#I remember one Halloween he kept twisting the face

[what-the-fuck-khr]

I’m such a baby with horror. like I can’t do horror movies most times feel like I’ll go into cardiac arrest. it’s not like all the gore and stuff is a problem, and usually monsters are okay, depending. but oughhhg are humanoid ones so fucking terrifying. my god do any humanoid anything scare the fucking shit out of me. like I used to be scared of slenderman I couldn’t even play that pages game bc the anxiety of being chased fucked with me. cant watch people play horror games either. anyways as I try to get ready for bed at 3:30 I now have to keep my torch on for a little bit bc my aight also plays up in the dark if I think about scary faces for too long. argh

[mrprettywhenhecries]

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

08. | Like Jack and Sally

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 6.4k words ⇾ tags/warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, misogynistic themes, alcohol use, p in v, choking, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), canon typical violence/blood, accusations of cheating, Gator’s kind of a dick ⇾ a/n. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

When Roy throws a wrench in Win’s Halloween plans, needing Gator to do a job for him, her temper gets the better of her and a misunderstanding nearly tears them apart.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

Gator had just stepped out of the Spirit Halloween at the old K-mart building when his phone went off.  Thinking it was Win calling to ask if he’d gotten his costume for the party yet, he pulled his phone from his pocket to answer, his grin faltering when he saw his father’s name flash across the screen instead.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, bracing himself, a bad feeling churning in his stomach.

“Got a job for you.  Meet me at Hammurabi’s in twenty minutes for the details.”

Before Gator could protest, Roy had already hung up, leaving Gator standing in the parking lot twisting in the wind.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, pocketing his phone with more force than necessary and striding stiffly to his cruiser.  If Roy wouldn’t tell him the job over the phone, it had to be something serious.

Roy’s truck was already parked out front when Gator arrived, and he followed suit when his father climbed out and ambled over, meeting Gator halfway.

“So I was thinkin’ about what to do with Nadine,” Roy said, stepping in close and pitching his voice low, and Gator frowned in confusion for a moment.

“I told ya, she goes by, uh, Dorothy now,” he said, but Roy brushed the detail aside.

“Yeah.  At first I was thinkin’ we’d leave her alone until after the election.”

“But…?”  Gator prompted, sensing there was more his father wasn’t saying.

“Is what I was thinkin’—” Roy reiterated, cutting Gator off, “—what with all the heat from the feds sniffin’ around, but then last night I had a dream.  What’s today?” he asked, and Gator’s brows pinched, trying to catch up with his father’s somewhat erratic train of thought.

“Uh, Halloween–” he answered, but Roy was already one step ahead of him.

“Exactly.  All Hallow’s Eve, in which the world of the Gods is made visible to humanity and the dead come back to life.  That’s what Nadine is, can’t you see?  She was dead, but now she’s back.”

“So…?” Gator asked, shaking his head slightly, not following.

“So, we get her tonight.”

“Tonight?” Gator asked, his stomach knotting at his father’s words.  

“Yes, tonight,” Roy snapped, sensing Gator’s reluctance.  “What, you got other plans?” he scoffed, watching Gator wince.

“Well… yeah, kinda.”

“Too fuckin’ bad,” Roy interrupted, his bluff face turning hard.  “Tell that whore of yours you can’t see her tonight.”

“But–”

Gator’s halfhearted protest had Roy’s eyes narrowing sharply.  “This is the best chance we have to get this done.  You tell me which is more important,” he said, voice dangerously low, and Gator swallowed, giving himself a shake.

“This is,” he murmured, ducking his head obediently and Roy nodded, pleased with his answer.  

“Good.  Now, everyone’ll be in costume, the streets’ll be busy.  So, ding-dong, trick-or-treat, we send two around the back, breach ‘em from both sides, tie ‘em up, put their masks on,” Roy explained, leaving Gator squinting in confusion.

“Their, uh, masks?” 

“Their Halloween masks,” Roy clarified, an edge of irritation to his voice.

“Oh!  Yeah, yeah,” Gator exclaimed, nodding quickly.

“Victor and villain, in-cognito, then boom, you’re out the door, you’re in the van, and no one’s the wiser,” Roy continued.

Gator nodded vacantly as he listened to the plan, trying to fix every detail to memory, though his thoughts kept returning to what he was gunna tell Win.

“Now remember, only guys we can trust.  Got it?” Roy finished and Gator nodded.

“Say it.”

“Only guys we can trust,” Gator repeated.

“Good,” Roy grunted, nodding back toward Gator’s cruiser.  “Now get goin’, you’ve got a long drive ahead of ya.  You got this,” he added, patting Gator’s shoulder in encouragement.  “I believe in you.”

Gator watched as his father climbed back into his truck, a dazed grin still stretching his lips as Roy’s words echoed in his ears.

I believe in you.

This was it.  This was his chance to prove himself.

As soon as he was back behind the wheel, heading back toward the costume store to grab a few more masks, Gator quickly dialed the number of a guy he knew to put a crew together, stalling as long as he could before having to break the news to his girlfriend.

Reluctantly pulling up Win’s number, a message notification popped up on his screen—a photo of her in her Sally costume, her face painted to look just like the animated doll—and Gator allowed himself a wistful look before pressing the call button and bringing the phone to his ear, chewing the inside of his cheek nervously as the phone rang.

“Hey, you get your mask yet?  Are you on your way over?”

Win didn’t give Gator a chance to even say hello, buffeting him with questions as soon as she answered, her excitement only making him feel even more guilty about what he needed to tell her.

“Uhm… actually, I got some bad news…” 

The line went ominously silent and Gator grimaced, pushing on.  “Somethin’s come up and dad needs my help with something tonight.”

“Tonight?” Win echoed incredulously.  “You can’t do it tomorrow?”

“It’s kinda time sensitive,” Gator explained, sensing Win’s mounting frustration, and he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“Okay, well… could you come after you’ve finished?”

“I wish I could, but… I kinda hafta… drive to Minneapolis,” Gator mumbled, bracing himself for Win’s reaction.

“Minneapolis?!  But that’s like a six and a half hour drive one way!” she exclaimed, the disappointment in her voice cutting right through him.

“I know,” Gator sighed.  “I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“Did you tell him you had plans?” she asked, though he knew no matter how he answered she wouldn’t like it.

“Course I did, but this is important.  He’s counting on me,” Gator insisted, a little more heated than he intended.

“So was I,” Win murmured.

Gator scoffed before he could help it.  “It’s just a party, Win.  There’ll be others.”

There was a beat of silence and Gator knew he’d fucked up.

“I know it’s just a party,” Win snapped, a hard edge leaching into her voice.  “But I wanted you there.  I wanted to play for you,” she murmured, a soft sniff punctuating her words.  “I wanted you to meet my friends.  That’s–that’s kind of a big deal for me.”

“Win–”

“No,” she exclaimed, interrupting him, not wanting to hear any more.  “Go on.  Go do daddy’s dirty work.  See if I fucking care.”

“You don’t get it, Win,” Gator replied, begging her to understand.  “I have to make him proud.”

Win snorted.  “No, you don’t get it.  No matter what you do for him.  He will never be proud of you.  Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Gator’s jaw flexed, his teeth gritting together as anger seared through him.

“The fuck do you know about loyalty?” he demanded, knowing it was a low blow.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking dick.  You know what?  I’m glad you’re not coming tonight,” Win spat, hanging up on him and Gator briefly wondered if he’d made her cry, quickly burying the pang of guilt beneath his anger.

———

Crouching to plug her guitar into her amp, Win took a swig from the bottle at her feet before discreetly checking her phone.

No new messages.

She scowled, unsure which she was more angry about—that Gator hadn’t texted since their fight, or the fact she wanted him to.

“Hey, you okay?” Beau asked, noticing the look on her face as he slung his bass over his shoulder and adjusted the strap.

“Peachy,” Win muttered, taking another drink and Beau shared a look with Lydia.

“I’m gunna hazard Tillman bailed?” Lyds asked carefully and Win’s scowl deepened.

She knew her friends still didn’t understand why she was even dating him, and right then, she didn’t blame them.

“I don’t really wanna think about it,” she muttered, straightening.

“Clearly,” Beau mumbled under his breath.  “I just hope you’re not too blitzed for our set–”

He cut off with a glare from Win and grimaced.

“I’m fine,” she snapped, but Lydia looked doubtful.

Before either could say anything else, the music playing over the speakers cut out and the party’s host jumped on the small makeshift stage to introduce them.  Win stepped up to the mic and began the intro to their first song without preamble, trying not to focus on the crowd in front of her too closely, lest she find herself searching for the one face she knew she wouldn’t see.

Once the first song came to an end, the last chord echoing through the speakers, she grabbed the mic stand and pulled it closer to address the audience, most of whom were also dressed in costumes.

“Happy fuckin’ Halloween you ghouls and goblins!  Don’t you all look spooky tonight?” she drawled into the microphone, pointing out over the crowd before tugging lightly at her skirt.  “Do you like my costume?”

A small cheer rose from the crowd while several wolf whistles pierced the clamour and Win huffed a humourless laugh.

“My boyfriend was supposed to come tonight as the Jack to my Sally, but he bailed on me, can you believe that?” she scoffed and someone in the audience called out: “I’ll be your Jack!”

Win rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched in amusement.  “Find me after our set and we’ll see.”

By the time their small set ended, Win stumbled off the stage to pack up their equipment, her vision spinning slightly, though that didn’t stop her from grabbing a bottle of beer from a nearby cooler.

“Hey, you okay?  For real?” Lydia asked, joining her, and Win shrugged a shoulder, snapping her guitar case shut.

“I will be.  Nothin’ a little party can’t fix.”

“Where is he, anyway?”

Win let out a heavy sigh.  “Driving to Minnesota.”

“Minnesota?  Why?” Lydia exclaimed, her mouth dropping.

“Dunno, some errand for his dad.  He didn’t go into detail,” Win explained, taking a long swig of beer.

“I don’t wanna say ‘I told you so’...” Lydia said, holding her hands up and Win snorted, taking her friend’s arm and pulling her toward the makeshift dance floor.  

“Then don’t!”

It wasn’t long before dancing ceased to hold her attention and Win’s thoughts returned to Gator.  Heading outside, away from the noise for a cigarette, she pulled her phone out to check for new messages, hurt to find none, not even a simple ‘I miss you’.

Before she could second guess herself, she dialed his number and brought the phone to her ear.  With each ring her heart sank a little further, hoping he was just busy.  Hoping he was alright.  He’d never said exactly what this “errand” for Roy entailed and it only just occurred to her that it might be something dangerous.

When the call went to his voicemail, Win took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

“Hey, I wanted to see if you were okay,” she said, fiddling with the cigarette between her fingers.  “I miss you…” she murmured, letting her eyes slip shut before a fresh wave of anger washed over her and her lips twisted sourly.  “Actually, you know what, no.  I’m glad you’re not here!” she exclaimed stubbornly, repeating what she’d told him earlier, though she didn’t really mean it.  She just wanted to make him hurt like she was hurting.

“But y’know what, it’s your fuckin’ loss.  I’m gunna go back in there and get fuckin’ wasted and have a great fuckin’ time without you and you’re gunna be sorry you missed it—“

Before she could finish her drunken thought, a couple of guys stumbled outside, the music from inside blaring for a moment before the door swung shut behind them.

“Hey!  Hey, it’s sexy Sally,” the one guy said, his words slurring slightly as he recognized Win from earlier.

“What’re you doin’ out here all alone?  You want some company?  You did say to come see you after your set,” the other guy exclaimed, his voice loud over the phone before Win ended the call and spun to face them.

“Not if you’re gunna be creeps,” she snapped, taking a step backward and flicking her cigarette away.

“Aw c’mon, we’ll help ya forget all about your jerk boyfriend,” one of them drawled, an almost predatory grin stretching across his face.

“Fuck off,” Win huffed, pushing past them to head back inside and find her friends before they could get any ideas.

———

“Drive!  Just fuckin’ drive,” Gator barked as he jumped into the van after hauling their unconscious teammate into the back and slamming the door.  He craned his head to watch the flames dance higher across the roof of the house as they drove in the opposite direction, the tires struggling to find traction in the hard packed snow, and he silently kicked himself.

Roy was gunna be so pissed.

Though, Gator wasn’t sure which would be worse, his father’s anger, or his disappointment.  Roy’s last words before they parted ways earlier ran through his head, only making his stomach hurt more.

You got this.  I believe in you.

Gator wanted to scream, to beat his hand against the dash.

Nadine had been ready for them, but he’d gotten so close.  Even though she’d banged up his crew pretty bad, he’d had her cornered, desperate, but then somehow the fire had started, quickly spreading out of control and he’d been forced to retreat—the fire department already en route, sirens hot on his heels.

One of the guys in the back let out a pained groan as the van hit a pothole and Gator scowled, pulling his phone from his pocket to distract himself.  There were no messages from Roy and he didn’t dare send a status update, knowing full well not to leave an evidence trail.  When he noticed Win’s voicemail however, his heart leapt, just the thought of hearing her voice reminding him just how much he missed her.  That is, until he began to listen to the message.

The vitriol in her words felt like a punch to the gut, but when Gator heard unfamiliar masculine voices in the background—you said to come find you after your set—his jaw clenched, clamping his mouth shut against the wave of nausea that threatened to carry him away.

Win wouldn’t do that to him, right?  She wouldn’t fuck someone else just to get back at him.  Would she?

A voice in his head that sounded a lot like Roy reminded him she had a reputation for getting around, but Gator stubbornly squashed the thought, hastily dialing her number, though his insides squirmed uncomfortably.

With each hollow ring, the pit in his stomach opened wider, until the call went to voicemail and he felt like he might be swallowed whole.  Chewing his chapped lip, he deliberated whether or not to leave a voicemail himself, finally making up his mind when the recorded greeting ended, punctuated by a shrill tone that only grated further on his nerves.

“Hey.  I’m on my way home, but uh, what the fuck was that message about, huh?  Who the hell was that guy?” he hissed, forgetting for a moment about the others in the van with him.  “Call me back,” he added, fighting the urge to throw his phone and let his anger boil over.

Following up his message with a strongly worded text, he reached for his vape, needing to take the edge off his frayed nerves while he waited for Win to respond.  As the minutes ticked by, however, and no call came, he brought the phone to his ear again, but this time it went straight to voicemail.  

Now on the verge of panic, Gator tried again and again, the outcome unchanged in each few minutes between attempts.

Starting to spiral, his thoughts veering toward the worst, he stubbornly kept calling until the guy in the back let out an annoyed sigh.

“Dude, give it a rest already.  She obviously doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

Gator whipped around in his seat to glare at him, the other, finally conscious again, flinching away from his gaze.

“How about you shut the fuck up before I shoot ya, huh?” he snapped, half reaching for his pistol strapped to his thigh.

The guy held his hands up in surrender and kept his mouth shut, heaving a breath when Gator turned back around to grumble at the driver.  “Can’t you drive any fuckin’ faster?”

By the time the van pulled into the ranch’s drive, the sun had already crested the horizon, lighting the sky with its weak rays and Gator rubbed at his eyes—they felt grainy and his limbs felt heavy, stiffness having set in from the long drive and the bruises he was starting to definitely feel.

When the van parked, he snatched his mask from the dash and slid out, wearily making his way up the walk to the farm house.  On the front porch a small group of ranch hands were working to cover several bodies in a tarp and Gator frowned.

“What happened?” he asked Bowman, who seemed to be standing guard in front of the house, supervising the clean up.

“Boogeyman came in the night,” he grunted, turning to eye Gator.  “Left a warning in the kids’ room.”

“Who, Munch?”

“I don’t know the guy’s name,” Bowman huffed.  “Full on wild man, though.  Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Gator let his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a heavy sigh whistling through his lips. More than anything, he wanted to climb the stairs to his room, collapse into bed, and forget the entire night ever happened, but he knew he wasn’t done yet and this news only made things more complicated.

“Where’s Roy?”

“Had to take care of something,” Bowman said, his breath steaming in the cold morning air.

 Getting the address, Gator headed to his cruiser, needing to speak with his father.

———

Gator’s boots crunched on the gravel walk as he slowly approached the lone house trailer, Roy’s favourite horse hitched outside confirming it was the right place.  He didn’t have long to wonder what Roy was doing there when the crack of a gunshot from inside made him jump and he quickened his steps, his heart in his throat as he pushed through the door and rushed into the trailer, his pistol already cocked and at the ready as he performed an initial sweep of the room, surveying the carnage.

Roy was unharmed, but the man across from him clutched at his throat as he sank into the couch behind him, blood spurting from between his fingers and frothing on his lips as he gasped for breath, his body spasming in the throws of death.

“Fucking hell,” Gator breathed, lowering his firearm as his stomach churned, and he finally tore his gaze from the dying man, shifting it to Roy.  “You okay?” he asked, though Roy Tillman looked completely unruffled.

Roy didn’t answer, merely standing to ask the dying man’s wife for a glass of water.  As she hurried to obey, Gator’s eyes unwittingly returned to the man still gasping and gurgling on the couch and he holstered his gun, not needing it any longer.  

“Uh dad, what’re we doing?” he asked uncertainly and Roy once more ignored his question.

“So, did you get her?” he asked instead and Gator’s gaze instantly fell.

“Uhm–” he hesitated, trying to find the words to explain.

Roy let out a sigh, simply holding his hand up to stop Gator right there.  “Don’t bother, I can see it all over your face.  Worked you over pretty good, did she?” he asked, noting the fresh bruises already darkening Gator’s eye socket.

“It’s like he said, some kind of tiger,” Gator muttered, sighing.  “The husband got hurt.  House caught on fire–”

“Not now,” Roy warned, cutting him off as he glanced over at the wife, hovering uncertainly at the edge of the kitchen, her back pressed tight to the counter behind her.

“Oh, we got Munch,” Roy exclaimed instead, and Gator’s eyes widened. “You did?” he asked, relief surging through him, only to freeze in his veins at his father’s next words.

“Yeah, got him right there on the couch,” Roy replied, nodding to the dying man across the room.  “It’s the guy from the filling station, the cop killer.  Tip came in over the hotline.  Lenore here called it in herself, didn’t you, Lenore?” he asked, turning to the trembling woman.

“Husband came home bragging he killed a state trooper, wounded another, I responded, shots fired, you were my backup.”

Gator frowned, a mere pinching of the brow as he struggled to put it all together, his sleep deprived brain making it harder than usual.  “So…”

“Loop’s closed, I’m sayin’,” Roy said, giving him a pointed look.  “State can call off their dogs, and we’re free to settle our differences in private.”

Gator nodded, finally getting the picture, and he watched silently as Roy turned to deal with the widow, discreetly bribing her to corroborate their story before she shakily agreed and he followed Roy outside, their business inside concluded.

“Somethin’ else’s botherin’ ya.  What is it?” Roy asked as he untied his horse’s reins, his piercing gaze swinging toward Gator, who tried to wave his concern away, shaking his head with a stutter.

“Come on, out with it,” Roy insisted and Gator let out a reluctant sigh, looking down at his boots.

“Win went out without me last night.  I got a weird message from her, some-some guys in the background–” he cut off, shaking his head.  “Now she won’t answer my calls.  I-I’m getting worried.”

Roy grunted.  “I think you already know what she was up to. Stop kidding yourself.”

“What?  No!” Gator exclaimed, his head snapping up, a look of horror on his face, but Roy could see it in his eyes and he shook his head as he climbed into his saddle.  “Once a whore, always a whore,” he mused solemnly.  “Best you cut that one loose.  Save yourself the headache and the humiliation.  Sooner or later, she’s gunna show you her true colours, and I’m not gunna say I told you so.”

Roy booted his horse, and took off, riding off into the rising sun without another word, leaving Gator standing there, once more twisting in the wind.

———

Gator barely waited til his cruiser was in park to cut the engine and jump out, practically stomping up the walk to pound at the door, past caring about the early hour and who might hear.  After stewing all night and half the morning, his blood was boiling and he wanted answers.

When Win didn’t answer, he peered through the window, scowling when he saw her sitting at the kitchen counter, ignoring him.

“I know you’re fuckin’ in there!” he called, pounding the side of his fist against the door hard enough to rattle the window.  “Lemme in, Win!”

When Win still didn’t get up, Gator’s scowl deepened and he began searching for a hidden key, hoping she had one.  If not, he’d be forced to move onto plan C and just kick the door in.

“Ha!” he exclaimed as he flipped over one of the rocks in the empty flower bed, revealing a little silver key.  

It wasn’t until she heard the click of the bolt opening that Win finally jumped to her feet.  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she cried, standing her ground against Gator.  “That’s breaking and entering!”

“Not if I have a key,” he countered, holding it up for her to see before slipping it in his pocket.

“What was your backup plan?  Bust my door down?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing daggers.

“Yeah, actually it was.”

Win let out an incredulous huff.  “I’d love to see you try.”

Gator took a step closer, his jaw flexing with the effort of trying to keep his anger in check.  “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, after the night I’ve had, I wouldn’t fuckin’ tempt me,” he muttered, his voice growing low, holding an edge of menace that did little to intimidate Win.

“Oh?  After the night you’ve had?  Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” she spat, not backing down.  “Piss off, Gator.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Gator demanded, ignoring her jab and Win turned away, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.  I was mad–I am mad!”

“You sure it wasn’t cause you were busy fucking someone else?” Gator hissed, his good hand clenching into a fist at his side as he fought not to lose control–everything Roy had ever taught him about discipline racing through his head.

“What?” Win asked, spinning to face him, Gator’s accusation ripping through her like a bullet.  “Is that what you really think?”

Gator let out a derisive snort.  “What else am I s’posed to think?  I heard that guy on your voicemail message!  He said you told him to come find you later,” he exclaimed, his fist trembling with rage.

Win winced; she hadn’t realized that’d picked up on the recording.  “I-I said that during our set, but I wasn’t actually serious,” she tried to explain.  “After I hung up, I told him off and went to find my friends.  Nothing happened!” she insisted, but Gator rolled his eyes, his chapped lips pulling into a sneer.

“Maybe my dad was right.  Once a whore, always a whore.”

Win’s mouth fell open and she stepped back as if struck.  “You don’t believe that,” she said, voice small, the hurt in her eyes making Gator flinch, shame instantly seeping into him though he quickly squashed it down.

“I dunno, maybe I do,” he spat, avoiding her gaze.  “Maybe you wanted to get back at me–”

Win shook her head.  

“I wanted you there!  All I could think about was how much I fucking missed you.  I didn’t know what you were doing—if it was legal, if it was dangerous, if you’d come back hurt, if you came back at all.  I cried myself to sleep and when I got your message it just made me mad all over again.  That’s why I turned my phone off, not because I was fucking some guy,” she cried, her voice growing hoarse.

“For once in my fucking life there’s only one person I want and that’s you!  So why the fuck would I ruin that?” she exclaimed, her gaze desperately pleading with him to believe her.  “I would never do that to you, no matter how fucking mad I am!”

Gator deflated, exhaustion sucking all the fight from him. He knew in his heart she was right—since they’d begun dating she hadn’t so much as looked at another man—but his mouth opened and closed wordlessly, unable to form the words to tell her before his eyes fell to the floor and he tugged at the sleeve of his jacket.  Silence fell over the room and he swallowed, working up the courage to admit he was wrong.

“I believe you…” he murmured, clearing his throat awkwardly.  “I just–my dad said that shit and I got scared.  I should’ve trusted you,” he breathed, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Yes, you should’ve, you dick,” Win huffed, giving him a frustrated shove, her admonishment not to believe a word Roy said about her—knowing the man’d take any opportunity he could to break them up—died on her tongue when she saw the way Gator winced and she grabbed his jacket, tugging him closer to get a better look at his face, finally noticing the dark bruise forming under his eye.

“What the fuck happened?” she breathed, carefully taking his face between her hands, tilting it this way and that to search for more injuries, wondering just how bad it was beneath his clothes.

