, her ankle boots have little teeth in the heels and fish skeletons as the buckles! Some clothing combinations are more cohesive than others, but again, not making me want to claw out my own eyes out of overstimulation is a huge advantage for a G3 Lagoona doll.

Skull Shores Gil - I know people give the boy dolls major flak for being ugly, and a lot of times, they're right (looking at you, Porter and Slo Mo). But I just think Gil's neat. I like how he has gills sculpted into his nose. I like the gills on his neck. I like how he has that same pearlescent kind of coloration as Lagoona. I like his fin mohawk thing. I think my Gil's face turned out nicely, too, with no notable wonk in sight. (Note: someone on Reddit recently pointed out that he has a back fin, too. That cements Gil as the best manster in my opinion.)

Picture Day Lagoona - Like Basic Clawdeen, she has a lot of bright, flashy components that you'd think would clash. Fishnet cardigan? Shimmery pink leggings? Turquoise tunic dress with a neon green trim and an iridescent orange seashell bra? It is admittedly a strange look, but I like it.

Skulltimate Secrets Lagoona - The darker/more prominent forehead scales push SS1 Lagoona below Fearidescent for me, but there's still a ton to love about her. Her jacket and hat are some of my favorite accessories in my entire collection; they're just so cute! Her blue "Surf" shirt is great as well, and I feel that all of the clothing pieces included here can create decently good-looking outfits.

Skull Shores Draculaura - Just cute. I love the sailor theme, and I love how her swimsuit kind of looks like men's swimsuits from back in the late 19th century.

Skull Shores Abbey - Her swimsuit may be a bit simple for my liking, but her accessories are astounding! Purple ice shoes? Yes! Purple ice hat? Heck yeah! She rocks the side-ponytail, too.

Skull Shores Clawdeen - I love the actual swimsuit, and the poncho is great in concept. I just wish the poncho wasn't so annoying to move around for poses. But Clawdeen's tried-and-true deep orchid purple + neon green color combo is back, and I think it works amazingly here. Her earrings are cool, too. They may just be simple triangles and squares, but it's a neat deviation from her typical hoop earrings.

~

C Tier - The Goods Competing with the Greats

Original Ghouls Ghoulia - Not first-wave quality, but she still has her good points. Her hair is nice and silky (probably kanekalon), all her accessories are intact, and I honestly like her face better than first-wave Ghoulia. Still, her clothes all being one piece is a let-down, and they didn't even bother to wrap her cherry-print top (printed on this time, by the way) all the way around the shirt. But she's still Ghoulia, so she's still cool.

Dance Class Lagoona - She's cute, but also very simplistic. Even as a kid, I knew something was off about her unpainted accessories. Even so, I love her, and I retain a special attachment to her since she was the first member of my collection.

Inner Monster (Shockingly Shy/Scared Silly) - I like the take apart/put together gimmick. I like the changing eyes and the face plates. I like the skeleton and the different charms you can attach to it. I just wish she was more monstrous...and that the wig didn't look so awful.

Original Ghouls Lagoona - I got her back when I thought she was the closest I'd get to an actual Basic Lagoona, and even though my opinion of her has hardened a bit after getting Creepro Lagoona, I still think she's okay. I don't like how her swimsuit and shorts are sewn together, but at least there's a ribbon "waistband" separating the two halves. Her hoodie might be slightly less detailed, too, but it's still perfectly fine. Mad Science Lagoona is borrowing her fins, though.

~

D Tier - Mattel, why?

Original Ghouls Clawdeen - Her face turned out okay...but that's really it. Her shoes are completely purple aside from the buckles, her shirt and skirt are sewn together, and her jacket has purple thread at the edges instead of an actual cotton trim. And that isn't even getting into the more minute changes. At least she isn't as bad as Original Ghouls Draculaura, but that's a low bar to clear. ...Yet I don't hate her. Pity, yes, but I just can't hate her.

[peterthepark]

venus, planet of love

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut with plot, mentions of marc and khonshu, mentions of therapy and brief panic attack depiction, all the fluffy feels, mutual pining, idiots in love, inexperienced!steven and reader, the l-bomb and lovey dovey sex, aftercare, about 9k word count teehee, friends to lovers

summary: art models are surprisingly hard to come by in london. maybe they just don’t want to work with you. maybe they’re intimidated. steven thinks you’re pretty and marc thinks it’s time to act on it. who knew steven grant would be up for a portrait?

note: first moonknight fic!!! here’s to many more :) feedback and reblogs are 100% appreciated, thanks!

- masterlist - steven grant playlist

“It just looks so smooth, like I want to touch it.”

“What? Her arse?”

The Rokeby Venus stands out as striking against the patterned red wallpaper of the gallery. The painted depiction of Venus is a stark paste of white, sensual and vividly nude as your eyes follow the curvature of brushstrokes on her backside. The soft greys, reds and creams compliment the fleshy paraphernalia of the painting; your starry eyes wander in a mixture of awe and engrossment, while your fidgeting friend beside you finds his gaze on another work of wonder.

“I’m appreciating the art, Steven. Not the arse.” 

The corners of your lips tweak into something in the sorts of regale as you deliberately scribble onto your notepad, the sound of the number-two pencil against paper filling the eerie solitude of the museum. Steven’s attentive stare follows the tiny scrunching of your nose and soon, he finds himself amused at how your expression slowly shifts into unmistakable concentration. 

It’s endearing. 

Especially when he sees the tip of your tongue poke out from between your lips, nestling against the bottom of one of your front teeth. 

Adorable. 

“Oh, you’d loathe the ancient Egypt exhibit then. Not a tad bit of arses there.” Steven finally catches your eye, your head lifting from hunched shoulders to listen to him. His comment draws a quiet chuckle out of you, to which you motion for him to go on. He doesn’t hesitate. “Well, I mean, nudity had a proper place and time then. The Egyptians prided themselves in — in fashion, in jewels and beads, fabric and linens. Really, nudity was practically associated with work or oftentimes, social status. Royalty loved to dress up. You don’t see many naked ushabti, yeah?”

The strewn sentences leave him with a deep exhale, mouth parting as he gauges your reaction carefully. You’ve always adored his bursts of passion. Youthful, exciting, like the first tall flame of a new candlelight.

Steven makes an effort to ignore the image of Marc harshly rubbing his temples in the golden frame of the painting.

“I don’t think Velázquez intended nudity to be the central theme.” You mindlessly tuck the notepad into the tote bag on your shoulder. The movement causes your elbow to brush against Steven’s forearm, and he gulps roughly at the tingling of his skin. “Nor do I think it’s completely about Venus.”

“Whaddya think then?” 

You quirk a brow at his question. “I think… I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to sexuality and the aesthetic of it. But not sex. More like—”

“Beauty.”

You glance at him briefly, voice getting caught in your throat as you lose your train of thought just by looking at him.

“Yeah. Beauty, women, attraction, it’s all very speculative…” 

His side profile is something you’ll never get used to. The singular curl that unravels down his forehead knocks the wind right out of you, the dark chocolate strand begging to be wrapped around your finger and the rest carded through your palms.

Sometimes, you think he deserves a museum exhibit of his own, dedicated to his constant busy mind and to the soft yet simultaneously roughened details of his face. 

Maybe most of the time, actually.

Steven doesn’t notice the stumble in your body language, too swept up taking the painting in for what feels like the hundredth time but really, his mind can’t stop replaying how ‘sex’ had rolled off of your tongue so beautifully, and now how Marc won’t stop fucking pestering him about growing some balls and manning up tonight.

His watch beeps and pulls you both from your respective trances while Marc sends him a hard glare through the reflection of the watchface. “Oh, bollocks.” Steven sighs out, jaw clenching as anxiety takes over the tranquility of his features. 

You turn to him with knitted eyebrows. “Problem?”

“Yeah, think we’ve got to run.” He frowns, gesturing for you to follow him to the front of the exhibit. “Donna’s gonna have my head tomorrow for bringing you ‘round again, love.”

“S’not like I’m breaking and entering.” You playfully smirk at him as you clutch your bag, jutting one foot in front of the other as he hastily takes you through the employee exit and resets the alarm on the door. “And if I did want to rob this place, I would’ve done it by now. No offense.”

“None taken.” He breathes out through a winded laugh, fiddling with the zipper at the bottom of his collared jacket. He treads carefully beside you in the alleyway. “Mind you, as long as you leave the gift shop out of it, yeah?”

The streetlamps cast shadows over your face, but he finds himself gazing at you even through all the darkness.

A lingering stare. An appreciative smile. A mirroring in how you both tilt your heads to the side ever so slightly. But Steven sees the second hand embarrassment on Marc’s face transcend into the golden swirls of puddles on the cobblestone, his eyes screwed shut as a pained scoff leaves him.

Could’ve kissed her right now, Steven. 

Your toothy grin is all in one airy and lighthearted. Despite Marc’s unmistakable jabs, he’s proud of at least one thing: 

Making you smile.

“Of course, silly.”

No one really expects a friendship between an art student and a gift shop-ist from the National Gallery to work in a manner that is so effortless, so easy, as if it were like clockwork.

Except, the hour hand and the minute hand will never line up. 

Because you’re semi-convinced that Steven doesn’t harbor any sort of attraction towards you, nothing more than feelings of friendliness and a dash of awkwardness. But then there’s that other part of you, the part that notices the stolen glances, how he looks at you all doe-eyed and regardful even when you have nothing to say, how he remembers your breakfast order every single day despite having trouble with his own, how your number is the only other emergency contact in his phone besides his mom who hasn’t called him back once. Hell, you’ve even been friends long enough to earn an alligator emoji beside your name. What a rarity.

Just friends. That’s all it could and should be. 

Steven thinks you’d never date a bloke like him. Marc is sold on the idea that you have feelings for Steven, in which the tension, he states, is painfully and terribly obvious. It’s difficult to watch, even from that other dimension. And Khonshu, well, that guy just thinks that the three of you are all bloody idiots. 

You try to push down the odd fluttering of your stomach when Steven opens the door to your car for you. He always does. You’re used to the chivalry, the old-fashioned kindness, but something about how he’s doing it tonight — hand hovering over the small of your back, then over your head as you dip into the driver’s seat while he watches you intently, wrinkles smoothing over his tan skin and eyes softening.

You look up at him before he shuts your door. “Tea at mine?” 

“Only if I get to make it this time.”

You scoff in offense, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he comes around to the passenger side then buckles himself in. “What was wrong last time?”

“Honestly, Y/N?”

“Yes, honestly!” You slightly turn up the radio, raising your brows at Steven as he immediately changes the station.

He sputters through a chuckle before he can even finish his sentence. “Tasted absolutely rubbish, I tell you!”

“Piss off!”

Abruptly, you both laugh heartily at that, shoulders bouncing as Steven recalls the memory of how awful it not only felt in his mouth, but how awful the brew looked in general. He finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from your face. Unable to stop replaying your sweet giggle that he drew out of you over and over again, and how his name falls from you like a bubbly chant as you reach over the console and slap his arm. Unable to stop his fingers from twitching against his thigh because he just wants nothing but to reach out and tuck that annoying wisp of hair behind your ear and tell you how much you truly mean to him.

The moonlight looks pretty on you.

Steven likes the comfort of your flat more than his own. There’s something remarkable about seeing a bed without ankle restraints and chains, or having sand stuck to the soles of his feet as he pads around the kitchen for once. Just you, him, an ugly red sofa, and the mess of unfinished canvases on your floor. Your lips twitch when he reaches around to help you get something off of the top shelf in your cupboard, his large palm gently pressing against your upper back when he pulls away to hand you a porcelain cup. 

You pour from the teapot. Steven adds an acceptable amount of milk. One long sip. Sigh of relief. Another sip. Then, smile at each other behind your delicate cups.

Like clockwork.

His kind voice feels warmer than the tea in your hands. “I enjoyed today.” Steven admits, leaning back against the counter and crossing his ankles as he speaks into his cup. 

You study the sincere tenderness in his dark irises. “I did too.” For a moment, the silence is nice. It’s comforting. You’re a safe haven, even as he fidgets nervously, drumming his fingers against the cool surface as you reluctantly look away from each other. Yet the longer you linger in the quiet, the louder the thoughts in your mind get. Your pinched voice comes out rushed and unsure. “Are you still seeing that therapist?” Steven tilts his head, unable to recognize your tone. 

“Seeing her? What do you mean?”

“Like, um, the sessions and stuff.” You chuckle softly, waving a dismissive hand at that with widening eyes. “Not in — in that way. I mean, are you?”

Why is she asking?

“Oh, goodness. No. Absolutely not.” Steven‘s dark eyebrows shoot upwards. His hold on the porcelain teacup tightens, knuckles tensing. “Why’s that?” 

You blink rapidly. “Just wondering.”

“We weren’t compatible. Professionally.” He sends you a close-lipped smile. It’s demure, and for some reason, nostalgic. “She had this — this big, caged bird in the room with us. Like a bloody parrot or something.” Then, he shrugs, eyes darting across the room with what seems to be an amused smirk as if you’re supposed to understand this implied sort of inside joke. “Wasn’t very soothing. Probably gonna find someone else in the time being, you know, hopefully with a… nicer therapy animal. Preferably one that doesn’t repeat everything that I say.” You nod slowly, taking another sip while he clears his throat. “And you? How’s your project coming along, dear?”

You snort. “Haven’t even drawn a single thing.” Your shoulders deflate as you sigh dramatically. “Due in a week, not a single idea in mind, canvas still as empty as ever.”

“You’d think it would be easy to find a model. Plenty of nudists in London.”

“Yeah, well, none of them want to be painted.”

“Then they must be intimidated.”

A tiny clink fills the air when you set the cup of tea onto the table behind you, arms crossing over your chest as you tuck your hands by your hips. The flat feels chilly beneath the illumination of the kitchen lamp. Steven feels too far away. But at the same time, he’s here. Here, in the tiny room, by the stove, dark circles beneath his lower lashes like he hasn’t slept in years, muscles straining against his jacket.

“And why would they be intimidated?”

If Khonshu could swallow him whole, this would be the perfect time for it. If Marc wanted to take the body, he’d let him. But the alters stay out of it, and for once, Steven longs for their interference. He can’t escape the way you stare at him, innocently chewing on your bottom lip as you await his response patiently. You don’t prod, just let time pass. Steven doesn’t know which is worse. The fridge rumbles. The shower next door shuts off. The cars outside whizz by. The moon peeks out from the blinds. There’s a wailing siren in the distance, but nothing is louder than the heartbeat drumming against your chest as Steven swipes a wet thumb over his mouth and gazes out the cracked window above your sink.

“Because — well, you’re a talented painter. You’re good, good at what you do and you — you’re intentional.” He locks eyes with you in the midst of his ramblings. “You’re purposeful in how you study people, how you look at them, memorizing every flaw and every detail between. You capture beauty, um, that — that I can’t even see and I don’t know how…” He lets out a nervous laugh, jaw clenching under the weight of gritted teeth. “I don’t know how anyone can just sit there and watch you paint without melting on the spot.”

Keep going.

“Steven…”

“You intimidate because you’re beautiful. And beauty makes people nervous, Y/N.” He clasps a hand over his heart, not because the words strike him deeply, but to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

You collect your weight from the table, using your heel to slowly push yourself towards Steven and stand in front of him. You curiously toe at his white sock with your own, avoiding his gaze as you uncross your arms from your chest and entangle them behind your back with a frown.

“Do I intimidate you?”

Khonshu isn’t even in the kitchen anymore, and Marc is speechless. He can’t even watch.

At first, Steven’s voice comes out as small. And had you not been watching the parting of his lips, it easily could’ve been mistaken as the wind knocking against the walls. “Yes.” 

“Is it because you think I’m pretty?”

“I think you’re more than that.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I am.”

Steven chuckles, shaking his head. His pupils are heavily dilated, darker than normal. “Trust me, you are.”

“Prove it.” You pick a stray thread off of his shirt, goosebumps erupting across his soft skin as your cold fingertips leave him. His eyes follow the motion before they flicker back to your face. “Sit on that sofa and let me paint you.” Steven can’t pinpoint the emotions behind your words. Close to playful. Far from joking. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious, but you’re grasping at paintbrushes with a glowing smile and quickly tying an apron around your waist that leaves him blushing shamelessly. 

“You do not want to paint me.” He awkwardly huffs out, raising his hands at you before you’re pouting at him. “Y/N, it would just be a waste of canvas.”

“And why would I not wanna paint you?” 

You pull your hair up into a ponytail, ignoring how Steven’s gaze trails up your exposed arms and the curve of your shoulders. You inhale deeply, and just from the way your throat flexes in the shadows, Steven suddenly brings himself to sit on the mass of pillows atop of the velvet couch. He watches you drag an easel out from your closet, placing it right by the footrest and the swiveling stool across from him. There’s a cart filled with discarded jars of scotch, tubes of different paint mediums and a wooden palette marked with an array of clashing colors beside you, an attest to the acrylic staining the Persian rug beneath your feet.

“Because I’m just me. Just Steven.”

Your eyes pop out from over the canvas.

“Well, I think ‘just Steven’ is perfect.” 

He winces, lines creasing together on his forehead. “So what do I do now? Just — just pose, or…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, teeth making indents on his bottom lip. “Do I smile? What do — what do your models usually do?”

“Well, most of the time, they’re usually half-naked and tend to be as still as a statue.”

“Oh.”

You peer back at him again, gaze full of sincerity and concern as he self-consciously situates his position on the couch. “But you don’t need to follow the naked part. Just the latter, okay?” 

“Alrighty then.”

He can feel the warmth of your smile radiating even from six feet away. “Relax your jaw. Don’t look so scared, the more natural the better.”

His pupils dart around the room, taking in your flat as if it’s the first time he’s been here. He can’t look at you. He can’t. Not when you’re concentrating on him like that, scouring the details of his features, the lines and moles that mark his face, the exhaustion, surveying the slump of his spine like that was meant to be beautiful to you.

Would you capture all his flaws and blemishes then turn them into compliments?

“I told you I’m intimidated.” Steven quips, squaring his shoulders when he sees your paintbrush take the first glide across the blank canvas. 

“And I told you that there’s nothing to be intimidated about.”

“You know, I quite hate it when you get down on yourself like that.” He glares at you with a heavy shrug. Even when he’s clearly upset at you, Steven has a certain calmness to him. 

He’s the striking resemblance of lightning without the explosiveness of thunder. 

You don’t say anything, just swirl a mixture of colors onto the battered palette as you return back to the painting. He can see your tongue prodding against the inside of your cheek, rumination coating your mind in the same manner that hues of beige, black and pink coat his portrait. Steven lets the silence talk. He lets you bask in the quiescence for the sake of your art, for the sake of peace and his embarrassing desire to get this over with. But at the same time, he doesn’t want this to end.

Sure, he hates the fleeting eye contact. But come tomorrow, you won’t be staring at him like this — won’t smile at him with such tenderness and intention, won’t let your gaze wander for longer than a best friend would. Come tomorrow, you’ll have breakfast together while an ABBA record echoes from the living room, then you’re driving him to work with morning road rage and leaving for a nine a.m. lecture as if domesticity didn’t have an effect on you like it did on Steven. 

There, you won’t study him like he’s the most interesting creature on the planet. But come tomorrow, he’ll continue to read you like you’re the rarest text of Egyptian lore. 

“You intimidate me too, you know.” 

Could you hear the cogs in his brain? Was this an answer to all of his speculations? Curiously, Steven turns his feet towards you. His ears perk up, full brows raising at your unanticipated statement. “What?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. 

“Now why would I do that?”

This time, your face is completely blocked by the easel. You make it purposeful so he can’t discern your expression, even as the brush moves in slow and heavy strokes against the canvas. 

“I suppose for the same reason you find me intimidating.“

The sound of wet paint dabs onto the surface and drowns out your shallow breaths in the midst of Steven’s surprise.

“You find me… pretty?”

The scoff at the end of his question makes you cringe. Maybe you’ve said too much. Maybe you’ve stepped a line, or maybe he thinks this is all too odd. 

Your lips flutter upwards solemnly as you repeat his exact words from earlier. 

“I think you’re more than that.”

His heart could absolutely burst from his chest right now. He’s helplessly pinching at the bridge of his nose, unsure where to put his hands and why his hair suddenly feels so flat against his head. The couch beneath him is stiff, uncomfortable against his arse as he realizes that he’s been sitting in the same spot for too long. And now, Khonshu is simply leaning over your shoulder to look at the easel, thrumming with critique and amusement as the God towers over your hunched frame on the stool.

“Damn it.” Steven groans, placing a fist over his chest as he fidgets erratically. His eyes narrow, lips pursing together as he tries to blink back the chaos in his mind and fights off the urge to hand the reins to Marc. “God, I think I’m having a panic attack right now.”

