#julia x chase

[skipppppy]

I’m just throwing things at the wall to get rid of the hyperfixation at this point

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

I was wondering if you could write crackle from Carmen sandiego x reader! My whole account is dedicated to him and I'm hopelessly in love with him 😭🩷🩷

Maybe flirting on a mission ? Or just being on a mission in general! I enjoy him being portrayed as a bit more rude, he doesn't mean to be but he is...

I LOVE HIM SO BAD you obviously don't have to but I'd love it so much. He's my favourite ever!!!

SPARKLY MISSION

The city lights twinkled like a million tiny stars against the night sky, casting long shadows on the rooftops. You stood on the edge of a tall building, the cool breeze tousling your hair as you kept your eyes on Crackle. He was a few feet away, checking his gear with the kind of confidence that came naturally to him. Tonight’s mission was like any other VILE operation: infiltrate, extract, and vanish without a trace. But this time, there was a difference—you were partnered with Crackle.

“Ready to rock and roll?” he asked, his voice dripping with that familiar cocky edge. He moved closer, his presence as electrifying as his name suggested. The corner of his mouth curled up in a sly smile that was half tease, half challenge.

“Always,” you replied, your tone calm, but your heart was already pounding a little faster. “The real question is, are you ready to do this without getting us caught in some sort of electric mess?”

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Where’s the fun in that? I thought you liked a little excitement.”

You couldn’t deny it—missions with Crackle were never dull. His unpredictable nature, his sharp wit, and the way he could make any mission feel like a high-stakes game kept you on your toes. And though you’d never admit it out loud, you found his cockiness a bit…charming.

Crackle moved to the edge of the roof, peering down at the balcony several stories below where your target was located. “So, who’s going first? You want me to show you how it’s done, or are you gonna surprise me?”

“I’ll let you take the lead,” you said, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “I want to see if the legend matches up to reality.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me a legend?” he shot back, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Careful, keep talking like that, and I might think you’re starting to like me.”

“Starting?” you scoffed lightly, but your heart skipped a beat as you watched him. “You wish.”

He flashed a grin that was equal parts arrogant and endearing. With a graceful leap, he vaulted over the ledge, landing silently on the balcony below with the agility of a cat. He looked up at you, his grin never fading. “Your turn, if you can handle it.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you followed suit, landing beside him with ease. As you straightened up, your shoulder brushed against his, sending a wave of electricity through your skin. It wasn’t just his abilities that could shock, apparently.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer, almost concerned, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

“Perfect,” you replied, trying to steady your breathing. “Just didn’t expect you to actually stick the landing.”

He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, I can stick all sorts of landings,” he whispered, his tone low and teasing. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

A flush crept up your neck, but you refused to let him see you flustered. “I’m not here for your... gymnastics skills, Crackle.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn I caught you checking me out earlier.”

You scoffed, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I was just wondering how you manage to fit that giant ego through the door.”

He chuckled again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. “It’s not easy, but somehow I manage.”

Before you could respond, a noise from inside the building caught your attention. Crackle’s hand brushed yours as you both instinctively moved closer to the wall, hiding in the shadows. The contact was brief, but you swore you felt a spark—more than just his usual electric touch.

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice suddenly serious, but still tinged with that playful tone. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“I can handle myself,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity.

“Never doubted it for a second,” he said softly. “But just in case… you know I’ve got your back.”

You nodded, grateful for the darkness that hid the heat rising to your cheeks. For a moment, you let yourself feel the thrill of it all—of the mission, of being this close to him, of the danger and the flirting that danced between you like a live wire.

Crackle pressed a gloved finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he moved toward the balcony door. With a deft flick of his wrist, he disabled the lock, the faint crackle of electricity illuminating his smirk in the dark. “Ladies first,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t suppress a smile as you slipped past him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only when it counts,” he replied, following you inside.

The room was dimly lit, shadows casting long shapes on the walls. You both moved silently, your footsteps perfectly in sync as you made your way towards the display case in the center. Inside was the artifact—an ancient necklace rumored to possess powerful abilities.