“Fell down some stairs,” Gator muttered, pulling her hands gently from his face.

“Gator–”

“It’s the truth!” he insisted, thankful that at least he could be truthful about something, even if he couldn’t tell her how it’d happened.

Though Win looked skeptical, she didn’t press the issue, merely pursing her lips.  “Yeah well, I don’t like that you keep getting hurt because of Roy,” she muttered, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.

“That’s not what’s happening,” Gator argued, pulling her closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Isn’t it?” she countered, closing her eyes and pressing her face to his chest.  “Everytime he needs you to do something for him, you come back with a broken arm, or a black eye and bruised ribs,” she pointed out.  “And I don’t like the way he treats you afterward, like you’re some fuck up.  You deserve better.”

“It’s not that easy,” Gator murmured, his brows pinching.  “I want to make him proud.  I have to do better,” he insisted and Win’s heart broke a little at his words.

If only he could see his father as clearly as she did.

“What if it’s never enough?” she asked, and Gator’s frown deepened.  He didn’t want to think about that.  If he didn’t acknowledge it, it couldn’t be true.

“I’m proud of you.  Can’t that be enough?” Win whispered, her voice breaking.

Gator squeezed her tighter, guilt burning in his chest.  He wished it could be enough, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there tonight,” he murmured, changing the subject.  “If it makes any difference, I really wanted to be…”

“I know,” Win sighed.  “There’ll be other parties, other gigs,” she said.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t there that’d bothered her, so much as why he wasn’t there, but she was tired of fighting, just glad to have him back.

God, but she was a fool in love.

Win stiffened as the thought caught her off guard.  She couldn’t be in love.  She’d never used that word before, not with any of her relationships anyway.

“Yeah, I know,” Gator said, not noticing Win waging an internal emotional battle over her sudden epiphany.  “But I had the perfect mask for last night too,” he lamented, pulling the round Jack Skellington mask from his back pocket to hold in front of his face, and Win looked up at him, her chest aching with affection.

“The Jack to my Sally,” she murmured, raising up on her toes to press a kiss to the mask where his mouth would be.

Gator tilted the mask back, letting it rest atop his head as he met Win’s gaze.  “Can I make it up to you?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her and Win thought for a moment, letting him sweat.

“I dunno, can you?” she asked, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips despite her cool tone.

As answer, Gator hoisted her into his arms to carry her to the bedroom, dropping her to the bed before tugging her by the ankles to the edge.

“I sure can try,” he drawled, and Win’s hips lifted as he eased her shorts down, finding her bare beneath them.  “No panties?” he asked, his lips curling in amusement as he admired her.

“I need to do laundry, don’t judge me,” Win huffed, pouting up at him.  

“I don’t think you should wear them ever, if you ask me,” Gator chuckled and her breath hitched as he knelt before her, hooking his arms around her thighs to hold her still as his mouth found her core, his tongue slipping eagerly between her folds to taste her.

A soft moan left her lips and her head fell back as his nose bumped against her clit, sending a jolt through her.  Pleased with her reaction, Gator moved higher to tease her sensitive bud, tracing sloppy circles around it with his tongue, and Win’s hands balled in the mess of sheets beneath her.

“Oh fuck, Gator–” she groaned, rolling her hips against his mouth and he switched tactics, lapping at her with broad unrelenting strokes, proud of the way he made her squirm, the sound of his name amid her breathy moans making him dizzy.  Drawing the hood of her clit between his lips to suck, he flicked the tip of his tongue against her aching bud rapidly  and she let out a cry, her legs trying to tighten around the sides of his face.

Growling into her cunt, he pried her legs apart, pinning her down despite her writhing, and his movements grew sloppier in his desperation to make her cum, drool and her juices running down his chin and coating his cheeks.

“Gator—Gator!” 

Win’s voice cracked as she let out a keening whine, her body going rigid as her climax washed over her in waves, her hips lifting from the bed, cunt fluttering, clenching around nothing, but Gator didn’t stop til she was an overstimulated twitching mess, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath.

When he finally lifted his face, panting just as hard, he turned to kiss her inner thigh, wiping the slick mess from his face against her feverish skin.

“Gator,” Win whined, shifting beneath him and he opened his eyes, looking up at her from between her legs.

“Fuck me with the mask on.”

A grin tugged at his lips, the idea turning him on more than he would’ve expected.  He’d only been planning on giving without asking for anything in return—something he’d never thought he’d do, to be honest—but how could he deny her if that was what she wanted?

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he got to his feet, stripping hastily and pulling the mask down over his face.  For a moment he stood over her, tilting his head as he took in the sight of her—her arms stretched over her head, body on display for him.

“Jack—“ she purred with a quirk of her lips, reaching for him, and he couldn’t help the groan that caught in his throat as he crawled atop her, grasping his cock to give it several slow strokes before tapping it against her messy cunt.

“This what you want?” he drawled, his voice muffled by the mask, rubbing his throbbing head between her folds, coating it with her slick.  “Want me to stretch this tight little pussy, split you open on my cock?” 

Win merely nodded, her lips parting in a silent plea.

“Uh uh, gotta hear you say it, Princess,” he taunted, giving her sensitive clit another smack with his head, making her twitch.

“Yes, please, Gator,” she begged.

“That’s more like it,” he grunted, finally pressing into her slowly, his breath hitching at the way her walls hugged him so perfectly, clenching around him, sucking him deeper.

“C’mon, you can take it,” he growled, stretching her further, breathing evenly through his nose to keep from cumming too soon, his breath condensing against the inside of the mask.

Pausing once he’d sheathed her, he gave her a moment to adjust before pulling nearly all the way out and thrusting back into her languidly, fucking her deep and slow, letting her feel every vein and ridge.  It was only when Win wrapped her hand around his wrist, guiding his hand to her throat that he nearly faltered.

“Choke me,” she breathed, and Gator marveled at the way his hand easily encircled her neck, his cock twitching deep inside her at the sight.  Careful not to go too far, he began to squeeze, applying just enough pressure for Win’s mouth to fall open silently and her body to tense, but for her chest to still rise and fall.

With each snap of his hips to hers, he grew rougher, his thrusts growing faster, harder, slamming into her as he choked her, fucking her into the mattress like in his filthiest wet dreams.

The way she looked up at him, devotion glazing over her unwavering gaze, made Gator light headed and he suddenly needed to be closer, needed to feel her.  Releasing her throat, he tore the mask off his head, letting it clatter to the ground as he surged forward to claim her lips in a searing kiss, his thrusts growing sloppy in his desperation.

He swallowed her cries in a frenzied clash of lips and teeth, groaning into her mouth as her nails bit into his shoulder blades, raking down his back to grab desperately at his ass, urging him deeper until he couldn’t hold back any longer, his balls tightening and spilling his load deep inside her with a broken moan, her name on his lips as came apart.

When he collapsed atop her, still twitching inside her, Win’s arms snaked around his back, holding him tightly against her chest.

“I forgive you,” she whispered into his shoulder and Gator smiled sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut in her embrace, a weight leaving his chest at her words.  Exhaustion finally overtook him, and Win wasn’t far behind, a deep comforting sleep dragging her under.

Gator wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours later when he woke, needing to take a piss, Win still passed out beneath him, a peaceful look on her face that tugged at his heartstrings.  Carefully disentangling himself so as not to wake her, he pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead, pushing her sweat-dampened bangs out of the way before pushing off the bed to amble to the bathroom.

Not bothering to shut the door behind him, Gator let out a sigh as he relieved himself, taking a moment to splash some water on his face and run his fingers through his hair before heading back to the bedroom.

Something made him pause, however, and he turned to frown at the front door, having forgotten if he’d locked it behind him or not.  Finding it unlocked, he quickly yanked it open to peer outside, only to freeze at the sight of a bloodied note stuck to the door with a serrated hunting knife.

I’m Always Watching.

Hissing a panicked breath, Gator hastily peered up and down the street once more before yanking the knife free and locking the door behind him.  Pressing his back to the door, he crumpled the note in his fist, his heart hammering in his chest.

The door had been unlocked the whole time, Munch could’ve easily walked right in, attacking them while they were… distracted.  The thought sent his blood running cold—he couldn’t afford to be so careless, not when Win was involved.  

Stowing the knife in the side of one of his boots, he scrubbed his hands clean and grabbed his gun before returning to the bedroom, finding Win still asleep, completely blissfully unaware of what had happened.

Sleep with your hammer cocked, that is, if you sleep at all.

Roy’s words ran through his head and he slipped his pistol under the pillow before crawling back into bed and pulling Win close, his pulse still thundering in his ears.  

If Munch had wanted them dead, he could’ve already done it, which meant they were probably safe for the time being, Gator reminded himself, willing his nerves to calm, forcing himself to match Win’s slow even breaths.  Burying his face in her hair, he yearned for that deep unassuming sleep he’d woken from not long ago, but one thought still nagged at him—if Munch had the opportunity to do more than leave a warning, why hadn’t he?

⇾ taglist. @sailorskunk, @heartbreak-sandwich, @super-unpredictable98, @tangerinesteve, @girlwiththerubyslippers

@cycat4077 , @thecreelhouse

[rockingrobin69]

Hey! How are you? If you don’t mind, I would like a trick!!

Hello there! Here is your post-Halloween trick, rated M.

Wet Wet Wet

Who thought this was a good idea? Draco vaguely remembered Potter grumbling about the cold. He looked so infuriatingly good in Draco’s borrowed hat and scarf, and the rest of the day was slightly fuzzy—Pansy was probably the one who offered the estate, and someone was weak enough to say yes.

Oh, no, that was probably him. Why did he have to mention the heated pool? Why, why, could he never keep his mouth shut. Now he had a practically-naked Potter a few laps away, laughing (did he always—with that laughter, the one that made Draco’s knees turn liquid), with his wet bloody eyelashes and his chest and his arms and his. His. Draco closed his eyes and could still see it.

“Darling,” Blaise said at his side. “Chin up. You don’t have to look so miserable.”

“Noted, thank you.”

A huff more exasperated than Draco deserved. “Just go in the water, silly. It’s really so nice.”

“Will you just—” Potter gave a particularly loud guffaw, and there was no way Blaise missed Draco’s flinch. The way his hands kept twitching at his sides. The next sigh was a good bit gentler.

“Draco,” he paused, shook his head. “Hey, Potter!”

Everything froze still. From between his teeth, “Blaise.”

“Yeah?” twisting towards him in an impossibly elegant motion, coming to rest his perfect chin on the pool’s edge.

Draco couldn’t breathe. “Blaise.”

“Did you know Draco can’t swim?”

“No chance,” Potter grinned, lifting his perfect eyes to where Draco was dying. “Is that true?”

Words failed him. “I,” he said, stupidly. Begging: “Blaise.”

“Too true. I heard he was so scared to go in the water as a child—(“Blaise!”)—that he tried to drown his instructor in the practice tub.”

Potter, amazingly, magnificently, laughed. “That’s definitely a lie.”

“Aw, you have such faith in him, do you?”

He pulled a little further out of the water, so his (wet, glistening, perfect) torso was leaning on the edge, and his face was close to Draco’s knee. “All I’m saying is, if Draco wanted out of swim lessons, he’d devise a much more nefarious plan than the practice tub.”

Yes, yes, nefarious and, ah, a bead of water running down Potter’s neck stole his entire presence of mind. Tongue darting out to lick—get a hold of yourself, Malfoy. Draco’s breathing was loud enough to startle him. He couldn’t remember what they were talking about.

“All yours,” Blaise was saying in the periphery, and Potter’s eyes were so bright. “Coming, Weasley? I promised to show you the wine cellar.”

“Perfect, mate,” Weasley hopped out, sopping wet and shaking himself wet-dogged-ly on the floor. Draco would normally mind, but Potter was looking at him. “Don’t let the little snake drown you, eh, Harry?”

Potter rolled his eyes, and his hand was—oh. He was offering it to, to Draco. Draco… wasn’t entirely sure he was conscious anymore.

The sound of their leaving was wet and inconsequential. Potter laughed, waving his hand in front of Draco’s face. “Well?” and Draco, ah, would probably go anywhere he’d, ah, direct, and found himself on his feet and preparing to jump before he remembered he was still fully clothed.

Torpedo-ing out of the jumper, the shirt, the jeans, till he was hopefully only in swim shorts, jumping so fast with his heart thundering in his chest: and Potter cheered, swimming around him in circles, shark-y and gorgeous and perfect, perfect.

“Well,” he was saying, “I suppose if you really can’t swim, then I’ll have to teach you from the beginning.” Drifting behind him to hold Draco’s shoulders, one arm snaking around his belly.

He’d been swimming since he was four, had even gone on a few competitions.

“Yes,” Draco choked out. “From the beginning.”

Potter fitted their hips together, his—oh god, oh god, semi-hard cock in the cleft of Draco’s arse. “Okay,” he said, so serious all of a sudden, skimming gently fingers on Draco’s jumping muscles. “All right. So, slowly, yeah? What do you, er, want to…”

Anything you want, Draco thought. “Anything you want,” was what he actually said. Potter made a low sound, crushed them even closer together. “Yes,” Draco said, and leaned his head back on Potter shoulder.

“Slowly,” Potter said, an order this time, and Draco shivered, nodded. Potter rewarded him with a tiny kiss to the place between his neck and his shoulder. His hand kept sneaking lower to the very-noticeable tenting in Draco’s shorts. “Slowly,” again, soft in his ear when Draco squirmed, gave this half-yelp, half-curse.

Leading them back until Potter was leaning against the wall. “Fuck,” he whispered, warm and ticklish just behind Draco’s ear, and when Draco jumped he laughed.

“Better than your old swimming instructor, hmm?”

Did other people still exist? “Yes,” Draco breathed, melting into his hand. His reward this time was a stroke, and every hair on his body rose.

This was a terrible idea—a brilliant one. Potter held him and Draco was seeing actual stars. The estate had more than just a heated pool—in fact, his old room should still be prepped. Maybe he could take Potter there and… ah. His toes curled with blistering, agonising pleasure.

“Potter,” Draco moaned, and stopped thinking altogether.

[fuzzyclink]

Angsty Keir x Vesper fic, hot off the presses. Heavily inspired by chapter 2, so don’t read if you haven’t played the second chapter of his route yet. Spoilers abound!

Ao3 link

(also I wrote a Keir/vesper spicier, spoiler-free fic here!, and a Halloween comedy/horror fic)

New Bones

He ran into the fire. Broke through the flames, heard voices scream beneath the thunder of ignition. He hadn’t been there to prevent it. Hadn’t protected them. Hadn’t kept everyone safe. Stepped away once and everything went to shit. The fire singed the hair on his arms. The smoke was so thick he could cut it. He staggered, trying to remember the buildings, streets he'd been down so many times, now shrouded in dark and light. He coughed, bending. Smoke acrid and tangible on his tongue. Tried to get his bearings. Listened.

“Eve? EVE! Where are you? Eve, honey, say something to me!”

“Kix? Kix? Please, is there anyone in this building? Fuck!” Vesper, shriller than he’s heard them before.

Griff’s voice, choked with smoke. “Don’t fucking do this to me, please! Delight? I know you’re there, I know it - Delight?”

A scream, piercing and broken. Caught in the careening smash of collapsing buildings and shearing metal.

The deep thrum of bellowing heat.

He pulled people out. Stepped forward blindly. Looked for gaps where the flames parted and faces, sometimes mirage and sometimes reality, twisted in anguish through the fire. Saw the community he worked so hard to build, twist and melt and deform. It was only so long that he could look. It wasn’t long enough. He stopped, off to the side. His eyes wept in the smoke, skin raw and damaged where he disregarded the heat, breath painful in his damaged throat. The fire was blinding to witness. It licked the top of the cavern, burning, burning. Survivors cried, huddled on the outskirts. Small groups of shaking people - old and young holding each other. He saw Lave and Halo working as a team, dragging one unconscious individual from the inferno. Vesper held a toddler in their arms, fed them water from a flask. Shale pulled burning cloth from a waving limb. Griff stumbled half delirious around the peripheral, yelling Delight’s name in a desperate shout over and over. He should have been here. How did it happen? How could everything be gone, ruined, just like that?

******

They came back after the fire had burned itself lower. Returned when the ground was molten embers and the crushed dark husks of buildings. The search took hours of labour. Survivors salvaged what they could from beneath the ashes. Keir went everywhere, tended to wounds, lifted beams to look for anything unmarred by the fire. Held people's hands as they trembled. Brought food, water, remaining possessions. He caught glimpses of Vesper as he worked, tirelessly carting items to the new location, stumbling with arms full through the narrow passages. Staggered, eventually, due to their exhaustion as well as the weight. Did it without complaint, accepted the additional items that Griff piled onto them without a word.

Not so distantly he can remember when they first arrived at Mouse Hole. He’d been pleased to see how they sought to help from the beginning. Stood aimlessly next to distrusting people and asked again and again for things they could do. Endured the tasks and lent a hand wherever they could. From the beginning, Keir had wanted to defend them. Rejected Griff’s suggestion to kill them for blithely discovering the community he worked hard to protect. His early affection for them surprised him. So he distanced himself - watched them mend clothes, carry firewood, fetch water - all from a safe distance, trying to keep his emotions in check. In a city like this one, it was best not to get too attached. He was never especially good at that.

******

How can you hold a funeral for so many at once? The survivors had found some bodies, places where crumbling bones and burnt flesh were identifiable amongst wood and stone. They’d set them aside carefully. Hope falling when looking under each broken wall revealed nothing but ash. Shale worked to count the remains, expression grim as those searching found fewer and fewer alive. Gathered the bones in cloaks and table cloths, fabric acting as impromptu burial shrouds. A few words were whispered over them. The list of those who were lost gradually grew as the search finished. So many were missing. Kix, Eve, Delight, Dee - all gone. Few had hope that those missing would turn up. Everyone was aware of the fact that the fire had alerted all of the market to their presence. The time they had to search was a few paltry hours, not days. Vesper was at Keir’s side like a shadow, helping wherever they could.

“Maybe some of them escaped, Keir,” they said to him, face frozen and stiff. “There’s so many ways out of Mouse Hole, right? They just haven’t been able to come back yet.”

He brushed a dark smear of soot away from the edge of their mask. “Yeah. Could be.”

He didn't tell them that in the chaos of that first night, while Griff and Halo tended to the wounded, he ran through those passageways himself. Desperation had hurried his feet. It hadn’t mattered that his eyes were blurry from tears and smoke. These paths were known to him. Teetered down them as a toddler, scampered with the slightness of adolescence, stepped through them with surety in adulthood. He’d found a few alive in those passageways that night. Half conscious from smoke inhalation, or weakened from their injuries. But no more than a few.

“This isn’t your fault. Don’t shoulder that.”

“If I hadn’t left, this… this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Think of how many good people were here. Shale, Griff, Halo - none of them could prevent it. You saved so many. There’s at least fifteen people that owe their lives to you, you did what you could, we all did -”

“But what about all the people I couldn’t get to? All the people who fucking burned?”

They flinched back, expression shaken. Looked at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t know.” Keir looks at the mess of everything. The dark soot that had spread up the stone walls. The crumpled outlines of homes. Black and tangled and broken.

��If I tell myself I could have stopped it, it means I could prevent it from happening again. That if I’m careful enough, proactive enough, this could never happen. Should never have happened. I don’t want to lose that. If it’s out of my control, if -”

“It won’t happen again. We’ll make sure of it. Eat cold food, start a fire squad, however we can, we’ll stop it. This can’t happen again.” They squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

******

He’s always been rebuilding. This time was the hardest yet. There’s so little that they’ve been able to bring to the new cave over the past few days. Piles of cookware, a few scattered personal items. Each one a reminder of what and who they’ve lost. But the marketplace helped them here and there. Baskets and food and drink from those they’ve been able to assist. A sizable donation from Oleander allowed them to purchase wood to begin the scaffolding of houses. Keir slept where he could, the ground padded by his weariness. For days he focused on getting the rough shape of a structure, children and elderly separated from the cave with walls of hanging sheets. When it had begun to take shape, Halo made him and Vesper take a portion of the space, a tent-sized section on the edge of the camp with a lumpy pile of sacks as a mattress.

“Your connection with Oleander gave us a leg up. Take the bed. I won’t hear no for an answer, Keir.”

He didn’t bother arguing with Halo. If she pushed this hard for it, he’s sure she had Lave and Griff backing her too. He placed his stuff down by the flap in the fabric. Not much- a few ceramic items, a shard of Vesper’s glass decoration, soap that somehow didn’t melt. He’d come back later to sleep, probably. Maybe.

Building gave him something to do. Day in and day out for as long as he could stand. A purpose when the hopelessness and grief were overwhelming. Penance for his sin of leaving, his failure to prevent this. He’d always been one to focus on action. It was simpler to nail boards together until his hands buzzed with the force, dig into the soil and hammer in posts.

“You’re going to put a nail through your thumb if you don’t sleep for a little while.” Vesper’s voice, cautious, over his shoulder. “Griff has been standing around over there, I can get him to do it.”

“I’d like to see you try to get Griff to do anything.”

But he sat down. They were right. His eyes were blurry and he’d been swaying on his feet. It’s just that once he sits it all comes rushing back. It was easier to keep moving. He walked a few paces away and sank to the floor, leaning back against a box on the ground. Through closed eyes, he heard Vesper yell from the other side of one of the temporary structures.

“Griff, Keir doesn’t think you know how to use a hammer!”

Well, that’d get him going.

******

“Only one bed?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looked into the tent, the narrow width of it, smaller than his outstretched arms. The floor was covered with burlap that might have held vegetables less than a week ago. Halo had been generous enough to stuff them with something - grass, maybe, or rags. A tattered quilt covered it. It’s better than he felt he deserves, with all of those outside who don’t have anything comfier than their packs or the soot-stained clothes they have on.

“Yeah, looks like it. I’d say that I could sleep on the floor but… the mattress is the floor.”

Vesper looked at it, looked up at him. They placed their hand on their hip. “Well? Do you toss or turn? Steal all the covers? Moan in your sleep or anything weird?”

“Nobody’s ever said I have.” He looked at them, smirked beneath his mask.“If you want to hear me moan, you’ll have to figure out a different way than watching me sleep.”

“Got it. I'll place some heavy objects in front of the tent when you’re not looking, get you to stub your toe in the morning.”

“Oh, you want to find a way to hear it, do you?” He’s caught them. Satisfaction prickled in his gut.

“Just want to see you do something as undignified as yelp, that’s all.”

He wondered if they moan. What they'd sound like if he went further than kissing them. Whether they’d get breathy and air would hiss through clenched teeth. Or maybe their voice would deepen, groaning when he touches them. He sat down on the kind-of-mattress with a long-suffering sigh. He's weary to the bone. He patted the bed next to him. “Get in. I gotta keep my eye on you so you don’t boobytrap the door.”

“Wow, I’m still a captive, even now. How much longer until I deserve freedom?!”

But they got in beside him, shed their cloak. Removed their gloves and placed them by their side. They lay under the same blanket with him. He could feel the warmth radiating from them. Warmth that reminded him of when he brought them to this same cave, seemingly a century ago. It was quiet. Awkwardly quiet. Their breath was steady and even. He stretched a little, put his hands behind his head. Spoke to break the silence.

“So… do you usually sleep with your mask on?”

“Normally I wear three or four to bed. Keeps my skin looking tight and youthful, you know. Resists gravity better that way.”

Quiet again. If he waits in the quiet, he usually gets a real answer from them.

“...it feels like a lot. Maybe it’s silly, with everything that’s going on. I shouldn’t worry about your reaction. But yeah, I’d like to keep it on for a little while longer.”

He nodded, though he’s certain in the dim lighting they don’t see it. “Sure. There’s no rush.”

They wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable. “It’s pretty chilly in here, don’t you think?”

It was hard to keep the smile out of his voice. “I’m freezing, myself.”