“What?” You immediately place your brush down, peeking around the side of the canvas as Steven tries to even out his breathing. The stool nearly clatters to the floor when you stand and take long strides to his aid with wide eyes. “Do you need some air? I can — I can open a window, or — water? Water would be good?” He nods feverishly, tearing his gaze away from you and directing it to the stained carpet. You rush over to the sink, flicking on the tap and clumsily filling up a mug that Steven had given you from the gift shop. “Okay. Here, here.”

The dinosaur pun on the front isn’t so funny anymore when water sloshes over the rim as you hand it to him. He takes loud gulps as you cup your hand below his chin and catch the excess from the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — are you okay? What happened back there?”

You called me pretty, he wants to say. You don’t think I’m awful-looking, he wants to say. You think that I’m worth a second glance and worth all those lingering stares that I thought were parts of my imagination, he wants to say.

But instead, he saves those remarks for another time, and settles on one that seems fitting for the moment.

“I got intimidated.”

And you laugh. It’s brief and small, yet large enough to mend the brokenness of Steven’s haywiring brain when you set his mug down on the footrest and look down at him from where he sits awkwardly on your couch. The overhead light creates an unconventional halo behind your crown of hair, your shadow embracing the sunken essence of Steven’s face as he quietly admires you.

You send him a lopsided smile, dimples creating crescent moons around your lips and the bulb of your nose as anxious fingers twitch at your sides. “I’m no Venus.”

“Goddess or planet?”

He draws another chuckle out of you.

“Goddess, I think.”

“Well, Y/N, gods and goddesses are fairly overrated anyways.”

You bite your lip. “And if I’m a planet, then what does that make you?”

Steven lets his stare drop from your face, curls dropping against the shine of his forehead as he dusts away the lint on his pants. You study his distracted form, leg brushing against his bent knees as your stance hovers over him. He sighs shakily at the sensation, but then your fingers shift to wrap around the roughened hands that are interlocked together in his lap, thumbs hesitantly ghosting over his knuckles with a shyness he’s never seen on you. 

The notion causes him to ever-so-slightly lift his head. Those big, brown eyes meet yours in the humming of your living room, and the hand that’s wrapped around his own slowly travels up to the underside of his jaw. You can feel his muscles move beneath your gentle touch when his warm cheek leans into your palm, staining his skin with paint. 

“Must make me the idiot who sits in the observatory all day, all night, watching in awe through a telescope.” He closes his eyes when your fingers trace his skin, shifting higher and higher until you languidly card your nails through his dark curls. His head tilts back submissively with the soft action, nose pointing up at you as bliss falls upon his features. “Sounds a bit creepy now that I say it out loud.”

“You know people say that Venus is hellish, right?”

His eyelids flutter open, long lashes tickling you. “You’re pretty hellish to me.”

“I’m offended.”

“Don’t be.” He whispers, resting his hand against your outer thigh. 

Both of your heads follow the motion, as if his body had betrayed what he was trying so hard not to do — touch you, feel your heat against his, let his touch wander where his mind shouldn’t. But he can’t rewind time, and he certainly can’t stop how his palm stretches over your upper leg until it rests upon your hip. 

“Steven…” You stroke his cheek with amorous yearning, smudging the space underneath his eye with a shade of pastel pink. 

“Don’t — don’t say my name like that, love. Please, don’t.” Air escapes from his nostrils, his words fall from his lips in a longing tone laced with subtle desperation. But nothing is subtle anymore. Not with how he looks up at you like you’re the brightest star in the universe, staring at you like how you stare at famous masterpieces in a museum or even the works of art that never get noticed, but when they are, everything just makes sense. “You say it like…”

Now this all makes sense.

“Say it like what?”

“As if it’s more than my — more than just a bloody name.” Steven’s eyebrows furrow deeply, yet somehow he looks softer. 

“More than just Steven with a V?” He laughs at that, a deep rumble that vibrates through his belly and throat as his eyes never leave yours. “Hey, I like saying your name.”

Your fingers against his bottom lip bring him back to this painless reality, and the tension isn’t so unbearable when you stain his sun-kissed skin blue in the dull light above the sofa.

“No… not that.” Both of your hands cup his cheeks, ears tucked into the spaces between your curling digits as you caress his chin with your thumbs. Your pupils lull him into hypnosis, and he finds himself unable to stop gazing at the constellations in your irises. “You say it as if you like me.”

Fucking hell, Steven.

His hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you. 

“I do like you.”

“No, like — like more…”

“More than a friend?” 

“Yeah.” His blinks grow rapidly while his face contorts into something of shock and perplexity, teeth on display as he shoots you a panicked look. “Do you?”

“Do I? Steven, I’ve…” An exhausted chuckle racks through you. 

A pathetic noise of protest bubbles out of him when your palms leave his jaw. The cold isn’t so welcoming, and neither is the rest of your flat when you turn your back on him to tousle your hair with pent-up frustration. Meanwhile, Khonshu lingers in the hallways and curiously sorts through your vintage records. Marc wants nothing to do with this and resorts to plugging his ears.

Steven, here and now, is alone — alone with you and a giant, undeniable problem with the word ‘FEELINGS’ stamped right on top of it. He’s been decent about how to deal with emotions. He knows where his heart is, what makes his brain light up and what grows butterflies in his stomach. And even when you pace the room in worrisome, dizzying circles, all of the above outweighs the anxiety that shelters his bones.

“Y/N, dear, will you please sit down?” You don’t listen. He allows you two more laps around the couch and footrest until he beckons to you again. “Y/N.” Another two, then Steven himself is trailing behind your haste steps. “Y/N, what is the matter with you?” He takes the liberty of grabbing your wrist, pulling you back before you can escape once again. He squeezes your arm. Once, twice, till he understands that you’re fully listening. “Stop it, you.”

Normally, he’s the one running. But something about the way you look at him makes him want to stay, something about how your lips part and how you roll your bottom lip between your teeth then let it bounce back to its natural position makes him all hazy-eyed and helpless when your own eyes flicker to his mouth. You don’t know where to look, yet you strive to take in every single detail of him because you’ve never stood this close to one another.

You’re breathless, while his chest rises and falls steadily. You’re stepping on Steven’s toes, but he doesn’t mind. The hand around your wrist travels up your elbow, keeping you anchored when his other one does the same to your opposite arm. “Stop.” He whispers, warm breath fanning over your face as he shakes his head at you. 

“You stop.” Your eyes gravitate to his mouth again, plump lips pouting with temptation as you subconsciously take a step closer towards each other. 

Does he want this as much as you do? 

His knuckles run along your cheek and your droopy eyelids grow heavy at the tender feeling.  Steven’s fingers find that annoying wisp of hair from earlier, and he takes it upon himself to tuck it behind your ear. You try to stifle a moan when his nails card along your scalp, mirroring your gesture from before. But a whimper eases its way out of you, followed by a shaky sigh when your voice denounces you. His movement stills for a moment, but then both of his hands are cupping your face and his forehead is pressing against yours in a manner that is so indescribably intimate, you can’t even believe it’s real.

“You’re so pretty.”

There’s that desperate whisper again. 

Your mouth reaches for his. You can feel him holding you by the back of your neck, lips unmoving and lacking confidence against yours. It’s a short kiss, nothing too heated, but when you try to pull away through mumbling apologies, he can’t help but grab you by the chin and bring you back to him for seconds. 

You gasp into his mouth, the button of his nose resting against your cheek when you regain your self-control and hold onto his shoulders for leverage. “I’m sorry.” You blurt out.

“No, no,” He kisses you again, pupils wide and hands grasping at your belly when realization washes over. “Forgive me, I don’t — I didn’t mean to—“

“You didn’t mean to kiss me?” You smirk. The teasing grin is immediately wiped off of your features when Steven pulls you closer and tighter, almost as if you’d slip away from him anytime soon. “Are you going to do it again?”

“I think I want to, unless you don’t want me to, Y/N.”

“Of course I want you to. I want you, Steven.”

He chuckles in disbelief. “You do?”

“Well, I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

He gets lost in your eyes for the millionth time tonight. His accent draws out thick and frustrated when he finds the courage to pull your lips back onto his. 

“Oh, fuck it.” 

You moan instantly when his fingers undo your ponytail and tangle through your hair, flawed palms grabbing at each other’s clothing like you hadn’t felt the touch of someone else in ages — like you hadn’t felt Steven touch you in a fashion that is so sexual, so passionate and needy as if he’s been needing you all his life.

You kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he casts against your ear when you near his throat. He pinches himself when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder. It’s real. You’re real, with your hot tongue against his neck, with your chapstick molding him into shea butter and beeswax, with your paint-stained fingers dancing across the hem of his jacket like a tease. It’s real when his arms wrap around your frame, and your back immediately arches in response to his embrace while he ponders the skin beneath your shirt. 

“You can touch me.” You whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. He sighs at the consensual phrase, coffee-colored eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. “S’okay, Steven.” 

“Are — are you sure?” 

“I am.”

The couch creaks beneath him when he reaches over and gingerly holds you by the jaw, thumbing at your earlobe with hopeless adoration. It feels like two teenagers kissing each other for the first time. Awkward tangled limbs. Noses accidentally bumping and twitchy eyelashes poking at sensitive flesh. But it feels so natural, especially when your body reacts to Steven’s affections as if it has always known him.

He kisses you. A lot. 

And he kisses you some more until you’re practically sliding off the couch and resorting to becoming labyrinths of desperation on your rug.

Your shirt rides up as Steven drags a large palm over your ribs, tracing the bone beneath your titillating skin. His head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re eager for his mouth again. “You’re unreal, Y/N.” He groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you roll on top of him and straddle his lap. “Two years of my life I’ve spent pining after you.”

You giggle, “Try three. I win, yeah?” 

“Oh, so now it’s a competition?” 

“I’m just saying maybe you’ve been Venus all along.”

He smirks playfully, shrugging from where he lays on the floor. “I think we both know I prefer ancient Egypt over ancient Rome.”

“Planet.” You breathe out, fighting off the urge to close your eyes when his hands finally make contact with your lower back. “The planet, not the goddess.” 

Steven’s arm extends upwards, pushing your hair away from your face when you look down at him with a dreamy gaze. 

“Goddamnit, you’re so pretty.” You sigh in content at the praise. “My Venus.” 

The pet name nearly makes you melt.

No artist in the world could replicate the masterpiece of your skin against his. No artist could etch every detail of you and depict it in a manner so accurate or perfect — every mole, scar, freckle and fold as if you were carved from Venus’ hip at birth. No painting could hold the same beauty of Steven nervously taking your shirt off, unable to capture the quiet chuckles when your head gets caught in the fabric. Venus’ figure can’t compare to Steven’s tawny chest, faint abs rippling under your nails and lips as you kiss your way up to his pecs. 

Surrounded by pools of each other’s clothes, your burning bodies lay beside one another as sensual messes on the floor, rutting against each other gently and needily as Steven hikes your leg over his hip. You grind your mound against his crotch, gasping into his mouth when he holds you there.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He remarks, gripping onto your waist before he suddenly looks to you for guidance. “I-I really… fuck, I really do want you.”

His touch is featherweight, flightless but not even close to fleeting when he takes the time to voyage the muscled wings of your back. 

“In what way?”

He exhales shakily, wetting his lips. “All of them.” You tuck your head under his chin after pressing a brief kiss to his temple. His voice rumbles against your body. The richness of his accent drops to a deeper octave when you reply in a high-pitched moan, hips grinding onto his front when his fingers find the waistband of your underwear. “Teach me how to take care of you, love.” 

“Touch me. Just touch me like you won’t ever stop.” Steven studies the desperation in your glassy eyes and nods softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. Yet, past the swirls of loving lust in his expression, you recognize that something’s bothering him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” He says almost too quickly. “Yeah, I am. Are you? I just, um…” He laughs sheepishly, stroking the side of your head. “I’ve never done this before.”

“You haven’t?”

“I never… got to that point, really, with anyone.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” You shift closer to him, resting your forehead against his as you look at him through your lashes, “I’ve never had someone inside me.” And Steven moans. Loud, deep, desperate. You would’ve clenched your thighs together had Steven not hoisted your leg higher over his hip. “I’ve done stuff, but… never been fucked. Never been…” You sigh blissfully when his fingers trace the curve of your buttock. “… properly filled up by anyone.”

“You’re going to k-kill me, love.” He glances down at your clothed core, fingers begging to reach for you.

“I’m sorry, I know. I know.” You kiss him, earning a needy groan from the man. “Go on then, touch me, baby.”

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong. Tell me if it’s not what you want.” 

Agonizingly slow, his digits dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your cunt. The gentle notion makes you gasp once more, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit. His middle finger circles leisurely over the sensitive nub with feathery touches.

“Steven,  fuck… yeah, that’s it.”

His voice hitches in his throat as he gauges your reaction. “Oh, love, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?” You guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your slick against your wet entrance. “Y/N, you gorgeous, gorgeous thing.”

“Feels good.” You scratch at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. Your eagerness spurs Steven further and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. “Tease.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing and you’re calling me a tease?” He smirks proudly, repeating the gesture until he’s drawing a moan out of you each time. The outline of his dick protrudes against his boxers, and only then does he realize how hard he is for you. “It’s good, yeah?”

You’ve never seen him so smug.

Yet you like it, and you can’t fucking help but want more of it.

“Shit, yeah. Yeah, it’s — it’s… oh, Steven.”

Your sentence is interrupted midway when he pushes his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretching sensation. He inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. You shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. He hums at your facial expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his jaw.

It brings an innocent smile to his face thinking how he’ll have to show up to work tomorrow with remnants of you all over him. 

Steven mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his fumbling kisses. You rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own pleasure against your skin.

“You’re so perfect.” He groans, fucking his digits in and out of you. The noises that leave your cunt and his throat are sinful, but nothing beats the image of you resting your head on his arm, his hand cupping your mound while he fingers you on the floor impatiently. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, dovey? God, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to.”

“Steven, your fingers...” You watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. You nearly sob from the intensity. “You get me so wet.”

“That’s good, Y/N. That’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that.” You clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you. His touch is generous, obviously eager to satisfy you, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. “Can I tell you something?”

Your voice comes out broken, mind fuzzy as your cunt tightens around him. “What?”

“Those… those two years, I…” He moans in tandem with you when you nibble at his bottom lip. “I, fuck, it wasn’t just pining, Y/N.”

“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think I — I think I’m in love with you. And not just because I’m…“ He laughs. “… inside you right now, but I think I’ve been in love with you from the moment you spoke to me and — and fuck, being able to hold you like this only confirms it.”

And just like that, you come undone all over his thick fingers.

“Oh, fuck! S-Steven!”

You cry out into his chest, bite marks tattering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax. Your body shivers from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, which usually never happens from anyone else’s hands other than your own. Steven’s confession hangs heavily in the air even as he coaxes you through your high, fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 

Soft praises leave him in whispers, and he shares his affection for you with gentle pecks to your temples. 

A couple minutes pass by until you’re able to catch your breath, or at least, compose yourself.

“Was I imagining that or did you just say you love me?” You look up at him with big eyes, voice hushed and fearful as he wipes the sweat away from your brow with his thumb. 

He gulps, lashes fluttering dreamily when you cup his cheek with a shaky hand. “S’real.”

“Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“More than best friends?”

Steven adores the childish glimmer of curiosity in your innocent gaze. He chuckles quietly, nodding. “Best friends included and more.”

“I love you, best friends and more.” You rub your nose against his before your stare drifts to his swollen lips. “But the next time you confess shit like that, don’t do it when you’re fingering me.”

He flashes you a weak smile. “Alrighty, miss.”

Although, Steven is unprepared for when you untangle yourself from his arms and settle between his thighs, nails raking over his muscled calves and mouth grazing over the bulging front of his boxers.

Your next words simultaneously fill and take the air from his lungs.

“Do it when you have your cock inside me.”

Marc nearly takes control of the body himself at that exact moment, and Steven immediately thinks he’s going to pass out when you tug his boxers down his hips to free his aching prick. His reddened tip is already leaking with pre-cum, thighs jolting beneath your slow and open-mouthed kisses to his skin. 

“You really are hellish.” He whines when you wrap your middle and ring finger along the middle of his cock, lips suctioning around the base. A long moan drawls from his throat as he rests his head back against the rug, eyes screwing shut when you run your warm tongue along a prominent vein. 

“Am not.” You chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to the head.

He stifles a groan, forearm coming up to cover his eyes as you take just the tip of him into your mouth. “Oh, my god, Y/N. F-Fuck, yes.” You hum in amusement, the back of your throat sending the vibrations right to his cock. “That’s good. Really fucking good. Oh, fuck.”

You grin widely, but remain careful not to use any teeth on him. “You’re very needy, you know that? But, oh, you’re just doing so well for me, aren’t you?”

The mocking tone of your phrases make him squirm. He’s gripping onto a fistful of the Persian rug, wrinkling it with scarred knuckles. 

“Please.”

“Please?” 

“More. Touch me more.” He shakes his head at you, chin pressing against his chest as he stares down at you with a defeated expression. “Please, love.”

You’d be lying if you say that the way he looks at you doesn’t make you wet. You’re practically a puddle of desire, and Steven is melting jelly in your hands when your head quickly bobs down his thick length. 

He’s sputtering out a string of swear words, cursing more than you’ve ever heard him in your years of friendship. You can tell he’s trying his best not to cum prematurely, not that you’d care anyways, but with how his soft stomach ripples and flexes with each deliberate swirl of your textured tongue, you know he’s struggling.

And just when you’re about to give him that moment of release, you feel Steven pulling you back by the hair. Disappointment flashes over his features briefly when your mouth leaves him, but the boyish longing on his face quickly shifts into attentiveness when he catches a glimpse of the confused glint in your eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Your hands find his face once more. It becomes so natural in this new, sudden dynamic together — touching him, feeling him against you like you’ve always wanted. “Was it too much?”

“No, no, it was amazing.” He assures you, fingers pushing back the matted hair on your cheeks. “You’re amazing. I just don’t — I don’t wanna finish and leave you unsatisfied.”

“You could never leave me unsatisfied, silly.” You bite your lip feverishly, thumb stroking his chin for comfort.

He smiles. The tension of the conversation seems far from innocent now, especially when a near-indiscernible side of Steven appears as the words leave him confidently:

“I want to be your first, though. The first man inside you.”

“Steven…” 

“Only if you want, Y/N. Whatever you say goes, no matter what.” His hands grab yours, sweat sticking to each other’s skin. “It would be nice to have you be my first. And me as yours. I mean, it sounds so juvenile to want no one except you, but it’s the truth.” He lazily kisses across your knuckles, paving his way around the tendons with his lips. “I want to have sex with you, and I want to remember it.”

“Is he here right now?” Steven freezes and his jaw goes slack at the question. He can tell you’re nothing but concerned once your eyebrows knit together deeply. “Is Marc here?”

It’s the first time you’ve asked about Marc Spector without Steven bringing him up on his own account.

“Why? Did you want — do you want him instead?” 

“No! No, I don’t. Not for this.” You smile with brief panic, tracing the bridge of Steven’s nose to put his worries to rest. His frown gradually fades with the soothing motion. “I just want to make sure it’s you. Everything we do here, I want it to be with you.” You ruffle his hair teasingly once he sits up. “No offense to Marc, by the way.”

Steven chuckles, “I’ll give him your regards.” 

“Well, he has yet to talk to me.” You shrug casually, grabbing onto his biceps as he pulls you onto his lap. 

“He’s just shy.” He grins against your lips. His palm travels up the swell of your breast until he’s softly kneading the ball of flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your breathing quickens, eyes fixating on his hardened erection. “Shyer than you?”  

“Oh, incredibly.” Steven jokes, shaking his head. 

He can just imagine Marc’s downturned expression of disbelief. 

“Tell him…” You nip at his earlobe, moaning against his cheek. “… that I’m already spoken for.”

“Are you now?” He’s abrupty cut off by his own gasp when your arm reaches behind and you wrap a fist around his dick, pumping him slowly in your firm grasp. “Rude. I was talking.”

“Were you? I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

She thinks she’s so funny, doesn’t she?

“Stop a-apologizing and…” He hisses when you twist your hand, grazing the pad of your finger over his slit. “F-Fuck, Y/N.”

“There we go…” You grind against his tip, pre-cum smearing across your folds. “What do you want?”

“Want you to use me, darling. However you’d like.”

“So eager for me, Steven.” You breathe into his mouth, noses nudging against each other as you line his cock up with your entrance. “You haven’t even fucked me and yet you’re practically begging for more.”

“God, you talk so filthy for someone with such a gorgeous face, yeah?”

“I guess I truly am hellish.” 

And yet nothing about this feels like hell. 

Especially once you sink down onto his length, the heavy tip of his cock ready to stretch you out. It’s only slightly painful — a brief sting, the awkward shifting of bones so that Steven can sit back and have your thighs on either side of him, the echoing of your quiet whimpers beneath the soft light as you take every inch of him into your core. Your slick spreads onto his thighs and balls, wetness coating his digit as he instantly reaches for your clit like its become second nature.