“Looks like we’re almost there,” you whispered, but Crackle’s eyes were on you, not the prize.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. “Almost.”

You felt your heart race again, but you focused on the task at hand. With a quick glance around, you nodded to Crackle, who stepped forward, his fingers dancing over the alarm system. Sparks flew, and the system short-circuited with a satisfying pop.

“Nice work,” you said, genuinely impressed.

“Thanks,” he replied, his voice low. “But I think we both know the real challenge is yet to come.”

You arched a brow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Getting out of here without causing a scene,” he said, but his tone was suggestive. “Though, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind causing a little trouble… with you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Maybe,” you admitted, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. “But let’s get out of here first, okay?”

“Deal,” he agreed, but as you moved to grab the artifact, his hand brushed yours again, lingering for a moment too long.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. For a moment, the world seemed to slow, the mission forgotten as you stood there, caught in the electricity between you.

Then, with a knowing smile, Crackle pulled back. “Come on, partner. Time to make our getaway.”

You nodded, your heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the danger around you. Together, you slipped out of the room, back onto the balcony, and into the night, leaving the thrill of the chase—and the tension between you—hanging in the air.

As you made your escape, you couldn’t help but glance back at Crackle, who caught your eye and winked.

“Until next time,” he murmured, his voice full of promise.

“Yeah,” you whispered back, a smile playing on your lips. “Until next time.”

⁹And somehow, you knew there would be a next time—another mission, another dance, another chance to feel the sparks fly.

[fox42o]

ACME agents don't get with a super thief challenge (impossible)

I love chief she's just trying to keep these convicted felons AWAY from her agents. 😭

[disfordevineaux]

hello!

odd request, but could you please chop this gif :

So it’s just Chase [Insert his last name which I can not spell] falling on the car. Like Jules stare at Carmen-> Chase falling-> cut

I'm so sorry this took so long but I don't actually have photoshop anymore and I had to find my original gif for this scene so I could crop it, bootleg style. Hopefully this is what you're after!

[anna368sus]

The last two where originally templates from interest so I added td characters to it:

More td memes?

[gwourtneystan]

Sooo how we feeling about this? Spidey Jules/Ladynoir doodles!! With a hint of Carulia into it

[theultimatemastermind1]

total drama ship names but they are in the (name)shipping format (reboot edition)

chase/ripper- pizzafartshipping

julia/nichelle - famousshipping

mk/julia - stolenphoneshipping (someone did this and I love it so credit to them)

axel/nichelle - actionmoviesshipping (someone also thought of this as well so credits to them)

chase/zee - orangecheeseshipping (their outfit colour scheme makes the colour orange and if you mash their names it sounds like cheese-)

priya/axel - noicehardcoreshipping.

millie/priya - braceletshipping

bowie/raj - chillglamshipping

lauren/damien - spookychemistryshipping

wayne/nichelle - snowfilmshipping

lauren/ripper - stinkyscareshipping

damien/zee - studysodashipping

emma/julia - blondecreatorshipping

julia/chase - toxicinfluencershipping

bowie/raj/wayne - rainbowshipping.

bowie/ripper - grossfashionshipping

emma/nichelle - starfrenzyshipping

caleb/priya - peakpefomershipping

julia/nichelle - glamourfameshipping

EDIT: I changed some of the names

[mau-erik]

Top 7 favorite ships.

Warning: What I'm going to say is just my opinion, don't take it the wrong way. And second warning, some images shown are not mine, but I downloaded them. If the owner of the images sees this, I apologize a million times.

Emphasizing this we begin.

1. Roundashadow

When I saw their confrontation the first thing I thought was "they look like they were a couple before or that they are fighting over Carmen" I know I don't publicize much about it but,If I had to write a story between the two it would be very long (I don't know why when I imagine a ship I imagine it a lot.)