They inched closer, their hair tickling Keir’s ear. “I think we might have to huddle together. Make sure we conserve all of our energy.”

“Very practical.” But he opened his arms, pulled them closer. He could feel the heat of their shoulders beneath their clothes. They snuggled closer, resting their cheek where his shoulder meets his chest. Cradled in his arms. He held them like he’s wanted to do for a while. They made everything feel easier. Eased the guilt which lays crushing across his shoulders. He was glad that they’ve both decided to keep their masks on for now. It conceals the smile that cracks across his face like dawn breaking. As well as the kiss he presses to the top of their head, unnoticeable through the fabric.

*****

Everyone was exhausted. Worn thin from grief and the number of tasks. But Vesper seemed to be worse off than the others. Keir tried to find something nearby to work on, when he’s not needed elsewhere. More and more often he saw them start to pull apart. The way their motions stilled, the way they sat down too suddenly or found an excuse to step away. The subtle motion of their hands balling into fists as they tried to keep it together. He found them during one of these times, seated at the base of the cave wall. Trembling a little beneath their cloak.

“Peeling potatoes too much for you?”

They’re quick to brush aside his sympathy. They’d have to make do with teasing.

“Don’t look at me like that, Keir.”

He put his hands in his pockets, leaned against the wall next to them. Rolled out his shoulders, raised his hand to brush across the surface of his mask theatrically.

“Why do you think I was looking at you? Seems like there’s fascinating soup-making-action right over there.”

“Takes a little more than soup to impress you. Need at least a pot roast to capture your interest.” They were quiet for a moment, still recovering. “Because you’re always watching me. I can tell.”

They were right. He’s always aware of where they are lately. Felt their presence on the periphery of his vision. He couldn't baby them, there wasn't time for that. Couldn't hold their trembling hands in his, breathe with them. Put the pieces of them back together himself, like he wanted to.

He’d always said he couldn’t sacrifice a life for his own happiness. When it came down to it, he couldn’t bear to let Vesper do it either. There had to be a different way to save them. Something other than hurting innocents like Thorn.That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel fucking miserable. He and Vesper still hadn't really talked since the first time he showed them this cavern. When they laid the responsibility of their survival squarely on his shoulders. You’re too noble to sacrifice their life, but you’re pretty fucking cavalier with mine, huh? I guess I’m just not worth saving. He had to believe there’s a better way. Damning himself for pursuing his own moral code no matter the cost. There was time left. There had to be.

******

He had started to get used to it again, sleeping with someone. He could tell that Vesper is too. They’re less shy about it now. They’d move his arm off of them if it’s squishing them, throw their limbs across his waist or the spread of his thighs, complain if he’s laying on their hair. Both of them had grown a little bolder in other ways, as well. More cavalier about sliding their mask aside when they ate breakfast together in the tent or a late night snack of nuts or figs. At night, their sleepy arms rested, ever so casually, across his waist near the button of his pants. It was agonising. He was careful with them. Kept his fantasies as just that. Didn’t push for more, no matter how exciting it was to have them so close. It was one of those nights - Vesper’s head pillowed on his shoulder, his hand resting on the side of their head. They squirmed, shifting around.

“Does anyone in the camp know what you really look like?”

“Yeah. Halo does, she stitched up my eyebrow when I cracked it on a hanging pipe in the market. When I was younger and not quite as used to being tall.”

“Oh. So I could ask her what you look like? Get an unbiased perspective.”

“You didn’t believe me when I said I was devastatingly handsome? Anyways, asking Halo wouldn’t be fair, would it? There isn’t anyone that I can ask to find out more about your appearance.” He holds his breath. Hand flopped away from them, landed on the rough burlap. He flexed his fingers. “If you really want to know, I could just show you.”

“Fine. This lighting is flattering enough.”

His heart nearly stopped in his chest. He leaned away from them, craning his neck. He thought he’d grown out of sweaty palms and butterflies by now but Vesper always found ways to surprise him. “Alright then, if we’re really doing this. You want me to go first?”

“Let’s just get it over with. We can go at the same time.” They studied him, thinking for a moment. “We’ll take them off with our eyes closed and then open them on the count of three.” Their fingers hover at the bottom of their face. “But you can’t laugh, ok? Or kick me out. I’ve gotten used to sleeping here. I heard that Griff only has sand to sleep on in his tent. Who knows if the other sleeping arrangements even have that?”

“I’m pretty sure Griff just wanted you to feel bad for him. But I promise.”

They pulled apart from each other, sitting upright cross legged on the floor. Keir’s hands trembled a little as he gripped the edge of the material. Vesper heaves a heavy breath and says “Ok then. Close your eyes. I’m taking it off.”

He did so dutifully, eyes pressed shut. Cycled through, for a moment, all the different appearances he’d imagined them to have. Threw in a few unlikely ones quickly just to try and prevent any surprise that might show on his face. He pulled off his mask. He knew that his ears were redder than his hair. At least they’ve already seen that.

“Ready? One, two, three.”

His eyes blinked open and he stared at them. Their expression, nervous and eager. The shape of their brow and how it smoothes into the curve of their nose. Their eyes, bright even in the dim lighting, that fixed him with their complete attention. The same lips that he’s kissed but never seen. The soft give of their cheek.

“Holy shit.” He breathed out, gazing at them. “Why do you look like that?”

They frowned at him, aghast. That same expression that he’d been able to discern through their body language now has more potency. “Like what?”

“How are you so hot? You’re telling me there wasn’t any rich suitor who wanted to snap you up topside? You’ve just been looking like that this whole time? This whole time we’ve been together, ever since we met, you’ve been walking around with that face under there?” He slid his hand over his eyes. It didn’t feel as satisfying to do without his mask on.

“Keir!” For once, they’re at a loss for words.

He grinned at them. Damn. This was way more embarrassing when they could see him completely. “Do I meet your expectations?”

Vesper rolled their eyes at him. Their face was delightfully expressive. He’d know what to picture now when he sees those same mannerisms beneath their mask. “Yeah. You do. More than, even.”

“Told you I was handsome.”

They raised their hand to his face. Their fingers were gentle. Thumb made a small circle on the jaunt of his cheekbone. “I’m glad I didn’t punch you before. You’re too pretty to bruise.”

“Hasn’t stopped people before.”

“Is this where Halo stitched you up?” Their hand traced the line of his eyebrow.

“Yeah. She did a good job.”

Their other palm came up to cup the side of his jaw. Held him with a delicateness he hadn’t felt before. The same way he held them. His hands raised to circle their waist as they hovered in front of him. Their lips dropped, feather-light, to brush against the scar. Paused there, pressed against him. With a groan, he pulled them down, pressing his lips against theirs. Kissed them like he wanted to before, without the burden of hiding their face from him. Held their head in his hands, fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the back of their neck. Enjoyed the wet slide of their mouth against his. Let out the soft sounds that he normally tries to hold back.

“So that’s what you sound like.” Their voice was incredibly smug. And, after he cracked his eyes open, he learned their expression matched it.

“Hey, you’re a good kisser. Don’t deny me one of the simple pleasures in this life.”

“Makes me want to hear more.” Fuck. They’d be the end of him yet.

They slunk down, settled by his knees. Fingers hovered at the button of his pants, a question on their face. What a crime it was, that their face has to be hidden all the time. What a gift it was, that they’d share it with him. He nodded at them, heart hammering. He was throbbing already, achingly hard. He wasn’t sure how far this would go, tonight or ever, but he’d gladly accept whatever they’d give him. They eased off his pants, sliding them down along with his underwear. Sat back for a second and took him all in. He burned under their eyes, flushing everywhere.

“Huh. Guess the freckles really do stop somewhere.”

He spluttered, caught off guard. “What, you think I’d lie about that?”

“You never know. I had to check for myself.” They leaned forwards, wrapped their fingers around his length. Rolled him in their palm. Pressed one thumb over his beading tip. He stifled a choked gasp, hips stuttering up towards them. They leaned forwards, taking the end of him in their mouth. Lowered him into that burning heat. He could feel the flutter of their tongue beneath him. His hand fell to the top of their head. They slid him deeper, working him with their throat. Fell into a steady rhythm, waves of pleasure that built higher. Their hand found his where it fisted on the blankets. Held it as they bobbed their head. His hips strained, lifting towards them. Towards that aching, twisting friction. They brought him over the top. Swallowed him down as he came. When he reaches for their clothes, they stop his searching hands. Satisfaction was clear in their scratchy voice.

“You’ll have to wait to find out what I sound like.”

******

He brought them things to work on when they’re recovering from their bouts of illness. Socks to mend and wood to carve accompany soup and crusty bread. Their energy had flagged. Some days were better than others. But some days were just like this one. Stuck in bed for most of the day. He knew that having something to focus on helps them. Helped them keep their pride, helped distract them from it. But even outside of that, Vesper had become the best at darning out of the group. So it wasn’t paternalism that motivated him to bring them things to do. There was an ever growing pile of socks, ripped knees, and busted seams for them to weave back together. They’d lost so many tradespeople in the fire. All everyone could do was try their best to fill in the gaps.

They were sitting up in bed, leaning against a bag. “Been a minute since I’ve checked in with everyone. Any news on the ichor?”

He stopped in the doorway, soup steaming in his hand. “No, not that I’ve been able to find. Those who can still run missions check every stall they pass by. Our informants know, too. They’d tell us if there was anything that they’ve heard of. I’ve been reaching out to contacts of contacts just to make sure there isn’t anyone I've missed. As soon as any ichor enters the marketplace, we’d know.”

“I’m just waiting, then? Hoping that chance will deign to keep me alive?”

He sighed, leans over and sets the soup next to them. “I’m not going to create it. Or find someone who would. All we can do is wait until some that already exists makes it down here.”

They stared, gaze fixed at the door of the tent. Frozen still. Spoke so quietly he almost didn’t hear them. “Where’s Thorn?”

Keir looked at them incredulously. “He’s healed, Vesper. Healed and safe. Not turning into ichor anymore, if that’s what you’re asking. In fact, all of it’s disappeared. Absorbed back into his system or wherever the hell it goes.”

They were icy. Avoided his eyes. “I was only asking.”

He scoffed, shocked. “I’m sure you were. But I’ll be careful not to mention him again, just in case you get it in your head to try something.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just sit here, keep waiting. Being patient until I die of it.”

He kneeled down before them. Tried to intersect the static line of their eyes with his. “I’m doing everything I can. You know that. Everyone else is too. All the people here care for you. But even cases like Thorn’s are rare. Ichor doesn’t come through the market often, regardless of if it’s in a vial or a person.”

Finally, they met his eyes. There were tears there, watering, at the edge of their lash line. “I’m sorry,” they say brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s ok. It’ll be ok.”

******

Keir pressed his face into their skin, the scent of pine made more resinous and heady from their warmth. Held himself over the fragileness of their spine, the broadness of his back shielding them. Slipped kisses into the curve where their neck meets their shoulder. Pressed into the hot tension within them, sank deeper. Gripped their thrumming skin and used the sturdiness of them as leverage. Set a slow tempo, listened to the choked gasps they made when he hit his mark. Tenderness, always, in the way that he pulled pleasure from them, spinning upwards. Their breath was humid and gasping in his ear. His hand beneath their hips, rubbed insistent circles against them until the malleable give of them stretched taut as a wire. Chased his own release after, friction spooling desire white-hot in his groin, cascaded over in a clenching moan. Freed them from the sweaty enclosure of his arms.

“I needed that.” They rolled over and curled into the covers. “Makes me forget everything.”

Keir scoffs, fake outrage colouring his tone. Disguising the crack in his voice as offence. “Oh?I'm not a memorable lay?”

They hummed, too fucked-out to really argue. “Guess you’ll just have to work harder next time.”

He tried, shoved those thoughts that cloud them away with the warmth of his mouth, heavy hands that grounded them and centred, tongue that pulled pretty sounds from them until their thoughts were too scattered to worry. Helped them to ignore their slow and relentless shattering. Held them until they forgot while he focused on remembering. Kept each new experience in his mind the best he could until time muddled them into memories, blurry and fragmented.

******

They’ve been so tired lately. Every day they tumbled out of bed and did chores with wooden limbs. Everyone had to do their share. Vesper couldn't anymore but even Griff didn’t push it. It’s clear how much they cared about contributing when they could. And it was clear how much it cost them. Their steps were sloppy with exhaustion after only a few hours. People brought them tasks they could do sitting down as much as possible. But still, they pushed themselves, helped to dig new passageways, shovelled the moist soil away.

The only missions outside lately were those that depend on speed - stealing supplies like cloth and bedding and sprinting away with them. Keir went out a lot, though he loathed leaving Vesper behind. Even those uninjured by the accident had lungs damaged by smoke and heat. He was fast, and more importantly - reliable. So he made countless trips in and out, until his legs ached and sweat lay stiff and dry on his skin. There was an added benefit, too. Sneaking around the marketplace allowed him to access the ever-changing web of gossip throughout the city. When he’s home with Vesper, their deterioration was clear, right before him. It motivated him to spend more time away searching for a cure.

If there’s lunar ichor down here, Keir’s almost certain it’d go through the auction. With as rare and valuable it is, trades are either done for a tremendous amount of money or in backroom deals that he doubts even Oleander had access to. He spent a lot of time around the auction house. Well, as close as he could go. He picked up a new mask on one of his trips for good measure. Too many people around here knew what he looked like. Hey, his height and flowing red locks were only a benefit most of the time. He tried to go at different times of day, wearing new outfits. Or at least with the clothes layered differently. Made it a little less obvious that he’s casing the joint. He’d always thought about how to get in. Seemed like the final feather in his cap. He and Griff used to spend hours debating different possible strategies. Hiding in through some expensive chest, pickpocketing the goods right under the nose of the guards; or maybe lighting the building on fire and taking things during the chaos. That one in particular didn’t seem like an option anymore. But he wasn’t only daydreaming about it as the scene of a heist. Now he had a goal. Didn't make it any easier to figure out a solution. He’s studied the deep, crimson walls more times than he could count. The guards are catching on. One called out to him where he stood, pretending to browse the necklaces.

“You there. I’ve seen you around here before. Just a few mornings ago, and again the night before that. Haven’t seen you buy anything.”

Keir gave the guard a cocky bow. “Oh, you’ve found me particularly memorable, then? Something particular about my appearance that caught your fancy?”

“Don’t try that with me. This isn’t the place for browsing. Either you have the money to buy, or you shouldn’t be here.”

“Judging me by my looks, eh? True wealth comes less from fine clothes and more from knowing how to live richly.” He’s stalling - and by the looks of it, not well. “I’ve purchased plenty of fine items from within these ruby walls. Guess your attention isn’t as sharp as you believe it to be.”

“My attention’s plenty sharp.” The guard started for him, stride purposeful.

Keir made a break for it. It wasn't his finest escape by any means. There’s a brief scuffle where his arm gets snagged by one grasping fist and he had to wrench free, tearing the muscles of his shoulder in the process. Once he escaped the chase through a few narrow passages he took stock of the situation. His shoulder is definitely worse for wear. It ached, tight and burning, as he swung it around a little. There’s something wet on his shirt, too. Maybe he was a little more beat up than he first thought. A narrow gash had torn through his shirt at the rib, the blade leaving a thin cut. He took a roundabout route home. He guessed he could call it that. Home. It felt more like home now that buildings are starting to take shape. Especially since Vesper was waiting for him in one of them.

******

Lave caught him as he tried to sneak back into camp quietly. He’s brought a few sacks of flour for good measure. The reason he was coming back so late, of course. He’d almost gotten back to his tent when she stopped him.

“What took you so long?” Her voice was quiet but sharp. People were sleeping.

“Just made an extra stop. One of our connections had a small donation for me.”

“Yeah, and they tried to stab you?” Lave took a step back, really looked at him. Examined him. Her voice raised. “It’s the fucking auction, isn’t it? What the hell, Keir. We need you here. What good is it going to do? You and I both know there’s no ichor at the auction house. Everyone’s looking for it already. I thought you were smarter than this. And lying to me?”

“Lave - they’re getting worse by the day. You and I can both see it. How am I going to steal the ichor if I’m not prepared? Every second counts. If I wait to form a plan once it shows up, it’ll be gone before I can get to it!” His voice quieted to a hushed murmur. There’s rustling coming from inside his tent. “What would you have me do, huh? Sit back and wait until they’re dead and gone?”

She softened a little. “There are other people here who are sick, with cures that are far more easily found. There are children that are hungry. Few of us are well enough to take care of those who need it. You need to shift your priorities. Even though that sucks.”

“I thought we were on the same page. You said you’d help me, that you’d look too.”

“Things are different now. I’m helping where I can but my focus is here. With the community we’ve built.”

He straightened his shoulders. Turned away from her. Let the hurt he felt show like frost on the ground. “I apologise for not doing my share. I’ll work harder so that my side project doesn’t impact the group.”

“You know I didn’t mean that, Keir. I’ll talk to some of my contacts again, see if they know anything else about the auction that we overlooked…”

He shrugged. Headed into the tent. If it had to be only his responsibility, he’d bear it. Truthfully, though he’s thankful for any help, it wouldn’t feel right if he wasn’t doing the most out of anyone. How could he be sure that nothing is overlooked, that there isn’t some detail that could help them? He wondered then, if the ichor would heal them back to true health. Fill in the cracks of their soul like molten gold. Or whether they'd be stuck like this, a third of the way from death, and the ichor would only stop it from progressing. Vesper was where he had left them in bed. He slid in under the covers behind them. Their skin was warm and silk-like from sleep. He rests his hand on their waist, their shirt riding up slightly. Holds them. He’s all they have. First their death sentence and hopefully their cure.

*****

Lately, they only come out of the tent for a few hours. Help babysit one of the children for an hour, use the latrine. He goes straight to the tent whenever he returns. Knew the odds are good that he’d find them there. They were sitting up but their shoulders were hunched forwards. Deep bags lay under their eyes. Chapped lips twisted to the side as he appeared.

“Is there anything I can do to help? I could be the look-out again, or a distraction.”

“And get yourself killed even earlier? I'm trying to save your life, not end it tomorrow.”

“At least it would be on my terms, then. Here I'm like a prisoner waiting for the gallows.” Wearily, they flopped back into bed. Set down the socks they were mending. “I hesitated too much, didn't I? Took too long to come down here, didn't search hard enough for the ichor while I still had my strength.”

“Even if you came down earlier, it would have been tough to find any. But I’ve been looking around the auction. I think I’ve found a weak point in the roof. I’ve been memorising the schedule of the guards too. Learning what they like, which ones of them leave to piss all the time, which ones of them show up wasted. I think there will be a chance -”

“There’s no ichor there though, right? Nothing actually being sold?”

“...No. I’m working on it, planning, making sure I’m ready when it arrives -”

“The roof, though? You expect that to work? Once was already lucky, the guards have caught on to that. I don’t know. I don’t want my situation to result in both of our deaths. Can’t you try something else? Talk to Oleander. Get information from Thorn. Who knows.” Their voice, once sure, wavered. It seemed like they never have quite enough air in them these days. Like a sentence was a marathon they had to push through to finish.

“I’ll visit Oleander again. Remind him of how important this is. Make sure he’s taking it seriously.”

*****

Keir hasn’t made a habit of visiting Oleander, but it was easy enough to find his way to his apartment. He can smell it before he arrives - thick perfume wafting under the door and beneath his mask. He raised his fist to the ornate door and banged loudly. Oleander pulled it open halfway, clearly taken by surprise. He stands in the doorway, shirt unbuttoned to his waist and holding a damp cloth in his hand, mask slightly askew.

“Keir. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Keir shouldered his way into the room, impatient. Paced in the light of glittering lamps from the walls of the room, steps muffled on the plush carpet. “There’s no news about the ichor? You haven’t heard anything?”

“You know that I’d inform you as soon as I knew. What’s influencing you? You’ve been so desperate to talk to me lately, it’s almost like you miss me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s them - Vesper. They’re sick. Getting sicker by the day. Fractum Amina. I don’t think they have much time. I’m looking everywhere for ichor, I’m not sure it’s out there, if they’ll survive it until I find it -”

“The last time I saw any was half a year ago. It’s exceptionally rare, even here.”

“I know that, but there has to be something more I can do, somewhere I can look, someone who knows something, I’m losing them, they’re dying -”

“Don’t lay roses on a grave that doesn’t exist. They have a spark, a fight to them. They’ll keep holding on, especially with your encouragement.”

Keir’s voice rushed out of him. Shot words like darts at Oleander. “I can’t help it. I look at them and it's like I've already lost them. When I hear their voice I try to remember it as best I can. I archive bits and pieces of them; their laugh, the way they like their porridge, the songs their mother sang to them growing up. I feed them my favourite dishes for the first time, try to not think about how it might be the only time. What if I forget? What if I don't get the chance to learn everything they are? I'll be grieving them longer than I've known them. Grieving them now, before they're even gone. They're a ghost that I'm trying to hold fast to. And maybe if they hadn't met me, they’d already be healed. I stopped them, Oleander. We saved someone halfway to ichor and I couldn't fucking do it. Couldn’t let them do it. Had to tell them the truth about what ichor was. I love them. It’s not enough - it won't save them. It doesn't matter that I love them. Maybe I should have let them choose. Maybe I should look the other way!”

By the end of it he's shouting, eyes brimming with tears. Words an accusation towards himself, towards the harshness of the world that would take Vesper from him. “I’m begging, Oleander. You've never taken me seriously, please, for once in your life -”

He holds his arms open and Keir falls into them. Holds him and cries. Buries his face into his shoulder.

Oleander’s voice steadied him. “I will do everything in my power to find the ichor, you have my word. I can’t bear to see you like this. It’s heartbreaking.”

*****

News didn’t come. A whole network of people searching for something that doesn’t exist. An impressive spiderweb that stretched hungry, broader, broader in a sealed room. Keir prepared himself as best he could. Found a few fifteen minute intervals where the auction guard occasionally ran late. Identified how goods came into the guarded buildings in case he could steal them before they even entered those ruby walls. Prepared other plans, too. He hated to admit it, but he kept his ears open for other prisoners being turned to ichor. Spoke with Thorn about how it had happened. He said there hadn’t been any other prisoners like him. Keir wasn’t certain at this point what he’d do if he found one. Wasn’t sure there was any other way than finding someone as they transformed. It’s different when it’s someone who has no choice. He figured that one out on his own. Well, it was starting to look like creating ichor might be the only way Vesper could live. They had no choice. Let the celestial gods help him if it ever came to that.

*****

Vesper laid next to him, laced their fingers loosely though his. Both on their backs, looking up at the distant roof of the cave. The soft light of glow worms made it so he could just make out their profile against the cloth wall. There wasn't much sound except the distant murmur of conversation from across the cavern, and air sighing softly where it blew over stone openings. Their hands were cold. They shivered more often than not. When they finally spoke, it was in a near whisper.

“I've decided I'm not going to write a will. Not much to leave behind, really.”

“No secret diamonds and rubies that you have to give away? Maybe a castle you forgot to mention?”

“I've already given my castle and unicorns to charities above the surface. What do you take me for, a misanthrope?”

His voice was gentle. “That's unfortunate. This whole time I figured you'd been holding out on me. I was keeping you around because I thought I could get my hands on some treasure.”

That earned him a laugh. He’d never get tired of hearing it. Held each one close to his chest. “That's what I'm talking about! Classic thief mentality.” They rolled, cold hand still in his, to face him. “I’m the treasure. That's why you stole me away”.

“In my line of work you get pretty good at recognizing something valuable as soon as you see it.” He paused, serious for a moment. There’s no use in telling them he’s trying to save them. They both knew it. Knew that there’s been no progress. “But no last rites? A ceremony or anything that would be important to you?”

They’re contemplative. “I’ve been thinking about what you told me earlier, around when we rescued Thorn. Bones in your house. I like the idea. Turn me into glue or whatever. Keep me here with you.”