“You — you’re really tight.” He groans, looking down at where your cunt swallows him whole. 

You laugh wryly, whimpering when his hips subconsciously rut into you. “And you’re really big.” 

Steven tilts his head back and looks up at you with a hazy smile, raising your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. For a split second, you think it’s Marc — the darkness in his eyes, the sudden dominance dripping from his tone, but it’s a big mistake on your part to second-guess him once he finally thrusts into you.

“Say it again, love.” 

It’s completely Steven — his wandering hands, grasping and grabbing at flesh, grounding you, feeling every crevice and fold of your body like it’s a sanctuary that he’s been dying to enter.

“You’re so big.” Your mouth gapes, eyes widening when you submit to his touch and let him take you. “Oh, fuck. Steven, please.”

“Yeah?” He grunts gruffly into your neck, teeth marking the virginal expanse of your throat. “You like it this way? My lovely Y/N enjoys getting fucked on the floor of her own flat?”  

“I love it.” You meet his strokes halfway, tits bouncing in his face as he leans forward on his knees and wraps your legs behind his back. “Oh, s-shit. Mmm, right there — right there feels so — so good, Steven. Fuck!” 

Steven bites down onto your shoulder when he lays you down onto the rug, cock burying itself deeper inside your cunt while he puts his weight on top of your body. His whiny moans are muffled, gasps and slaps filling the ambience of the messy living room. You’re sure that the neighbors below your studio can feel every force of Steven’s hips pounding into you — hard, slow and full. 

You scratch down his spine, red marks drawing angry lines across his tanned muscles. Juices are running down your inner thighs and cream coats his cock as he fucks you needily. While his skin is stained with paint, your skin is littered with his stinging handprints. He spreads his palms over your ass, carefully maneuvering you up and down his length as you sob into his chest.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re everything I could’ve dreamed of.” Steven pants out incoherently, nipping at your jawline. “This pretty cunt… jus’ wrapped ‘round me. I could get used to this, you know that?” 

Your throat feels raw from your mewling, the exhausted and desperate need to cum written all over your features. “You can have me anyday and anytime. I want you to…” You swallow roughly. “… fill me up, Steven. Take me whenever.” Your tone grows hushed, breathy whispers ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I wanna see how drunk you can get off of my pussy.”

“Holy f-fuck.”

You laugh together, even during the heated moment. “You love it when I talk dirty, don’t you?”

“I just love you. Anything you say, anything you do, it just absolutely riles me up.” His hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you to him till your foreheads are touching and your naked bodies beg even harder for release. “God, dovey. You’re a perfect work of art. 

“Mmm, I-I’m close.” You gasp out, nails digging into his shoulder blades when his cock begins to hit that unforgivable spot inside you. 

Steven takes a moment to pull out of you, running himself against your folds until he dives right back in. His tip prods and prods at your walls, your wetness leaving his prick damp with each deep stroke. 

“Fuck, Y/N. S’good, I can’t — oh, hell, I can’t think anymore.” He whines, arms resting on either side of your head as he pounds into you. 

“Stevie.”

He shushes you tenderly, thumb sliding across the corners of your eyes to wipe away the brimming tears. “I know, darling. I know. I’ll get you there, promise.” His breath fans out across your lips, and you take advantage of your proximity to reel him in for another drowning kiss. 

His thrusts grow sloppy, hips losing their graceful rhythm as he continues to snap into you. He beckons your name like it’s a song on loop, while your tiny whimpers turn into loud wanton groans of lust. He pulls you back into an embrace and sits up again, hooking his arms under your knees so that they’re bent and your ass hovers over his lap. 

The position leaves you vulnerable when you hold onto his torso for dear life, fluids making a mess between your bodies.

“I love you.” You croak out, opening your eyes to gaze into Steven’s dilated pupils. “Best friends and more.”

“And I love you.” You moan in tandem, feeling yourselves near your orgasm. “My sweet, perfect Venus.”

You clench around his hard cock, cumming intensely on his length as he cries against your neck. His hands are everywhere, but all you can focus on is the way your cunt contracts around him, tugging and milking him till he discovers his own high. This time, Steven doesn’t shy away from moaning and allows himself those deserved minutes of relief as you ride out your orgasms together.

“Oh, my god.” 

Momentarily, neither you or Steven move from the rug. He keeps you on his cock, too scared to face the emptiness that’ll come once you leave him. But it seems that you share the same sentiment, sighing against his bicep as you draw circles on the back of his hand. 

He decides to break the comfortable silence.

“I do okay?” 

Steven can feel your smile form against his skin, eyes sleepy and droopy from where your head lays. “You did so good.” 

“You wanna get cleaned up?”

“Please.”

With ease, Steven helps you off of him, already missing the comfort and warmth of your core as you both shakily rise to your feet. For a split second, it’s awkward — your palms shift to cup your naked breasts, while his limbs fumble to fetch you a quilt from the couch till he realizes his own indecency.

But then you share another bubbly laugh and offer the other half of your quilt to Steven, who doesn’t hesitate to cozy up beside you and have you lead one another to the bathroom. You take him under your clothed wing, ankles bumping together clumsily as he finds the light by the sink and quietly flicks it on.

He unravels himself from the quilt first and sits by the edge of your bathtub while he waits for the water to heat up. You watch him lovingly from the doorframe, tired and hair matted, but nevertheless, Steven thinks you look ravishing.

“Come on now.” The Londoner makes grabby hands towards you, taking the blanket from your hickey-covered frame and folding it neatly by the bathroom counter. 

You sit with him in the tub — back to his chest, his back to the tile, your hands interwoven amongst the soapy suds and lavender, chamomile-scented bubbles. 

A soft sigh. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. An adoring chuckle as your lover brushes his nose against your ear and tells you stories of how the sun loved the moon.

Like clockwork.

Steven is everywhere. On your lips, the scent that wafts through your closet, your bedsheets and the Persian rug in your living room, in how you make your tea, in what mug you drink water out of, what songs you play to start your morning.

But most of all, he lingers in the unfinished painting on your easel. Jaw sharp and nose prominent, eyes youthful yet wise, lips pillowy and inviting. 

He is in the shades of brown, pastel pinks and the added hue of orange from how his marked skin glistens in candlelight.

He is your Venus.

Not the goddess, but the planet.

Either way, neither of them are able to truly equate your love for him.

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter 7

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Summary:

Hallowe’en chaos.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

After trivia night, Emily Prentiss found her world had shifted slightly. 

For the first time in her life, she had a friend group: a consistent presence of not only just Derek and the occasional Hotch, but also Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia and most importantly, Jennifer Jareau. 

Emily noticed it most in the dining hall. Most mornings this semester, she would grab coffee and maybe an apple on her way to class. Now, she was invited to breakfast in the caf. And everyone was also invited, so the six of them began eating not only breakfasts together when their schedules lined up, but soon that melded to include dinners and the odd lunch between classes. While Penelope initiated at the beginning, soon this became a routine. 

While they were all busy, and driven people, all with full course loads, extracurriculars and miscellaneous commitments, they managed to get the whole team together multiple times that week. 

A few times, extra faces joined them. Penelope’s friend from class, Kevin… something, joined for a lunch on Wednesday. He sat shyly as Derek stared him down the entire time. On Thursday, somehow Hotch convinced their Criminology TA, David Rossi, who was part time Masters Student and part time weed dealer, to have lunch with the bribe of them using their guest pass so he could get a free meal. He reluctantly acquiesced, but seemed to enjoy himself. On Friday, the day before Halloween, Emily brought Tara Lewis, the MC from the Trivia night that was two years ahead of her in criminology, they ran into each other in the quad, recognizing each other. This open door policy made these dinners fun, with new faces alongside their team.

This was all new for Emily. Not having friends, that is, because Emily could always muddle along with some friends, and when she was younger she shaped herself easily into whatever the popular kids wanted her to be. No, it was new because it was so easy. The team, as they now called themselves as a shorthand, had fallen together so effortlessly. 

Today was Halloween and they had plans at Dave’s student house, the shabby place that she had ran into JJ, Penelope and Spencer all that time ago. Had it only been a month? She felt like she had known them all for lifetimes by now. 

It happened that way with Derek last year, the whole living together thing sped up that connection. Intimacy comes fast when you brush your teeth next to someone. 

Emily was sitting at her desk, finishing up her makeup. She was aiming for a vampire, which wasn’t hard given her previous fashion aesthetic. 

Yes, Emily did have a goth phase. She will admit it. Not to her new friends just yet, and Derek had been sworn to secrecy. She was now a much more toned down goth, more alt than goth, wearing mostly black but significantly less chains and make up. 

Tonight, she wore her fishnets, a short black dress and a cape that was already tied around her shoulders. She had put a slightly too pale foundation on her face, down her neck, and was currently working on her eye liner. She carefully created elegant swoops over her lashes, coming to sharp points. 

Next, she added a deep red lipstick. Blood red. It was all very spooky. 

Finally, she struggled to test out the fake teeth insert that she had ordered online, slipping it over her top teeth. It fit surprisingly well. 

“Happy Halloween,” she said to herself, testing out whether or not she had a lisp. She did. She didn’t care. It was perfect. 

Emily did a couple of spins in the mirror on the back of the door. Turning off the overhead light, she looked at herself in the glowing light of her string lights. 

She was satisfied. She looked like a hot vampire. 

She grabbed her tote bag, which was filled with six miscellaneous beers and coolers that she had leftover from the last few weeks, knowing that she hated the cheap hoppy beer that Rossi would have at his party. 

Emily was picky about her alcohol.

She glanced out the window, considering taking an extra layer. It was dreary outside, with the sky an eerie green and powerful gusts of wind rattling the window. Emily grabbed her leather jacket. 

Hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and draping her coat over her arm, Emily peeked out of her door, looking out into the hall. In both directions were students in costume; she spotted a Frankenstein, a couple of cats and even someone dressed up in an inflatable t-Rex suit. 

She made sure her door was locked and then walked down the hall to Derek’s room, who was at the very end of the hall, as he had lucked out and got a massive room with lots of windows, across from the showers. 

She opened the door, finding just about all of their friends already there, sneakily drinking out of mugs, cups and water bottles. 

Reid was a zombie, wearing tattered, bloody clothes and a full face of makeup that Emily assumed that Penelope did for him. Sitting next to his computer, queueing music for their pre, was Derek, dressed in a baseball jersey and hat, apparently as a baseball player. This was expected, he wasn’t big on Halloween. Hotch was… a devil? He wore all black and simply had devil horns on his head. Low commitment but the spirit was there. 

Emily hoisted herself onto Derek’s bed and greeted her friends. 

Spencer was sneaking up behind Derek, peeking his head over his shoulder. Derek, at that moment, seemed to be texting, squinting down at his phone. 

“I’m going to eat you!” Spencer yelled into Derek’s ear, causing the larger man to jump to his feet, swatting at the boy in his fright. 

Emily laughed at her friend’s distress. He really didn’t like Halloween that much. 

“Are you ready for a spooktacular evening?” Spence asked, making his voice wobbly as he put on a dramatic effect. He shone an orange, pumpkin patterned flashlight under his chin.

“Of course,” Emily lisped, “In fact, I vant to drink your blood!”

She lunged forward, and Spencer hid from her behind Derek. It was silly but she could tell how much he liked Halloween, he had talked about it all week, and she couldn’t help but adopt a lispy vampire voice to go with her costume. Though the boy was only two year younger than them, his thin frame and wide eyed expression made him seem much younger. 

“Your teeth are excellent,” Spencer pointed out, “Very realistic.”

“I don’t get the hype about Halloween,” Derek said, “Disguises? Pass. Horror movies? No thank you.”

“Booooooo,” Emily protested, “Don’t be a buzzkill, Morgan. Let us have a little fun.”

The door opened again, and Penelope, followed by JJ, joined them. 

“Is my statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder being lame again?”

“He barely dressed up,” Emily complained.

“Neither did Hotch!” Derek said, gesturing to Hotch’s devil horns. 

“Hey, at least I bought these at the party store,” Hotch said, “I’m sure both of those are items from your own closet.”

Derek did not confirm or deny this. Emily knew he wore the same get up last year.

“So when should we be there?” JJ asked.

She was dressed as a witch, with an oversized pointy hat perched on top of her head, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders in perfect curls. She wore a purple dress and tall boots to go with her witch look. She and Penelope joined Spencer on the floor, sitting with their backs to Derek’s closet and cracking open a beer for JJ and a fruity cooler for Penelope. 

With large wings, glittery make up and an adorable skirt, Penelope was clearly dressed up as a fairy, which was entirely apropos to who she was as a person. In fact, it was not entirely dissimilar from her normal outfits. 

“Rossi said to come by eight,” Hotch said, “So in party talk he means nine-thirty earliest.”

“It’s, what?” Derek checked the time on his laptop, “Eight fifteen now, so we can pre here for an hour or so then start walking over.”

“Yeah,” Hotch said, “His house is just off campus.”

“The weather is crazy out,” Penelope said, looking out the window. The trees were swaying and the leaves were blowing everywhere.

“We could take a cab?” Emily offered, “I’d rather avoid getting leaves in my hair tonight.”

There were some nods, then they got back to preing, playing a few rounds of King’s Cup to ensure that all of them were sufficiently drunk before they left.

Morgan put on his new playlist, not “For The Boys (and emily)” this time, but one titled “Team Vibez” that Emily had seen him make during their lecture on Thursday. It had a lot of his normal songs, some top hits, but a few fun pop songs that Emily knew he added for Penelope, and even some classic rock for Hotch. 

At this point, Emily was feeling buzzed. She had two cans discarded in the bin, both hosting lipstick prints from her dark red vampire lips. 

JJ was currently chatting with Hotch about some student government scandal that was happening at the time. While politics gave Emily the heebie jeebies, she had reluctantly joined the Criminology Academic Society. It would give her a leg up on grad school applications, for one, and so far, even as a low-level member, she found she was actually making a difference for her classmates. This meant that Emily, despite her deepest urges to not touch political scandals with a ten foot pole, knew exactly what they were talking about.

As the two discussed the student politicians—there were some minor accusations of nepotism, embezzlement and coverups by the undergraduate executive—Emily looked at JJ. Her brows were furrowed in concentration and she was gesturing wildly with her hands as she talked about how badly they were handling their crisis communications. 

Suddenly, interrupting this discussion, their phones blasted out a siren, followed by a chorus of the same robot voice announcing an emergency alert.

“National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 10:15PM EST,” the robot announced, “Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building.”

They looked at Derek’s three, large windows, and watched as large gusts of wind sent leaves barrelling down the street.

“If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris,” it continued. “Check media.”

Then, their phones went silent and Derek’s music continued unheeded. 

“A tornado?!” Penelope said, “Here?”

The window rattled. Derek stood up and hesitantly moved away from it. 

Penelope grabbed Derek’s computer, her hands moving in a flurry.

“Ok so,” she began, “from what I can gather from the good old Internet, we’re in a region of extreme winds and the meteorologists are thinking that funnel clouds and tornados are possible this evening.”

“So much for Halloween,” Spencer whined. 

“Party is definitely off,” Hotch said. “We should probably take shelter. Is there a basement here?”

“There’s the laundry room?” Emily said. 

Adrenaline started pulsing through her veins. She’d been through some severe weather before in her life but never a tornado, nor did she expect one. They were in the north east, nowhere near tornado Alley. 

They all stood, making a move for the basement, when the lights flickered once, twice, then shut off entirely. Rain begin to fall down, hard onto the windows, and the boom of thunder filled their ears. 

“Shit,” Emily said. “Anyone have a candle?”

 ---

Ten minutes later, the six of them were seated in a circle, on the strange carpeted floor of the laundry room, with the severe weather making the wind howl outside. Between JJ’s two candles, which were very against the rules, and Derek’s laptop screen, they had enough ambient light to see, but it was all very spooky. 

The room smelled damp and earthy, with a strange combination of laundry soaps and dryer sheets. They had to move a spare sock to form a circle around the candle. It looked very much like a séance, so that did fit the Halloween spirit. 

“Well,” Hotch said, “At least this is festive.”

Derek was still queuing his music, filling the silence with his DJ skills. 

“Aren’t you worried about your battery life?” JJ asked, “What if the power doesn’t come on in the morning.”

“Then I have a great excuse not to finish my essay,” Derek said with a shrug.

“Fair point.”

“Anyways,” Derek continued, “No sense giving up on our party. We have drinks, we have music and thanks to JJ we have illegal candles.”

“They’re not illegal!” She protested, “Simply very against res rules! I like lighting a candle while I study.”

“It’s lucky that there was no one left in res because of Halloween,” Emily said. “Or we would've had a bunch of party crashers.”

“This is better,” Penelope, “Team bonding!”

“What should we play?” Hotch said, “we don’t really have much to work with.”

“This is all very high school,” Penelope said, “A couple of kids, in a basement, sitting in a circle on the floor…”

“With a tornado tearing through our city…” Emily quipped. 

“Statistically speaking for this region we are more likely to experience dangerous winds rather than an actual tornado. Worst case is that fallen tree branches hit power lines, or fall onto houses or cars.”

“So you’re saying that we’re in the worst case scenario right now?” Hotch said. 

“Yup.”

Hotch frowned. 

“How about we play truth or dare?” Penelope changed the subject.

“I’m down,” Emily said, surprising herself. “If everyone else is.”

“I’ve never played!” Spencer said.

“Never?” JJ asked. “Not at any sleepovers.”

“I didn’t get invited to many sleepovers.”

“Neither did I,” Emily admitted, “Some parties I went to played it too.”

JJ looked at her, there was a brief look of sympathy, and then understanding on her face. Emily made note of that. 

“I guess we’re playing,” Hotch murmured. 

“Derek,” Penelope purred, “Mon cher, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he said defiantly, bracing himself with a swig of whatever was in his water bottle.

“Who is the prettiest fairy in the basement?”

“You, of course,” he replied with a wink. 

“Gross!” Emily exclaimed, “Truth or dare is not for flirting. Hotch: truth or dare?”

“Dare,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“Show us the… most embarrassing photo of you on your phone.” 

He frowned. 

“I don’t take many photos.”

“Try,” Emily urged with a laugh. 

He fumbled in his pockets, grabbing his phone and scrolling through his photo album for a few minutes. 

“It’s from high school,” Hotch said with a sigh. “I was in a play.”

He held up a photo of him in a pirates outfit, he looked smaller, younger than he did now. His hair was shaggy and his face rounder. He was pointing the sword at the camera. 

“Who’s the girl?” JJ asked. 

“My girlfriend Hayley,” Hotch said, “we’re long distance now. I joined the play to get close to her and it seems to have worked.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” Penelope said, “that’s adorable. Try again.”

“Oh I have one!” Emily said, pulling up her Snapchat memories. She had a photo of him conked out in a lecture last year. His mouth was open and his head conked back, fast asleep in a dimly lit lecture hall. Emily had taken a series of these photos before waking him up. 

“Now that’s what i'm talking about,” Derek said. 

“How can you fall asleep during lecture?” Spencer asked in horror. 

Hotch shrugged. 

“I was tired, we had a game the night before,” Hotch said. “Morgan: Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I don’t know any dares,” Hotch looked around for help. 

“He could play the tinder game?” Emily said. 

“What tinder game?” 

“Oh that’s a good one,” JJ said, “Derek opens tinder and we randomly tell him which way to swipe and see who he matches with.”

Derek groaned. Opening the app and placing it down onto the carpet. 

“Right!” JJ said to start. 

A match.  

“Left?” Hotch said, it came out more like a question. 

“Right,” Emily said. Another match. 

Left, right, left, right. New message from a recent match, left, right, right, right, right. Derek looked on in horror. 

“Ok I think he’s had enough,” Emily said with a laugh. 

“Derek it’s your turn,” Penelope said. 

Derek sighs in relief. 

“Uhhh, Pretty Boy,” he turned to Reid. Thinking for a moment. “Have you ever smoked before?”

“Smoked what? Cannabis, tobacco? Something else. Be specific.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. 

“I dunno man,” Derek said, “I was talking about weed but go off.” 

“I have.”

“How?” JJ said, “You’re like sixteen! I haven’t even smoked weed.”

“Me neither,” Penelope said, sounding outright disappointed. 

“I believe it,” Hotch said. “He has a Juul.”

“Seventeen now,” Spencer said. “Kids in my first degree found it funny when I performed actions that they deemed mature for my young age. 

“What?” Penelope said. “But you were sixteen last week.”

“It was my birthday on Wednesday,” he said. 

“And we missed it?” JJ asked.

Emily decided not to inform them that her birthday had been a few weeks back as well. 

“It’s no big deal,” Spencer said, “I don’t really do birthdays.”