2. Shadowsan x Carmen Sandiego

Before the Roundashadow ship I loved this one (although I still like it) I don't know what it is about these two but I feel like they fit as a couple.(I don't know, maybe it's just my strange mind) but it's a good ship (so much so that I can't sleep thinking about it)

3. Shadowsan x Lady Dokuso

I don't know what these two have but I confirm that they are a couple (I draw birds in my math notebook hehe, my obsession is so much)

4. Dr Bellum x Countess Cleo.

I don't know in all the scenes I imagine them as a couple "oh how cute" but then I realized that Dr. Bellum abandoned her in the last episode "love is over."although I firmly believe that I would have returned for Cleo. "Love continues"

5. Maelstrom x Roundabout.

Not what these two have but they are a couple or they were (the truth is that this ship has the same opinion as the first but I like the first one more, I have my reasons) but I enjoy thinking about the two of them together.

6. Shadowsan x Chase

2 middle-aged men with each their problems, yes the only thing I can say about this ship are two things , I love it yes I will write stories in my mind and I will keep them to myself for fear of criticism yes.

7. Carmen Sandiego x Julia

I don't like this ship that much but when I imagine it I automatically think about it. I don't know if I would put it higher but I like this ship, it's also very fun to think about.

Well, it has been my top 7... I'm going to do more of this, yes, I have an exam today and I might fail it because instead of concentrating on studying I thought of pure ships, yes.

Well, bye.

[smashfeelingss]

Michael Swift and Julia Houston

+ the i-see-through-your-bullshit headtilt.

[skipppppy]

They bully him relentlessly

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

Hi. If you are interested, please write about Chase/Carmen.

There are several ideas here, you can choose all, one or nothing.

1. It's been a few years since the end of season 4. Chase got into a car accident and lost his memory (he only remembers the first season of the animated series) and forgetting that Carmen is his wife. But Carmen does not despair, she spends the whole day with Chase and tries to remind him of important moments in their relationship.

2. Chase discovers Carmen in his apartment when he returned home after work in the evening. Carmen is studying his board with interest with notes about finding V.I.L.E. They talk and Carmen tells him about her past. This is after the end of season 4.

3. After a joint mission in Egypt, Chase turns out to have Carmen's phone number. Chase mostly sends questions about her, jokes, and old memes for Carmen. They begin to communicate often and Carmen's mom jokes that her daughter has a fiance.

Thank you for your request. I choose the topic number two, and I hope i didn't disappoint you.

If anyone has any idea about fanfic i would be happy to write it for you.

With love your author.

Chase Devineaux pushed open the door to his apartment, his body aching from another grueling day at Interpol. He could feel the strain of the day etched into his muscles, the relentless chase for V.I.L.E. operatives ever-present in his mind. With a sigh, he loosened his tie and tossed his keys on the counter, making a mental note to have a glass of his favorite scotch before calling it a night.But as he walked into the living room, he froze.

There, standing by the large bulletin board plastered with notes, photos, and strings connecting various V.I.L.E. agents and operations, was Carmen Sandiego. She stood confidently, her iconic red coat and fedora silhouetted against the dim light of his desk lamp. Her gloved hands were clasped behind her back as she studied his board with a keen interest.

"Carmen Sandiego," Chase said, his voice steady, hiding his surprise.

"What an unexpected… intrusion."Carmen turned around, a smirk playing on her lips. "Bonsoir, Devineaux. Nice to see you, too." Her tone was light, almost teasing. She glanced back at the board.

"You've been busy, I see."Chase's eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what game she was playing.

"How did you get in here? And what do you want?"She shrugged, a casual gesture that seemed to be her trademark.

"Getting in wasn’t too hard. You should consider upgrading your locks" She turned fully to face him, her expression becoming more serious.

"And as for what I want… I’m here to talk.""Talk?" Chase echoed, crossing his arms.

"You’ve never been one for small talk, Carmen."Carmen chuckled softly.

"No, I suppose I haven’t. But tonight is different. I’ve been thinking… about V.I.L.E., about my past, and… about my future."Chase raised an eyebrow.

"Your past? Why would you—""I wasn’t always Carmen Sandiego, the master thief," she interrupted.

"I was once a student, like anyone else, though perhaps more… impressionable." Her eyes flickered with a distant sadness, a shadow of old memories.Chase uncrossed his arms, curiosity piqued.