He allowed himself to imagine it. How he’d rest his head next to a door they'd never walk through, a home they were part of despite it, blended with wood and blue paint, whisper words into the wall like he’d been doing for years but this time so different - I'm home, sweetheart. I'm home.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

[starlight-storytime]

ok so blame it on the dead guy has to be the danny phantom or dc wip right

surprisingly not! "Alright, blame it on the dead guy" is actually my unsub!Spencer Reid fic bc it is CRIMINAL how few plot-driven fics with serial killer Spence assigned his own case are out there

like?? he has SO much potential but I've never come across an Unsub Reid fic that interested me so I decided to write one myself 🥸 1k snippet under the cut!

Spencer volunteered to go first, shifty and nervous. “We—ah, well, we might as well get this out of the way.”

They didn't think to take her out of the viewing room—or, still trusted her enough not to—because they let Elle stay in the corner to watch that stupid, sweet boy get through an interrogation with Hotch. The reality, the potential, hadn't really set in. The team were still scoffing and disbelieving about the mere idea that Elle was a suspect, let alone actually considering she could have killed someone and should be kept aside in a waiting room.

She didn't know whether their trust was heartwarming, or if it hurt to know she was betraying it. That she was making Spencer betray it.

“Where were you last night?” Hotch asked bluntly, diving right to the thick of it.

“890 Glendale Avenue, Queen’s Motel, room 128.” Spencer answered immediately, staring at his shirt cuff as he picked at it.

“A motel?" Hotch raised a brow. "Why weren't you at home?”

“I was, um, visiting Elle. Like I said, this case got us both really heated, and I thought as—as her friend, I should comfort her, y'know?” Spencer looked up as if asking for Hotch's approval, before realizing where he was, and looking back down at his hands awkwardly.

“How long were you at the motel?”

“From 7:23pm to 6:51am.”

“All night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what room was Elle staying in?”

“128.”

“So then—wait.” Hotch visibly double taked. “What room did you stay in?”

“128. Sir.”

Spencer was turning a shade of delicate rose, those honey amber doe eyes burning a hole into the ground as he very determinedly stared down at the table, lips slightly twisted.

“How many beds were in the—”

“We slept together!” Spencer burst out, hands over his face as if he couldn't bare to be seen and his ears a burning flame. “They only have queens at Queen’s Motel, which is why they're mostly popular for discreet hookups, affairs, and young couples for privacy. There's no cameras on premise for that exact reason but I can guarantee that we were preoccupied for the entire night and didn't have time to go kill anyone.”

Spencer looked up at his boss beseechingly, and his every move screamed earnest innocence. Hotch was briefly stunned silent by the outburst.

The viewing room, on the other hand, is hooting and hollering, gasping and grinning and exchanging promises to pay back bets they had apparently made.

"That's why he's so nervous, that sly dog!” Morgan crowed.

Elle stared at the picture of embarrassed, inexperienced young coworker spilling about an unlikely office romance in front of her, and now understood exactly why Spencer had said what he did on the car ride over

“I have a tattoo of four dice on my left hip, in the order 1, 3, 1, 2. I got it for twenty bucks at a Halloween flash sale in Vegas, when I was 16.”

Elle was so overwhelmed by everything going on after hiding a body and disposing of evidence, she can barely process the spontaneous fun fact Spencer shared.

“Is that your worst secret or something? Trying to make it even now that you— have mine?” Elle weakly joked. It seemed so Spencer that the worst thing he ever did was get an underage tattoo.

Spencer glanced at her briefly before turning back to the dark road he was speeding down, headlights off. “Just remember it. It's on my left hip, an inch above the bone.”

The entire viewing room was staring at Elle now, any ideas of her involvement with the murder last night swept out the door. She can only confidently manage a secretive tilt of her head before she's looking away, towards the sight of her best friend saving her from a charge of second degree murder.

“You and Elle…slept in the same bed the entire night, then?” Spencer nodded behind his hands. “Alright. Sure. She never got up to use the bathroom, get a drink, anything like that?” Hotch's attempts to keep up professionalism were crumbling, with Spencer looking exactly like an embarrassed teen who desperately didn't want to talk about girls with his father.

“We were occupied until roughly 11pm, and slept in the same bed the entire night. We never left the room, she never left my line of sight, please just hurry this up.” Spencer says directly into his hands, not even pretending to not be hiding from eye contact anymore.

Hotch grimaced, as much as the man ever showed weakness. “You say she never left your line of sight, rather than she never left the bed.”

“The only time we got out of bed was to take a shower and replace the sheets, but those all came in the suite. We did them all together, barely an arms length away from when I entered the hotel room to when I got into this interrogation room. We fell asleep cuddling and woke up the same way. I'm a light enough sleeper that she couldn't have moved me without drugging me, and I didn't take anything unsealed last night. ” Spencer peeked out from between his fingers, and the skin that can be seen is an impressively tomato red. “Please, Hotch.”

Hotch sighed, kneading his brow for a long moment before picking his papers up and motioning for Spencer to leave. The boy practically sprints, going straight out the door and into the viewing room with such an apologetic face Elle can almost believe they did have this night he implied, rather than the one that really happened.

"I'm really, really sorry about having to talk about this with the whole team, Elle." Spencer apologized, even as Morgan was shaking his shoulders like the kid had scored the winning play of the season.

He didn't even lie when he said we spent the whole night together, an arms length away. Elle realized incredulously, filled with exhilarated relief at the fact that they were actually going to get a way with it. We did sleep in that queen bed together, even if nothing happened.

Hotch put his head in reluctantly. "This will be brief, but for the sake of protocol..."

Elle put on her best swagger and a smile for Hotch. "Of course, boss." She blew a kiss behind her on a whim, and the team burst into another round of whispers and gossip as the door shut.

Elle reclined in the metal chair, half nervous and half amused. The look in Hotch’s eyes is so tired dad that she can fool herself into thinking this is a meet-the-parents scenario.

“Did you know he has a tattoo?" Elle said idly, picking at her cuticle. "On his hip, the left one. You'll never guess the story behind it.”

The tired look he gave her aged him ten years, and Elle laughs so hard she almost cries.

She dramatically goes over the tattoo story she heard in the car, and then proceeds to make up one of the best nights of her life, using unnecessarily raunchy detail until it's all too much. Too much in general outside of an erotic romance novel, but way too much for her boss to hear about from a coworker he has to look in the eyes. (And, the boy she can tell he's starting to consider like a son.)

Elle doesn't get arrested for murder that day. The least she can do is cover for Spencer now, when he's being blamed for a string of murders he didn't even do.

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

Who Made Me a Villain (6)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)(Part 5) This is a Halloween special as a treat. ------

Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter, was drinking his coffee. Just like any other average Joe while editing Lois Lane’s latest scoop so there were no spelling mistakes and grammar errors.

Then, his super hearing picked up Lois’s heartbeat speedup. There was an ear-piercing scream that had him jumping out of his seat.

“Woah, Kent, what’s wrong?” A concerned colleague asked.

“Indigestion. Bathroom. Real quick.” Clark threw out the first excuse that came to mind before speeding down to the nearest bathroom. Being careful to keep it to human speed.

He had just finished changing into Superman when his phone rang, the caller ID showing Lois’s name.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Superman demanded.

“Name’s Rebel. And don’t worry your darling, I need her alive to do something I want.”

The voice sounded young and female. Superman went through his mental list of supervillains, trying to figure out who took Lois.

“Rebel…” Superman repeated, trying to put a face to the name. Then, he remembered Batman grumbling about Robin sending a picture of him covered in neon green paint and feathers to the Young Justice unofficial group chat who all were happy to show their mentors. It took everything for Superman not to burst out laughing when Kon had shown him the picture. The one responsible for Batman’s misfortune had been no other than Rebel.

“Aren’t you supposed to be Gotham, Rebel?” Superman asked as he flew towards where he knew Lois was.

“Ah. So the great Captain America has heard of me.”

Superman stopped in mid-air, purely due to confusion because Rebel sounded so confident that it was his name.

“Excuse me what?”

The French accent didn’t really help but make Clark think of those terrible Hollywood bad guys.

“You are excused. As I was saying, Captain, your beloved love is fine. I just need her to do this one little thing for me. Then, she’ll be free to go.”

“What do you want from me?” Superman asked again.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Captain America, the world does not revolve around you. You aren’t the high and mighty god everyone thinks you are. I just need Mrs. Lane’s help in releasing a certain truth.”

“You will let her go right now!” Superman said.

He was narrowing on his wife’s location.

“I just told you that I will do that after I am done.” Rebel replied.

Superman arrived at the location but,

“This can’t be right.”

Rebel giggled over the phone. “Plot twist! Gotta love them.”

Superman was currently floating above Stryker's Island Penitentiary where the worst offenders of Metropolis were kept.

He scanned the buildings but couldn’t locate Lois.

“What did you do to her?”

“Chill, Captain. She’s fine. I just did something so you went after a fake heartbeat while I hid Lois.”

The fact that she tricked him using a complicated method that sounded like something Bruce would come up with had Superman raising his guard up. She was not an opponent to be underestimated.

“I am not going to repeat myself. What did you do to her?”

“Urgh. Can’t you overlook this little thing just this once?” Rebel complained, not concerned about the fact that she was provoking a man who could bend metal like it was rubber. “I am just stealing her for a few hours and then you can have her back. I even swear that she will be in the condition you last saw her in.”

“No. Give Lois back. Now.”

Rebel huffed. “You aren’t going to make this easy, huh? Then… beep.”

Superman was confused for a second when she made that sound with her voice.

Then, an explosion rocked the island below Superman. Instantly, the place was swarming with freed prisoners and guards trying to put them back.

“That should keep you busy. After all, the people of Metropolis need to be kept safe from the vicious criminals. Lois and I would probably be done with our girls’ day out by the time you are done. Au revoir.”

The phone hung up.

Trapped between the decision to save his wife and his city, Superman went to save the day.

—

“Man, your husband was a pain to deal with.” Rebel said after she hung up on Superman.

She turned back to Lois who was sitting unbound on a sofa with her recorder, notepad and pencil out. In front of her was a delicious spread of cakes, pastries and cookies with a mouth-watering scent which Lois tried her best to ignore.

“You kidnapped me and blew up a prison. I don’t think he would be happy to see you.” Lois pointed out. “This isn’t about him.” Rebel dismissed. “This is about you, helping me expose one of the biggest cover ups in history.”

“What makes you think I would help you?”

“What if I told you that four years ago. There was a supervillain in Paris that used negative emotions to turn people into monsters and the mayor had made sure news of it never got out.”

Lois snorted. “I don’t write fantasy, kid. I only write the truth.”

Rebel slapped down a bunch of newspapers dated from four years ago to the most recent one and a lot of documents.

“Here’s evidence. I promise that they aren’t faked. You can even use your phone to search all of this up if you still don’t believe me.”

Lois grabbed the one that was oldest and the front page talked about some stone golems wrecking the city. She read through it. Then, she looked at another paper dated a week later and read the front page talking about evil butterflies.

Fifteen minutes later and some google searches, Lois put down her phone and the newspapers.

She gave Rebel a professional smile. “Now… about that scoop you were going to give me.”

She watched Rebel’s eyes lit up.

—

Hours later…

Superman landed on the roof of the Daily Planet where Lois stood safe and sound. He scanned her with his x-ray vision and felt relieved to see that she was fine.

“Lois, are you okay?” Clark asked with worry as he hugged her.

“I’m fine. Honestly, it was the best kidnapping I've ever been in.” Lois replied, hugging back.

“Thanks for the compliment, Ms. Lane.” The unwanted spectator to their reunion said.

Rebel cheerfully waved from where she was on her bike as Superman glared at her.

“I am going to-”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Rebel cut off his threat as she took out a lead box. “Really lucky I stole this off the Big Bat the other day.”

Superman immediately backed away when the box was opened, revealing a glowing green rock.

“Bye, Captain America.”

Rebel tossed it onto the ground and sped off on her bike.

It took a moment for Superman to remember that they were on a roof and that Rebel was insane.

He watched Rebel drop down as gravity took hold. Superman immediately flew after her, only to find that she had disappeared in between the seconds his eyes were off her.

His brain finally caught up and Superman realised that he wasn’t feeling any effect of Kryptonite.

He turned around to see that the box was still open. Cautiously, Lois picked it up and closed it.

“You okay, Clark?” She asked.

“Can you give me the box, Lois?”

She nodded with confusion and slowly handed it over.

Clark slowly opened the lead box and laughed in disbelief. Inside was just some clear plastic crystals with a glowing green light underneath.

—

“Batman.”

“Superman.” Batman nodded in acknowledgement. “Why are you here?”

“I need you to run some tests on Lois’s blood. She had a run in with one of your Rogues. She said that she feels fine. But I want to be sure.” Superman answered. He handed Batman the vial of blood. He accepted it and put it in his pocket.

“I will do that as soon as I get back to the Cave. Who was it that she encountered?”

“Rebel.”

Batman stiffened at the mention of her name. “I see. What did she do to Lois?”

“Gave an interview I suppose. Lois was immediately on research binge about something that happened in France afterwards. She also had a few of the food Rebel laid out because she was hungry and I quote ‘they were the most delicious pastries ever’. She insisted that she was fine but I wanted to be sure.”

Batman’s frown deepened at that answer.

“Is something wrong?” Superman asked anxiously. This was the mother of his child and the love of his life that was in danger here.

“Lois is most probably fine but I will still run the test to ease your mind. I know Rebel won’t do something to the food unless it was for a prank. Even then, it’s nothing toxic or lethal.” Batman answered.

The answer didn’t reassure Superman.

“She blew up Stryker's Island, Batman.”

He couldn’t understand why Batman seemed so unbothered that such a dangerous villain was running around freely and causing chaos wherever she went.

“She regularly does it to Arkham.”

“Bruce. She lured me into a trap with a fake heartbeat of Lois. She fooled me into thinking she had kryptonite. She rode off the roof of the Daily Planet on her bike and disappeared into thin air. And Rao knows why she keeps calling me Captain America!” Superman ranted.

He took a deep breath to calm down before asking his question. “Rebel is clearly dangerous so why aren’t you taking her as a serious threat?”

Batman stared at him. Clark knew that this was his decision making face.

“You said that Lois was looking into something that happened in France.”

Superman nodded. “Yeah. Is Rebel related to it?”

Batman sighed. It was filled with regret and shame.

Superman knew that this was not good news.

“I was going to bring this up at the next League meeting but Rebel appeared to be getting impatient.” Batman started.

“What happened in France?”

“We, as the League, had made a huge oversight. There was a major problem in Paris for many years. A villain who could turn people into monsters had the city hostage. Rebel intends on making sure that we rectify our mistake.” Batman started.

He told Superman everything. About how Rebel brought the issue to his attention. What her plans were. Her past.

“Bruce, are you sure? She could be lying.” Superman said.

“I did my research. It’s all true. There is too much evidence to be faked. Some parts are still being investigated but it is largely the truth.”

Superman looked solemn. He couldn’t understand how something like this never fell on his radar. Batman had to rely on reports and technology to get his information. He was just a man after all. It would be easy for something like this to slip past his radar, especially how tightly controlled the information was.

Clark had super-hearing and this news about Paris had completely blindsided him.

“How could we have missed something so big for so long?” He muttered.

“Too many factors prevented news about it from reaching us. The past is done. What we can do is prepare so nothing like won’t ever happen again.” Batman said firmly.

Superman agreed. They had to do better.

“First, we have to catch a moth.”

It wasn’t the threat of Rebel unleashing her plans on the world that had him motivated to capture Hawkmoth. It was the determination to atone for his ignorance while a city suffered hell on a daily basis.

—

October 30th, Halloween Eve…

Spoiler looked through the binoculars to spy on the group of men moving a crate gently into a warehouse. Plastered in stickers that said ‘Fragile’, the crate was an object of interest for the vigilantes. 

“I got eyes on the target, O.” Spoiler reported. “They are moving it into warehouse number 32. East side of the Gotham Docks.”

“Hear that, Robin?” Oracle asked.

“Got it.” Robin replied as he ran towards the location.

“Oh. I see you, Robin.” Spoiler said.

“Eyes on the target, Spoiler.” Oracle admonished her.

“Sorry, O.”

“Hey. Can you tell me what you Bats are doing here?” A mechanical voice came from Spoiler’s left. 

It was lucky that Spoiler didn’t immediately scream and instead tried to punch the new arrival. He caught her attack easily with his one hand.

“Red Hood.” Spoiler greeted once she recognised who it was.

“I am asking again. What are you Bats doing here?”

“Spoiler, you okay?” Robin’s worried voice came over the comms.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just Red Hood.” Spoiler replied.

Looking back at Red Hood, she said, “I will tell you if you tell me what you are doing here.”

“I think we are both after the same thing.” Red Hood said, tilting his head in the direction of the warehouse.

“Black Mask’s mysterious package.” Spoiler nodded.

“It’s actually Rebel’s.” Red Hood explained. “Black Mask’s men intercepted the delivery and she asked for my help to get it back.”

“Do you know what’s inside?”

“She said it was supposed to be a fun Halloween surprise.”

“So it’s harmless.”

Red Hood shrugged. “All I know is that I should not be within a mile of it when the clock strikes midnight tonight.”

“We have five hours then.” Oracle’s voice came through Spoiler’s comms and inside Red Hood’s helmet.

“Jesus, don’t just hack into people’s helmets.” Jason complained.

“Well, we don’t have extra comms on hand.” she retorted.

“Hood, did Rebel tell you anything else about the package?” Robin asked.

“Just that it’s set to be unleashed the minute it is Halloween. Oh and don’t open it. I think it’s some kind of special bomb.”

“You didn’t ask?” “It’s Rebel. What harm can she do? It’s probably some kind of high quality glitter bomb.” Red Hood replied casually.

“You have no idea how destructive she has gotten lately.” Oracle said. “Last month, she blew up Stryker's Island. That was after she had kidnapped Lois.”

“Is she trying to go after Superman?”

“She wanted Lois to spread her ‘take down Hawkmoth’ agenda.”

“Hawkmoth? Never heard of him. Who the hell is that?” Red Hood asked.

“Rebel’s personal vendetta.” Spoiler answered.

“Sorry to cut this short, guys but Black Mask is coming.” Robin said. “We can fill you in on what happened later”

“Truce?” Red Hood offered. “I still owe Roman a beating.”

“No killing, Hood.” Oracle set as her condition.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Red Hood loaded his guns and jumped into the fray with Spoiler in her purple glory following.

—

“Crap.”

Robin spotted Black Mask running into the warehouse. He slammed the goon he was fighting against the ground as hard as he could. 

“Somebody go and stop Black Mask! He’s going into the warehouse.” Robin said to everyone before he picked up his dropped staff and went back to fighting.

They were outnumbered and a few of the goons were trained from what Robin could tell.

“Oracle, what’s the ETA on back up?”

“Hang in there, Robin. Batman and Batgirl’s ETA is under one minute.”

“Good. Let’s hope that someone can stop Black Mask before we find out what Rebel’s Pandora box holds.”

—

Red Hood ran towards the warehouse as soon as he heard the report from Robin.

He had a score to settle with the other crime lord.

“Sionis, where are you?” Red Hood bellowed into the warehouse.

His helmet picked up the sound of someone running and Red Hood sprinted in the direction of the sound.

It became a chase and a gunfight with the two crime lords exchanging gunfire and one trying to lose the other in the maze that was the warehouse. Black Mask used every trick he had to throw Red Hood off his track.

However, it was fruitless as Red Hood continued to chase him like a bloodhound.

As desperation seized him, Black Mask picked up a crowbar that was lying around and ran towards the box he had stolen from that upstart Rebel.

Rumour has it that it is a weapon she had made for the Bats. Intended to drive them mad.

Red Hood rounded around the corner, just in time to see Black Mask pry the box open.

“NO!”

The lid was off. 

—

Last Month in Metropolis. A day before Lois’s kidnapping…

A young woman sauntered through the hallways of Stryker's Island Penitentiary. Then, she stopped in front of the cell she was looking for.

“Hello, Toyman.”

“Rebel.” Toyman greeted back. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“I would like to contract you to make a few things for me.” Rebel went straight to the point.

Toyman gave her an interested look. “What would be in it for me?”

“Would getting you out of this place give me a discount?” Rebel asked.

Toyman smiled. “I suppose that might be possible. I’m a generous man after all. But that still doesn’t answer what you want me to make.”

Rebel chuckled. “It’s September. It’s practically nearly Halloween. And I really really want to make it a memorable one. Especially for the heroes in my city. I would like to commission a few toys. Here’s a list.”

She handed it to him.

Toyman hummed as he read it over. This could be a good deal. He would get his freedom and just make a few dolls with a bit of profit.

“How many would you like to make?”

“As much as you can before the deadline which is a few days before Halloween. Say the twenty-eight? Would that be possible? I would pay a set price for each one you can finish.” Rebel said.

“Can you back it up? I am not saying that you are not trustworthy but...” Toyman didn’t manage to finish before Rebel took out a wad of cash, all in hundred dollar bills.

She took half of it and handed it to Toyman through the bars.

“This is for the materials. Once I get you out of here, we are going to make a legal contract to discuss the finer details.”

“It is going to be an honour to work with you.” Toyman said.

Rebel grinned under her mask. “It’s nice doing business with you, Toyman.”

“So when do I get started?”

“Tomorrow afternoon-ish. That’s when something would happen and you escape in the chaos.” 

“How would I know it happened?”

“You will know. And try not to get caught by the guy who wears the ‘S’. A second breakout might not be easy to plan.”

After she left, Toyman felt giddy at the taste of freedom and to make so many new toys.

—

“WHAT?!”

Black Mask reached into the box and took its content out.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Black Mask said in angry disbelief as he held a doll in his hands.

Red Hood took that opportunity to tackle the man and handcuff him.

In his curiosity, Red Hood glanced into the box and saw that the box just contained dolls.

There was your typical Raggedy Ann, clowns, ventriloquist dummies, string puppets, those collector’s dolls with the pretty frilled dresses, a few Barbie dolls and some plushies that resembled some of the Bat vigilantes.

“Hood. Come in, Hood.” Batman’s voice came from his comms.

“Cool your jets, Batman. I got Black Mask. He managed to open the box but it’s just dolls inside. Rebel probably tried to scare us into not opening the box because they’re for a prank and it would ruin the surprise.”

“Good to hear.” Batman said with a hint of relief.

—

Tim curiously picked up the Robin plushie and inspected it.

The Bats had taken the box of dolls with them to the Batcave to later give back to Rebel.

“The quality is so good. The details are amazing and so accurate. Wonder who made it.” Tim wondered curiously before he discovered initials stitched in the inner lining of the cape of the toy.

“W.S.J” Tim read out as he traced the letters. There was a niggling thought at the back of his head that he should look into who the mysterious toymaker was.

Meanwhile, Steph was tentatively holding the Raggedy Ann doll and telling Jason about the true story behind the Annabelle movies.

“Did you know that the real Annabelle doesn’t actually look like the doll in the movies?” Steph said as she held up the Raggedy Ann to Jason, “It was actually a Raggedy Ann doll that looked just like this one.”

Jason frowned as he gave the doll a slightly wary look. “It doesn’t look creepy at all.”

“That’s what makes it so unsettling. Something innocent hiding its sinister nature.” Steph explained.

Damain frowned as he picked up one of the collector’s dolls. “I don’t see what is creepy about some toys.”

“It’s the terror of something that should be lifeless moving around. Something that should be harmless becomes something dangerous.” Jason mused.

“But why dolls? I don’t think a piece of porcelain dressed in lace could scare anyone. I would be sc…alarmed if Father’s dinosaur came to life but not these.” Damian said as he held up one of the dolls.

“You should try watching some horror movies.” Jason told Damian.

Cass picked up a ballerina string puppet she had found and showed it to Bruce with a questioning look.

“It’s a string puppet. Have you seen Pinocchio yet?”