“Well I do birthdays!” Penelope said, “and you’re getting one.”

Emily could see the gears turning in Penelope’s head.

“Wait you haven’t smoked weed?” Emily said. She didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but hell, it was college. 

“I’ve never been offered,” Penelope said with a shrug.

“You have a Juul, Spence?” JJ said. 

He shrugged. 

“Anyways,” Derek said with a laugh. “Reid it’s your turn to ask.”

And the game continued roughly the same for a few more rounds, with some truths, some dares, a lot of drinking and a fair amount of laughter. 

Emily learned that JJ likes some angry rock music when she’s upset, that Penelope has committed several federal crimes, that Reid used to coach basketball in high school, that Derek has been posing nude for art classes on campus for extra cash, and that Hotch has never successfully completed a word search in his life. 

The dares were limited, because frankly they were basically hiding out in a basement during what might actually be a tornado. Emily was dared to do an impression of Hotch, which wasn’t good and involved a lot of eyebrows and frowning. After, JJ was forced to leave her snapchat at Garcia’s mercy for the entire night. Other dares involved dancing, attempting gymnastics, and seeing whether or not Reid fit into the dryer. He did. 

The game finally had played out when it was Hotch’s turn again to ask. 

“JJ, what’s your greatest fear?” Hotch asked.

“Mr. Serious over here,” Derek said with a whistle. 

“Probably the woods,” JJ replied. 

“Why?” Spencer asked, tilting his head. 

JJ grabbed a candle, holding it under her chin much like Reid did earlier. 

“I used to be a camp counselor, when I was a teenager. In the woods up in Vermont.”

She leaned forward. Emily didn’t know she worked at a camp. It made sense. She pictured her in a camp t-shirt making a bracelet. It suited her. 

“I had the night shift. I tucked the girls in, turned off the lights. The typical drill. Everything seemed fine; all the kids were asleep. You know, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.”

Another dramatic pause, both Spencer and Derek had leaned in, invested in the story. 

“Until I noticed there was some blood, on the hallway floor. So, I followed the blood trail out to the camp director’s cabin, walked up to his bed and he was just lying there, underneath his covers. Dead!”

Penelope gasped. The room was silent.

“Someone stabbed him. I ran out of there so fast, out the door, down the hall. I just remember it… being really dark. Once I got to the door, there was another counselor there. I guess she heard me scream.”

JJ set the candle down, looking at the flame flicker. This couldn’t be real, Emily thought, this had to be a joke. 

“They caught the caretaker on his way to town, I guess he still had the knife on him.” 

“Anyway, I guess that’s probably when I decided I didn’t like the woods.”

“You’re serious?!” Derek demanded. 

“No!” JJ said with a laugh. “You bought that! I’m kidding!”

“So are you afraid of the woods?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” JJ said, “They’re spooky I don’t know.”

They all laughed at that. 

Emily glanced at her phone; they had been down here for almost two hours. According to Penelope’s intermittent checks on the status of the extreme weather, most of the city was experiencing black outs, but there was no sign of an actual tornado. They were still supposed to take shelter for the next hour or so, just in case. 

In this time, Emily was close to five drinks in, with only one left in the basement. A growing pile of empties had built up around them, and Hotch had pulled out a small bottle of whiskey in addition to his beer, passing it around the circle. Having recently turned 17, the group had officially decided to give Spencer a beer, which he nursed slowly, wincing at the bitter taste. 

“Emily,” JJ turned to her and looked mischievous. “Truth or dare?”

She felt her heart flutter.

“Truth.”

“Hmmm…” JJ said, “Where was the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex?”

Emily found herself blushing at the memory.

“Oh god,” Emily buried her face in her hands. “IHOP parking lot.”

“What?”  

Emily nodded, downing the last of her beer. 

“No further questions,” she proclaimed as she opened her next drink.

“I think that should conclude Truth or Dare,” Penelope said, “It’s time for another sleepover classic, since some of you are sleepover virgins.”

She grabbed Derek’s water bottle, plopping it down onto the carpet and spun it. 

“Spin the bottle!”

Emily went pale. What was Penelope doing? She stared into her drunk, not daring to look at anyone else. 

“That doesn’t seem very sanitary,” Spencer said.

“Boo,” Penelope, “You’re no fun. It’s a classic! And we’re all friends, it’ll be fun. Hotch you spin first.”

He looked horrified, but took the bottle. There was no getting in the way of Penelope Garcia’s will.

“The rules are simply: kiss or you have to finish your drink?,” Penelope said, “Got it?

Hotch nodded, he spun the bottle. It went around the circle, once, twice, three times, then landed clearly on himself.

“How do I kiss myself?” he said, deadpan. 

“Drink!” Emily told him. He downed his last beer.

Derek spun next, rubbing his hands together nervously as it went around and around. It landed on Penelope.

“Come here, chocolate thunder!” 

Derek took his baseball cap off, turning it backwards. Penelope pulled his shirt towards her, tugging on him as their lips met. They both closed their eyes, she could hear JJ giggle at the sight.

“Was that the only reason we’re playing this?” Spencer asked, “So that you could kiss Morgan?”

“Maybe?” Penelope, “What’s it to you, boy-genius!” 

He put his hands up in surrender, it was his turn. 

He spun the bottle awkwardly, so that it rocked back and forth in addition to spinning. It went around once before landing on JJ.

Emily wasn’t sure what to think about that. On one hand, he was just a kid and the kiss wouldn't be anything, but on the other hand, Emily was jealous that she didn’t get a kiss. 

“Come here, Spence!” JJ said, making a grabbing motion at the boy and laughing. 

He leaned in with his eyes closed, Emily wouldn’t be surprised if he told them he hadn’t done even this before. JJ put a hand on his face, turned it gently, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Derek clapped him on the back and made a comment about it being ‘pretty boy’s first kiss,’ and Reid simply sat and blushed as he busied himself with drinking some of his beer. 

Emily’s turn. She tried not to cross her fingers and pray for JJ, but it happened anyways. It landed on Derek. Emily sighed dramatically.

“Ewwww,” Emily mock protested.

“Come on, princess,” Derek jeered, “You know you want some of this!”

He lifted his t-shirt up and rubbed his hands down his abs.

“Put that away sir!” she covered her eyes. 

“Oh come here,” she said, leaning in. They kissed on the lips with a loud ‘mwah!’ noise. 

“That was cute,” Hotch commented.

Emily fake gagged, while Morgan tried to wipe her red lipstick off him. 

Last was JJ in the circle. She spun it casually. Emily tried to read her facial expression, wondering if JJ, too, wanted it to land on Emily.

See, Emily was starting to believe that JJ liked her back. She was single, and for all Emily knew, she was straight, but the more Emily got to know her, she got queer vibes. She played soccer! Her nails were short and- 

Emily couldn’t think of any other things that moment, as she was currently freaking out about the spin the bottle situation that was presently unfolding. 

The moment in the bathroom, Emily thought, that was something! The way she looked at Emily… she was sure that she felt JJ’s eyes on her linger. 

The bottle landed on Emily. They had to kiss. It was part of the game.

Holy shit. 

Penelope squealed and Emily could feel the entire room's eyes on her, except JJ whose eyes were on the ground. 

Emily could hear her heartbeat. She desperately wanted to kiss JJ but did she want to under these circumstances? For a dare? 

JJ looked at her. Blue eyes staring into brown. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears. She found herself leaning forward, only slightly. JJ did the same. Her lips parted, her eyes hungry.

Emily shifted forward, she sat with her legs tucked under her, bracing herself with her arms. JJ was cross legged, her arms free to grab at her face. JJ’s hands tugged her forward.

Their lips met. 

It was uncertain, chaste, soft. Then, JJ’s hands pulled her closer. They were pressed together, heads tilting so that their noses didn’t bump.

Jennifer Jareau was kissing her. They were kissing!

Emily’s brain short circuited. JJ filled her senses; the blonde’s vanilla perfume and soft lips and the taste of alcohol on her tongue. 

Oh god, her tongue. 

Emily did not want it to end. Their mouths opened and their tongues slid against each other, feeling so perfect and sending Emily’s blood racing away from her face and noticeably south. 

JJ was incredibly hot and Emily desperately wanted to do more than kiss her. Or kiss her like this forever. Her ams were caressing her cheek and tangled in Emily’s hair, pulling her closer.

The lights flickered on; they had power, again. JJ pulled away from her, sharply. 

Emily sat back, sitting up straight. The room was luckily too distracted by the lights to notice how out of breath Emily was. Or that they probably shouldn’t have passionately made out on a dare. 

JJ wouldn’t meet her eye, but Emily could see her own lipstick on the other girl’s lips. Emily blinked at the bright light, started by the sudden return of the electricity after she had become accustomed to the dim light of the candle.

“What impressive timing,” Spencer murmured.

Taking the lights as a good sign, Penelope checked on the emergency alert. It was over and they were safe to go back upstairs. She found out that a few downed trees were the cause of the outage and there was never an actual tornado. No one was hurt but there was a bit of property damage throughout the city. 

Without the atmosphere of the candle light, and the likelihood of a RA doing a check of the building, they decided that that was the end of their party. They gathered up their empties, and blew out the candles.

As they finished up cleaning, all making sure not to leave any trace of their illicit affairs, Emily tried to quell her racing heart and blushing face, completely unable to look anyone in the eye. 

The door opened, their RA was there. Erin Strauss. She was a hardass.

“What are you all doing down here?” she demanded. 

They all stood, stock still, jaws dropped, smelling of alcohol and clutching clinking tote bags. 

“Erin,” Emily said, trying to sound as sober as possible despite the five plus drinks in her system, “We were simply following the directions on the emergency alert.”

“Yes! It said to seek shelter from the storm and the basement seemed the best for that,” Penelope said. 

“Uhuh,” Erin said, “What’s in the bag?”

The bag clinked. 

“Oh just some garbage,” Emily said, lying through her teeth. “We had some snacks.”

“Sure,” Erin said, not believing them. 

Emily tried not to sway, but did not feel steady on her feet. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or her recent kiss with JJ.

For a second, Emily was sure that their RA would bust their asses, but the girl simply sighed and told them to go to bed, muttering about how dealing with non-existent tornadoes wasn't part of her job.  

The six of them scurried upstairs, all freaked out about their near-miss with a write-up.

Reid disappeared up to his room, then JJ and Penelope walked down the hall to their’s. Emily slipped into Derek’s avoiding Erin Strauss’ watchful eye, helping Derek steady a very drunk Hotch.

Hotch, who had probably had a little too much of that whiskey, stumbled into Derek’s room and decided to sleep on the floor. Emily placed a water bottle next to him, and placed him in recovery position, glad for the distraction from the blush that refused to leave her face or the lingering taste of JJ on her lips. 

She walked slowly down the hall back to her own room, the events of that evening playing back in her mind. She threw herself onto her bed, dazed by her situation. 

Emily fell asleep with vampire make up still on her face that night. 

[jjyusmile]

the hour of mystical wonder | kim sunwoo

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ meltingjukyu’s spooky season ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

pairing: witch!sunwoo x {gender neutral} reader!

words: 1.2k

notes: this was requested by the loml @matchaminn​​ ♥

warning: i’m so sorry about this but char asked for it </3

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

the way his earthy, round eyes squinted slightly as he concentrated on the road ahead made your heart flutter slightly. sunwoo had turned up at your dorm door moments after two in the morning with a loud crash that woke you with a start; his own sherpa hoodie with baggy sweatpants matched your own as you trailed him down the dark halls of the castle to his truck. in his right hand dangled a crimson velvet pouch that jingled -- you recognised the clacking sound as his spell casting crystals that mimicked your own.

the drive was peaceful, except for sunwoo rambling adamantly about how clear the sky had been last night and that he just needed to see the stars tonight -- somehow you were duped into trailing along behind your best friend. you imagined he must have asked everyone else in the group to join but they bailed.

he’d never tell you that you were the first person that came to mind when he thought of lonesome nights and the luminescence of the midnight sky.

the eerie darkness was illuminated by headlights as sunwoo’s truck rolled up the slope to the cliffside. outside the passenger window, you watched as the shadows of trees passed as quick as a flash as sunwoo raced up the country road. between your seats glowed with sunwoo’s crystals, casting a shadow against the underside of his chin; his caramel skin radiated under the moonlight. the sleeves of his oversized hoodie were pushed up to his elbows as the birthstone bracelet you had gotten him for his birthday rested against his wrist. the way his ears poked out under his beanie drew your attention to the almost black locks he was hiding underneath. khalid’s talk echoed through the speaker sunwoo had placed on the dashboard.

he made you wait in your seat as he rounded the front of the truck to open your door. he didn’t trust you to make it out of the truck without falling over your own feet in the darkness. opening the velvet pouch, he pulled out his witchlight that illuminated the close space between you. his free hand wrapped around your own to drag you toward the cliff edge; a tote bag slung over your shoulder held a tartan blanket you had stolen from your roommate.

that is how you found yourself stretched out on the soft fabric waiting patiently for the clouds to disperse. the tufts of grey breezing across the sky like they had all the time in the world; it was as though time slows down the higher you go into the earth’s atmosphere. you turned your head to the left as your gaze fell upon the pout that formed on sunwoo’s lips -- you weren’t going to be the first to question how you ended up staring up at the clouds.

“but, it was so clear last night,” he muttered to himself, hoping you wouldn’t hear. his feeling of defeated washed over his face and you hated that you couldn’t change that.

the moments that followed became uncomfortable. sunwoo’s intention to spend the night with you under the stars was ruined by the fluffy carrier that grazed along the sky.

just as your eyes began to drift closed under the eerie night, the boy shot up with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes that were slightly hidden by fallen strands of his fringe. he paid no attention as his hands fiddled with his pouch of crystals. he pulled out two crystals that had exerted indifference - a mesmerising emerald disc contrasting a deep maroon crystal with jagged edges that fit like coins in the palm of his hand. you recognised both crystals immediately: clarity and radiance.

“but sunwoo, the high priestess told us we aren’t ready to merge stones together yet-”

he hushed you without lifting his head from his task. you knew this would end badly, but you were enthralled by the thought of this night ending how it had hoped. you sat up straight intrigued by how he planned to do this. you watched, enamoured, by the way his fingers delicately placed the two crystals against the blanket in the formation you were shown in class. his gaze fell on you for a moment as a shy smile made its way to his lips before he turned his attention back to the crystals in front of him.

you focused on the way his eyes fluttered closed as the mutters of the spell he intended to fix the problems fell from his lips, quietly. his hands raised palms down over the crystals as they began to flicker in inconsistent flashes under his control. he tried his hardest to focus with the intention of clearing the sky to make your night but your proximity was highly distracting. he twitched his neck in an attempt to centre himself but nothing worked.

until you placed your palm against his thigh, leaning in closer to look at the spell he was casting against the crystals. the startling contact threw sunwoo into overdrive as his fingertips shot sparks that fell upon the crystals; the blinding light shot into the sky with a swirl that parted the clouds that obstructed your view of the stars.

moments later the light beneath sunwoo’s palms ceased as he exhaled the breath that he had been holding. your eyes trailed toward the sky as glimmers of light flickered like freckles along the sky. you nudged the boy’s side to snap him back to reality; the smile that grew on his lips encouraged the crinkles to form around his eyes in overwhelming glee.

you both began to chuckle at the reality of the situation. you couldn’t believe sunwoo had done that, but you also admired him for doing so. he laid back down against the softened material with you following suit, the slight gap that was once between you closed in your second attempt to stargaze.

“thank you for inviting me,” you whispered, your eyes grazing over andromeda. sunwoo responded with a silent nudge to your side, a small smile threatened to grace his lips as he turned his attention to his favourite star laying beside him. your friendship was forever overflowing with tension, especially with the taunting intentions of your friends to get you to admit your feelings for one another. the only person who hadn’t realised his feelings was you.

your attention to detail as you pointed out the different constellations made sunwoo’s heart swell with warmth. of course, you would never know sunwoo’s fingers flickered in cahoots with each constellation that flared in the night sky.

as sunwoo’s gaze turned away from memorising your features, he sighed contently as each star glistened independently against the midnight blue.

between the two of you was a small gap that sunwoo desired to close even more. he wanted to take the place of the crystals that were responsible for illuminating the sky before you; he desired to melt into the warmth that radiated from your side. but he didn’t.

he settled for moving his hand slightly closer to yours. you wanted nothing but to pull away to hide the blush that settled on your cheeks. he wanted nothing more than to intertwine his slender fingers around your own as you gazed up at the glistening colours of the witching hour together.

[scoopsgf]

okay buckle up cuz this is oddly specific and ive never met you before so tell me if I've got it wrong

I associate you with fall and the sound when you step on leaves. Buying used books and finding an old note addressed to someone else in it. Black coffee and sweater weather. Dark academia and cottagecore, basically a sharp blazer with a wispy dress. Some days you carry a tote bag and on others a briefcase. Coming home to watch Friends reruns and eating ice cream out of the carton The eerie but comforting quiet and gray skies before a storm. London and reading poetry. the ts lyric "i'm new york city" and "i knew you'd try to change the ending" and also "the rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming color". I think like me if u were a feeling you would be overwhelmed and excited. I love being overwhelmed with anything honestly but most likely I think I associate you with rory outside of the Harvard library. And obviously, you are literati to me too!

Again please tell me if I'm wrong but this is what I associate you with, chandler!

THIS MADE ME WEEP. I LOVE YOU. london and reading poetry stop stop pls. a sharp blazer and a wispy dress. im losing it this is the best one yet tysm <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All my love

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, intercourse), stalking, general creepiness and deception.

This is dark!Peter Parker (adult) and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader is new to the big city but she has a new friend watching over her.

Note: This is my first dark!Peter Parker so please be easy on me. He has been aged up and this takes place when he’s grown up and living his spidey dreams. I’ve made him like uber creepy I think and it gets pretty eerie I think but I hope yall enjoy some Spidey.

Anyway :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read. <3 Love you all.

It started on Monday. The first day of the week. Something was always bound to go awry. 

You should have suspected it. Work had been too easy. The library had seen a steady flow of patrons but not overwhelming. Visitors and books alike kept you busy and time rolled by. It was just too good to be true.

You stepped inside your small apartment and bent to pick up the mail just inside. The carrier had left a deluge of flyers on your floor. You stood and shifted through the coupons and carpet cleaning service ad. There was a single bill and another unmarked envelope.

You set your purse on the coffee table and the bill too. You sat and turned the envelope in your hand. It didn't even have your address on it. You squinted and slowly slid your nail along the lip. You peeled the envelope open and slipped out the folded paper inside. It was a handwritten letter, your name at the top beside a small heart. You stared at the greeting in confusion.

You didn't know too many people in the city. You'd transferred to New York from a small town. You wanted to live on your own, like, truly on your own. You didn't want your parents just down the street or to run into the people you went to high school with everywhere you went. It was scary but in a thrilling way.

Okay, you breathed and carried on.

My darling,

You do not know me but I know you. I know your favourite cafe to get coffee by the park and the little mouse keychain on your purse. I know you like rainy days and reading in your window. 

I know you're all alone. Lonely, even. I know the curves of your lips and the spark in your eye. I know everything but you don't know me.

But you can. You only need to ask me in. To leave the door open for your secret admirer.

All my love.

A bigger heart to end the letter. The paper fluttered from your fingers as you stood. You marched to the door and turned the deadbolt. You hooked the chain in place and peered through the peephole. The hall was empty. 

Your heart raced and you turned to glance around your apartment. Was it a joke? Some sick prank by a neighbour? Or worse? You pushed yourself from the door and strode back to grab the paper. You crumpled it and tossed it in the bin.

You didn't sleep that night. Or the next night. Another letter greeted you after work. The same sentiments, the same paralyzing fear. You threw it away like the other and a third one arrived on Wednesday.

You didn't read that one or the one the next day. You made sure to lock the door and windows and slept with a light on and knife under your mattress.

On Friday, you were ready to crumble. You couldn't decipher or explain the odd letters. You were on desk duty; answering questions, processing fines, and registering new members. 

It was close to your lunch break when the man walked in. His brown uniform and the slim box beneath his arm betrayed his occupation. The delivery man smiled as he approached your desk.

"I have a package for…" He held up his electronic pad and read your name. 

"That would be me," You replied dumbly.

"I just need a signature," He turned the pad to you. "Then it's all yours."

You took the pen and signed. Sometimes packages were addressed to employees. Usually packets of forms or new labels. Nothing overly important.

The carrier handed over the small package and left you to ponder its contents. You would wait until your lunch and finish up scanning returns.

You had your usual boxed lunch; a sandwich, tea, and a granola bar. The break room was small and smelled of aged paper, like the rest of the library, with a hint of coffee.

You took the package as you chewed your turkey and rye. You peeled away the paper and slid the small box out. It wasn’t really big enough to fit the usual forms. You lifted the lid and blinked at the fold of tissue paper inside. You moved it away from the slip of fabric beneath. 