"Go on."Carmen took a deep breath and began to share her story. She spoke of her time at V.I.L.E. Academy, the deception, and the moment she realized she didn’t want to be what they had trained her to become. She spoke of her decision to leave, to fight back against V.I.L.E., to become someone who could right the wrongs in the world, even if it meant operating outside the law.Chase listened intently. This was a side of Carmen he had never seen before—vulnerable, introspective.

"You chose to become something different," he said slowly. "You chose your own path."

"Yes," Carmen replied softly. "But I can’t do it alone anymore. V.I.L.E. is still out there, still causing havoc. And I think… I think we might have a common goal after all.

"Chase felt a strange mix of emotions—confusion, intrigue, maybe even admiration.

"You want to work together?" he asked, almost incredulous.

"Something like that," she said with a faint smile. "At least for now. I need someone I can trust… someone who knows how they operate."Chase studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. Then, with a slow nod, he extended his hand.

"Alright, Carmen. Let’s see where this goes."Carmen shook his hand firmly, her eyes meeting his with a newfound understanding.

"Deal."As she turned to leave, Chase called after her. "Carmen… you know you’re still on Interpol’s most wanted list, right?"She glanced back, that trademark smirk reappearing.

"Then you’d better keep up, Chase." And with that, she slipped out into the night, leaving Chase alone with his thoughts—and the start of a most unexpected partnership.

[fox42o]

Chief come get your agents they are fraternising with the enemy‼️‼️‼️

Honestly it’s a bit of a toss up for me with Carmen/Ivy or Carmen/Julia but carulia holds a special place in my heart

(drew Carmen in more classic coat cause I think it looks cool)

[beatskylar]

A broken memory, is a knife to the heart. Part 3

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Who are you?” “And what are you doing here?”

Taking a deep breath in, Carmen slowly exhales as her eyes flutter open revealing that she is in a different room. The stiff bed she’s gotten used to is now gone, and as she begins to feel the tension in her back muscles, the awful bed is deeply missed. Both of her forearms, palms, and left cheek are pressed against cold metal, and as she slowly rises from her bent position, she begins to feel her muscles relax. “Never thought I would miss my bed back at the academy,” Carmen whispers as she rotates her shoulders and neck, but the crick in her neck refuses to leave, the pain and soreness a familiar sensation to her.

“Shadowsan! Shadowsan!” The young girl yells as she skips behind the master of stealth, who continues his walk to his classroom. Without verbally acknowledging her presents, the girl knows that he’s waiting and listing. His strides have become slower, a change was barely noticeable to passing by students but a clear sign for her. “Can you teach me that neck knockout thing?” Once she is close enough, she jumps to reach his neck, unable to lay a finger on her target.

“The pressure point pinch.” After another failed attempt, she stops her efforts knowing he’ll get mad if she decides to continue. Finally, after years of getting in trouble, Carmen knows how far she can push things before the faculty get angry with her. Coach Brunt, being the mama bear she is, doesn’t mind anything she does, even going out of her way to excuse the girl’s behavior as ‘Learning new skills.’ Professor Maelstrom and Dr. Bellum allowed six attempts, on their good days, before they become irritated and threaten to call the Cleaners on her. Countess Cleo gives her three tries, and on the fourth try, she forces the girl to take a ten-hour lecture on how to be a ‘Proper Lady’. Lastly, Shadowsan might allow two attempts before he starts grunting in disapproval.

“Yeah, that!” When he doesn’t utter another word, she continues before he returns to his normal pace. “Blackout betted I couldn’t knock him out and I am going to enjoy proving him wrong. At first, I thought of asking Boris and Vlad for help, but they only appear when I do something ‘wrong’ and/or ‘foolish’. Then I thought of using oil, but Professor Maelstrom banned me from the kitchen after, and I quote ‘covered the stairs leading to VILE in oil, causing Cookie Brooker and several other operatives to fall and hit their heads’… Which I am innocent of doing, I swear it was Neal the Eel, despite footage showing otherwise.”