“No.” Cass replied as she shook her head.

“Remind me at our next movie night. So the strings make the puppet move. Here look.” Bruce took the puppet from Cass and expertly manipulated the strings so the ballerina waved and walked a bit before breaking out a few ballet moves. Cass clapped with wonder at the end of his performance.

“Teach me?” Cass asked.

“Sure.” Bruce promised.

Next, Cass took out the ventriloquist dummy and inspected it.

“Scarface?” She asked.

“Yes. It’s a ventriloquist dummy just like Scarface. How it works is that the ventriloquist holds the dummy and throws his voice so it looks like it is the dummy that’s talking instead of the ventriloquist.”

“Show me.”

Bruce obliged as he slipped his hand into the dummy and the dummy started to move its mouth.

“Hello, Cass, nice to meet you.” said the Dummy as it held out its hand.

Cass shook its hand. “Hello.”

She asked Bruce, “Can I try?”

“Of course.” Bruce said as he gave her back the dummy.

Cass breathed in and out a few times and then raised the dummy up.

“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Cass’s voice came from the dummy this time.

Bruce smiled as he ruffled her hair. “You’re good at this.”

“Thank you.” said the Dummy.

“If you are all done playing, it’s time you all went to bed.” Alfred said as he brought in his famous after patrol snacks; cucumber sandwiches. “After a shower.”

Jason put the Raggedy Ann doll back into the box.

“Well, it’s late and I need to get back home.” Jason said as he walked towards his bike.

“You can stay the night, Master Jason.” Alfred said. “I have taken the liberty of cleaning your room.”

“Thank you, Alfred but…” Jason trailed off, not knowing how to convey that he didn’t want to stay in the Manor despite his truce tonight with Bruce but also not wanting to offend the butler/grandfather-figure.

“I understand, Master Jason. Perhaps another time.” Alfred said in his wise way.

“Thank you, Alfred.” This time, there was a look of gratitude in Jason’s eyes.

—-

The morning after was a busy and bustling day but there was something not right in the Wayne Manor.

Tim woke up from having fallen asleep while working on trying to find the maker of the dolls. His laptop had turned itself off sometime during the night. He stretched and yawned.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied the Robin plushie sitting on his bed.

“That’s strange. I could have sworn that I left you in the box last night.” Tim said, scratching his head. He picked the plushie up and examined it again in the morning light.

It was more accurate than Tim had initially found. In fact, it was like it was an exact likeness of him. Which was a very scary thought. He wondered how Toyman knew that he had a mole on his arm near his elbow and the birthmark on the side of his hips. Tim theorised that Rebel must be a very good stalker.

He put the plushie back on bed and headed down for breakfast. Tim didn’t see the plushie morphed its uniform into the outfit that Tim was wearing.

—-

Tim walked down to the kitchen and sat down.

He thanked Alfred who set down a delicious plate of pancakes in front of him.

“Morning, Steph.” Tim said to the blonde who was dressed in a purple cowgirl outfit and a white Stetson hat.

“Morning, Tim.”

“Who are you supposed to be anyways?” He asked.

“Barbie but with the Stephanie twist.” She replied.

“Ah. Gotcha.” Tim said after he finished his mouthful of pancake. “You look so realistic by the way.”

Bruce entered the kitchen and sat down with a groan, his hand massaging his neck.

“You okay, B?” “Just feeling a bit stiff. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Bruce replied with a grimace.

Slowly, the other occupants of the house trickled in and the kitchen was filled with the Waynes and Steph dug into their breakfast.

Dick came all the way from Bludhaven to help out on what is annually one of the worst nights of the year in Gotham. At least one Rouge would have plans for Halloween.

To break this peaceful moment would be one Jason Tood who angrily stomped into the kitchen, clutching a Raggedy Ann doll.

“Didn’t we agree on leaving me alone? That includes not finding out where my safehouses are.” Jason said.

He held up the doll and asked, “Which one of you left this at my place this morning as a prank?”

Several confused faces stared back at him.

“Was it you?” Jason pointed at Steph and demanded.

She put her hands up in surrender. “It wasn’t me. I was busy studying for the test I have today. Ask Bruce. He can tell you that he helped me with flashcards.”

“Then, was it you, Tim?”

Tim blinked at Jason. His mind took a few seconds to answer because Tim was not a morning person.

He shook his head.

“No. I was looking into who made these dolls.” Tim answered.

“Why?”

“The dolls all have the initial W.S.J. and they were all incredibly detailed. I also wanted to know why Rebel would need them. The maker turned out to be no one other than…” Tim dramatically paused: “Toyman.”

“Suddenly, I feel like we should have burned that box when we could.” Steph said to break the silence.

They should have.

—

“So how bad is it?” Dick asked Zatanna, anxious about what curse had befallen his family.

They had gone down to the Batcave to get rid of the box. Only to find it empty. It led to hours of searching for them. Except Tim never came back from his room to retrieve the Robin plushie.

Dick went to check on Tim only to find that he had turned into the plushie.

Imagine finding your brother missing and suddenly the mini plushie replica of your brother started moving and talking. It immediately went onto the top ten weirdest and scariest list of things Dick had experienced.

Then, the next to go was Steph who slowly became plastic. Her face was stuck in a smile while her skin hardened into shiny plastic. She was in class when it happened and they had to go pick her up.

Cass found the dummy but it got attached to her hand and started to speak on its own in Cass’s voice. Cass herself was unable to utter a word.

The stiffness that Bruce had complained about was the fact that he was slowly turning into wood and almost invisible strings controlling his every move.

The final terror was the Raggedy Ann doll that suddenly gained life and proceeded to hunt Jason down for sport. No matter how far Jason managed to get away from the doll and Dick’s best efforts to keep the doll contained, it still managed to escape to go after Jason.

Somehow, Dick, Alfred and Damian were the only ones unaffected by the ‘curse’. They managed to figure out why when Babara told them that Black Mask and his men were attacked by the missing dolls and some of them were experiencing the same things as the Bats and about Jason’s warning from Rebel before everything went down.

Desperate, Dick asked Superman to track down Toyman and asked him how to reverse the effect only to find out that he only made the dolls. The curse was someone else's doing. 

Which was why they had called Zatanna to see if she could reverse it.

“Well, there’s the good news and the bad news.” she announced. “Good news is that it is reversible and the curse only lasts for a day. I recommend to just wait it out because the reversing would take longer than the deadline. The curse is too complicated to simply undo.”

“So that’s the bad news?” “No. The bad news is that I recognised a bit of the spellwork. It is a bit similar to how my father would do it so chances are that whoever did this is a student of my father. The thing is I know most of my father’s students and what is bad is that I don’t recognise the magical signature of who put this curse on the dolls.”

Puppet Bruce jerked his head at the information that Zatanna had given them. Dick noticed.

“B?”

“Paris.” Bruce managed to get past with his wooden lips.

“Paris? Are you talking about the Miraculous?”

“Hero.”

“Wait, you think one of the Miraculous heroes is involved in this?”

Zatanna gasped. “I remember Batman telling me that Ladybug was a student of my father. I looked into his old journals and he mentioned a student named Marinette during his stay in Paris.”

“Marinette. Marinette. Why does it sound so familiar?” Dick tried to recall where he had heard that name before.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Damian answered for him. “It’s Rebel’s legal name.”

Just like that, pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Rebel used to be Ladybug.”

The revelation felt bitter on Dick’s tongue. He had seen the videos of Ladybug in action. He would say that she was inexperienced but she was compassionate and willing to lend a hand to anyone in need. He thought that it was nice of her to forgive her enemy instead of causing pain on the man who had caused her so much grief.

He couldn’t believe he saw the similarities between the two girls sooner.

Rebel was cunning and sharp enough to always stay a step ahead of them. Her planning and paranoia on par with the Batman himself. Useful skills to have as a hero.

Then again, Rebel couldn’t be more different from Ladybug. She was more cynical and petty. Rebel caused chaos wherever she goes instead of cleaning up the mess. She saw everything as a game and never took anything seriously. 

Dick wondered what it was that pushed Rebel over the edge. The line drawn between heroism and villainy. Then he remembered how Rebel was sent to Gotham in the first place.

“Damn. Rebel has really good valid reason to fuck that Hawkmoth guy up.” Jason said. “In fact, I am surprised she hasn’t razed Paris to ashes yet.”

“Can you imagine?” Zatanna said, having been briefed a bit on the Paris situation and had heard about Rebel’s kidnapping of Lois, “The city you gave so much to save, branding you as a criminal and sending you to one of the worst places on Earth.”

“People have turned to crime for less.” Damian pointed out.

“But Rebel used to be a hero. One of us essentially. It’s just sad that we had to meet her as people on opposite sides.” Dick said.

“It only shows her lack of will.” Damian said.

“I think Rebel had reached her breaking point and honestly, I might too if I face it all alone like she did.”

The Cave was in a sombre silence for the hero that once was Ladybug. Dick remembered something Bruce once said about Two-Face and Harvey Dent.

‘You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain.’

—

The next day, just as Zatanna said, the spell wore off and everyone was human again and able to freely talk again. Other than some nightmares about the experience for a month or so, they were fine.

The Batfamily had a meeting about the new revelation that they had discovered last night.

“Bruce, tell us the truth. Did you know from the beginning?” Tim asked. “I only had suspicions but Zatanna confirmed them with her father’s journal.” Bruce answered. “This changes nothing.”

“It does, Bruce. You failed another young hero.” Jason said, his tone sharp and accusing. “Not even one of the ‘sidekicks’. You turned your back on the One Main Hero who had been there since the beginning and saw through it to the end. She didn’t get the happy ending she deserved. Instead, she was rewarded for her sacrifices by being sent to fucking Arkam Asylum in one of the most dangerous city in the world.”

“Todd, stop projecting. The way I see it, Rebel had seen the errors of her way and intended to fix her mistake regarding Hawkmoth. She should have locked him up when she had her chance.” Damian shot back.

“Boys, settle down. The fact of the matter is that whether Rebel used to be Ladybug or not, Hawkmoth needs to be arrested before Rebel does something more sinister than what she did yesterday.”

“Wasn’t it an accident?” Steph asked.

“According to Toyman, we had always been the intended recipients of that particular gift.” Dick answered. “It was dumb luck that Black Mask opened it while most of you were in the area.”

“After this latest incident, the League and I have decided that Rebel must be contained.” Bruce announced.

Jason jumped out of his seat. “Bruce, she’s just a kid!”

“But she’s a formidable threat. Who knows what else she might do if she is left unchecked and she doesn’t like the progress on the Hawkmoth investigation.”

Jason growled and then left.

Bruce told everyone that they should catch Rebel if they saw her before he ended the meeting.

—

Rebel stood in front of a half-finished mural, a spray can in hand.

“So we finally met, my dear daughter.” The voice belonged to the man who starred in Gotham’s nightmare.

Rebel didn’t bother to turn around and simply looked at him from over her shoulder.

“Which one are you?” She asked.

“I’m sorry?”

Rebel went back to spray-painting as she explained, “I know that there are at least three of you running around Gotham. I want to know which one you are.”

Joker laughed. A genuine laugh instead of the mad one he usually makes.

“You really do live up to your reputation, Rebel. I can tell that you are a real wildcard.” Joker said excitedly.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Very well then. I am the Joker. The original one. Not the copycats I made because I was bored. And Rebel, I am your father.”

----- (Part 7)

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[ishouldbedoinghw]

You Can't Erase Me

One Piece fanfic, part 4

Previous parts are in my pinned masterlist.

A woman enslaved by the celestial dragons is found by a man with red hair. Angst ensues.

A/N: This story will follow the canon loosely; some events will stay the same, others will be edited for the plot. The timing of events will also be slightly edited from canon so that certain characters are included. The main character is an OC of mine and in her mid-20s. Yes this is important. Character design will likely come soon.

I know what goes in an actual captain's log, but we all know Shanks wouldn't care to do allat and I don't want to make up coordinates.

TW: slavery, human trafficking, vomit, discussion of attempted sexual abuse, traumatic flashbacks, discussion of trauma, general angst, Shanks because he needs his own warning

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An Excerpt from Red-Hair Shanks's Personal Log

10/31 - Grand Line

Halloween

Ship was approached by a lone mermaid that refused to stay for Halloween drinks

She instead brought a young woman on board and took off

Young woman, age unknown, was in need of immediate medical attention, was barely conscious and seemed weakened by sea water <- maybe Devil fruit user???

Hongo took her in for medical treatment and wouldn't let me in, which was fine because she started puking VIOLENTLY

Hongo seemed annoyed by the red-haired man that burst through the door, and somehow I felt a bit better knowing what his annoyance really looked like.

"Hongo!" the red haired man starts, slapping Hongo on the back. My insides twisted at the sound. "How's Spooky? She done upchuckin'?"

Hongo rubbed his temple with his thumb and sighed. "Shanks, I told you to stay out, and don't be so insensitive-"

"That's a big word for you, Hongs, are you havin' a stroke?" Despite Hongo's protests, the man strode across the room towards me as he giggled at his own joke.

He was huge, and towered over my hunched-over figure. I kept my gaze in my lap, not wanting to meet his eyes. I couldn't keep my hands from trembling, and my heart from pounding, and my head from spinning; his presence seemed to swallow me, and I felt that I should be running from him but I couldn't find the strength to. Sweat started pouring down my temples again, and I could feel my throat clench, preparing to vomit again-

And the terrifying presence was gone. There was a large, callused hand squeezing my own. It was warm, and the twisting in my gut eased a bit.

"You can look at me. I'm not going to hurt you."

But I don't. Not for 1, 2, 3, 4 beats. Then I swallow, blink twice, and slowly lift my face.

He's not standing like before, but kneeling in front of me, now at eye level. He's smiling slightly, with his brows pinched a bit. I have to swallow and blink again when I notice the three scars over his left eye, as if some beast had landed a swipe on him.

"There you go, Spooky."

I decided I liked Spooky better than Cheeper.

I also decided I didn't really like the odd smell on his breath.

He squeezed my hands again, and asked, "Is it alright if I ask you some questions?"

I heard Hongo start to protest, saying that I'd barely received any treatment, and Shanks needed to "get the hell out." But this was the only person I could remember that had spoken kindly to me, and wanted to know things about me, and was offering to hear things I had to say- so I did my best to sit up a little straighter and nodded my head.

He smiled wider then. "Perfect."

Hongo was still muttering when he started moving around, looking through one of the cabinets across the room.

"Alright then, Spooky, I'm Shanks, but you can call me Shanks," he started, and the corner of my mouth twitched. "What's your real name?"

My voice was hoarse when I answered, "I don't know."

"Hmph. Okay, well, do you know how you got here?"

I really didn't, the last thing I remembered was the popping noises, and feeling cold and heavy. I shuddered, glad for the warmth of the room.

"No. I don't."

"Do you know where you are?"

I paused before answering that. I looked around the room, and while I'd already noticed the room was completely made of wood, it didn't strike me as odd until now. The room I stayed in was white and gold, with other various colors I couldn't recall now. The ceilings of the other room were high, but this room was a bit squat. I could hear a slight creaking, but aside from that, I couldn't quite place anything.

"No."

"Okay, well-"

"Can you not hear the water outside?" Hongo butt in, walking over.

I strained to listen, but I didn't hear anything that sounded like water.

Hongo let out a grunt as I shook my head, then continued his rummaging, muttering to himself.

"Hm," Shanks said, clicking his tongue, "That's odd, considering we're on a ship."

A ship? We were out at sea? How the hell did I end up at sea?

"So you don't remember the mermaid at all?"

Mermaid? Was he joking?

Shanks chuckled at me, and I wondered if my face looked as confused as I felt. "Mermaids are real, Spooky, and one dragged you through the water right up to us."

"Um- okay."

"Do you know how you got into the water? Or at least where you were before?"

Hongo had paused by now, listening to what I'd say. Shanks gave a reassuring squeeze, and said, "If it's bad, it's alright, We'll listen, and might even be able to help you figure some things out."

I let out a long, shuddered breath before I spoke.

"My memory isn't that good- but I remember some things."

Shanks nodded encouragingly.

"I lived in this- cage. It was gold and wood, I think. It hung from this tall ceiling in a big white room. I had a job, singing to this boy-" I stopped, remembering finally seeing him up close.

I wrapped my arms around myself, scooting a bit away from Shanks. "I thought he was a young boy. But he was a grown man."

Now that I'd started talking, I didn't want to stop. I wanted to tell them everything I knew about myself and maybe they'd help me somehow. Maybe they knew something I didn't, like what happened with the mermaid.

"I would sing him lullabies when he was upset. They would calm him down and he would be quiet."

Shanks's expression remained unchanged, while Hongo seemed to go a little pale.

"There was a man who would bring me food every day. I think he liked me, he always tried to tell me things that would help me."

"Like what?" Shanks asked.

"I-" but the words wouldn't come out. I always remembered him coming and talking to me, but now, I couldn't remember exactly what he said.

"I don't really remember. I remember him telling me I couldn't ask questions, but," I paused, looking at the floor. "But I don't remember what he said before that."

"Do you remember how you got out? Before you ended up in the sea?" Hongo started protesting at Shanks's question, saying it was too much for now, but it went seemingly unnoticed by the redhead.

"I remember that it was before I ate that day, and the man I sang to was angry. His father wouldn't let him do something, I think. I don't know what it was."

I felt sick to my stomach again, and my tongue felt heavy as I tried to form words. Truth be told, I didn't understand exactly what, if anything, had happened to me, but part of me was screaming that I shouldn't share it, that it wouldn't be good and it could make them upset with me.

As I tried to steady my breathing, Shanks spoke softly, "We won't be angry with you for telling us anything."

Hongo butt in, "And you don't have to tell us about something if you don't want to."

I wanted to, I wanted to get an explanation for something, get an answer for at least one thing-

"I'm not sure what really happened," I start, "But the man took me out of the cage and right after I had trouble seeing, and my head went fuzzy. I only remember his- his hands everywhere, and I couldn't move."

I swallowed, and looked up past them, at the wall, trying to focus on the way the grain moved, how many notches or scratches were in the wood but failed.

"I could still hear a bit, though, and the door opened. I remember seeing the face of the man who gave me food, then being carried away.

"There was glass breaking," I continued, "And the food man and I were falling. I think he was running after that, and there was this popping noise everywhere. And then it was cold, and quiet."

I went silent for a minute, shuffling my feet. Was I always barefooted?

"Is that all you remember?" Shanks finally asked.

I nodded.

"You're a tough girl for allat, Spooky." He said, starting to stand. His knees cracked and he winced before stretching to his full height.

I wasn't sure how to feel now. It felt good, talking and having someone listen, but I couldn't help but feel this pit in my stomach telling me I'd made a mistake.

Shanks's head jerked to the door. "Some shithead's yelling, take care of her, Hongo, I'll be back later."

Hongo was quick to shut the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" he questions, pulling gloves on and grabbing a few things before stepping in front of me again.

"I think so," I say, watching him set down what he was carrying beside me.

"Are you alright with me touching you right now? I'd really like to get your back cleaned up before I let you rest."

I just nod, and turn away.

"Alright- this might hurt quite a bit."

His gentle touch was soothing until he pressed something wet and cold to my tender skin. I wanted to scream and pull away, but I felt frozen, and all that would leave my lips was a choked sob.

"You're doing great, girlie," Hongo grunted.

With every press of that damned cold thing, it felt as though something was tearing the muscle from my spine. I dug my fingernails into the wood beneath me, trying to do anything to find some relief.

After what felt like hours, my back was bandaged and the pain had lessened to a dull ache.

"You did great, girlie, I think some of the men I treat should take notes." Hongo pulled his gloves off before chucking them somewhere. "How about I get you some food?"

"I'd love to punch you in the jaw." I grumbled, shifting to face towards the door.

He barked out a laugh at that. "Sorry, but you don't want me treating broken bones too. Your scrawny ass is in no state to be threatening anyone."

--------

I'm almost asleep, laying on my stomach when he comes back with a steaming bowl.

"Hope you like stew, girlie. Think you can sit up and feed yourself?"

I groan, and try to push myself up with shaking hands. Hongo sets the bowl down and watches me flounder for a bit before helping me.

I feel weak and foolish, like a child, as he hand-feeds me bite by bite. Purposefully not meeting his eyes, I focus on each spoonful, watching it move from the bowl to me.

I couldn't taste much of it, and I was full after only a few bites. Hongo didn't seem particularly concerned, and handed me a piece of bread.

"Chew that up, girlie, it'll absorb the acid in your stomach if it doesn't like the food."

I had no idea what he meant, but I did as I was told.

After I'd chewed the bread and swallowed something that Hongo said would ease pain and make me tired, I was tucked into the softest bed I'd ever felt. After hearing Hongo say he'd stay and watch over me, I completely knocked out, gripping a pillow tightly.

[the-knightmare]

Rudy's Trick (Louise's Treat)

Happy Halloween! Here is my fic for the @roudiseshipweek Halloween warm up prompt cult classic/picking out costumes. I mixed the two together, and hope you enjoy:

AO3

“Come on, Rudy, the popcorns going to get cold, and I’ve listened to the Halloween theme at least five times already,” Louise called.

She had popped the bag of kernels, drizzled a liberal dose of butter and nacho cheese seasoning over the final product, and set up the DVD minutes ago. All the while Rudy was, as he has told her before disappearing down the hall, putting the ‘final touches’ on his costume for tomorrow’s party.

He had not told her what it was, even after she had pestered him all week. Not even after Louise had promised to tell him her what her, Tina, and Gene were dressing up as before they showed up to Zeke’s Halloween party. And so, Louise resorted to guessing. Each time Rudy just smiled and even if she guessed correctly, he wouldn’t tell.

“If you don’t hurry up, I’m playing the movie without you.”

“Okay, okay,” Rudy said, suddenly behind her and making her jump, “careful, you almost dropped the popcorn.”

Dramatically clutching her chest to hide just how much he had scared her in the growing dark of the evening, Louise twisted around to look up her boyfriend.

Rudy hadn’t been regular-sized since grade nine, which happened to be when Louise had stopped growing. She was the shortest Belcher, which she could live with if she weren’t also the shortest in her friend group.

“Geez, Rudy, way to sneak up on a girl. Is your costume Michael Myers or something?”

Laughing, Rudy shook his head as he sat on the couch next to her.

“I’ve never seen Halloween, or any other slashers, you know that.”

She did. Which is why they were correcting that now. Movie nights had been a staple long before they had started dating halfway through grade twelve. This being their first Halloween as a couple, Louise was determined to start Rudy’s education on classic horror movies.

“And honestly, that’s a shame.”

Neither mentioned how that was technically untrue, as Rudy had been one of the kids traumatized by a certain deli zombie flick back in fourth grade. It was something they didn’t talk about.

Hitting play. Louise settled into the couch. The bowl of popcorn was emptied before Laurie spies Michael Myers watching her from behind drying sheets, leaving an empty space between them. Louise looked at it from the corner of her eye.

“You know,” she started, “if you get scared, I’ll protect you.”

Rudy glanced up from the screen and flashed her a smile, and only said:

“I’ll remember that.

And didn’t move an inch.

Louise turned back to the movie. Watching as Annie got strangled in the garage. She wasn’t scared, she’d seen plenty of scarier movies, but Rudy seemed far away in the dark.

Without making a sound, she moved a hair closer. She kept doing this, shifting just enough to not be noticed. Her plan at getting closer without him nothing was working. Until:

“Oh man.”

Rudy had been silent most of the movie, but Laurie stabbing Michael with knitting needles got a reaction. Which would have been fine, funny even as his uneven reaction to someone being stabbed in the eye, except for Lousie’s position. She had managed to get so close that his mumble sounded much louder in her ear.

Jumping across the couch, Louise felt her face flush. Twice. That was twice tonight that she had been startled by Rudy. A guy so unscary that birds didn’t even fly away when he approached.

Laughing, Rudy turned a lamp on.