You gasped and pulled away. What the actual fuck? The frilled pink panties stared back at you and you hurried to replace the top of the box. Your hands shook as you pushed the box across the table and into your over-sized leather tote.

You wrapped up your sandwich and closed up your travel mug. You’d finish your tea at the desk. You weren’t very hungry anymore. You packed up and waited for the clock to tick. You punched and returned to the services desk.

As the day wore on, you grew antsy. Every man who approached you had you on edge. Someone was watching you. Not just at home but work too. 

Was it the man with the salt and pepper hair and square glasses? Or the one with pale blonde hair and the checkered shirt? Was it a man? Maybe it was the woman with her messy bun and baggy sweater.

When you left, you walked quickly to the subway. Your ears pricked at every footstep and you peeked over your shoulder every thirty seconds. You stepped onto the train and watched the strangers filter in after you. Were they watching you then? 

You looked up and down the car and shivered. When your stop came up, you bolted off the train and up the stairs to ground level. Your flats scraped on the pavement as you rushed around the bodies of the New York crowds. 

You slammed your buildings door and ran up the stairs two at a time. You paused as your apartment and peered along the hallway. There was no one else there. No eyes shining from the corner, no shadow looming against the wall.

You shoved your key in the door and pushed inside. You locked it behind you and your eyes bounced around the apartment. All was as you had left it. Curtains drawn, throw crumpled across the couch, your mug still on the coffee table. 

You dropped your bag on the chair and paced the edge of the area rug. You spun back and neared the chair. You pulled out the box and shook as you opened it again. Beneath the panties was a red card. You fished it out and read the scrawled writing; the same found in the letters.

My darling,

It breaks my heart to see you so lonely. I hoped that I could comfort you in my absence. Let these be a poor substitute to my touch. My fingers along your skin, tickling you, caressing you fondly.

All my love.

You placed the card back in the box and closed it up. You trembled as you took it and marched into your room. You shoved it at the bottom of your drawer, to the back, so you’d never have to think about it. 

You slumped on the edge of your bed and held your head. Your mind was in a flurry. Panic and anger mixed into one. Whoever was doing this was crazy. Why were they doing this to you? You rocked as you tried to focus; tried to come up with something.

Nothing. What could you do? Your tormentor was as good as invisible and in a city like New York it was hard to pick out any among the bunch. The cat callers, the beggars, the swindlers, all too obvious. This person knew how to lose themselves in the crowd. They knew how to watch while not being seen.

You sighed and fell back. Keep the doors locked and a bigger knife under the mattress. That was all you could do.

-

That night was as sleepless as the last. You tossed and turned and managed to doze just as the clock hit two. It was a shallow sleep. One in which you were floating too close to the surface. Shapes moved along your eyelids and your head ached. An exhaustion-induced slumber, nothing more. It was far from restful.

You woke with a start. You swore you had felt a tickle along your neck. Almost like a hand. You sat up and peered into the dark. Shadows of furniture and the glare of streetlights streaming through the window. You were alone.

But you hadn't been. You looked at the mattress next to you. The blanket was folded back and the sheets were wrinkled from occupation. You slid your fingers slowly along the imprint. The bed was still warm.

You grabbed for your phone and the knife beneath your mattress. You dialed the police as you got up and held the blade at the ready. You slowly traversed the perimeter of your room as the line picked up.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"There's someone in my apartment," Your voice was low and shaky. "I was asleep and I woke up and…s-someone's here. They've been following me."

"Okay, Miss, are they in the same room as you? Can you lock yourself in somewhere?"

"I don't know where they are," You quavered. "I can…get to the bathroom."

"Go in there and lock the door," The operator advised. "What's your address, miss?"

You gave your address as you crept into the bathroom and clicked the lock into place. You sat beside the toilet and bit your nails as you held the phone to your ear. Your eyes clung to the door, waiting for it to be kicked in.

"I have dispatched the police. I want you to talk to me until they get there, okay?"

"Okay," It was half a whisper. You held the knife at your knee and exhaled into the phone.

"Breathe, okay? They're almost there." You nodded another acquiescence and the operator talked to fill the silence. To drown out the dread.

You heard a bang. Then another. Voices followed and the distant beep of a radio. You edged over to the door and slowly unlocked it. You crept out with knife in hand, phone still against your ear.

You saw the dark uniforms and set the knife on the table inside your bedroom door. You assured the operator the police arrived and they let you go. You were tempted to hug the officers as they shone their flashlights around your small living room.

"Ma'am, are you okay? Where is the intruder?"

"I...I didn't see them but...there was someone here. I swear. I woke up...and-- come see." You sounded crazy, even to you. 

The second officer flicked on the lights as the other made to follow. You led them to your bedroom and switched the lamp on. You pointed to the bed.

"S-see. Someone was in my bed." The outline was still there. "It was warm and--"

"This is the bed you sleep in, ma'am?" They shared a doubtful look. 

"Yes, but on the other side. I woke and...they've been leaving letters and they sent this." 

You scurried to your dresser and pulled out the box. You handed it to the first officer and he raised a brow. He took the box and opened it. He stifled a chuckle and moved the panties aside to read the card.

"Ma'am, the police aren't here to deal with your clingy exes." He jibed.

"It's not--I don't…" A tap at the window interrupted your protest.  

A shadow loomed on the other side. The second officer stepped around the bed and sighed. He unlatched the window and slid it up. A figure in a red suit sat on your ledge. You'd seen him in newspapers and on television but never in person.

Spider-man swung lithely into your apartment. You were stunned. 

"Saw the cars, the lights. Thought I'd check in." He said coolly.

"False alarm," The second officer crossed his arms. "Lady's ex is just tryna win her back."

"No…" You gulped helplessly and shook your head. It was no good. Why did you throw the letters away? They would see then. 

"Come on, Lawson, we gotta deal with real problems." The first officer scoffed and led the other out. "In the future," He paused at your bedroom door and glanced back, "I suggest you only use the emergency line for emergencies."

The second rolled his eyes. "Best find some real criminals to bust, Spidey."

You watched them go and frowned. You turned back to the superhero still stood by your window. His head was tilted curiously but thankfully his mask hid his disdain.

“I’m sorry. I...you can go,” You said awkwardly as you crossed your arms.

You picked up the box the officer had left on your bed and shoved it back in the drawer. You turned and he was still there. You frowned.

“If you want, I can...keep an eye out.” He offered. His voice was kinder than you expected. “Just outside. Maybe camp out on the fire escape…”

“Why?” 

“You look tired. And it’s pretty slow tonight. Plus, it’s my job.” He shrugged. 

“Really?” You asked as you shifted your weight. “You don’t have to--”

“I do. If you’re afraid, I do. This city is mine to watch over. That means everyone. Even you.” It sounded like he was smiling but through the mask, you couldn’t see much. “So, I’m gonna plop myself on that fire escape, maybe kick the feet up, and if you need anything, you give a tap, okay?”

“But...what if somebody else--”

“Seems like the police are already on it, wouldn’t you say? One night without Spider-man, I think New York will survive. I mean, what do you think they did before me?”

You chewed your lip and thought. You looked at your bed and sighed. You were tired. The thought of sleep was intoxicating. A rare chance to rest without paranoia. In five days, sleep had become a forlorn memory.

“If it’s okay…” You ventured. “Just a few hours. I don’t want you to stay though if something happens.”

“It’ll be fine.” He assured you. “Get some sleep.” He neared the window and paused. “Uh, sorry, didn’t get your name.”

“My name?” You wondered. You figured it only made sense. Afterall, he’d be camping out under your window. You gave it to him and he nodded.

“You can call me Spidey, Spider-man, or some people call me a pest.” He hooked his leg through the window. “Your call.” He slipped out onto the escape and grabbed the pane. “Good night.”

With that, he shut the window and spun to sit on the metal platform with a creak. You stared out after him. You went to the bed and smoothed out the indent of the intruder before you climbed under the covers. He’d probably leave the minute you dozed but at least you’d be able to fall asleep.

-

You had Saturdays off. The interns and part-timers mostly worked the weekends. When you woke, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. You yawned and stretched as you turned your legs over the bed. A tap came at the window and you jumped. It was Spider-man.

It was an odd thought. An Avenger right outside your window. You stood and crossed to the pane. You opened it for him and he leaned through.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked.

“Fine. Very good actually. Thank you. I can’t believe…” You blinked at the sunlight that limned his figure. “You didn’t have to stay all night.”

“But I did. And you were safe.” He countered. “Now, it’s my turn to go get some sleep.” 

“Thank you.” You said.

“Never a problem. Especially for you.” His fingers tapped on the frame and he stared at you for a moment. He cleared his throat and shook himself. “Anyways, I’m tired. I should go.”

“Alright...bye.” You smiled nervously. 

“Yeah, see ya.” He hesitated before he spun back and jumped up on the rail. “Don’t worry. I’ll be swinging around soon.”

With that, he launched himself off the escape and you watched as he repelled along the next building with his webs. You closed the window and ran your hands over your hair. You needed coffee. 

You walked blindly into the living room and through to the kitchen. You sniffed as you set up the machine and hit brew. You leaned against the counter as you waited for the morning cure. Your eyes strayed to the door. An envelope on the floor, a single rose attached. It must have fluttered through the slot when you were asleep. Your heart skipped.

You pushed yourself away from the counter and tiptoed to the door. You bent and picked up the letter. You set aside the rose and opened it with your nail. You pulled out the paper and read it with your stomach in your throat.

My darling, I apologize if I startled you but seeing you last night was so lovely. I have missed you and could not resist a kiss. You were so peaceful I did not want to wake you. I hope you liked my gift and cannot wait to see them on you.  All my love.

You dropped the letter and clutched your chest. You reached up to touch your lips and a wave of nausea threatened. He had been there and he had kissed you in your sleep. At least, it would seem he did. You shook and supported yourself against the counter. 

The rose tumbled to the floor as you tried to keep from hyperventilating. You stared down at its pale pink petals and grunted. You stomped it until it was in pieces and the grind of the coffee machine matched your frustration. 

Why wouldn’t they leave you alone? What had you done to draw their attention?

You leaned, out of breath and numb, against the counter. You only hoped Spidey was in the neighbourhood during their next visit, otherwise you were fucked.

-

He did come back. Spidey, that was. He surprised you as you sat against your headboard reading. It was a distraction to keep you awake. You knew you wouldn’t be sleeping that night. 

It was almost midnight when the knock came. You jumped and looked to the window. You could see his outline beneath the streetlight, the faint hint of red beneath the yellow glare. You got up and unlocked the window. He leaned against the ledge and looked around your room.

“Told you I’d be back,” He announced. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just reading,” You held up your book. “Can’t sleep.”

“Oh, so then you do need me,” He commented. 

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to--”

“I can’t just leave you here. Alone. Afraid. Don’t worry, you’re not getting in the way of my crime fighting style.” He assured you. “Isn’t that what I’m doing here? Keeping you safe?”

“Yeah, but…” You sighed. “It’s really not the same. I’m just one person and there’s--”

“There’s others out there doing the job better than me. The cops, firefighters, paramedics. I’m really just back up to those guys.” He argued. “Promise, if anything pressing comes up, you’ll see me diving headfirst into it, okay?”

You rubbed your neck as you thought. You really didn’t want to be alone. “Alright…” You relented. “But...I feel bad, you sitting out there. Do you wanna...um, maybe you could pull up a chair instead?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” He sounded surprised by the offer. “I mean, if it’s not too much. To be quite honest, this escape gives me a touch of vertigo and it’s not very accommodating to the tush.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You backed up and he climbed over the sill. You left him there as you went through to the living room to drag in the Ikea armchair you used more for your purse than yourself. “Here. It’s not the best but...it’s what I got.”

“I’m not picky,” He neared and lifted the chair easily and planted it in front of the window. “I’ve sat in worse.” You watched him sit and put his feet up on the window pane. “Now, get some sleep.”

-

That wasn't the last night the webbed crusader showed up at your window. A few mornings he even stayed for coffee. He was friendly enough and seemed to enjoy your company even if you were a bit quiet. He did most of the talking anyway.

And the letters continued to slide through your mail slot. Flowers sent to home and work alike. The ominous shadow, still unseen, always along your peripherals but never coming into focus. 

It was three weeks since it began and two weeks since Spidey declared himself your personal watchman. You kept the letters in a box and made note of every occurrence. The next time the police came, you'd be prepared.

You were at work. The letter had been waiting for you there. You didn't read it. You hid it in your bag and tried to focus on cataloging. Your mind was frayed and it became harder to hold the threads together. After scanning the same book six times, you gave up.

You looked around the library. A dull Monday morning. 

You went to Lois at the service desk. She had a book open before her as no patrons lined up for her help.

"Hey, I hate to do this but do you mind if I...go? I'm not feeling so hot." You asked.

"I was gonna say, you don't look so good," She joked. "Course, hun, think I can handle the hordes alone."

"I'm so sorry." You said. "Really."

"Don't worry about it, this place is about as lively as a convent." She looked back to her book. "Go on. Worst comes, I can get an intern in for extra credit."

"Thanks. I'll be in early tomorrow. Promise."

"Just go," She chided. "Before I decide I want company."

You were only too thankful to be done. You thought of adding locks to the door. on the subway. You got off and pondered finding a new apartment. It might be your only hope.

You were reassured to find your locks secure. You opened the door and closed it quietly. You paused and listened. You could hear the wind as if you'd left your window open. 

You tiptoed to your bedroom and peeked inside. A familiar red-clothed back greeted you. Unaware as he stood over your dresser, a small box in hand, he rubbed the pink fabric between his fingers and your jaw dropped. What the fuck? 

Your bag slipped from your hand and he turned to you. You were knocked back by the sudden force against your chest as the web sprang across your middle. You fell into the door frame as Spidey tossed the box aside. The pointed eyes of his mask rounded and he stuttered as he looked around.

As wordless as you, he darted for the window and disappeared into the sky. You held onto the wood as you gaped at the open window. You were breathless from both the suddenness of the scene and the force of the web. 

You looked down and tried to peel the strings from your sweater. They were tough and clung to the fabric. You gave up and shook your head. Your entire body was rattled. Was this what shock felt like? You crossed to the window and closed it. The lock slid into place and you peered through the glass.

You were entirely confused. Was he a snoop or a pervert? His evasion would suggest the latter, as well as the way he held the panties. Had you unwittingly invited a second predator into your life? Or had you merely traded one for the other? 

Yet, the first hadn’t gone. He stayed in the shadows and now his chance to jump had come. 

-

You didn’t sleep for a week. Not truly. You napped after work when the sun was on its decline but in the dark, there was no rest to be had. Alone and terrified, you huddled on your couch under the light of a lamp. You tried to read, but your mind was too frazzled for that. Then you’d just stare at the wall and doze off only to jump awake in a moment.

It wasn’t just the fatigue wearing on your mind. It was the incessant letters, the unwanted gifts, and now, texts. Nothing was yours anymore. You waited every night for the lock to break and your stalker to stroll in with knife or rope.

Then there was the loneliness. You didn’t realize how accustomed you had grown to the nocturnal visits. Spidey had become a stalwart of your nightly routine. You missed his shadow in the chair, staring out over the city. But you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been snooping around in your underwear?

Maybe you couldn’t trust anyone in this city. Maybe you should go back home to the old library with the church bell. A place where you had family to look over you and not some fantastical superhero.

You flinched as the coffee table buzzed. You looked over as your phone lit up. You blocked the first number. And the second. The third. The fourth. You lost count. It didn’t matter, they found a way. There was no barrier strong enough to keep them away. Definitely not your old front door with it rusty chain lock.

You ignored the vibration. You held your head and grumbled. Another buzz. And a another. You grabbed your phone and looked at the notifications.

Private number: Darling, are you okay? Private number: You haven’t answered me. I am beginning to worry for you. Private number: You should sleep, darling. It is late and you look so tired.

You hit silent and slammed the phone down. You were shaking. You looked around, the streetlights shone as they always did, and the speckled windows of other buildings mirrored the stars. You stood and let the thin throw fall back on the couch.

You stormed over to the window and ripped it open. You poked your head out and looked up and down the fire escape. No one. And yet it was as if they could see you. You grunted through your teeth and gripped the window sill. 

“What do you want from me?” You shouted into the night. “Just leave me alone!”

The fire escape creaked and a spot appeared in the corner of your eye. You yiped and pulled back and grabbed the window. A hand kept it from closing; the patterned red fabric revealed its owner. Spidey held the window and bent to look through.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” He said. “I...Are you okay?”

“No,” You crossed your arms. “I’m not.”

Silence rose between you as he perched outside your window. He hung his head and scratched his chin in thought.

“I am sorry, you know? I didn’t...I was only being nosy. It wasn’t--” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have touched your stuff, I was only curious, you know? About why you were so scared.” He leaned on the pane. “I understand if you can’t forgive me but I had to at least apologize.”

You thought. You swallowed as the words bubbled in your throat. What had he really done but rifle through your dresser? He shouldn’t have done that, yes, but perhaps you had been quick to condemn. What had he done to earn such snap judgement? He had sat in your window and kept you safe for weeks. He had saved the city time and again and you were mad because he dared to open a drawer.

“You could’ve asked.” You dropped your arms. “I guess...I can’t be mad forever.”

He perked up. If you could see behind the mask, you were sure he was smiling.

“I can stay out here for the night but...you look like you need some peace. Some sleep.” He remarked.

“No, don’t stay out there.” You relented. “And thank you. I do need the sleep. I haven’t...You don’t have to--”

“Consider it my penance,” He carefully climbed through the window, almost hesitant to come inside. “Promise you, these fingers may be sticky but they will keep to themselves.”

“We’ll see,” You kidded and he closed the window. 

“Now, young lady, I think it’s time you get to bed,” He said playfully. “I’ll take first watch.”

You chuckled and led him into the bedroom. The chair was still by the window. You were reluctant to move it back. Moving it would mean you were completely alone. You sat on the bed as he moved through the dark. He stopped by the chair and turned to you as you pulled back the blanket.

“Should I tuck you in or…” You raised a brow and he laughed. “I’m joking. I do that when I’m...nervous.”

You blinked at him. Spider-man, nervous? Around you? You smiled. “It’s fine.” You yawned into your hand.

“Sleep,” He rounded the chair and sat, “I mean it. You know sleep deprivation can kill.”

“Gee, so optimistic,” You laid back on the pillows and pulled the blanket up. “Thanks. Really.”

“Enough of that.” He warned. “Sleep. Please.”

He watched you as you snuggled into the mattress. He didn’t look away even as you rolled onto your side. Through the dark you could feel his gaze. Despite the apology, the forgiveness, the jokes, it felt different. There was something off but your tired mind just couldn’t piece it together.

-

You slept so heavily, all traces of consciousness slipped from you. Your dreams were filled with hazy sunlight and muted tones. There was no story line, only a kaleidoscope of colours. It was like a river washing over you, cleansing you. All the sleep you had lost weighed you down until it felt like chains were hooked on wrist and ankle.

Your eyes opened slowly. Your head felt full of cotton and your mouth was dry. There was an unusual warmth beside you. You forced your eyes open and looked over. A man you’d never seen before laid there. Reddish brown hair and delicate but stony features. His brown eyes met yours and he smiled.

You did know him. He still wore the suit, only he had disposed of the mask. Your heart leapt and you tried to shake the sleep from your head. Were you still dreaming?

“Good morning, darling,” He sang as his fingers ran along your cheek.

“What are you--” You batted away his hand. “What did you just call me?”

“Shhh,” He sat up as you did. 

His hand clamped over your mouth as he hushed you and his other arm snaked around you. He drew you close. It was hard to believe this was the man behind the mask. He was still boyish and yet there was something darker. Something simmering beneath the surface. You whimpered as he clung to you.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, darling.” He cooed.

That word again. You tensed and your eyes searched the room. Was this really Spidey? Or had another snuck in and took his place?

“You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t resist. So long watching, it becomes harder to stay away.” He bit his lip and leaned in. He dragged his nose along yours as he spoke, his break hot around his hand. You trembled. “Please don’t be afraid. I’ve only watched over you. To keep you safe. To keep you company. You looked so alone.”

You murmured into his hand and he held you tighter. You brought your hands up to push against him and he sighed.

“I won’t hurt you. Ever.” He promised as your eyes widened. “Please know that.” He smiled sweetly and leaned back. “So please don’t scream.”

He slowly removed his hand from your mouth. You stared at him. Your eyes burned and your heart hammered in your ears. You opened your mouth to shriek. His fingers flicked and you were once more smothered. The thick webs covered your mouth and you reached up to pry them away.

He caught your hands and held them away from your lips. “I don’t want it to be like this, darling,” He said. “I’d love to kiss you and those webs won’t make that easy.” Your voice was smothered as you tried to argue and his grip grew tighter around your wrists. “Have I hurt you?”