“If I teach you, will you leave me alone?” In an instant, he completely stops in his tracks, which leads the girl to bump into his legs. A grunt escapes him, but she will not let him change his mind. Immediately she agrees to his demand, running around his legs so she is standing in front of him. “Alright. I will teach you when you wake up.”

“Wake up?” Before she could realize what he meant; the man leans down so they are at eye level as his right hand rested on her shoulder. In a swift motion, he quickly applies slight pressure to the muscles on her neck.

Lifting her right arm to massage her neck, Carmen feels it. The slight sting on her wrist as the metal cuff moves against her irritated skin. “Of course, they wouldn’t make it too easy for me, that wouldn’t be fun.” It doesn’t take her long to see the cuffs around her wrist aren’t standard police handcuffs. The metal link is longer than it should be, allowing enough room for her to stretch one arm at a time but making it difficult to fight at her fullest capability. There is no way she can pick the lock, considering she’s without any of her gadgets and there is no keyhole to even pick. In an instant, she understands that the cuffs are using a magnetic lock, and the only way she’s getting out is if she steals one of the blue coat’s keycards. No random idiot’s clearance level will work either, she’s going to need one of the bimbos that arrested her or the boss’s card.

The table Carmen is sitting at shows signs of being altered to keep her restrained. The metal bar, ensuring she remains stuck with the table, is a dark copper that stands out from the silver table. The bolts on either end of the pipe are hastily screwed into the table and pipe, the quick work leaving some space between the bar and screw head. Not a lot, but just enough for her to unscrew the screws. Running her left index finger over the end, the sharp metal begins tugging at her skin, with enough pressure and speed the pipe could cut skin.

Looking around the room, Carmen sees that she’s in a typical interrogation room. Two metal chairs on the other side of the table. One exit to her left that must be unlocked from the other side as there’s only a handle to pull the door open. Flickering lights hang above her, a slight hum the only sound she hears, as her eyes land on the two-way mirror, five feet away from her. Focusing on her reflection, Carmen leans forward being sure she moves both of her hands in front of the screws, effectively hiding them from view. As she tilts her head to the right, she discreetly tests how well the bolts are tightened. The hard part is to hide her thumb’s movements to avoid anyone on the other side of the mirror seeing what she is up to. When she feels both screws budge a little, only being able to do half a turn, Carmen knows that if she wants to escape, she first needs to remove the nuts from under the table.

There must be at least ten agents that can easily be taken care of, but Shadows will be a threat she needs to prepare for. The only thing that might stop the ex-faculty member from playing hero, is a hostage. The male agent, with the glasses, is going to put up a fight and he has already proven to have no regard for his safety or the safety of others. The female agent on the other hand barely put up a fight against Carmen, even going out of her way to tell the other agent not to hurt her.

Leaning backward till her back is pressed against the metal chair, Carmen sighs in relief. It’s going to take some doing but she’s going to be able to escape. All she needs to do is play her cards right and she’ll be walking back to VILE with the greatest price in the world, a bluecoat.

As she stares at her reflection, an image of herself without her signature red coat and fedora brings a shiver to her spine. A reminder of a time before she graduated from VILE, a reminder of a bright-eyed child that admired Shadowsan, and was attentive to every single word that came from his mouth. Carmen loathes that she tried so hard to make him proud, all those years before she even enrolled in VILE, spent trying and failing to prove herself. Everyone in the faculty had approved of her skills before she was able to walk, the only one who constantly refused to acknowledge her abilities was and still is Shadowsan. All of her accomplishments were undermined by him, whenever she bested an operative, he would state it was because she received help from Coach Brunt or she cheated.

“Black Sheep, you had better be certain that becoming a professional thief is what you truly desire, for if you choose this road there will be no turning back.”