The rest of the movie passed with Louise and Rudy on the opposite sides of the couch. Occasionally, Rudy would look at her and giggle. She would respond by scowling with her tongue out in mock indignation.

When the credits finally rolled and the eerie Halloween theme filled the silence, Louise was left to think of what to say next. She was just about to suggest another scary movie when Rudy beat her to the punch.

“My mom won’t be home for another few hours. If you’re interested, we can watch Hocus Pocus next?”

“That’s not even scary,” Louise argued.

“But it’s a Halloween cult classic,” Rudy said, “and we can cuddle, I was missing it a little during the last movie.”

Louise smiled, then quickly turned it into a smirk. Even though they had been dating for almost a year now, and had been friends for much longer, she refused to acknowledge how soft she had gotten when it came to Rudy.

“Well, in that case, sure. Why not? I’ve never actually seen it anyway.”

Rudy clutched his chest dramatically, “you’ve been trying to educate me, when it seems it’s you who’s been deprived of true Halloween must-watches.”

Rolling her eyes, Louise scooted towards him on the couch.

“If you count baby movies as a must-watch, then sure, educate me.”

He assured her it was not a baby movie as he changed the discs. Settling back onto the couch, Rudy didn’t even give her a chance to move before he pulled her into his arms. Louise felt the warmth of his chest against her back and relaxed without a fight. She only squirmed a little, and that was more to settle herself better than defiance.

“Much better,” Rudy said, his voice a low vibration along her spine.

This time, the movie was watched with more of their usual chattering. Quips about the Sanderson Sister’s thinking a sprinkler system was going to kill them and how cool an immortal talking cat would be passed between them with ease.

The next day, she, Tina, and Gene showed up in their costumes, a medley of Studio Ghibli characters, to Zeke’s a little early. They had brought sliders their dad had made, and Tina had roped them into setting up. Louise had only agreed because she liked Zeke, and it seemed like a good idea to be nice to her future brother-in-law.

Zeke, dressed as Ashitaka to match Tina’s Mononoke, had promised her the ability to setup a haunted hallway equipped with all of the affects he and his cousins had put together.

She also got two full sized candy bars of their choice for the help. Which Louise wouldn’t say no to, especially when her Chihiro costume had so many pockets. Who knew working in a hot spring for spirits would have better pocket options than most regular clothes?

Gene, dressed as Howl, had been promised full control over the music. Something he was taking seriously, with a small DJ station that consisted of a laptop and speakers’ setup in a corner.

Alex and Courtney arrived soon after them. Courtney insisted on adding some songs to Gene’s playlist, which devolved into the old argument of her music major versus his natural talents and composition schooling.

“But you guys always come up with something great together, why not work together?”

Alex’s appeal was just another part in the typical argument that formed the trio’s friendship.

Louise only laughed as she passed them on her way to get Zeke’s approval on her hallway setup, only to groan when she turned the corner. Wrapped in Tina’s embrace, Zeke looked a little busy. Which meant that, with only ten minutes until more guests were supposed to arrive, that her handywork would have to do.

It also meant that she would be able to finally see Rudy’s costume.

Except he didn’t show up. At least, not in the first few minutes like he normally did for parties. Not ten minutes late, which he would smile and say made him fashionable late.  Jimmy Jr., Andy and Ollie, Kaylee, Susmita, Henry, Arnold, and the rest of the usual suspects filed through the door, but no sign of Rudy.

After twenty minutes, she found Millie and Jessica, dressed as Norman Bates and Mothman, in the corner chatting about horror movies, and joined them.

“Hey, if you wanna take a look at this, we got an illusionary visionary in the house tonight, the Amazing Rudy, and he’s kind enough to perform a trick as a treat!”

Zeke’s voice cut though the sound of conversation and music, catching Louise’s attention at the mention of her boyfriend.

“Tonight, I have one trick, a costume change from man to beast!”

Rudy’s voice had his customary magicians’ cadence, and Louise found herself smiling as she made her way towards the front of the crowd to see. It was almost like he was waiting for her to be in sight before he continued, but Louise knew that timing was a big part of an act, and it wasn’t for her benefit.

But her smile grew even more when she finally caught a glimpse of him. He looked a little silly in the green-black wig, but Rudy’s Haku costume was good. She wondered which of her siblings had told him about their costumes, since she hadn’t revealed it.

“I stand before you as a simple boy, but what you don’t know is,” Rudy raised his arms in a flourish, “my true identity is that of a river spirit!”

Shocked silence, followed by applause and cheers filled the room as Rudy dropped his arms and his costume suddenly changed into a green and white dragon, complete with a detailed mask and horns over his head.

Louise’s jaw dropped. She’d helped with some of his tricks over the years, but this was the best one yet.

“Wow, that was so cool…”

“How’d you do that?”

“…think I saw something like that on YouTube, do you follow…?”

Louise waited until the cluster of people who had swarmed around Rudy dissipated before she approached.

“Some trick, Rudes,” she said, catching his attention.

“Thanks, I made it all myself. I even got to build this cool dragon head hat to go in my collection.”

“Yeah, it is cool,” Louise agreed, “so how did you come up with the idea for your costume?”

Rudy flushed, rubbing his arm, and looking away. He stuttered out the start of an answer, but Louise just punched his arm with a laugh.

“Easy, Rudes, it’s fine. I know I said no couples’ costumes, but this makes me reconsider that. Especially when you can do cool transformations.”

After that, Jimmy Jr. pulled the attention to the dance floor with a dance-off that Gene’s sound effects only made better.

“Hey, you want climb on my back, and I can carry you like in the movie across the dance floor?” Rudy asked, after they watched the Pesto twins spin around.

“Hell yeah!”

Louise launched herself on Rudy’s back and cackled as he took off across the room. They burst into laughter after making their second crossing, Louise sliding off his back to lean against him.

The rest of the night was spent eating treats, dancing with their friends, and watching people get their pants scared off by Louise’s haunted hallway. In all, she would count it as one of the best Halloween party’s she’d gone too.

Later that night, after her shower, Louise returned to her room and saw that a photo was laying on her pillow and remembered someone had brought a polaroid camera. Picking it up, Louise smiled as she saw what it was: her, eyes closed, laughing, as Rudy carried her around on his back.

[peachiejeongin]

143 | Bang Chan

Synopsis: Chan decides to tell his partner everything he loves about them. Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (Reader uses she/her pronouns & has breasts !) Genre: Fluff, Angst Warnings: Cyberbullying (? : Reader receives hate comments), negative mentions of weight and appearance (both self-given and comments),  mental breakdown, crying  [Please let me know if I missed any!]

The privacy of your relationship was an aspect Bang Chan prioritized greatly. He preferred this simplicity over public, flashy appearances. Yet, he knew how “fans” were, especially just to him alone. Even the mere though of what they’d say to you if they knew you were his enraged him. However, one Dispatch article later, both of your stances were more or less irrelevant.

Chan had warned you to be wary of social media comments prior to officially confirming your relationship. 

“If even one comment makes you feel self-conscious, get off, yeah?” You remembered his words clear as day, keeping them in the back of your mind like a sacred memory.

Even so, you couldn’t resist the curiosity that arose with every notification tone on the new post you had shared: a simple photo of your matching Mickey and Minnie Halloween costumes. 

‘People must really like the post! Checking one comment won’t hurt, right?’

Horror was an understatement to what you felt whilst browsing the comment section. Sure, one comment didn’t hurt; but multiple comments did.

‘She’s not even that pretty.’

‘Her acne is horrid! XD’

‘She knows salads exist, right?’

You stared at your laptop in utter disbelief, the negative comments you had just read re-cycling through your head like a twisted mantra. 

One comment stuck out to you the most: ‘I love Chan, but why did he choose her?’

You couldn’t help but ask yourself the same question: Why did he choose you? You weren’t anything special. You stood up reluctantly eyeing yourself in the mirror. You looked first to your face: dotted with red blotches; eyes covered with plain frames that you always found to be too nerdy for your liking. You had scraggly, curled dark hair that barely reached your back.

Your gaze found its way to your shoulders, the broadness of which plagued your self-consciousness. You looked then to your chest. ‘Too flat,’ you thought plainly. You thought the opposite about your stomach and its every curvature; your legs weren’t exactly on the thinner side of spectra either. You weren’t flawless in any shape, form, fashion, or manner. 

You were imperfect.

‘Why did he choose me?’ You couldn’t answer your own question. Chan, in your eyes, was a clueless young man who randomly fell in love with the sight of you in a cafe. ‘Why?’

Rivers began to form in your tear ducts. Impulsively, you made your way to the bathroom, immediately noticing the small display of makeup products splayed out on the counter. Surprisingly, none of them belonged to you; Chan kept extras on hand for work days.

You picked up the minuscule bottle of foundation along with the corresponding beauty blender. Squirting a bit out on the top of your hand, you looked at your puffy-eyed reflection and rubbed the product roughly into every pore and nook of your face in attempts to conceal the blotches and dark circles coating your skin. Afterwards, you took the eye shadow, soft brown in color, and dabbed it on your eyelids. You began to smile through your aforementioned tears, almost maniacally in a sense. The last product you grabbed was a pink lip-tint. You smeared it on your lips, giving up on neatness. You heard the front door creak open, but you didn’t care about that either. You smile grew crazily wider with the addition of freakish laughter following soon after. “AM I PRETTY NOW?!” You practically screamed, your hands roughly tugging at the roots of your frizzed hair. “AM I?!” You stared your reflection down as if it was the one responsible for the negative commentary. Frantic footsteps sounded in your direction, yet you never once looked away from the psychopath smiling at you in the mirror.

“Baby?!” It was not until you heard the soothing, yet panicked voice of your boyfriend that you snapped back to reality. Your gaze bore into yourself, and you realized you had only made a bigger mess of yourself. You collapsed to the floor. The feeling of unworthiness slowly returned.

“BABY!” Chan repeated in a much more worried tone. He immediately crouched down to your level. “Baby, what’s going on?!” His panicked state only made your tears flow harder. Rivers of tears soon became oceans.

“Channie, I’m so sorry,” you choked out, nearly inaudibly. He could not decipher what you were sorry for, and quite frankly, he was not concerned with what it was at the moment. His sole focus was you. He engulfed you into a hug, slowly rubbed your back, and shushed you softly.

“It’s okay, Love. It’s okay.”

‘No it isn’t.’

 After a few minutes, he stood you up and led you to your shared bedroom, whispering a slight ‘c’mon.’ He grabbed a couple items you weren’t able to make out due to your tear-blurred vision. He sat next to you on the bed, bringing a white cloth to your eyes and wiping off the poorly applied eye shadow.

“Are you comfortable explaining what happened now? Or do you need a few?” he asked comfortingly, dabbing the cloth to the corner of your eyes. You were silent for a few moments; only one question formed in your thoughts.

“Chan, why do you love me? You could have anyone you want. Why me?” Chan seemed rightfully taken aback by your sudden inquiry.

“Why do I love you?” he repeated, making sure he had heard you correctly. “Baby! What’s not to lo...” his words trailed off as he noticed your laptop; it was still open, displaying the Instagram comments you’d taken to heart only a few moments prior. Chan let out a disappointed, yet understanding sigh. “Love, I warned you about the comments.” You could hear the dismay in his voice as he reached around you to shut off your computer. You stayed silent, unable to look Chan in the face with the immense amount of guilt piercing your gut.

After Chan had successfully wiped all the makeup off, he looked at you with puppy-like eyes. 

“You really want to know what I love about you?” You looked up at him for the first time in the night, nodding somewhat vigorously as he let out a sad smile. He moved closer to you and suddenly cupped your cheeks gently. 

“First off,” he began, “I absolutely adore this beautiful face.” He tenderly caressed your cheek with his thumb. “I love your gorgeous eyes and how they always see the good in other people... I love your cheeks. I mean look,” he squished your cheeks in accentuation to his words. “One squish is like, instant serotonin.” He smiled lovingly, mirroring your own that was beginning to form.

“And, of course, of course, of COURSE!” he trilled in a goofy manner, before bringing you into a soft kiss. “I love these lips. How soft they are, how loving they are, and how they always have the sweetest things to say, the beautiful laughs that come from them...” A fuzzy feeling erupted in your stomach; however, in contrast to Chan’s declarations of love, the self-degrading thoughts refused to cease.

“But-” you were cut off by Chan proceeding to kiss every bump, blotch, and dark spot present on your face, as if he telepathically knew your every thought.

“I don’t care what’s on your face: whether you have makeup on or you’re bare faced; if you have pimples or clear skin. It’ll always be dazzling to me. Not to mention,” he moved one hand from your cheek up to the top of your head, grabbing at it giddily and successfully eliciting a laugh from your end. “I absolutely LOVE this beautiful brain. I mean, with how much knowledge it retains and the capacity it has to put up with me, come onnn!” Chan was getting silly, which you endeared. Not only did he care, but he wanted to show that care through laughter.

He moved lower on your body, down to your shoulders and chest.

“I don’t care how broad your shoulders are or how small your chest is,” he endearingly squeezed your shoulders for emphasis, “I love both aspects; physical and figurative, no matter size. With the weight your shoulders carry...” he trailed off once more, picking up on a different note. “Same goes for here, Love” he added as he leaned down to give a chaste kiss to your stomach. “I’d love you just as much as I do now if your stomach was larger, smaller, whatever.” He didn’t have a figurative allusion for your stomach, but you didn’t mind. 

“I love the size of these,” he lightly put a hand on your thigh, shaking it slightly and gaining yet again another giggle from your end. “Not too big, not too small. Just right for me to hold. Plus...” Once again, his words faltered, more knowingly, however, as he moved the hand placed on your thigh to your lower back area. He flashed you a quick, cheeky smirk, which told you all you needed to know. Instead of going lower, however, he pulled you closer to him.

“As for everything else,” he stated, cupping your cheeks again. “I love your heart,” he kissed your forehead. “I love your passion and determination,” he kissed the tip of your nose. “I love how silly you are, but also how you know when to be serious,” he kissed your right cheek. “I love the man you’ve changed me into for the better,” your left one. He stopped, staring at you for a brief moment, undoubtedly wondering how he got so lucky. “I just love you.” He ended his proclamation with one last soft kiss to your lips, lasting longer than the previous one.

Chan’s words finally began to sink in.

You weren’t flawless in any shape, form, fashion, or manner.

You were imperfect...and that was okay. Does perfection even truly exist?

You decided it didn’t, and by God, you were luckiest imperfection in the universe.

[chemicalalice]

Fic: The Greater Good - Kinktober Day 7

Title: The Greater Good

Summary: Sometimes you needed to do difficult things for the greater good of all.

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x female!Reader

Warnings: oral sex (m receiving), swearing. Please be mindful of yourself and do not read if this content bothers you. 18+ only!

Word count: 2963

AN: Even my Jake stories are still somehow a little bit about Bob? I got a thing for Lewis Pullman I guess lol

Jake trusted you. He made it pretty clear that you were one of the few people he opened up to completely. You valued his trust in you, and you never wanted to betray him. Ever.

You felt guilty, laying there with him completely relaxed and knowing that what you were going to do would be completely taking advantage of that hard earned trust.

You felt guilty; but not guilty enough not to do it. And now, with him half a sleep and vulnerable, you took your chance.

"Jake?" You kept yourself voice soft, not wanting to rouse him out of his stupor, and you stroked your fingers though his hair gently. That always made him nice and pliant.

"Hmm?" It was more than a grunt than a reply.

"Nat wants to have a Halloween party at the Hard Deck this weekend. Costumes and all. I want to go."

"Sure baby, yeah."

You bit your lip. "I bought costumes. Will you wear one with me? Please?"

"Uh huh, sure baby." His eyes weren't even open.

"You promise?" Your voice was down to a whisper.

"Promise." One word, followed by a snore. You smiled at your success.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The conversation had gone like this:

"I will give you a hundred bucks if you get him to do it."

"Nat!" You laughed at your friend. "No way. Not enough money in the world would convince him to dress up."

"I will bake you cookies every week for a year!"

You hesitated on that one. Not because you wanted the cookies, but because you didn't want to hurt her feelings. Her cookies sucked.

"I'm trying to cut back on sugar..."

Nat raised an eyebrow and nodded down at the sugary pumpkin spice chai latte sitting innocently in front of you. Busted. You winced.

Natasha sighed heavily. "You really are going to make me bust out the big guns, aren't you? Fine. If you get Jake to dress up at the party, I will...." her voice lowered, even though there was no one in the Starbucks that they knew, "tell Bob how I feel."

"Deal." You didn't hesitate on that one. "Thank fucking god, by the way. If I have to watch you two give each other eyes when the other isn't looking for one more night I'm going to lose it!"

Natasha groaned and slouched back in her chair. "I'm telling you, you are imagining it. And if you are wrong, and I tell him, it is going to seriously fuck things up with our partnership."

You leaned across the table, placing your hand over hers. "Trust me. He is 100% just as into you." You leaned back and reached for your cup. "Now tell me what you are wearing to the party."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an ambush attack. He had just gotten home; just twisted off the top of a beer; wasn't even finished swallowing's the first sip when you pounced.

"Ta da!" You had a hanger in each hand, a Halloween costume hanging off each one and a big smile stretched across your face. Jake choked and began to cough.

"Jesus, baby!" He gasped when he finally got his breathing back under control. He was eyeing the costumes you held, a weary look settling over his face. "What are those?"

"Well, you remember last week right before bed when we were talking about Nat's party?"

"Vaguely..." he replied slowly.

"Its a Halloween party. She wants people to dress up. You told me ok." Your voice was casual. Don't worry folks, nothing to see here. Just another normal night out.

Jake's eyes narrowed and you could see him slowly start to connect the dots, and a picture he wasn't liking was starting to take shape. "Ok...."

"And these are our costumes. I told you I picked them out and you said ok." He was silent in his horror, and you just continued to smile. "You got home later than I expected. We should probably get changed now if we don't want to be late."

"I am not wearing that!" He yelled, pointing at the green tunic and tights draped over the hanger you held aloft in you right hand. You wanted to laugh at the panic in his voice, at the aghast look on his face.

"You promised," you reminded him sweetly. "I always wanted to go as Tinkerbell, with someone to go as Peter Pan with me! I really appreciate you doing this."

Jake's beer was forgotten on the counter as he crossed his arms and straightened, defiance settling on his face. "There is absolutely no way I am wearing that, babe. And you can pout all you want, I am not changing my mind. Hard no."

You tossed the costumes on the kitchen table and crossed to wear he stood, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. You had known he was going to resist, but you also knew that in the end he would cave. For as much as he was a cocky asshole on the surface, he was as soft as a marshmallow on this inside, especially when it came to you; you loved him for it, and tried to never, ever, to take advantage of it, of him. But sometimes, for the greater good of the world, you would. And getting Jake into a Peter Pan costume, with tights, was definitely for the greater good of the world.

"Babe, please? For me?" He winced and tried to turn away, but you held on firm, keeping him facing you.

"No."

"Come on, why not? It will be fun! I really want us to do this together." You allowed a hint of pleading to slip into your voice.

"Bradshaw would never let me live it down if showed up in that," Jake protested.

You scoffed. "First of all, I am sure Roo is going to be wearing something he thinks is hilarious but is actually pretty stupid. Second, are you going to let him think you were too chicken to dress up?" A low blow. "And thirdly, and most importantly," your hands left his face and drifted down his chest, sliding slowly around his middle, and then squeezed his ass. "There is no man on Earth who could make those tights look as good as you; not without an ass like this."

You were pressed tight against him, and you could feel his dick twitch in interest even between two layers of clothing. You tried not to smirk. Although you never said it out loud, you thought Jake's ego was actually a mask for insecurity; a coping method. Stroking it was always a step in the right direction to getting him to agree to something.

"No," he repeated and looked away, but there wasn't as much conviction this time.

You took a breath; big guns it was. "Natasha said that if you do this, she will tell Bob she has the hots for him." Jake's head whipped back to you, eyes incredulous. Jake had a huge, take it to the grave, soft spot for Bob. The two of you had been trying to get your friends together for ages. "That's what I said! So we gotta do this!"

Jake groaned as he wrapped his arms around you. You smiled into his chest. Gotcha.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natasha was talking to you, but you weren't listening. Probably protesting the fact that you had followed through on your end of the bargain and now she had to make good on hers. The guys had, predictably, given Jake a huge amount of shit for his costume, but now that the initial ribbing was over you were silently thanking Natasha for the gift she had given you.

Your attention was fixed on Jake, where he was leaning over to line up a shot at the pool table. When you had had said it, it had been a line. But watching him now, you realized it had been the god honest truth: there was no man on Earth who could fill out that outfit like Jake did. Your head tilted to follow as he bent over more and you practically shot out of your chair when Natasha smacked your arm; hard.

"Jesus! What was that for?" you demanded, rubbing at the sting.

Nat rolled her eyes. "You are just as bad as him. I'm trying to talk to you and you are ignoring me and perving out."

It was your turn to roll your eyes. "I am not 'perving out'. I'm dating the guy; I'm allowed to look," you protested. "Come on Nat, the man is hot!"

A sigh of defeat. "I was hoping he would look a lot more ridiculous. How can he make even cheap polyester Halloween costumes look good? Even that ridiculous hat looks cute on him!" The little hate was a nice touch.

"Ok, but more importantly, what about Bob? Aren't you due for a nice little chat with him tonight?" You ignored her groan of protest and turned back to face the bar. You wanted another drink and, honestly, wouldn't be able to properly focus on your friend if you kept looking at Jake.

Natasha groaned and dropped her head to her arms that were resting on the bar. "I don't think you realize just how bad things are going to be if I tell him how I feel and he doesn't feel the same. It is going to ruin everything!"

You hooked your arm around your friend's neck and pulled her close. It killed you to see her like this, and Jake wasn't in bright green tights for nothing. "Look, Nat, normally I would never betray a friend's confidence like this but....Bob told Jake he feels the same about you. He is crazy about you! And he is just as afraid if the same things you are. But Bob is Bob, you know? And that means he is never going to say anything. I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen, but it is up to you to say something if you ever want anything to happen."

Natasha picked her head up and looked at you. "Really?"

"Really." You smiled at your friend and gave it a minute for everything to sink in. Then you were rapping your knuckles on the bar and standing. "I gotta use the restroom. You better not still be sitting here when I get back. Go get your man!"

If the Hard Deck had any drawbacks, it was the bathrooms. Two small rooms, no stalls. On a busy night the lines could be killer. But tonight, luck was on your side; no lines.

You had just barely touched the door knob when something hit your back, propelling you into the room. You heard to lock click and then the person was on you, forcing you back against the wall, lips devouring you hungerly. You shoved, and Jake stumbled back.

"What the hell Jake! I almost had a heart attack!"

"I have to say, I really never saw a point to Halloween past the 7th grade, but getting to watch you in this cute little fairy dress all night has really given me a new appreciation for the day. Plus," He paused, voice switching from casual to coercing, "you owe me... On your knees, princess."

Ah. You shot a glance at the locked door and then focused back on Jake. Despite his ambush and surety of his words, Jake was, at the end of the day, a gentleman, and he respected the word 'no'. The bar was busy, and it wouldn't take long before someone would be knocking on the door, demanding to know what was taking so long. Still, you found yourself slowly sinking to your knees.

His hands immediately fell to his waist, hiking up the polyester tunic and pulling the tights underneath down just far enough to allow his cock to spring free. "Good girl," he purred.

You leaned in eagerly, bracing one hand on his thigh and using the other to guide him to your lips. He wasn't completely hard, but that would change soon enough.

You took him into your mouth, and at the first swirl of your tongue around him Jake's head thudded back on the wall as he let out a moan of appreciation. "I am never going to get enough of that sweet mouth of yours, sweetheart."

You hummed in response, and felt him fill to full hardness at the vibrations. Normally you liked to go slow, tease him, make him beg, but you were all too aware that it wasn't an option here.

You pulled off and gave a few pulls on his cock with your fist. "I want you to take what you need."