You blinked and lowered your brow. He hadn’t but he hadn’t been honest either. This whole time it had been him. Watching you, following you, taunting you. And  he had sat in your bedroom and pretended to be your protector. You were a fool.

“I have only been good to you. And you would throw out my letters and spurn my gifts.” He tutted. “Wallowed in your loneliness.”

You tried to pull away and he tugged you closer. He got up on his knees and forced you onto your back. He climbed over you and straddled you to the bed. He released a hand and held the other against a bar along the headboard. He webbed it in place and grabbed the other. You tried to wiggle free but he caught you easily.

You kicked as your wrists were restrained above you. Your cries dampened by the webs across your lips. His fingertips tickled your neck and he framed your face with his hands. He smiled down at you. You squirmed helplessly as he squeezed his thighs to your sides.

He shot his hands out behind him. Your feet were caught in the webs that wrapped around the end board. You were entirely at his mercy. He inhaled deeply and carefully got off of you. His eyes ran the length of your body and you pulled against the restraints. It made no difference.

He turned and opened the dresser drawer. He pulled out the same box and opened it. He held up the panties. 

“I was sad you didn’t wear them.” He bemoaned. “A nice colour on you.”

You grunted and looked to the ceiling. It felt as if the walls were closing in. Your body was covered in goosebumps and yet you couldn’t stop sweating.

“It’s okay. We can save them for a special occasion.” He tucked them back beneath the tissue paper. “I just want us to enjoy this, darling. Let’s not worry about anything else.”

You glanced down at your body. The loose pajama shorts and camisole were poor protection. You hadn’t thought much of it in the dark. Now the morning light glowed in the window frames and limned along every fold and wrinkle.

“I was patient. I really was but...it’s time, darling. You and I are meant to be together.” 

He reached back and his suit fell slack. He lowered it down his arms and stepped out of it with ease. He was lean but muscular, his shoulders broader than most of him. He wore little black briefs beneath the suit. He brought a knee up onto the bed and looked over your body.

“It’s a big city. Dangerous to be alone here.”

He moved between your legs and his fingers grazed your thighs. His tongue peeked out between his teeth. He purred and leaned over you, his hands on either side of you. He bent and pressed his lips to yours. You could feel him through the webs. 

He brought an arm up next to your head and caressed your hair. He pulled away and his brown eyes sparkled. “You’re so beautiful.” His other hand brushed your hip and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your camisole. “I love you, darling.”

You grimaced and he kissed you again. He dragged his lips along your cheek and down your jaw. His hand grazed your stomach and chest. He groaned. He doted on your neck and shoulders. He pushed your camisole up your torso and you flinched as he bared your chest.

His hands covered your tits and he buried his head between them. His mouth explored with fervour as his fingers kneaded tenderly. He took a nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. He nipped but did not bite. Firm but not rough.

You tensed as he moved lower down. He left a trail along your stomach as his hands hugged your hips. He nuzzled against the cotton shorts and pulled aside the loose crotch. You felt his breath along your vee and shivered.

He teased along your thighs, teeth and tongue. You winced as it sent a tingle along your spine. His fingers rubbed along your lips and he pushed them apart. You gasped but it made no sound. He ran his middle finger over your clit and replaced it with his tongue. You pushed your head back as the sensation intensified.

His mouth made you wet. You were ashamed as the heat began to gather in your core and he tasted your arousal as it rose. He suckled and lapped carefully. Every flick, every swirl, deliberate. His hand stretched over your thigh and he hummed in delight. He lifted his head, you couldn’t look at him.

“You’re delicious, darling.” He keened and you closed your eyes. 

He dipped his head down again and you spasmed. His tongue danced along your clit and slid between your folds. Your head lolled back and forth. You were dizzy from the shock of it all. Your thighs tensed and your curse was muted by the webs. You were breathless as you came. Surprised by the sudden rush as it left you weak.

“See,” He parted and looked up at you. You opened your eyes, a blur of tears and splendour. “I only want to love you.”

You arched your back and pulled against the webs. It was a paltry attempt. Your last act of pride as he moved closer on his knees. He rolled his briefs down and you blanched. You looked to the ceiling again as the mattress shifted below you.

He bent over you again, his arm bent under yours as he kissed you. He cradled your cheek as he felt around with his other hand. He pushed his cock past your pajamas, the fabric pressed against your thigh, and dragged the head along your folds. You squirmed and he gripped your chin.

You opened your eyes as he poked along your entrance. He stared down at you as he pushed inside and you tried to speak through the webs. He sank, deeper and deeper, his mouth slowly opened in a silent gasp. He shuddered and paused as he bottomed out.

“Oh god,” He whispered, “Oh.”

He pressed his lips to the web. He began to move slowly. His hips rocked against you in a gentle rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to steady your breathing. He felt much bigger than you expected. 

You tried to resist the echo of your orgasm as it began to build again. You whined through your nose as his lips left yours. He hung his head next to yours and nibbled at your throat. His pace mounted a little at a time. He groaned and grunted into your skin. 

He pushed himself up and grabbed your hips. His thighs were firm against yours as he worked into you. His flesh clapped loudly and you looked down at him. His muscles flexed as he watched himself fuck you. He was rabid as he admired the way his cock slid in and out of you. The sight spurred him on as he pounded into you harder with each thrust.

“I can feel it. You gonna cum?” He snarled as his pelvis jerked against yours. 

You hit your head against the bed as your pussy tightened around him. You couldn’t fight it. The feel of him against your walls. The fire crackling within as it licked at your flesh. He pressed his thumb to your clit and you spasmed. It was enough to send you over the edge again.

“Oh, oh,” He slammed into you and slid his hands around to lift your ass. The angle let him even deeper. “I’m gonna--”

He exclaimed and you felt him cum. He coated your walls and it eased his last few thrusts. He rode out his climax and his head fell back as he panted. He brought his hands around to your hips and down your thighs. He caressed you as he caught his breath.

“Darling, that was…” He sighed as he smiled down at you. “Perfect.”

[dracula-in-purple-story]

Trick and Treat

The benefits of being underground heroes means no one would recognise you. A fact that three certain heroes (plus a sentient quirk) exploit it mercilessly. 

Halloween. An event where people of all kinds get to excuse themselves for pranks and indulged themselves with tooth-rotting candy. It’s also a certain event where two gothic-theme heroes are free to cursed their mothers for bringing them to life far too soon or far too late.

“That’s not a reason to cursed my in-laws, Fumi, Shi.” Shoji Mezou huffed before turning two of his appendages to mouths as to pecked his gloomy husbands. Shoji-Tokoyami Fumikage, who draped himself with a dark cloak and held a handmade scythe, fumed pettily alongside with Shoji-Kuroiro Shihai, who decided to wrapped themselves an equally as black bandages.

“Mezou love, I didn’t agree to marry you to hear you stand in defence for our mothers who let us down for the first time in the beginning of our lives.”

“Fumi’s right in a way. If only they could at least put in more effort on giving birth before the sacred event had ended-”

“Or wait a bit more longer-”

“Okay, guys. I kinda didn’t agree to waste my day off on listening to your brooding. So, could we get moving?” Ojiro Tooru wiggled around in her plain-white cloth while exaggerated her frustration, earning some laughs among her husbands.

“Take care and have fun, Ruru,” Mashirao softly spoke as he setting up the makeshift pillow fort around Hitoshi. The Ojiro husbands decided to spend their rare day off to watch horror marathon with the main Shoji patriarch. 

The invisible lady just giggled before dragging off the other Shoji husbands for their play dates. Mezou waved them off, even blew the sentient quirk a kiss back, before settling down besides the pillow fort. 

“Five thousand yens they come back with more candies than they are allow to have.”

“Six thousand.”

“Bet.”

“Toshi! Mezou!”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Any gummy packets? All I got is candy corns.” the boy with four arms and dressed as Red Riot grimaced.

“Nope, I only got two packets of strawberry marshmallows and some Miruko-branded carrot candies, Red Riot Junior. What about you, Deku Junior?” the green-skinned girl dressed as Shemage quietly answered before glancing at the bulking boy with scales that dressed as the Symbol of Hope.

He smirked before lifting up his bucket, making the other kids jaw dropped. In there, three huge packets of Bakusquad-branded fruity gummies, five king-sized Fatgum-branded chocolate bars, two swirly red and white lollipops, and a box of bite-sized candy bars themed after Pre-Debut UA Class A.

“Impressive, huh?”

“No jokes, Ken- I mean, Deku Junior! How?!” the Red Riot ‘Junior’ tried to reach out before getting his hand slapped by the now-sneering boy.

“Don’t touch it! Anyways, I just roamed around the neighbourhood that filled with old farts who got too much money to spend. One glance at my mega awesome costume then they throwing me prizes after prizes!” The scaly boy exclaimed proudly as he showed off his goods, “Wish you have this amazing influence than some two-bits characters you two decided to dressed as!”

“You got some nerves insulting the chivalrous hero and the mushroom heroine, kid.” All three kids quickly turned towards the voice down the alley. Seeing that it’s someone who decided that draping a white blanket is a good enough costume, the boy scoffed rudely.

“What, blanket girlie, you think you have the rights to tell me off when you have a lame ass costume?” “Wrong, it’s an awesome costume!” the blanket girlie huffed out her chest proudly, “You just didn’t see what is under these ghost sheets.”

“Ghost sheets?” the green girl snickered, “Yeah, right.”

“Why don’t we check it out, eh?” the four-arms boy grinned at the Deku cosplayer, who smirked back as he reached out to pull the sheets. As he did so, the kids paled. There is... nothing under the sheet. Not even the girl who is supposed to be draped over. 

Suddenly, eerie radio screeches can be heard behind the ghost(?). Two little lights are flashing red at where the head are supposed to be located. The lackeys, scared out of their wits, dropped their buckets as they ran away, leaving the leader behind. 

“You took a look under my sheet, and now...” the ghost(?) floated even higher, “YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED! MUAHAHAHA!”