He was silent, eyes darkening, as he placed both his hands on the back of your head and guided you back towards his cock. Your lips parted easily for him, both hands resting on his thighs to steady yourself for what was to come.

The initial push into your mouth was gentle, but as he continued, the thrusts become rougher, pushing deeper each time. When his cock hit the back of your throat he paused briefly, hands tightening their grip on head, low groan escaping his lips; and then he kept pushing. He held you in place as he forced all of himself down into your throat. You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed to accommodate the intrusion, forced away the instinctual panic that always flared up as your airflow was choked off by his cock.

He pulled out and you barely had time to suck in breath before he was pushing back in and fucking into your throat with intent. Jake normally wasn't like this when you went down on him, but he had a rough streak, something he didn't allow himself to give into very often. It didn't bother you, but it bothered him; worried him that he would go too far and hurt you. But you trusted him, and you let him take what he wanted, just as you had asked him to do.

"Look at me," he demanded, panting roughly, thumbs swiping away the tears that slipped from your eyes as you opened them and gazed up at him from. "Fuck, sweetheart, such a good girl for me, taking my dick like that. Love seeing you choke on my cock."

You tried to moan, wanted to, but the noise was cut off by a deep thrust. It should have been ridiculous: him in the costume, green tights, elf hat perched on his head, your flimsy nylon and plastic wings shuddering with each thrust he made. Maybe it was, if someone else were to walk in as see. But Natasha had been right, Jake could make anything look good; your soaked panties was the proof of that.

Jake breathing was starting to hitch, and you could feel his thighs start to tremble under your palms. You knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"That's it, that it's it baby. Keep taking my cock, just like that baby." His eyes were closed again, head back against the wall, holding your head in place as he chased his release.

He was still thrusting when the first spirt of cum hit your tongue, thick and salty. Then he was curling over you, cursing and moaning your name, pulling you closer, pressing himself as deep as he could as he shot his cum down your throat. You tried to swallow it all, but you felt some, mixed with your saliva, slip out to drip down your chin and land on your knee.

He was panting heavily, chest heaving, when he finally allowed himself to fall from your mouth. You sagged forward, resting your cheek just above his knee as you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes had slipped closed and so you jumped slightly when Jake's palm cupped the back of your head once more, thumb stroking along your cheek.

"Are you ok? Was I too rough?" Jake's voice was soft, tinged with worry. Ever the gentlemen even after getting blown in a bathroom bar.

"I am so ok, baby," you murmured, smile stretching across your face at his concern. Then you were stretching your arms up and he was helping you to stand.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that the damage wasn't as bad as it could be; you lips were red and swollen, there was going to be no hiding that, but the rest of your glittery make up was pretty much intact.

Jake waited patiently as you cupped your hand under the faucet for water, rinsed your mouth out and then cleaned off your chin.

You caught Jakes's eyes in the mirror. It didn't matter what you looked like; Jake's pleased grin would make it obvious he just got some action. You rolled you eyes. Thank god you loved the man.

As if reading your mind he closed the small space between you and forced you to turn to face him. This time when he kissed you it was soft, lingering. "I love you." His thumb ran along your cheek a final time as he cupped your face. It came away with a smudge of glitter.

You burst out laughing. "Your dick probably looks like it just had a fun time at a strip club."

Jake's brows dipped in confusion before he saw the glitter that was on his hand and he groaned. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"A public bathroom blow job? That was all you, baby."

You patted him on the chest and then leaned up to give him one last kiss before pulling completely away and heading for the door. "Just remember, baby, it was for the greater good."

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Crimson Flowers_Part 1

A.N:🕯️Happy Halloween!!! 👻I hope everyone has a safe and enjoyable one! 🎃

This is a Glorious Masquerade event with my TWST OC Mia!!

Twisted Wonderland Masterlist  

Can you excuse me and allow me a moment to fangirl over this event? I always loved Hunchback of Notre Dame, so this story was a real treat. The music is just… *chef’s kiss* 

At this point, I think I'm planning to get the Rollo card next year! I loved him from the moment I met him and wanted to know everything about the man.

I haven’t done a fake SSR card since the 1st Fairy Gala and now I have an TWST OC GM card!

Thank you to everyone that put in the hard work to make these templates and share them!! I for one, appreciate it!!

@thoselethalarts​ : Glorious Masquerade BG

@100night  : SR title card +  Groovied logo

-----------------------------------------------

Mia fought not to shiver as Rollo’s eyes landed on her and Grim. 

She felt his eyes assessed her, “So the rumors are true that you are the only female to attend Night Raven’s College all-male school. You are…apologies, your names?” 

Grim was quick to answer, “I’m Grim!! Future great mage!” 

Mia couldn’t figure out if she felt some type of way that, he knew everyone else, but not them. Did Crowley not think she and Grim were worthy of a footnote? 

But then again, it was Crowley. Who knows what went through that bird brain?

So she gave a polite smile, “My name is Mia Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Rollo gave a small nod, “I had heard you were unable to use magic. I did not expect you to bring a familiar along with you.” 

“Familiar?” Grim almost screeched, “Hold on! You’ve got it backwards here! She’s my hench-human!” 

Mia heaved a silent, long-suffering sigh. She kept quiet where ordinarily she might have quibbled with Grim, but she did not want to make a bad first impression. It seems Grim had no such qualms. 

Rollo didn’t seem to acknowledge Grim’s outburst, but instead added, “It must be stressful being the only female in addition to being surrounded by magic users. It must have caused you many problems. While you are in the City of Flowers, please take this time to rest.” 

Mia gave a small smile, “Thank you, sir.”

—

Mia never thought she’d feel thankful for Coach Vargas’s spartan training. At least she was faring a little better than Idia and Azul ie, she could hide it a little better. 

Ahhh, the golden bell was larger than life and truly breathtaking!! She had wandered away from Rollo’s speech to the others when Silver had popped his head back from the railing. She chose to stay far away from the edge, but upon seeing him do that gave her a heart attack. 

By the time she wandered over, she heard Sebek, “This is a joyous occasion!! Malleus-sama is the head of the Gargoyle Research Society, and as such these developments must be reported! If he sees these gargoyles, he’ll be pleased. Malleus-sama!! 

Idia shook his head, “The head he says? Pretty sure he’s the only member.” 

“Malleus-sama, look there! There is a gargoyle you so love, my liege! Please feel free to look as long as you like!” 

Malleus only frowned, making Sebek’s eyes widen, “My liege! Is there something wrong?” 

Mia spoke up with a grin, “Did it have a waterspout? Was it connected to something? You gotta find out these things before getting your liege’s spirit’s up like that! If it wasn’t, then it’s a grotesque, a mere decoration and not a gargoyle. Don’t you pay attention to anything your liege says?” 

Everyone was stunned to silence. Sebek noted that Malleus was practically glowing by this point. A huge grin broke out on Malleus’ face, as he laughed. 

Silver blinked. Did they get it wrong again? They could never remember the difference. 

Mia giggled, “I assume, I got it right?” 

“Yes, Child of Man!” Malleus beamed, “You are correct! Most splendid! Ha-ha!!” 

Sebek roused himself to cry, “Forgive me, my liege, it seems I have failed you!”

He snuck a glance towards Mia. He supposed later he would have to reward her for making Malleus-sama so happy like that. It’s been awhile since he has seen such a grin on his lord’s face. What would make a worthy award for the human? He would have to think on that as well as how to correct his own failing. He should study harder to remember the different in a grotesque and a gargoyle! He could not as his retainer be utterly lacking in the knowledge of his lord’s interests! 

“What the…? How the…? Why would you have such useless information in your head?” Idia sputtered. 

Azul pushed up his glasses, “It seems you forgot Idia. Malleus is no longer the only member of the Gargoyle Research Society. Mia has recently joined and seemed to take the lessons to heart.” 

Mia snorted, “I took notes.” 

Azul rolled his eyes, “Did it require it?” 

“I got it right, right? Leave me alone!” 

“Although, the fact that Malleus paid such attention to detail, now THAT part is relatable!!” Idia grinned. 

—

“Come along, hench-human!! Our crowd awaits!!” Grim crowed. 

“I know you are feeling yourself, but you have got to settle down!” Mia spoke as she plucked at the outfit she was wearing. 

“Hey ya’ll! How do I look? Look better on me than Mia, right?” Grim preened as they rejoined the group. 

Mia gave Grim a fond smile, “That being said, it does look perfect on you. Very suave! Befitting the future greatest mage to ever live!” 

Grim looked ready to burst at Mia’s words. Mia looked around the group to see them staring at her. She became self-conscious and dropped her gaze. “Wha?” 

“Beautiful!! Magnifque!” Rook bust out, breaking the silence, “You are as radiant as the night, with the purple and gold! Your beauty is shaming the day!” 

Mia almost choked herself on Rook’s words. She was used to his overdramatic tendencies, but they were rarely about her in such a manner.  

Jamil gave a small smile, “Dramatics aside, it’s rare to see you in a dress, Mia.”  

Epel looked up at Mia shyly, “You look right pretty, Mia.” 

“Oh, sorry….I just….” Deuce fumbled over his words as he looked a bit awestruck at you. 

Riddle gave a reassuring smile, “Yes, they are right. This is a rare treat.” 

“Your beauty does not hold a candle to Malleus-sama’s, but you look nice too!” Sebek smirked. 

Epel winkled his nose, “Isn’t the literally comparing apples and oranges?” 

“I apologize for Sebek’s crudeness!” Silver sighed, “You look lovely.” 

Ruggie grinned, “Indeed. What they said.” 

Mia was about ready to sink into the floor. It’s been awhile since she got these kinds of compliments. 

Grim laughed, “Ehh, she had to look gorgeous to stand next to me! Not as gorgeous as me, but still….” 

“Alright! Thank you everyone! I appreciate it!” She murmured as she couldn’t help but to lock her hands behind her back and sway back and forth. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at the boys yet. 

Thankfully, when Azul, Idia and Malleus rejoined the group, they had moved onto from her. Especially when Sebek began to lay heaps of praise onto Malleus whose poker face did not betray him. Mia’s eyes had widened as she glimpsed Malleus. This was the first time she had seen him dress up like this, and she was stunned into inaction. 

“See, this human knows the beauty of my lord!!” Sebek cried. 

Mia roused herself to realized, “this human” was referring to her. She snapped her head away, embarrassed to be caught gazing so openly.  Where was her head today? 

“Mia has the right reaction. No one wouldn’t be stunned into inaction upon gazing on Malleus-sama’s ethereal beauty! Mia, speak! How does our lord fare!” 

She muttered as she waved her hand, hoping it would past over. She was past tired of being put on the spot now, “N-Nice, very, very nice…” 

“Nice!? NICE!?! Just NICE!?” Sebek screeched, “Mia, comport yourself and give another look! Your reaction does not do justice your words!” 

Mia snapped then looking back at Sebek as she crossed her arms. She bared her teeth, “Shut up, Sebek! Learn to lower your voice, especially in someone else’s home. Besides what did you want me to say, ‘He looks like a walking dream’, I do have my pride you know!” 

There was a lull…

Ruggie laughed, “Shihihihi, but you just said it…” 

Sebek barked, pleased as all punch, “YES! YES!! That’s more like it!! Now your words bring justice to our lord’s ethereal beauty! Haha!!” 

This is the second time today that Mia has said the right things. Truly, he would have to consider carefully her award when this was over. 

Mia blinked at him a moment before she ran over her words. Then they watch, minus Sebek would was too busy being ecstatic at Mia’s words, in a rare show of fashion for her to fold into herself; she held her hands over her face and crab-walked behind the nearest student. Thankfully, it was Rook, who was tall enough to afford her a level of secrecy.  

Yep, she had officially lost her mind. The ground could just open up and swallow her any moment now. City of Flowers was named aptly. This could be her final resting place.  

“Thank you, Mia! I appreciate your sincere words! You, too, look very beautiful!” Malleus spoke with a small smile, “You must be in one of the photos with us! Lila would never forgive me if I did not present such documentation.” 

Rook could feel Mia further wilt behind him and laughed, “You should not be ashamed, Mia! If that is the way you felt, to lie would be a disgrace to your pure feelings.” 

“I will end…all of you.” She hissed. 

Jamil only sighed, “Don’t involve me in your foolishness.” 

Rollo murmured under his breath, “And foolishness it is.” 

However, he had been observing quietly this lone female student. This was the first time, he had witnessed the comradery she had with the others. She had been quiet for the most part, but it was clear that she wasn’t an outlier of a student that he assumed a female among all males would be. 

Most interesting….

Part 2

[toiletwipes]

COCKWARMING/HUMAN • DAY TEN OF KINKTOBER

Summary: A college, Halloween town and you've gone dressed as absolute bare minimum. But all you're wearing is thigh highs and an incredibly long button down. It catches the pretty boy's attention. Nice going, harlot. It's a win for you considering you have a thing for pretty boys.

Word Count: ~1.7k words

Character: George

Warning: its in a public place but george is nice enough not to be a dick and also its consensual but youre both drunk so. keep that in mind.

Kinktober Masterlist

tag list: @oyakuya@ruminationnn@despicablenotions@grrrlsagainsthumanity@wolfie-doggo@boiled-onionrings@struggling-with-time@midnighthasstruck@modx-reborn@dreamwvrld

~

This boy had been too pretty to avoid, your eyes always seeking him out whether you could hold it back or not. Tonight was no different.

Someone popular on campus was friends with someone rich and that’s how you’re sipping on something expensive while sitting by yourself at a party. You still had work to do. But it’s Halloween, so you relented, did as much as you could until your friends had to drag you away from the computer and sat you down at a vanity.

Your friends, all giggly from the pre-game shots, took turns dabbing brushes with products on the bristles onto your face, the sturdiest hand of the four of them drew soft wings on your eyelids. Accentuating the smokey eye bestowed upon you, courtesy of the cosmetology major. And yet, as soon as the party was underway and you had a drink in your hand while trying to get out of the most boring conversation ever with someone who was hardly your type- they all abandoned you.

Then the pretty boy of the campus had walked in. George. Everyone loved George, in spite of his quiet personality, he was all wide smiles and genuine banter. Plus the scruff on his chin and somewhat lean body, he was easy on the eyes.

Definitely a sight for sore ones, too.

You didn’t hold the staring back, taking a sip from your blue solo cup and he turned his head, making direct eye contact. His shoulders roll back as he twists his neck back and forth. Tossing a few words over his shoulder, he kept an eye on you.

It probably didn’t help that you’re wearing somebody’s white button down and hardly anything else. You’re not sure whose idea it had been in the first place but nobody was complaining too much. You certainly didn’t care that much. Might be that much easier.

Squeezing your thighs, you avert your eyes, trying to have some dignity, while half-naked while also at a Halloween party. Trying is the key word.

“I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t remember where-” George comes towards you, having already started the conversation for you, how considerate. You smile behind the lip of the cup.

“I have been told I have one of those faces. I definitely would have remembered your face, though.” You respond, leaning back into your seat and holding it away from your mouth, aware that your oversized shirt slid higher on your thighs. With the way he kept his eyes there, tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips tells you all you need to know.

He was also aware.

“But what’s a boy like you doing out here? I’m sure there are better parties happening tonight,” your head tilts, curious to hear his answer. You already had a hunch.

His smile is wide, naturally so with his mouth. His wide mouth. You can’t look away from there. “My friends are throwing the party, thought it would be nice to drop by and grace everyone with my presence.”

“Glad you did.” You smile back, leaning forward a little to put the drink on the table in front of your knees, he leans closer to your personal space, eyes refusing to move from your figure. The way your legs crossed, the way you didn’t care what the shirt showed the world. “It was starting to get boring.”

“You’re confident for someone who’s not wearing underwear,” he comments, taking a sip from his own cup.

Of course, ice filled your veins but you knew better than to give in.

“Don’t I have to be? Keep their eyes on me to make sure they miss the show below?” And yeah, not your best line, you’re cringing at how awful it was inside your head, but his smile gets bigger somehow, reaching past his eyes. A laugh pulled out of him as if he wasn’t trying to suppress it.

“What’s your name by the way?” He asks, an arm coming up on the couch’s edge behind him, leaning his temple on a relaxed palm. Your heart sits in your throat, but you’re floating on a nice high, wanting to shake it right out of George, whatever he’d done to you. You lean closer with a tiny smile of your own and tell him, “whatever you want it to be, baby.”

His smile doesn’t leave, it’s his eyes that dart from your gaze to your lips, seeing the way you’d bitten it, the way your tongue swiped off the mint gloss from the beginning of the night. The way you looked only at him.

“How do you feel about doing something crazy?” He asks, a hand reaching out to mess with the buttons of your shirt. You don’t look away from his face. Smile still wide on his face. Couldn’t even see the pupils in his eyes, but you’re not too caught up in that. You can’t get over the way his stare made you feel.

“What do you have in mind?” And from the way his eyes managed to light up even more, you wanted to know everything about him.

He takes your hand into his warm grasp and he stands up, staring into your eyes the entire time. Squeezing your fingers, he leads you away from the main chaotic crowd.

~

You’re biting gasps down, burying your head into the crook of George’s neck with your legs straddling his waist. Feeling way too hot with the way this blanket had been draped over you. “I know what it’s like to be clingy while drunk but are you sure you’re okay George, I mean-” you heard your friends clamor around him while you pretended to be sleepy and tired and clingy on the prettiest boy you ever seen.

You can also hear the whoops and hollers of the boys playing some game on the new Xbox, feel the vibrations from George’s casual laugh. He waves them off. He doesn’t mind, he tells them. And being pressed up so close against him, chest to chest, you were addicted to the way you could feel him. Loved the way he spoke. Loved hearing him speak too. Adored the way he wrapped an arm around your back over the blanket. Liked the way he told them that he’d make sure I get home safe too.

If you had it your way, you would be going home with him. Hopefully. Maybe.

But you had to get past this.

Past this moment where his cock is buried inside you and you’re completely surrounded and it’s fucking hard to do it when he adjusts you every other second. Where you are completely at his mercy.

He could rip the blanket away, give the guys a show as he forces you to bounce you on his cock, hands pulling your cheeks away so they can all get a look. (Oh the thought makes you clench around him, feeling every curve and vein on him. You can feel the sharp intake he does, feeling both of your hearts race faster and faster.) But he doesn’t do that. Doesn’t even hint that there’s anything wrong with you. Just a sleepy drunk who happened to drape themself on him.

When your friends take the hint and leave, all patting your head and saying goodnight, he wraps his arms tighter, leaning his cheek against the back of yours. You feel so full, he barely stretched you beforehand. Slipping a finger inside of you after you lathered it with your spit, he barely had a moment to think when he heard people approaching. And because the two of you liked crazy, you had to bite into his neck when his head popped inside of you, whining quietly to yourself. And then the guys emerged from the staircase.

And it leads you to now, where he keeps moving his hips every now and then, holding you close and keeping the kind and considerate friend facade up.

It leads to the moment where the group playing the game, they heard some commotion happening outside, a fight maybe, and although you’ve definitely seen George run to watch a fight, he declines their polite offer to carry you with them. None of them give him shit. All of them leave the upper living room.

It’s quiet inside, not a peep from anywhere in the house. Everyone is outside. And if they’re not, then they’re probably doing the same thing as you were.

George is quick to push the blanket from over your shoulders, helping you unbutton the shirt till it opens without fuss. Not wasting a second, his lips are wrapped around the bud of your nipple, lapping at your chest, holding your back close to him as your head tipped back. It’s useless to hold back any noises you made, moving your hips as you fucked yourself on him.

One of his hands comes to your other nipple, pinching it and switching with his mouth. And it builds, the tightening feeling in your lower stomach, the pleasure blinding your senses until all you could say was his name. A hand grips at your chin, holding your face still as the other hand was tight on your waist, his own hips bucking up at a bruising pace. “Look at me,” he said, with his eyes barely open, but he stares, keeping eye contact with you even after you cry his name. Squeezing around him and losing yourself in his eyes, a few tears slip as you ride out your orgasm, feeling boneless everywhere.

He fucks you through it, squeezing your waist with his hands past the point where you had a faint thought of tomorrow. Tomorrow’s bruises that’ll make your stomach flutter at the reason. He fucks you through his own orgasm, even a little past it, when you knew the both of you were extra sensitive. He pants as he speaks, “you just feel too good to leave, like you were made for my cock.” And though most of your thinking abilities are gone, you couldn’t help the moan that slips past your lips. It was small, but for him, it was enough. Enough for him to tease his cock against your skin, rubbing some of the excess cum on there, on your ass. “Think you can go another round?”

Fuck.

[whimsyswastry]

Right back at you for the creating your OC ask! :)

Numbers 3, 15 and 17 for everyone?

Oooh...goodness :D This may take a while...as I listed a lot of OCs.

All the Info below the cut 💛

3. How did you choose their name?

Ellaria Trevelyan -> I think I must have been in the midst of reading Game of Thrones. Which, naming her after another character was completely unintentional. I don't even remember thinking about it, until I saw the GoT episode with Ellaria Sand and being like... "Huh... I wonder..."

Ori Lavellan -> Oriana's full name actually came from the fantasy name generator website. It didn't really seem to fit the naive and idealistic character I was crafting, but the shortened version of Ori really did. Plus, I just love nicknames.

Eliza Shepard -> I really like the word Elysium. So, initially, the name was Elysia. But as her background is a twisted version of a War Hero, I didn't want her name being so close to Elysium. I figured Eliza kept the feeling without seeming uninspired.

Lucette de Sardet -> This is another one that I got from a nickname. She's very close to her cousin Constantin. I wanted Constantin to use a petname for her that was one part obnoxious and one part adorable and settled on LuLu, but she's a diplomat and part of the royal family so she couldn't be named Lucy, but Lucette worked perfectly especially with the surname De Sardet.

**I should note that both of my Ryders look the same (default), but I kept waffling on his personality. I couldn't decide between a bitter, angry, daddy-issue ridden asshole who doesn't want anyone to know he has a heart of gold (Thomas) and a goofy, adrenaline junkie, with a nerdy side (Alexander). So I just ended up using both for different stories.

Thomas Scott Ryder -> I created Thomas Scott around the same time I was playing Greefall, and Lucette's faceclaim has always been Antonia Thomas. I thought the name sounded really natural. I like to think he's named after his mother's grandfather who was 10x the father to him that Alec ever was.

Alexander Scott Ryder -> This one was lazy. I just wanted him to be named after Alec, but Scott Alexander didn't sound nearly as good as Alexander Scott.

15. What is something about your OC that makes you laugh?

Ellaria Trevelyan -> She is really outgoing, but doubly so when she's around Cullen who is so reserved. She makes bawdy jokes and gets in his space because she finds it so funny and can tell he likes it, even if it turns his ears scarlet.

Ori Lavellan -> Having grown up with only the noises of nature, she's actually really skittish. Not scared, but easily startled by loud noises. This has lead Varric to calling her Cricket because she jumps so high.

Eliza Shepard -> She has a voracious sweet tooth (in part inspired by my own blasted sugar addiction). She keeps a secret drawer of sweets that Kaidan and Liara pilfer from to help them cope with their biotic metabolism. Eliza still hasn't figured it out because she thinks she ate it and just doesn't remember.

Lucette de Sardet -> She is really diplomatic. It's her job. She's representing her entire country! But she also has a really strong moral compass, and when someone crosses those lines, she has no qualms punching them in the face. Needless to say, she's caused a diplomatic incident or two.

Thomas Scott Ryder -> His relationship with his sister. I only have sisters, but I have a couple cousins who have always been really protective, playful, and rambunctious with me the way I imagine an older brother would have. It's really fun to write and I hope equally fun to read. Especially since he's an asshole to just about everyone else.

Alexander Scott Ryder -> Just how energetic he is. I am always drained so it's lots of fun to explore a character who acts like a kid hopped up on an entire bag of halloween candy. And, just like that kid, how he crashes into his bed at the end of the day.