“AAAAA!” the scaly brute dashed off immediately after throwing his bucket at the ghost(?). As the boy disappeared down the street, Tooru immediately emptied out the buckets into her Invisible Bag, which is almost filled to the brimmed with her delicious loots. Hearing another group of little trick-or-treaters coming in her way, she immediately set into her position.

~~~~~~~~~~

This is just plain stupid. This horror story telling is too repetitive. The dead girl in the toilet. The spooky piano that plays on its own. The suicide forest. Sure they can scared and spooked Hanako at first but listening to these stories over and over again seems to lose its charm.

Her peers didn’t seem to think so. Sitting in a badly formed circle in the middle of an empty park with an electric candle right in the middle of the said circle. Some third-rated spooky music supposedly to put people in the mood to get scared. 

“... and there she sat, drinking the boy’s blood like a drug!”

“You sure this is a true story? Sounds fake.”

“Totes not! Search ‘blood drinking girl’, man!”

Even if it’s a true story, Hanako doubt the legality of the story. If this T.H. girl supposedly love this guy, she should kill those girls instead of the boy. Eh, she shouldn’t question it.

“Sooooo, who’s next?”

“Can I have a turn?” 

“Sure!”

A husky voice chuckled, making the horror-numb girl trembled. That was new to her, not one of her peers sound like that. Even her seat partners shivered too.

“Let’s see, anyone ever heard of a certain narcissistic man who killed anyone who said he’s ugly?”

Oh, this is new. Perhaps her peers didn’t disappoint her yet. After affirmation, the rasping voice continued. Due to the light is too dimmed, she was unable to see who’s telling the tale with such voice.

“There was once a man, with a face no one could ever compare to. His visual is second to none. Women praised him, loved him, worshipped him. Men hated him, cursed him, and some even fell for him.”

Hanako lighted up. A total original story! She listened with rapt attention, ignoring how her horny peers groaned and moaned at the suggestively rough voice.

“One unfortunate event is all it took for people to turned away from the man. An arson planned by envious men who couldn’t take it anymore, seeing their supposedly lawful spouses dreamed and loved a man that isn’t them. How envy drove them mad. The damage is dealt. His entire body is burnt to crisps and yet, he lived.”

The music stopped. Before the person in charge of it could fix it, it suddenly played an ominous song that she had never heard before. She didn’t know that the harsh-sounding peer have good taste in music. 

“Truly unfortunate it is. The once handsome man lost all his supporters in one whole swoop. His haters jeered and hurling faux-pity at him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Wrapped in his measly black-burnt bandages, he asked each and every single one of the people, ‘Am I handsome? Am I gorgeous?’. People jabbed jokes at him before they get stabbed to death.”

Hanako is curling into her jacket as the air getting chilly. Weird, as inattentive as she was, no one have a quirk related to wind. Now she think about it, not even one of them have a husky voice, even the her male peers are just getting their puberty hit on them.

“One by one, they dropped to their death. Even children and the senile were not spared. The man went mad with his vanity spiralled out. He asked, he cried, he stabbed. Then, he came onto a group of teens who sat around in a circle telling stories after stories. Can I ask?”

The girl suddenly felt dread coursed over her body. She thinks some of her peers piss themselves. Before anyone could react, the electrical candle went off. Hanako quickly reached out to turned it on and, lo and behold, a man wrapped in black-burnt bandages stood in the middle of the circle.

“Am I handsome?” the man who owned said husky voice gleamed at them with flashing black eyes, “Am I... gorgeous?”

Screams could be heard throughout the neighbourhood. When people found the source of said scream, teens would either huddled up or straight up fainted. The only thing missing among them are the candies they collected. Hanako might cried a bit, but whoever that man is, he earned himself a fan.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Happy Halloween!” 

Waving off the kids, Mrs Gokudera beamed at her almost empty candy-bowl. Ever since her grandkids started their high schools, they almost never visit her in this lonely home, which makes this holiday truly joyful. Just as she was about to filled the candy-bowl with her homemade striped candy balls, her doorbell rang. Sighing blissfully, she opened up the door.

Instead of little children, few masked people appeared the other side of the door. Mrs Gokudera usually pleased to see that other people enjoyed the good old trick-or-treating but her quirk, Intentions, alerted her as she saw them with dangerously black aura. 

“Heya, old lady. Trick or-”

“Definitely trick, imbeciles.”

Interrupting the one who started to sprouted blades out of their arms, the group of masked people turned towards the other side. Mrs Gokudera couldn’t see who it was as the malicious people blocked her sights but she saw a white aura coming out from that person. Knowing she was in good hands, she immediately slammed her door and dialled the police. As she dare peeked out of the window, she gawked at a hooded figure fighting against people with an obviously fake scythe and a manifested shadow(?) that seems to basked in the chaos.

When the police arrived, the fight is over. The hooded figure and his shadow companion came out unscathed but his prop is broken. Sensing his frustration through a grey aura, Mrs Gokudera beckoned the bird-headed figure, who seems to finished his statement to the police.

“Hello, dearie. You okay?”

“Don’t worry, madam. We are perfectly fine. Although we had to cut short our fun due to this unholy festive spirits that decided to bother you.” the hooded figure solemnly nodded.

“Oh dear. Sorry to cause you trouble.”

The shadow companion seems to beamed at her loudly, “Don’t worry, lady! We are heroes! This is nothing!”

Ah, that explains why the police didn’t bother him for vigilantism. Clearing her thoughts up, she thanked him by giving most of her stashes. It’s really funny seeing how the bird-headed hero humbly accepted while the shadow just cackled in delight as they dumped the wrapped candy balls into their goody bags.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We are back, hubbies!”

“Welcome ba- why are there ten gigantic bags? Did you guys steal them?”

The three trick-or-treaters sheepishly chuckled as they got stared down by the tail hero. Behind Mashirao, Mezou handed a few paper money to Hitoshi, who tried to snickered quietly before got stared down by his disappointed husband too.

[maknaesdancersrappers]

deliberate seductions.

overall warning/s:  explicit smut, implied dubcon, incubus!au, angst

[ ! ] this was originally an exo fic i wrote years ago on aff

prologue.

A woman in her early twenties stepped out of her apartment building and let out an annoyed breath, fastening the buttons of her raincoat as fast as she could. She muttered a couple of curses about forgetting to buy some ingredients for dinner and refused to order from the nearby restaurant once again. With quick but careful steps, she made her way to the nearest store around the block.

It was probably around 7 in the evening already and the sky was much darker because of the incoming storm. Clouds covered the sky above her, hiding the starry night and full moon behind it. The wind was colder than she remembered when she had left her home.

The streets were eerie and it would have sent her running back to her home’s safety, if not for the loud chatter and music coming from the houses around. There were a couple of people walking past her, too, some were her neighbors, some were night joggers, some who came from or going to work, and some were just out for a stroll.

Nearing the store, she had felt a sudden shift in the air; like a pair of eyes watching her every move. The streets, though creepy, were lit perfectly fine; so she couldn’t miss anyone hiding in the shadows when she glanced back. Shrugging the feeling off, she entered the store and greeted the sweet old lady behind the cashier.

Purchasing only the items she deemed worthy and important as of the moment, she paid for them at the counter and thanked the lady as she left. The moment her eyes left the old lady to look where she was going, another pair had greeted her own. For a second, she thought they were purple. A glowing purple. Blinking, she stared into the dark brown eyes of a very handsome man.

“Oh, pardon me.” She stuttered as she clutches onto her purchases in her tote bag.

“Oh no, it was my fault for not letting you pass.” The other had replied with a smile, a little dimple etched on his cheek.

She blinked once more and swore to herself that the strangers eyes flickered to a soft lilac color. Excusing it as a sign of hunger, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry, again…” With one more apologetic glance, she froze. She felt like her entire system had shut down – eyes focused on the man in front of her, breath hitching at the sight of his smile, and her limbs going numb.

They say it takes a couple of seconds to be attracted to someone.

“I’m sorry, but could I ask for your name?” The stranger spoke up.

Wow, well aren’t they so right at the moment.

“[Y/N]...”

The smile the man had flashed her was unbelievably beautiful.

It wasn’t like her to invite strangers into her home; but something compelled her to help him. He had recently moved into town, still new to the streets, when his car had broken down while he had gone out to look for something to eat. She wasn’t raised to ignore someone in need.

When they had finished the simple dinner she cooked, she asked if he wanted dessert, remembering a few cupcakes she has in the fridge she’d been saving. The man had said yes, his eyes glinting under the fluorescent light of your little kitchen area.

It wasn’t like her at all to offer herself in place of the cupcakes; shoving her tongue down his throat and prop herself up his strong thigh to rut against it like an animal in heat. As she guides him down the hall and into her room, their mouths refusing to separate, she felt the last bit of sanity in her snap and releasing all her inhibitions.

It wasn’t like her at all.

The following morning, she rolled over to the other side of the bed and yawned.

Something felt missing.

Her hands glided up the empty space beside her.

Something felt different.

Her leg swung across the empty space and she grunted.

Her whole body was sore and aching; as if she had worked out repeatedly the night before when all she had was the same old routine of doing homework, preparing dinner, and eating it alone.

next >>

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Another Vampire Romance

Summary:

The path through the forest isn't the shortcut Katie hoped it would be, and the "haunting" isn't mere superstition after all.

Word count:  5425 (one-shot, complete)

A/N:

i swear this is a serious fic. don’t be misled by the title it’s still April Fool’s where i live. in any case, i never did think i’d ever write a vampire fic...

as always, i must thank @rueitae for beta reading so quickly

uh warnings for blood/injury and some suggestive themes - you know, the usual vampire fiction stuff. and i hope you enjoy!!

Edit:  @artemisarya did fan art of a scene and it’s so good ;_; 

Read below or here on ao3:

The forest wasn’t truly haunted as far as Katie could tell. Why should it be? She saw none of the restless spirits of a thousand soldiers, no ghosts that wandered the trees where they died lost, no demons lurking in the dark beyond the footpath, waiting for a single misstep to seize the soul of an innocent passerby.

No vampires crouching, a stalking predator lying in wait to take her by surprise.

But it was getting darker, shadows growing longer and sunlight barely penetrating the thick interlacing branches overhead, and according to Katie’s map she was still leagues away from the nearest village at the edge of the forest.

Maybe she should’ve taken the long, more populated route…but then she would’ve risked arriving for the start of her term late.

If only her family could spare her sooner - but if that was possible, she could’ve afforded to hire a wagon.

Brown leaves crunched underfoot as Katie trekked, the sound deafening in the stillness of the forest by evening. Even all the birds, so vibrant despite perching unseen in the trees, fell silent over an hour ago.

Suddenly Katie wondered if their silence was down to the time…or location.

A breeze stirred the branches, setting them rustling, and she clutched her cloak a little tighter around herself, shivering. She’d been walking with few breaks for the whole day, and her limbs and fuzzy mind longed to stop for longer than it took to rest her aching feet and relieve herself. But Katie needed to press on to the next village to avoid spending the night in the forest…although soon it would be too dark to read her map.

A low growl broke the stillness.

Katie froze, her eyes wide and a shiver traveling up her spine. Lions didn’t venture so far north…but did bears growl like that?

I’m being followed, she realized with dawning horror. She forced her feet to shift, muscles poised to flee at the first sign of a threat, as she tried to remember what, exactly, one did to avoid being mauled by a bear.

But what if whatever followed her wasn’t a bear but something worse?

“Evening, milady.”

Katie shrieked, arms flailing in a pitiful effort to defend herself as she jumped away from the…mild male voice. She opened her eyes - when did she close them? - and met the blue-eyed gaze of a boy that looked close to her age.

He didn’t look surprised at her reaction, only bemused judging by his slight smile and a thin, raised eyebrow. “I apologize,” he said, oddly formal as he rested a hand over his heart. “I forget how easy it is to sneak up on a human.” He spoke with the slightest accent that Katie couldn’t place, his skin too dark - like he spent hours in the sun - to name him local…and his clothes - a fine navy coat over the tight trousers that noblemen wore - worn by a journey, wrinkled with a few odd stains.

But he carried no bag, no water skin, no obvious weapon at his belt.

Curious, especially this deep in the forest.

He looked more than just disheveled too, his clothes torn in places, and his dark skin mottled darker with bruises on his jaw and under his eye.

What…hurt him?

(And would it treat her the same?)

Katie cleared her throat in a pitiful attempt to compose herself; the mystery of the man’s sudden and strange appearance helped - she never really could resist a mystery. And his words… “Are you implying that you aren’t human?” she wondered with a laugh.

It sounded forced to her ears. How could he not be human? Yet her heart pounded in her ears, almost too loud in the eerie stillness of the forest - haunted, Katie remembered.

Well, perhaps there were more to those claims than mere superstition.

The man’s eyes - a shocking and almost inhuman shade of the vividest blue - widened before he laughed, hands slipping into his coat pockets as he tossed his head back, exposing the narrow column of his throat. “It’s been too long since I spent time with the more ignorant members of your kind,” he admitted as if it was the most casual confession in the world, “but since you know…” He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze darting around, looking almost awkward. “Can you spare me a drink? I’d never ask a stranger, but I’m getting desperate, and you’re the first human I’ve met since I came here.”

Katie stared at him, growing more bewildered with every word that escaped his lips. Numbly she reached for the water skin dangling from her tote and held it out to him. “Uh…sure, you can have a drink,” she told him. “According to my map, there’s a stream not far from here, so I can refill—”

The man cut her off when he took the water skin. He went so far as to uncap it and sniff its contents - water, as if there was any doubt - before handing it back to her. “That’s…not what I meant,” he said with an oddly apologetic smile.

“Then what do you mean?” Katie asked…although she already knew the answer.

She stumbled back a step, nearly tripping over an arching tree root that extended over the footpath, with her heart leaping into her throat. Her fingers found the silver cross dangling from her neck - a gift from her mother in happier times.

Stories of the thousand soldiers ordered by a despotic liege lord to march through this very forest only to disappear without a trace flashed through her mind, of travelers warned to journey the long way around, of playing children lost and never found.

“Vampire,” she hissed, glaring at the man…though her heart raced faster than any warhorse, urging her to flee.

The man - the vampire - glanced down, at her hand gripping the cross. “That won’t protect you from me,” he warned, “anymore than it will from the ones of my kind that make this forest their home. Besides”—he smirked very slightly—”I’m a Christian too, milady.” He leaned towards her, like a predator crouching for the pounce - and she was the prey. “I swear it won’t hurt.”

Katie took another step back, looking him up and down. He was a whole head taller than her, lean with long legs, so if she ran for it doubtless he would catch her.

And as exhausted and achy as she felt after days of walking on foot, she couldn’t outlast him.

But the blood rushing past her ears, filling her with a panicky energy, urged her to try anyway.

So Katie turned and ran, air whistling past her as she wove around tree trunks. Her feet thudded against the ground, each step sending a shock reverberating through her body. She swung her arms to keep her balance as she nearly stumbled over roots, and the sound of her breathing and pounding heart filled her ears.

She didn’t halt till she tripped at the crest of a hill. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the ground with a gasp, her body rolling down too fast so all she could do to protect herself was tuck her elbows close to her sides and keep her mouth closed against swallowing any dirt.

She slowed to a stop at the base of the hill, panting and gasping for air, leaves and twigs stuck to her cloak and in her hair, tears in her baggy trousers where rocks and sticks caught in the fabric.

Tears - of pain, of panic and distress - pooled at the corners of her eyes while the world overhead spun, branches and leaves blurring dark green and gray. Her skin stung and smarted everywhere, the scraped palms of her hands worst of all, but when she touched her aching temple, viscous red blood stained her fingertips.

Katie rolled onto her side, clutching her throbbing head and trying to keep her surroundings from spinning too far out of her control. She sat upright and reached for her tote at her back to rifle inside for her rolled up parchment map.

She drew it by hand based on her father’s old atlas; his library was the only thing she and her mother agreed to keep intact from their old estate, refusing to sell even a single tome, and she made sure to put it to good use.

She unrolled the map and slowly stood, head fuzzy as the ground tilted beneath her, but she kept her balance by leaning against a nearby tree trunk. She inhaled as steadily as she could, squinting at the map and trying to orient herself.

But it was too dark, the light of the full moon barely enough to make out any lines of ink on the parchment, much less what they symbolized.

So much for escaping the forest by dark.

Katie slid down the tree with a sigh, her chest tight and shoulders rigid. What if the vampire found her, injured and weak? She could barely keep her eyes open now that the energy of flight faded…

“Look at that, Zethrid,” a high, simpering voice intruded. “Can you believe it? I’ve never seen prey that did all the work for us.”

Katie blinked slowly, forcing her eyelids open despite the sleep trying to weigh them down, and stared up at three unfamiliar faces.

Their eyes, luminous in the moonlit darkness, glinted wickedly.

“It took all the fun out of the hunt, Ezor,” the largest figure complained with a snarl. Her nostrils flared, gaze falling to Katie’s forehead. “Such a waste of clean blood too…”

“She’s still worthwhile,” the third, shortest figure said, her voice cooler and more detached than the others. She crouched in front of Katie, fingers gently clutching her chin and tilting her head to the side to examine the cut on her temple. Her brow furrowed, nose twitching, and she mumbled, “But there’s something in her scent…”

“She’s barely a snack, Acxa,” the big one - Zethrid, Katie guessed despite her sluggish mind - whined. “And she’s already injured, so there’s no sport in this.”

“Lotor won’t care about that,” said Acxa.

“Of course not,” the first speaker, tall and willowy, agreed while she picked at her fingernail. “He only wants intruders to know whose territory this is.”

“And her injuries make that an easier task than usual,” Acxa pointed out with a nod.

Zethrid rolled her eyes but grunted, while Ezor grinned nastily. “She’s so small she’s not even worth sharing.”

Katie swallowed, heart constricting with a newfound fear. Perhaps she should’ve taken her chances with the vampire that asked for permission.

But she curled one hand into a fist, her other closing around the hilt of her knife. She wouldn’t be able to run, not in her state, but she refused to let them drink her dry without a fight.

Acxa gripped her arm, wrenching her upright, but Katie swung her knife at her face with a scowl. The vampire dodged easily, her other hand closing around her flailing wrist and gripping so tight and wrenching her arm so sharply that Katie yelped in pain.

The knife slipped from her fingers.

Katie blinked burning, frustrated tears from her eyes. Was it really…was that really how easily the smallest of them could overpower her?

But no, she couldn’t give up now; her mother still needed her, she had that coveted place she fought for at a renowned college, she had to survive this and—

Zethrid lifted her effortlessly, but Katie thrashed, kicking her feet. Her boot collided with Ezor’s chest, but she didn’t even step backwards, just laughed and patronizingly patted her cheek.

“Is this enough of a fight for you, Zethrid?” she asked her burly companion.

Zethrid scowled. “She wouldn’t be able to crush a spider under her heel,” she grumbled. She hefted Katie over her shoulder, carrying her like a pathetic sack of potatoes with her legs dangling uselessly against her chest.

But Katie still fought, bellowing with all the air she could pull into her lungs. She tried punching Zethrid’s back, though the effort made the ground lurch all over again, and even twisting around to grab a fistful of her hair.

But it was useless, she started to realize. A sob burst out of her, her heart dropping into her stomach alongside a heavy knot of dread.

If she was barely a “snack”, why didn’t they just finish her now?

Ezor walked behind them, laughing and smirking in obvious mockery while she and Zethrid chatted, oblivious to - or reveling in - Katie’s fear. Only Acxa, who led the way deeper into the trees, further away from the footpath, traveled in silence.

Until a low and feral growl forced them to a halt.

“Back off!” the first vampire she ever met hissed. “I saw her first!”

Katie lifted her head, a weird flush creeping into her skin despite the rapid, frightened pounding of her heart. Her breath caught in her throat when her gaze fell on him, his body wound tight with his arms rigid at his sides, a livid scowl twisting his lips, and his eyes a blazing blue no one could mistake as human.

He looked just as threatening as the three vampires carting her away.

They turned to face him, and Katie lost her view. “You again?” Acxa said, though she sounded more weary than annoyed. “I thought we warned you off Lotor’s territory.”

“Can’t you see, Acxa?” Ezor sneered. “He’s lost his pet and wants it back.”

Katie glared at the ground and spat, “I’m not his—”

“I did,” the man agreed so quickly Katie forced her jaws shut despite the irritation filling her. “She’s smart for a human but gets lost so easily, and obviously she doesn’t understand the finer points of our politics when I warned her that she was trespassing on Lotor’s territory.”

Anger made her blood hot, but Katie wasn’t so thoughtless she’d dare to contradict him now. He was trying to free her, to talk her out of a situation she - and likely he, outnumbered three to one - couldn’t fight their way out of, but—

He probably just wanted her blood for himself.

Well, she preferred the vampire that might listen to reason to the three carrying her off to be devoured.

(Never mind that animalistic growl that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end…)

Katie held her breath, her heart pounding while she waited for them to deliberate, the silence thick with an awful tension, until at last Acxa said, “Do you swear to leave our territory by dawn?”

“Only if you return her to me,” he said, tone firm.

She didn’t reply immediately, so Zethrid said, “Wait, you wouldn’t—”

“Give her to him,” Acxa pronounced. “I can smell him on her, so he’s not lying.”

His scent? He didn’t even touch her earlier!

“What?” Ezor said, for once incredulous rather than mocking. “But if Lotor finds out we let a human - even another vampire’s pet - go free, then—”

“He won’t find out,” Acxa promised, “and if he does, I’ll take the blame.”

“See that you do,” Zethrid said with a hint of menace in her voice. But she dropped Katie unceremoniously to the ground. “I told you she wasn’t worth it…”

Katie curled in on herself with a pained hiss, her shoulder aching where it collided with the ground. Her head throbbed behind her eyes, so violently she barely heard the other three vampires’ retreating footsteps - but they moved so silently there might not have been anything to hear at all.

Nothing but the other lone vampire sighing as he slumped against a tree trunk.

Katie forced herself upright, crawling towards him and intent on telling him exactly what she thought of being called his “pet”, but any anger she felt evaporated when she spotted his eyes pinched shut, one hand clutching at his throat while the other bunched in the fabric of his trousers.

“A-are you…all right?” Katie wondered. Her hand hovered over his shoulder, unsure.

He didn’t look half as worthy of fear - half so dangerous - as he had a moment ago.

He shook his head, one eye cracking open. “Just so…thirsty,” he said, his voice hoarse. His gaze snapped to her forehead, and he extended his hand towards it before he seemed to think better of it. “You’re bleeding, milady.”

Katie’s eyes widened as she touched her temple, hair and skin sticky with blood; she forgot about the cut on her head. It almost hurt to raise an eyebrow, but somehow she managed it and asked tartly, “Is it enough blood for you?”

To her surprise he snorted, a smile flickering across his lips, but his piercing blue eyes were hazy when they fell on her face. “You wouldn’t happen to want to change your mind, would you?”

Something in Katie - perhaps compassion, the sort she usually reserved only for her family - stirred, along with a growing curiosity. What was it like, allowing a vampire to drink from her blood? “I…never did say no, did I?”

He shrugged. “If you say yes now, I won’t hold it against you, milady.”

“Why do you call me that?” Katie said, frowning. “And why did you…save me from them? I’m not your”—her lip curled—”pet.”

The vampire tilted his head back, letting it fall against the tree trunk, and admitted, “I know you’re not, but that was the only way to get them to let you go.” He sighed and offered her a real smile, the sort that filled her with an unfamiliar warmth. “And I don’t know what else to call you, but I’d like to know your name before I take anything from you.”

Katie bit her lip, fingers wringing the frayed edge of her dirty cloak. “Won’t it…turn me into one of your kind?”

“No,” he said quickly - almost too quickly. All traces of amusement vanished from his face, something dark and bitter replacing them when he added, “It takes more than that to turn a human.”

Katie shivered - did she imagine the cool wind touching her skin? - and released a breath. “Then…stop calling me ‘milady’,” she said. “I’m not one.”

Not anymore.

“You can call me Pidge,” she told him, leaning towards him while balancing on the balls of her feet. “And you…?”

“Lance,” he said, his grin returning as if it never left. He touched her elbow - mumbling an apology when she flinched in surprise - and jerked his head…asking permission.

Her heart raced anew. She licked her lips, wary all over again under his intense gaze; was she really considering this…letting Lance…do…well, she wasn’t even sure what it was she was thinking of letting him do besides drink her blood like a humanoid mosquito.

(And she could only try so hard to justify her intellectual curiosity.)

“It won’t hurt,” he promised her, “but you’ll have to relax.” His fingers traveled down her arms, goosebumps rising over her skin where he brushed it through a tear in her sleeve. He tugged her towards him though she already drifted in, his gaze holding her captive.

“I don’t…believe that,” she confessed, her mouth dry (soon enough she’d need a drink too).

“Y-you can still say no,” Lance said, though she sensed his reluctance.

Katie shook her head. “I-I give you permission,” she murmured, and pinched her eyes shut.

But her eyelids fluttered open again when Lance gently cupped her jaw and tilted her head to the side. Her breath caught in her lungs as he leaned in, and for one tense moment she thought he would kiss her.

Instead his cold lips met the sweat-sticky skin of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine, but she felt no hint of a breath warming her flesh.

A gasp escaped her when he sucked at the spot over her pulse, underneath her jaw, and finally something sharp punctured her skin.

A light pinch was all the pain Katie felt, all other discomfort overpowered by every other sensation flooding her senses:  her knees digging into the hard ground until Lance pulled her halfway onto his lap, his fingers digging into her hips over her belt, his soft lips on her skin, the chill of the evening cooling her too-warm flesh, the heat rushing to her face, the odd, sucking sound of a mouth drawing out her blood.

Her head spinning with a wave of dizziness if she so much as opened her eyes, his attention more intoxicating than any stolen wine.

Katie wrapped her hands around his muscular upper arms, tugging him a little closer - though she wasn’t sure if it was to steady herself or if she liked the feeling of his lithe body pressed against hers. She and Lance…they were strangers, yet she melted into him, seeking all he’d give to her of him, of his chilly touch traveling up her back and his strengthening arms surrounding her.

She’d never felt so close to - so safe with - anyone, much less a man.

(But he wasn’t really a man, was he?)

Another pinch - another gasp passing through her lips - indicated Lance finished. He lifted his head, his large hand falling to her shoulder and his thumb rubbing a few drops of blood and saliva from where they slid down her throat.

Katie stared up at him, heedless that it only made her dizzier. His eyes deepened to a richer blue, and now that she saw him…sated, the frenetic energy she hadn’t noticed before was gone.

He looked calm, relaxed…almost fond when he smiled at her.

He licked his thumb clean of her blood - why did that make heat pool in the depths of her abdomen? - before he cupped her cheeks with both hands. “How do you feel, Pidge?” he asked.

It was just a silly nickname, but the sound of it on his tongue pushed a giddy smile onto her face.

Oh, God, was this stupid infatuation a consequence of letting him feed on her?

It was too hard to think, her thoughts circling each other, and she could barely string two words together as she tried to say, “F-f—good, I…think.” She giggled, her hand resting against the side of his face. “Your eyes…pretty.”

Lance grinned…until it morphed into a frown and a little wrinkle formed on his forehead. “I think I fed too long…”

Katie nodded, but that simple motion only made her head spin and mind fog worse. Her eyelids fluttered, an irresistible sleep tugging at her, and she mumbled, “D-damn you, L-Lance…” She slumped forward, forehead falling against his chest, and stopped fighting.

Vampire or not, his arms weren’t a terrible bed…

***

Katie woke feeling sluggish like she slept too long in a too comfortable bed. She smacked her lips, blinking away the last cobwebs of dreams, and rolled onto her side.

She didn’t find her familiar bedside table, no book she stayed up too late reading, no clock mounted on the wall telling her she was late for the day’s first class.

Katie bolted upright, heart pounding as it all rushed back to her:  the forest, the chase, the vampires that captured her, Lance…

Had he brought her here?

She lay back down, breathing deeply in an effort to calm herself before sitting up and throwing the thick blankets aside. She found the window more by sense of touch in the dark room, and when she peeked through the curtains…it was still dark.

Katie frowned, pressing her nose to the cold glass. Smudges of lamplight illuminated a street, and she looked to be on the second floor. Were any of the villages at the border of the forest large enough for an inn?

(And who paid for her room?)

With the little light streaming in through the window, Katie assessed her surroundings: small bedroom just a little larger than her dormitory, her cloak draped over the back of a chair in the corner with her tote on the seat, a bandage wrapped around her head when she raised a hand to touch it…

Beyond the door to her room, floorboards and a wooden staircase creaked under the weight of feet, two different voices speaking too low for her to distinguish their words. But a door shut not far from hers, and Katie finally mustered the courage to emerge from her room and into the narrow, shadowed hallway.

Katie took the stairs as silently as she could. Her whole body tensed the closer to the ground she stepped, wary after the ordeal in the forest. She half-expected someone to jump out of a shadow, demanding her blood or her death (or both), but she made it to a small common room filled with simple wooden furniture - two tables and a few benches to go with them - without being assailed.

A relieved breath escaped her when her eyes caught on a familiar figure sitting on a stool beside a hearth of dimming coals.

She almost feared she imagined the vampire - Lance - and letting him feed from her; his teeth - his fangs? - left not a single trace on her skin, so all she had was a memory.

And him, glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and smiling so broadly he flashed white teeth.

(His canines did look pointier than a human’s ought to…)

They were alone in the common room, so Katie guessed it was quite late. She sat in a stool across from him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, and asked, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

It wasn’t…exactly what she wanted to - or should - say to him, but it was a start.

Lance raised an eyebrow, looking just a little amused. “I don’t need sleep,” he told her.

Heat filled Katie’s cheeks; she averted her eyes and mumbled, “I…knew that.” She cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “And…thank you for bringing me here.” She glanced towards him, and when his eyes widened she held her hands up and amended, “At least, I think it was you, but if it wasn’t—”

“It was,” he said quickly, as if to spare her further embarrassment, “but you don’t have to thank me since you let me feed.”

“Well, I guess it was the least you could do since you made me pass out,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. She leaned towards the hearth, hoping to soak in what little warmth in it was left.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, sounding sincere. “Your blood was the best I’ve tasted in a while.”

For some reason, that compliment (for lack of a better word) made heat crawl up her skin and a smile she resisted pushed at her lips. But she couldn’t help grumbling, “I wish you’d at least asked me before bringing me to an inn. I can’t afford to pay for a room even for one night.”

“I took care of it,” Lance said.

Katie glanced sharply up at him, scowling. “What? You shouldn’t have!” She shot to her feet, probably more annoyed than the situation called for. “You’re nearly a perfect stranger to me—”

But was he, after she let him…touch her like that?

“—and I refuse to be indebted—”

“Were you really planning on spending the night in the forest?” Lance cut her off. He scowled very slightly, his shoulders tensing and hands curling into fists in his lap; even his eyes - still that rich blue - glinted dangerously in the firelight.

Katie’s jaw snapped shut, chagrined. But irritation still gripped her, despite the anxiety churning her gut at the reminder of the vampires they ran afoul of, so she turned her back to him.

“Why do you care what I do?” she retorted. “You had your snack.”

When she dared to glance over her shoulder, he flinched. “Pidge…” His stool scraped against the wooden floor as he stood and approached, footsteps eerily silent. “Not all…of my kind are like them.”

She only glared at the floor through the irritated tears in her eyes, her chest tightening with something like shame. He’d already rescued her; did she have to cry in front of him too?

“Maybe you need a little more rest,” Lance suggested.

Katie shook her head and wiped her eyes, inhaling shakily before turning to face him. “I-I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ve been kind to me, even if it was out of obligation, so I thank you.”

(Her mother would be proud of her for remembering her genteel manners.)

She met his worried gaze and smiled, feeling a little steadier, and said, “You look better too. Your eyes…they change color?”

Lance blinked, looking bewildered by her rapid change in attitude, but laughed. “When I’m at my strongest, they look like this.” Then he smirked and added, “Before you fell into my arms, you said they were pretty.”

The way he said fell into my arms filled Katie with a pleasant heat…and a profound irritation. But she bit back the worst of it and smiled. “Don’t let that compliment get to your head,” she said. “I don’t pay them often for a reason.”

“What reason?” Lance wondered, a teasing tilt to his lips.

“I’m not easily impressed.” Though…she had to admit, at least to herself, that Lance disguising his weakness long enough to stand up to those other three impressed her.

“Then I’ll have to find ways to impress you.”

Katie frowned, surprised. “Why?”

“You’re traveling to Altea, aren’t you?”

Her spine stiffened, wariness hitting her all over again. “How did you—”

“You dropped your map in the forest,” Lance said. He reached into his coat - it looked a little less unkempt, as if he had time to care for it while she slept - and pulled out a scroll:  her map, specked with dirt stains and slightly wrinkled but otherwise intact.

Katie snatched it away and leveled him with a glare. “Are you going to follow me now and ask for a snack every time you’re thirsty?”

“Of course not,” Lance said, “but I do have a proposition for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very much the boy he resembled. “I’m traveling to Altea too, so maybe we can…journey together.”

“You want a reliable food source, you mean?” Katie crossed her arms and wondered, “What makes you think I’d agree to that a second time?”

But she would, she realized; even just thinking about it warmed her skin and made her heart pound and breath short, made her wonder if she could learn anything - about herself, about him - from experiencing it again.

Lance sighed - odd for someone that didn’t have to breathe - and rubbed his face. “That’s not—I suppose it would be nice but—that’s not what’s important!” He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. “It’s not safe traveling alone, even for my kind, Pidge.”

And after the events of today - or was it the day before? - Katie believed it.

Her eyes narrowed. “Can you even travel by day?” she asked, still unsure if she could trust him whether he rescued her from hostile vampires or not.

Lance chuckled and replied, “So long as I wear a hat.”

“I can’t afford to hire a wagon, so I’ll be moving very slowly. Are you all right with that?”

“Whatever you want,” he agreed, nodding, “but it’ll be safer if we leave soon.” He grimaced, shoulders hunching in something like defeat. “I promised I’d be gone by dawn, and I don’t want Lotor’s minions paying this village a visit just to check on me.”

“I don’t…know.” God, how tempting Lance’s offer was…for who knew what she could learn about vampires from him?

Lance’s fingers, gentle yet cold, wrapped around her wrist, urging her to meet his eyes. “I swear I’ll keep you safe, Pidge.”

Katie bit her lip, considering. Safety…was that feeling with him some part of a vampire’s spell to lure her under, an all too willing victim in his ruse? She wore her brother’s old, over-sized clothes to avoid looking too much like a vulnerable girl, and yet…well, threats still found whomever they wished.

So Katie agreed to travel with a dangerous man she knew next to nothing about…because she felt more secure with him than she did alone.

It was scarcely the strangest thing that ever befell her.

[whiskynottea]

A Fairy in a Bookstore.

I now it sounds impossible, but this song-fic story is back!! Thank you for sticking with me all this time!

Chapter 1, “I want you - Elvis Costello”.

Chapter 2, “Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd”

3. Creep - Radiohead

Listen to the song here

“When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye

You're just like an angel, your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather, in a beautiful world

And I wish I was special, you're so fuckin' special”

Jamie knew she was special.

It wasn’t magic that had happened, it was just her.

The way she smiled, the spark in the whisky eyes framed by her black glasses, the way she moved around, like a fairy in his bookstore.

He’d known she was the one from that second time she walked in, the little bell above the door chiming as if it was waiting for her. He knew it, when his heart skipped a few beats and then went on twice as fast, as if it was calling for hers. It seemed so stupid when his da told him that he’d know the one for him when he’d meet her. But this wasn’t stupid. It felt natural.

He was in love. 

And love made Jamie forget some very important things about fairies. He forgot that J.M. Barrie had very well informed him that he wasn’t supposed to see a fairy. Fairies live away from humans. They’re hiding from them. 

And yet, he had seen one. But his fairy - true in her nature - disappeared.

No one can go back to his previous life when he’s seen a fairy. Even less when he’s kissed her.

The steps that took him to the hospital that first time were hurried, impatient ones. The ones after seeing her, seeing them, were nothing but a labored process, a strain of muscles carrying an impossible weight that crashed heavy against the sidewalk. Broken bones. A broken heart.

His resolution to meet her and talk to her faded away with every step. As the hospital disappeared from view, he started doubting himself.

What if.

What if he had imagined it all. What if he kept misinterpreting her interest in him, thinking they had something more than a friendship when in fact they didn’t.

But she did kiss him back. She kissed him back.

His doubt mingled with that kiss creating a shadow that hovered over him, eating him alive. 

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t read, he could hardly make the necessary orders for the bookstore. Claire’s laugh haunted his days. Her touch haunted his nights. Every single thought that flew in his head had the scent of her ivory skin. Pear and almond. She was there. Τhe bouncy curls, untamed like her spirit. The elektron eyes beaming light into his soul, the tears spent for the death of Helios’ son, now his to drink. The red lips that he begged to feel against his own again, full of life and longing.

Lips that he saw kissing the other man. But that was a soulless, disembodied kiss. Shared emptiness. Nothing like the way she’d kissed him.

He could still feel her teeth on his bottom lip. It was the fandom of a sensation now, so many weeks later, but her hunger and lust were still suspended over him, making his whole body seek to find her.

He tried to fight it, not to go back, not to fulfill the promise he made to himself that day. Not to tell her his heart.

His bleeding, aching heart.

He didn’t go back the first week after seeing her, but a moth had taken residence inside him, walking on his soul while searching for her light.

He blamed the moth when he started going to the hospital again. He needed to do something. He needed to talk to her and free that desperate feeling, free the emotions that were taking his breath away.

It wasn’t a choice. It was survival. It was his only way not to suffocate.

With a black coffee in hand, he was sitting at a remote bench every morning before opening the bookstore. Waiting for a flash of brown curls, for her green scrubs hiding the long legs, for that big tote bag that could fit a small person inside. He left only for the hours he had to be at the bookstore, and went back at the evening, staying until his eyelids fell heavy, his muscles and bones complaining of misuse.  

He was exhausted and he could hardly function, making Murtagh mad at least ten times per day. Wrong orders. Bad customer service. Empty stares fixed on the door.

He couldn’t explain to the grump man that nothing else mattered, apart from finding Claire again. How it became the most important thing in the world to let her know, to make her see.

He was obsessed.

It took him four days to finally see her walking on the path that led to the A&E. His heart stopped and he froze in place, panicking.

What was he supposed to say?

Hello Claire, I like hanging out at hospitals and what a nice surprise to see you here?

Or… Ηi, thank God I finally found you, I’m stalking you for days?

“But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here.”

He was thinking everything and nothing, all at once. His breath became labored, his feet ready to take him to her and yet rooted in the soil. He kept watching her from afar, her gaze lost on her phone’s screen and all he could feel was despair, a single question expanding in his brain, threatening to leave his lips in a desperate cry.

Who is he to you?

He couldn’t let her see him in such distress. She would think he was insane - not that he wasn’t. This behavior was absolutely neurotic and he very well knew it.

And yet, he didn’t stop.

She was everything he’d ever wanted. She was more than he could wish for. He couldn’t lose her over saying something stupid, now that he saw her again. He had to think rationally.

Jamie turned around and placed a hand on the blank, white wall to steady himself. When he was sure she’d entered the building, he moved towards the subway, cursing himself.

He had stood there for four days waiting to see her, all the while failing to think what he’d tell her, as if just by looking at him she would magically run to his arms.

With his whole body aching from sleep deprivation, the vessels in his eyes pointing red roads for the tears to travel, Jamie went to the bookstore, deflated and disappointed in himself.

With the second cup of coffee in hand, Jamie stood in front of her favorite section. The Classics. He touched the books lightly, timidly, his fingers traveling along the spines as if it was her spine he was touching, his eyes lingering on the titles she worshiped.

He should find an excuse, something good enough, to see her again. Anything that wouldn’t scare her away.  

The hours passed quickly but all he could think of were irrational, absurd scenarios. 

How difficult it would be to break a leg?

She would come to him, her strides fast and steady through the sterile corridors, her eye eerie under the cool white fluorescent light. She would touch him again, and he would shudder under the long fingers, craving for more.

It would be the same fingers that had ran through his hair when he closed his eyes to feel her lips. They were bringing him closer to her, asking for more.

And he would finally tell her that he wanted to give her more. That he wanted to give her everything.

It was nine o’clock when Jamie locked the bookstore, still in perfect health. There would be no excuse, no rational reason behind his visit.

Jamie sat on the bench waiting for hours. His determination started shaking under the night’s darkness, the light from the lamp posts insufficient to make him find his boldness again. He shouldn't be there. This wasn’t normal. Nothing was normal, since the day he heard her laugh.

But Jamie was never ‘normal’. His sister used to call him her weirdo while they were at school, and most of his classmates called him a geek even though his muscles made it hard to see him as one. Most girls found his glasses sophisticated, thought his love for literature romantic. But he was neither sophisticated, nor romantic. He was just different. And that little gap between him and the others kept growing, isolating him, until he finally accepted that he would never fit in.

And then, he met Claire. He couldn’t believe how easy their conversation was, how effortlessly she understood him. He wasn’t the weirdo who stood out anymore, he was just himself. 

And now that he’d finally found where he belonged, she was taking that away.  

“I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control

I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul

I want you to notice, When I'm not around

You're so fuckin' special, I wish I was special”

It was two o’clock at night when the automatic doors opened, revealing Claire. Tiredness had circled her eyes with as bold black highlighter, a few curls flying around her face, carried by the wind. She moved slowly, dragging her feet and stretching her neck, and he could almost hear the little cracks, releasing the tension.

With deliberate steps he moved towards her, each stride bringing him closer and making his heart want to leap out of his chest.

“Claire,” he breathed, coming to a stop in front of her and feeling her soft weight bumping on his chest. He hadn't noticed that her eyes were closed, her feet knowing the path all too well to need visual support.

“Jamie?” She asked with a frown. The sound of his name leaving her lips made him shiver. “What… What are you doing here?”

He wanted to swallow each question, each ‘whot’ that hanged between them in that British accent. He gulped in the air that filled the space between them, decreasing the available oxygen, making her as breathless as he was. With effort, he kept his hands kept in tight fists not to touch her, not to bring her to him.

“For you,” he said and realized that he made no sense. “I came for you.”

Claire shook her head, her amber eyes fixed on the grass. “No,” she uttered, “You shouldn't be here. I -”

“I know. Ye’re wi’ him.” All air left his chest and he felt that he would die there and then, in the open. He hadn’t dared to speak the words out loud before and now that he did, he knew that the only thing keeping him alive was Claire, standing in front of him.

“How? How would you know?” She asked, her eyes wide, terrified.

“I saw ye. The other day.”

“But how…” She trailed off and shook her head as if the details weren’t important. It was a long pause before she spoke again. “It doesn’t matter.” Another pause. “I should have never kissed you.” A whisper, her eyes miles away. “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“Are ye?” He asked, and gently brought her eyes back on him with his index finger on her stubborn chin. “Truly?”

Her chin trembled under his touch and she took a deep breath before talking again. “I have to leave.” She announced with her jaw set, her heart retreating in the farthest side of her chest.

Away from him.

“Do you love him?” Jamie asked, gripping her hand, keeping her close.

“We’ll get married in a few months.” She said matter-of-factly, with a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Claire,” Jamie took a tentative step towards her, his voice calm. “This doesna answer my question.”

“We’re together for eight years. This is how things are supposed to be.”

She had build a wall around her, to be protected, to be alone.

He smiled bitterly when he looked at her again. “It didna mean a thing for ye then. All the nights we spent together were nothing for ye.”

He didn’t know why he was saying that. To make her feel guilt, to hurt her. To make her see they where more than nothing.

“They were…” She ran her hands on her face like a child trying to find a good excuse to justify the missing chocolate bar.  “Wrong,” she breathed, as if she was afraid to say it aloud.

“Nay, Claire. They weren’t wrong. Twas how things are supposed to be.”

“Jamie, I -”

But she wouldn’t stop him now. Not now, that he’d seen how she looked at him, how each of her inhales came after an exhale of his own in a desperate attempt to breathe in the same air. “I’ve never felt that way before. Ye changed my life, Claire. For a whole month, I was waking up every day wishing it was Friday. Wishing that a day would come that I wouldn’t have to wait for Friday to see ye, because I’d wake up next to ye.”

Claire gasped. He cursed himself.

Had he gone too far?

Before taking time to consider the damage, he asked her again. “D’ye love him?”

Her lips were pressed into a thin line, denying the release of the single word that would change everything.

Please, say no.

She shook her head, fidgeting with a button on her jacket for a few moments before her eyes found his again. “It’s too late. I can’t do that.” It was a sigh, a hopeless release. “It’s too late.” She repeated, and bounced on the balls of her feet, preparing herself to leave. “Goodbye, Jamie.”

“She's running out again,

She's running out

She run run run run”

Jamie watched her leaving, as if she was in a parallel dimension and he couldn’t stop her. Her harsh words had batted his knees until the bones cracked, keeping him in place.

An urgent, sly breeze brought her scent to him, and he closed his eyes for a moment, taking her in. Taking her with him.

She was close to the gates when he opened his eyes again, and he noticed how slow her steps were, as if it took a tremendous amount of strength to move away from him.

“Claire!” He shouted and his lungs hurt from the strain. “Tis never too late.” She stopped in her tracks but she didn’t turn to see him. He waited, his gaze fixed on her, calling her to him, but she didn’t turn around. “Ye know where to find me!” Jamie added, running his hands in his hair, praying for strength not to run to her.

“Whatever makes you happy

Whatever you want”

He’d trusted his heart to her, wishing she’d keep it close to hers to beat together. And now, he had to let her go, to be the person she wanted to be.

“You're so fuckin' special

I wish I was special.”

Chapter 4, My Backwards Walk - Frightened Rabbit

[artisticvicu]

Trick or Treat

"And....there." She leaned back in the chair, studying her craftsmanship. She beamed at him. "I think that about does it. Do you want to see?" He nodded his head, grinning from ear to ear in his excitement. Her smile grew and she reached over for the hand mirror. "Ok, ok," she soothed. "Give me a second to get the mirror." She settled before him again, the reflective side of the mirror pointed to her chest. "Ready?" He nodded again with more vigor and she turned the mirror around. He gaped at his reflection. The costume he had wanted to wear wasn't something common enough to be in the stores so his mom had helped him gather the necessary pieces. He looked so cool. He bounced up and down, gesturing widely in his excitement. She laughed. "Slow down. I can't track your signing well when you gesture like that. I want to know what you were saying." "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he sad instead, no longer remembering what he had said in his excitement. The repeated gesture was quick, sharp and belayed his enthusiasm. She laughed again and hugged him, mindful of his face paint. "You're welcome," she gushed. The doorbell rang as she pulled away. She glanced towards the direction of the front door, her expression softening. "That must be them. Ready to go trick-or-treating?" He nodded again, grabbing his candy basket in the shape of a pumpkin head before grabbing her hand. The front door opened to reveal Nathan and his dad, Mr. Jones. "Thank you again for taking Luther trick-or-treating, Marcus." Mr. Jones gave her a soft smile. "Not a problem, Samantha. I hope things are not as dire as they can be if you're being called in this late." She chuckled. "Probably not but we can hope." She knelt so that she was eye level with Nathan. "You look amazing in your Batman outfit, Nathan. Did you make it?" "All by myself," the other boy announced fiercely, puffing up in pride. "Daisy helped with the gluing while I was stuck on cutting duty," Mr. Jones offered to her in a soft voice. He and Nathan still heard him but it only made Nathan puff up more. "Sounds like you did a fantastic job," she directed to Nathan. The boy flushed but pushed his chin higher. Mr. Jones looked to him in turn and Luther wrapped his fingers around the hem of his mom's uniform shirt. "And who are you, Luther?" "He's the Scarecrow, obviously," Nathan announced loudly. Luther beamed at him. Mr. Jones smiled softly down at him. "Now I see it. Ready to trick-or-treat?" Luther nodded but didn't move from his mom's side even as she stood up. "Will you be ok with, ah.." "I can manage," Mr. Jones assured her. "If anything comes up, I can Facetime you or see if Peter's able to translate." She nodded. "I'll keep my phone on me, then. If you do catch a-hold of Peter tonight, tell him I say hi and I expect a call from him sometime this week. It's been too long." Mr. Jones dipped his head. "Of course. Come on, Luther." Luther hesitantly grasped the offered hand, letting Mr. Jones lead him from his home and away from the door. He waved at his mom with the hand still grasping the bucket and she waved goodbye back before she disappeared back into their home. He had expected them to get into Mr. Jones's car when they stopped at it but instead Mr. Luther simply opened the trunk and pulled out a child's coat and a tote bag. He passed the bag to Nathan as he shut the trunk. "Here's your bag, Nathan. We'll try the homes around here first." "Ok," Nathan announced, taking the bag. The boy took the lead down the sidewalk and Luther followed behind at a slightly sedated pace. They turned a corner and suddenly the streets weren't so empty. Left and right doors were being opened for trick-or-treaters and families standing on doorsteps chatting with neighbors. He looked around in amazement, eyes wide under the paint he wore instead of a proper mask. Nathan charged up to the first house and rung the doorbell himself. Luther hurried forward to stand by Nathan as the door opened. "Trick or treat!" Nathan all bout shouted when the owner appeared. "Sweet costumes, dudes," the man appraised. "Here's some candy." Candy was dropped into Luther's bucket and Nathan's tote and Luther beamed as Nathan exclaimed, "Thank you!" The man blinked at them but Nathan was already marching back towards his dad. Luther gave his own thank you before chasing after Nathan. "Did you two get some candy?" Mr. Jones asked, looking down at their displayed stashes. Luther beamed upon Mr. Jones's praise. "Well done. Shall we see about the next house?" The two of them nodded and it was easy for Luther to run with Nathan to the next door. That is till he realized which house they were going up to. The yard was dark, the front porch lit by an eerie light, and his feet skidded to a halt at the top of the walk. Nathan was already a third of the way, ignoring the first trap that jumped at him, but Luther jumped and he wasn't even near it. Nathan stopped before the next spook. It was almost like someone had commanded him to stop but had left any other command unsaid. Abruptly, he turned and stomped back to Luther. He grabbed Luther's free hand with a determined look on his face. "I won't let the bad, scaring things get you. This way you get candy too." Luther blinked at him and Nathan made a face. He tugged on Luther's hand. "Follow behind me and watch my feet. I will get us to the door." Luther fell into step behind Nathan, gripping tight to the other's hand. He did as the other had said, watching Nathan's feet and keeping pace. The spooky things moved and made noise but he ignored them. Nathan stopped and moved Luther to the side. With a sharp nod, Nathan rang the doorbell and shoved his tote forward when the door opened almost instantly. Luther mimicked him as the other shouted, "Trick or treat!" "Here you go, boys." Luther's eyes grew wide at the bag of Skittles. Those were his favorite and they were giving him the big bag! "Thank you!" Nathan shouted and Luther gestured, beaming. He raced with Nathan back down the walk, the scary things not seeming quite so scary with Nathan's hand in his and a big bag of Skittles in his bucket.

[booksbeyondimagining]

I think I'm done with book subscription boxes. I just don't care for the items in them anymore. I judt got this month's LitJoy because I was excited about the book, but honestly it didn't feel worth it. There were only 4 items, two of which were Harry Potter themed and both of which were things I have had enough of getting in book boxes (a tote bag - which I never use, and a scarf, which I never wear except in winter and then its something that will keep me warm). There was a nice print of Children of Blood and Bone and a set of battery-operated candles and that was it?

And the book had a special backside of the jacket that had an artist's work on it, and while it was really well-down and eerie, I had trouble finding the connections to the character in the book (which I've already read) because it was so dark. I just didn't feel the same connection I felt with the MC of the book. The image was haunting for sure, but there was also a lack of beauty that I found in Jetta's ability as well. She described the souls she saw as golden light, but in the painting they were more like shadows (so much I almost missed them) and it just kind of made me feel disappointed. Also the spine of the regular cover wasn't centered properly but I can't fix that without making awkward crease lines elsewhere.

At least it is signed and has a really nice author's note in it.

Idk, I think I'm done getting these. I just keep feeling a lack of enthusiasm or disappointment in what comes out of them. It's always the same fandoms, always the same items, and I'm just kind of done.