17. Is there some element you regret adding to your OC or their story?

Ellaria Trevelyan -> Big YES for this one. Initially, her backstory involved abuse by a templar. I thought it was an important part of showing the power imbalance between mages and templars in the circle. But, even though the abuse was only ever eluded to and not explicit, it never felt right. I couldn't do justice to her experience. So Unharrowed (my fic about the Inquisitor pre-DAI) has been on hiatus for the last...5 years. I recently had a breakthrough with her backstory and finally starting writing the version of Unharrowed I've always wanted.

Ori Lavellan -> I have a few ficlets when Ori is really struggling with Solas' departure and uses another character to feel something other than pain...These were written for fictober a few years ago and upon reflection, she never would've done this no matter how much pain she was in.

Eliza Shepard -> This is more of an oversight on my part. But half of her storyline is written as though she has biotics and the other half as though she's just a soldier. I like the story with her as a soldier, it makes her interactions with Kaidan's biotics more novel.

Lucette de Sardet -> It's been a while since I've read any of my Lucette fics...but nothing comes to mind for her :)

Thomas Scott Ryder -> I both love and hate that he smokes clove cigarettes. It fits his angry at the world, leave me a lone so I can sulk outer persona. But I worry that readers will judge him because it's 2185/2819 and he's still partaking in a really unhealthy habit.

Alexander Scott Ryder -> It's not really a character element, but another writing regret regarding him. The only stories I've ever written about Alexander Scott take place after High Noon / breaking up with Reyes. I feel like I could've made the stories infinitely better if I'd taken the time to think about specific storylines or head canons about the way he and Reyes got together. As it is, it feels somewhat generic.

[writtentonobody]

Dear nobody,

It’s complicated.

How I feel about you is not easily put into words.

I hope you die.

I feel sorry for you.

I hate you.

I’m sorry.

No matter how I word it, nothing seems quite right. It never seems like enough.

But… I know how my body reacts when I think about you. My stomach coils up- twists and turns and churns with hot magma, and I want to expel it. My hands are clammy. My face feels freezing and too hot at the same time. My limbs tremble. And most horrific of all, is the sickening, barely-there arousal that sometimes surfaces- a feeling that makes my insides quiver with shame.

You’ve twisted me up in a way that’s hard for me to express. You’ve turned me rotten. You took what made me innocent and spit it back up in my face, and you’ve turned it into a sludge a hue so sinister that I am afraid to show anyone what’s left of it.

I can still recall the day with too much clarity. (I’m so fucking angry about this day. How you treated me. How my friend treated me. How I had to treat myself. How I had to pick up the fucking pieces of me because nobody else could. Nobody else wanted to.)  Ironically enough, I don’t remember much of you. I remember what you did to me, but I barely remember what you look like. I barely remember the shit you told me. Who you were. But that might’ve just been because I was way too damn drunk.

It all started at a Halloween party. My favorite holiday. My favorite time of year. I came all the way from a different city to visit my friend, and we had matching costumes. I was an angel. My friend was a devil. The plan was to go to a music gig at some bar, because a guy that my friend liked was playing with his band. It was fun, at first. After a couple of drinks, I allowed myself to sway with the crowd. Smile at the other guests. Enjoy the moment, even though I was shy. You didn’t even pay attention to me then, when I was there. But I saw you, I think. With your friends. After the show, we were invited to the afterparty. My friend was excited to talk to the performer they liked (he was apparently your friend, too. Your best of buds. Found out later that your whole friend group was filled with creeps.) and though I was meek, I was excited to mingle and meet new people. And meet new people I did. Strangers included me. There was a cat. I made friends with a very mystical lady who kept calling me pretty, and I was a little smitten. But that was when you swooped in. I was pretty drunk at that point, and you led me to sit with you on the couch. You gave me another nasty, cheap beer, and we talked about a whole bunch of shit that doesn’t matter. I scanned around for my friend. Were they safe? I saw them. All was good. At one point, we started kissing. I don’t remember how. But I was excited. It was my first time kissing a guy. I was a late bloomer, and I was excited to experience new things.

We kissed for a while longer. The party ended. But hey! After party of the after party at your house, right? Awesome. So stupidly, I drove us there in my little purple car. I couldn’t even drive in a straight line. Why did you guys let me do that? Somehow, we made it, though. We all piled out of the car when we got there and ended up in your apartment. There was an upstairs and a downstairs. My friend stayed downstairs, talked to your friends. I went up with you. I was ready for some kissing and some cuddling. We made out, and then, out of nowhere, you tugged down my tights. That was wrong. It was wrong. And suddenly, there was pain. And more pain. And then, quickly I covered myself. “No,” I’d said. “It hurts.” And then you said something sooo cliché. Something like, “Oh, are you a virgin? It’s supposed to hurt the first time.” I might’ve been naïve, but I wasn’t an idiot. You tried again and again, and I stood firm on no. Eventually, you gave up. I quickly ran downstairs, half-clothed, and burst into tears when I locked eyes with my friend. I don’t remember what I said, but you had begged and begged me to stay to cuddle. My friend asked me if I wanted them to beat you up. At the time, I wanted- needed- to get out of there as quickly as possible, so I’d said no. But looking back on it, I should’ve said yes. Maybe you getting a fist to the face would’ve offered me more closure. Maybe, it would have allowed me to forgive my friend more easily for leaving me up there with you.

I screamed and cried on the phone with one of my ex-girlfriends. Then, whilst still quite drunk, I drove my friend home. They offered me a pair of Winnie the Pooh pajama pants in place of my messed-up tights. And then… I had to drive myself home. All the way out of town. I’d stopped to get coffee, and then it was an hour and a half drive back, by myself, at 6 am. I think this was the worst part of it all and the part where I felt most alone. After something so horrible had happened to me, there was nobody to help scoop me back up. I had to pick up little shards of myself and hurriedly shove them into my proverbial pocket. It felt like… this always happens. I always had to do this for myself. But now, the time when I’d needed it the most, I was left, driving myself home, trembling like a leaf, glancing down at pooh bear on my legs to bring me some sort of childish comfort, like at least he was there for me.

When I got home, something happened. It was when that sinister, grotesque thing first reared its ugly head. Something so shameful- so horrific, needy, and evil. I’d gotten home, headed to my bedroom, and I’d immediately gotten off. I know it’s pretty common after that sort of thing. Your body and your mind are so confused. But… I hated myself more than I ever have in that moment.

From then on, I was all screwed up. I used people to hurt me. I drank to numb the pain. I went through psychosis, though this is partially not your fault- something else that was horrible enough happened to me that same year, too, that made me question my whole existence.

Months later, I’d looked you up. I had somehow managed to remember your name, or at least parts of it. And after looking up friends of friends and looking at different peoples’ profiles I managed to find you. I read your profile. Memes filled with misogyny. Unsurprising. Not atypical of what you were. There were also a couple of family photos, and old pictures of you. I was filled with hatred. I wished that you felt guilty for what you did to me. I wished that your whole life was ruined. I wished that maybe you’d even kill yourself because you knew how fucked up of a person you were. But with the same breath, I’d also thought… I hope that your life wasn’t ruined. I hope that you can move on. I hope that everything will be alright for you. I even thought, maybe you were too drunk, too. Maybe you didn’t really realize what was happening until it was too late as much as I did. Realistically, though, I knew that none of these things were probably the reality. You probably didn’t care. Didn’t remember, nor cared to remember. I was probably just a half a blink of a memory for you, if even that.

And it really is unfortunate, too, because somehow, I’d allowed you to have this power over me- a power so intense that it has affected me deeply, even to this day.

Because of you, I am scared to be vulnerable.

Because of you, being touched makes me feel twisted.

Because of you, I have trouble forming deep relationships. (Not just because of you. That runs deeper than you, too.)

Because of you, even though my body screams for hugs, holding hands, being physically close to people, (this is not just about romance, but even with my friends, too) when I think of allowing myself to do so, something in me starts to clamp up, like I can’t.

Because of you, I’m afraid that I can’t be enough.

Because of you, I feel like something horrific.

Because of you, I have feelings that I can’t explain and don’t know how to explain.

You’ll never see this.

But I needed this.

I think my conclusion is that I hope you rot.

[hawkins-losers]

Can I get number 32, the kitchen counter kiss, with Steve Harrington. Maybe it’s set in Season Two when everyone is at the Byers House and the kids are in the living room and you and Steve are in the kitchen making out when no ones around, maybe Dustin or someone walking in and getting everyone’s attention?

-

The Byers house was empty, bare for you, Steve and the kids. 

Hopper had left and taken Eleven to the lab to close the gate; and Joyce, Jonathan and Nancy had taken Will to Hopper’s cabin to burn the monster out. 

Although it included babysitting, staying behind wasn't so bad. At least for you. Dustin had convinced Steve to help him put Dart’s dead body in the Byers’ fridge, claiming it was a groundbreaking scientific discovery - or something along those lines - and needed to be preserved. The grimace on Steve’s face told you he was not really happy to help the curly haired boy. 

You bit your tongue not to laugh. 

Meanwhile in the living room, Lucas and Max were cleaning shards of glass on the floor, and Mike was pacing, trying to think of a plan to help. 

You heard the fridge close and walked to the kitchen.

‘’Let’s make it clear, you’re explaining this to Mrs. Byers. I have nothing to do with this,’’ Steve told the younger boy. ‘’Are we clear?’’

‘’Yeah, yeah,’’ Dustin brushed off, disappearing to the living room to see his friends.

‘’What’s that?’’ you asked, pointing to the pile of stuff by the fridge. 

You could spy some refrigerator shelves, a box of juice and other food items, making you assume Dustin had emptied the fridge to put Dart in. Joyce will be pissed when she returns.

‘’Dustin’s problems,'’ he replied. 

You nodded and wrapped your arms behind his neck, tilting your neck to kiss him. Steve responded immediately, his hands coming on your hips to pull you closer. 

‘’I’ve been wanting to do this all day, but these kids kept interrupting.''

''They're occupied now so-'' 

Steve smashed his lips on yours again, not letting you finish, and picked you up as you wrapped your legs around him. His tongue prodded past your lips and you let him in, your fingers twisting his hair. He sat you on the counter, the leverage it gave you being more comfortable to kiss. 

You felt like those terrible babysitters in Halloween. The ones who invite their boyfriends over and don’t pay attention to the kids. That’s how Michael killed his sister, if you remembered.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, grazing at your bra and cursing at it for being in-between. For a second, he thought of taking your shirt off, but he didn’t get time to, hearing a horrified shriek coming from the kitchen doorway. 

‘’Oh my god! That is disgusting,’’ Dustin exclaimed dramatically, walking in the kitchen. 

You pulled away, but didn’t detach yourself from Steve, who groaned in annoyance. 

‘’You’ll like it when you’re older,’’ Steve said.

You kissed along Steve’s jaw, making Dustin grimace. 

‘’Can’t you two keep your tongues to each other for five minutes? Mike came up with a plan to help Will.’’

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun

Steve Harrington taglist: @dylanstilinskiposts  @captainbuckyyy12  @valevalentyne  @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie  @heizenka  @eddie_munsons_girlfriend @scarlet-kazuha @uhidklol-26 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @swiftbyul @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie  @tinfoilhat2719 @straycatarang @wayfaring----stranger @starstruckspring @fourlokiss @mi-amoree1111 @starshipsxx  @ghoulishlygrey  

[writing-wh0re]

October 7th. Kinky Halloween Special Masterlist

Kink: Daddy

Au!Fred x Reader.

Words: 2,524.

Warnings: Smut18+, Unprotected Sex, Female Performing Oral, Male Performing Oral, Dirty Talk, Daddy Dom Fred, Praise. Best-friends Dad (Age Gap) 

*Nova is my own character. 

The moment Nova had suggested that I tag along with her for the summer and stay at her dad’s lake house, I couldn’t refuse. I was so excited. 

One, the lake house is in the prime location, bars are within walking distance, the pool is immaculate and the view was something else all together. 

Two, Nova’s dad, Fred. 

God Fred was the definition of Dilf. 

The first time I noticed my school girl crush was Nova’s 21st birthday. Fred had booked out a private Yacht and invited most of the people from our classes. It was sweet and probably the happiest I have seen Nova. However, I spent most of the night at the top of the Yacht drinking and joking around with Fred, both of us wanting to escape the crowd. That night solidified my crush for the older man, especially the second his fingertips brushed my knee which caused my skin to erupt with goosebumps and my breath to catch in my throat. I could have sworn Fred’s eyes lingered on my cleavage a little too much that night but I’m sure it was the alcohol swirling through my veins. 

“Ready?” Nova’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, her suitcase behind her. 

“Definitely.” I confirm zipping my case and following Nova out of our dorm, excitement and nervous bubbling inside of me. 

\\//

Nova pushes the large dark wood door open, the smell of cinnamon and apple filling the air, light chatter bouncing off the walls. 

“I think my uncle is here.” Nova mumbles, leaving her suitcase on the ground and walking through the house. I follow her lead, ditching my suitcase and taking in the beautifully styled home. 

“Hey Dad, uncle George.” 

I almost faint on the spot, there’s Fred and a literal duplicate of Fred.

“Uh Dad you remember Y/n, George this is my best friend Y/n.” I smile weakly at the pair as George smiles at me.

“Good to see you again Y/n.” Fred smiles, I notice George side eye Fred quickly raising his eyebrows before taking a sip of his drink. Fred simply smirks, nodding softly, his eyes lingering on me before darting over to Nova. I frown my eyebrows together trying to understand what they are silently talking about, surely not me. I shake the thought from my head, of course two grown men haven't been talking about me, especially not my best friend's dad. Get it together Y/n. 

“So, what do you have planned for this summer?” George asks, his eyes flicking between Nova and I. 

“Definitely hitting the bars, soaking in the sun and maybe finding a man or two.” Nova winks as she hands me a glass of wine. 

“A man?” Fred questions. 

“Or two?” George questions both of them laughing at each other. 

“It's summer, why not have a little fun?” The second the words leave my lips I feel a blush creep upon my face, Fred and George both chuckling in response. 

“Maybe we should go have some summer fun Freddie.” George smirks causing Nova to gag slightly. 

“Right, that's our cue to leave.” Nova mumbles quickly downing the rest of her glass and walking back inside the house. 

“Uh.” The heat returns to my body as I get left alone with Fred and George. I leave my glass on the table in front of me and walk inside the house, once inside I turn back to take in Fred’s appearance one last time. My breath hitches in my throat and butterflies erupt inside of me as our eyes lock together. I hurriedly look away and rush through the house to get ready for the night with Nova. 

Coincidence. Just a simple Coincidence. 

\\// 

Nova and I had been dancing for hours, the music thumped through my chest, the alcohol flowed through my veins and my mind kept wandering to Fred, curious as to what he is doing right now. 

“Hey, this is Tom and we’re getting out of here.” Nova squeals excitedly, pulling a blonde guy behind her before I even have a chance to respond. 

“Seriously?” I yell, my voice falling silent over the sound of the music. I follow behind the pair, hoping to catch Nova and ask if she is seriously leaving me in the club right now. 

“Hey!” 

Nova’s body disappears into a cab before she has the chance to hear me. 

“Fuck.” I huff, the cool breeze hitting my exposed skin. Only a three minute walk back to the house, I tell myself. I quickly check the time, 11:45pm, Fred will definitely be asleep and won’t question Nova’s hodiny act. 

The walk back was quick and almost claiming. The sound of the wind blowing in the trees, owls hooting and the crispy moon light shining along the streets. 

The walk back to the house had definitely sobered me up, now fully aware of how loud my heels are against the pavement. I decide to slip my heels off before walking on the wooden deck, not wanting to disturb Fred. I search through my bag, trying to find the house key but coming up empty handed. 

“Fuck you Nova.” I mumble, slightly lifting up the doormat with my foot in hopes of a spare key, but no luck. Right as I’m about to walk around the back and sleep on the deck chairs the door pulls open. 

Fred and George both laugh and continue their conversation before their eyes land on me. 

“Oh Y/n, hello again.” George smiles. 

“Um, hey.” I smile back. My eyes quickly flick to Fred his toned chest on full display and loose grey sweatpants hanging on his hips. 

“Everything okay? You’re missing Nova.” Fred asks, slight worry filling his voice. 

“Yeah no, everything is fine, Nova is making her summer fun with Tom?” I question wondering if I should even be telling her father and uncle this. 

The twins laugh at my question, both shaking their heads. 

“Well I will see you later, nice meeting you y/n.” George smiles, “Enjoy your summer Freddie.” George’s eyes look me up and down before he walks past me, the sound of his car unlocking in the near distance. 

“Excuse me.” I mumble pushing past Fred as he stands in the doorway, I quickly drop my shoes with the others at the door, wanting to rush away to my room. 

“So why aren’t you out making your summer fun with a guy?” 

I feel my mouth go dry at his question, how do I answer this without saying it’s because of you dumbass. 

“The guy’s I typically go for aren’t hanging around at clubs.” Fred raises his eyebrow, his eyes flicking from my lips and back to my eyes. 

“What kind of guys do you go for?” 

Now's your chance, say it's him, if it goes badly act super drunk and blame it on that. I take a deep breath after listening to the internal battle with myself. 

“Guys that choose to stay in with their brothers and drink.” The moment the sentence flows through the air, my cheeks heat up, both with nerves and regret. 

Fred smirks, licking his lips before walking towards me. I back away from him slightly before my back hits the wall. 

“Is that so? Darling, I'm old enough to be your father” 

“That has never been an issue for me… daddy.” 

Fred groans before locking his lips with mine. I moan into the kiss, the sweet taste of cinnamon whiskey on his tongue as our tongues fight for dominance. His hands roam my body, falling to the middle of my back and pulling me flush against his chest. My fingers lace in his hair, tugging on the strands. 

“This is wrong.” I pant, pulling away from the kiss as our chests rise and fall. 

“Say the word and I stop.” Fred’s eyes search mine for any hesitation before I close the gap between us. His hands fall to my thighs picking me up in one swift motion and slowly walking us to his bedroom. My red dress hikes up my thighs with every step closer to the room, my black lace panties on full display. I pull my lips away from Fred’s kissing down his neck before discovering his sweet spot. His fingers grip my ass tight, moans falling from his lips. 

A surprised squeal escapes me as Fred drops me on his bed, his eyes lingering on my body. Before he has the chance to ask me I pull my dress from my skin, leaving me in just my panties, thankful that my dress didn’t require a bra. 

“Jesus.” Fred steps back, taking in the sight of me half naked and under him, egar for him. 

“Daddy please.” The nickname causes his eyes to roll back slightly, a low sigh passing his lips as he cages me in against the mattress, kissing my lips before trailing kisses down my neck towards my boobs. I arch my back causing my nipple to press against his tongue more, his teeth pulling at the hardening nub. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

Fred smirks, chuckling as the slight vibration rumbles against my skin. 

“I’ve barely touched you babygirl, look at you, so needy and eager for me.” 

“Only you.” 

My words pull yet another chuckle from his lips. Fred’s fingertips trail along the waistband on my panties causing a shiver to run down my spine. He leans down over my body, his warm breath fanning against my neck. 

“Get on your knees.” Within a second I am on my knees looking up at him. “Fuck, such a good girl.” 

I softly nod in response, my hand palming his evident erection through his sweatpants. Fred hisses at the contact before ridding himself of the clothing. 

A whimper escapes me at the sight of his hard cock. Longer and thicker than I had imagined but everything I need. 

Without being asked I take his dick in my hand, pumping up and down as I lightly swirl my tongue around the head. 

“Yes baby.” Fred’s fingers loop in my hair, holding it out of the way to ensure he gets the perfect view of his cock disappearing into my throat. I bob my head up and down his length, my tongue swirling and my cheeks hollowing out. Fred’s cock leaves my lips with a pop, he grabs his dick and slowly slides it up and down my tongue moaning at the sight. 

“Fucking perfect.” My eyes roll back at the praise, arousal leaking down my thighs and my mind hoping this isn’t some twisted dream. 

Fred pulls me up by my arms, his lips finding mine again in a hungry kiss. His fingertips brush against my clothed pussy before slipping past the fabric and rubbing my swollen clit. I hiss at the contact, Fred moans at the feeling of my wetness. 

“Daddy’s girl likes sucking dick huh?” 

“Makes her little pussy drip?” 

“Does my princess touch herself to the thought of me?” 

I meekly nod in response not wanting the pleasure to stop, however Fred stops his movements causing me to whimper. 

“Daddy asked you a question darling, do you think of me when you cum?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Good girl.” He presses a quick kiss to the side of my head before he pushes me back onto the bed, ripping the panties from my skin. His tongue presses flat against my clit as I sigh with pleasure and surprise. 

“Daddy.” 

Fred hums against my pussy, swirling his tongue in a figure eight motion as my fingers grip the bed sheets. Fred continues to lap at my cunt, savouring the taste before his hands find mine, lacing our fingers together. 

“Fuck.” I moan as I look down at Fred, his eyes catching mine while swiping his tongue side to side. 

“Yes, fuck, oh I’m close.” I regret saying the words the second Fred pulls away from me. 

“No baby, you’re cumming on my cock.” Butterflies fill my stomach at his words, truly hoping this is really happening. 

Fred lays down next to me on the bed, grabbing my hips and guiding me to straddle his waist. His hand falls behind my neck, our lips meet in a brief kiss before being broken by my moans. Fred slides inside of me, stretching my walls perfectly. 

“So big daddy.” My fingernails drag down his chest earning a hiss from his lips. After a few seconds of adjusting to his size I rock my hips back and forth, keeping my hands placed on his chest for balance. 

“Beautiful.” Blush fills my cheeks at his praise, his soft hands rubbing up and down my sides. I keep my rhythm, every now and again swirling my hips for a different sensation, one that pulls the most delicious moans from his lips. Fred’s hands grip my ass, spanking the supple skin as I cry out in pleasure. 

“Is this what you like, baby? Taking control and fucking daddy?” I hum in response as my eyes flutter closed basking in the feeling of his cock hitting my g-spot. Fred’s hands move to my back, flipping us over as I gasp. 

“Only I can make you feel this good.” 

My lips part and my eyes squeeze shut at the new angle. Fred’s resting on his knees with my legs against his chest, ankles resting on his shoulders, his hands groping my boobs. 

“Look at you squirming on my cock, ruining you for any other man.” 

“God daddy yes.” 

“You’re mine.” 

“Only yours daddy.” 

Fred grunts at my response, his pace picking up as he starts to rub fast circles on my clit. 

“Yes!” I cry out, my pussy clenching around him. “Just like that.” 

“You cum when I say.” 

I huff, digging my nails into the comforter as I scream and cry out. 

“Daddy please, please let me cum.” 

Fred grunts, licking his lips.

“Mmm hold it for me.” 

My eyes roll back as my back arches off the mattress. 

“Daddy, please!” 

I feel Fred’s cock twitch inside of me, a deep moan filling the air. 

“Fucking cum for me Y/n.” 

A shiver runs down my spine, my body tenses as Fred’s name passes my lips. My mind feels foggy and my vision blurs. Fred grips my legs, his hips faltering as his hot release fills me. 

Fred pulls out of me, both of us sighing, our chests rising and falling, sweat glistening on our bodies. 

“Thank you.” I blurt out, feeling tiredness wash over me. 

“No need to thank me Darling.” He places a soft kiss to my lips as I feel my eyelids get heavier, not even bothering to move as sleep envelops me. 

\\//

I wake up the next morning to the sun shining through the blinds. Instantly everything floods back from last night. I quickly lift up the bedsheets, my naked body confirming that it wasn’t just a dream. 

“Morning.” Fred mumbles, his morning voice sending wetness straight to my pussy. 

“Morning.” I whisper a goofy smile on my face. Fred pulls me into him, his nose brushing against mine before our lips meet in the middle. 

“Hey dad, have you see- WHAT THE FUCK?”

\\// 

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