“I want this more than anything Instructor Shadowsan, and I am willing to go to the end of the line.” As she bows to him, her posture remains firm and calm but her heart beats fast enough to fly out of her chest. She doesn’t want to show how badly she wants his approval, how even if the rest of the faculty tells her no, she’ll be ecstatic if he just for once approved. As she slowly rises in time to see the vote, her heart stops at the sight. Once again, the faculty approved of her, except Shadowsan. Her heart stops beating and falls to her feet as the ninja leaves, she wants to throw up at the feeling of being rejected again, for the millionth time.

The hiss of the metal door opening draws Carmen's eyes to the only exit as a pair walk in, one of them being the agent she tried to kill in the Ferris wheel. Neither are wearing suits, instead choosing to remain in their civilian disguises. The girl holds a single red laptop in her hands, setting it carefully on the table before taking a seat. The other agent takes a long time to sit down.

"I see you survived your little fall; I was starting to get a little worried I missed your funeral. Guess I won't need to pay my respects... yet." In an instance, both agents react to her comment, the female clenching her fist to calm down while the male agent looks away from Carmen, his eyes showing the fear of being reminded about his fall. Seeing she hit a nerve, Carmen innocently smiles at the two. As the three of them fall into silence, the girl uses the time to start up her computer while the boy stares at the oh-so-fascinating floor. Taking a small glance down, Carmen sees why the stained floors have the young agent’s attention. "Tell me, agent was your free fall the other day your first? Wasn't it exciting feeling the wind hitting you as you fell?" Carmen makes it a point to whistle a tune that starts off at a high pitch and quickly lowers, mimicking the sound effects as a cartoon character would fall.

The boy doesn’t have a great poker face, as he grimaces at her words, and she leans towards him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that the female has turned the laptop to point at Carmen, but her blue eyes focus on the male. “Just breathe bro-“

“Yes, just keep breathing, and breathing because-” Slowly moving her right hand under the table, Carmen begins the process of unscrewing the nut as she states. “I wonder how many breaths you’ll take before I take your last.” Her shell of a threat works, her eyes noticing him gulp as he leans away, almost causing him to fall onto the floor. Despite knowing she won’t be able to follow through with the threat if she wants to escape, it helps elevate Carmen’s situation. If they are going to keep her imprisoned, the least they could do is allow her to mentally break the agents.

“We might be friends, but I will not let you talk to him like that!” The female yells, slamming her left hand down next to Carmen’s. For a moment she stops unscrewing the nut as her brown eyes meet the agent’s eyes.

“We are not friends.”

“Yes, we are!” Sighing, the girl sits back and takes a deep breath before continuing. “We are more than friends, we are family-“

“Don’t make me laugh.” Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen sees the laptop turn on and she is immediately greeted by a young boy. He looks unsure as he stares at her, bags under his eyes yet he keeps them wide open. For several minutes no one says anything, no one even moves a muscle as everyone waits. Everyone is staring at her, and she hates it with a passion.

A thief isn’t supposed to be seen; she’s supposed to be like a ghost. Appear and then disappear.

“They’ve been calling you the crimson ghost, red.”

“Really? What an honor.”

Closing her eyes, Carmen forces the voices in her head out. She needs to stay focused, and she needs to get to work. Breathing in and then out, Carmen opens her eyes and begins unscrewing the nut again. Her left hand hid the bolt from the agent’s view.

“Red, do you remember me?” Carmen doesn’t reply, just letting her eyes linger on him. She has never seen him before, and she starts to wonder how long this agency has been after her. If they know anything about VILE. “My name is Player, and I’ve been- we’ve known- I’m your friend, best friend.” Her features remain still, not showing an ounce of emotion as she forces herself not to roll her eyes. No one at VILE had friends, especially the faculty. There were only the fellow thieves you could work with and the thieves you wish you could push off a cliff. And even though she got along with Crackle, Carmen still didn’t consider him a friend, because she knew if they were to ever be trapped, with law enforcement creeping in. She would throw him under the bus.

She can never be caught…. Unless it was worth it.

“I was there for your first caper when we meet Ivy and Zack,” Player stops for a minute, gesturing to the agents in the room, as they smile. It’s faint, and with one look from Carmen, Zack loses his smile as he shrinks into himself. “The four of us have been inseparable since then, and we’ve only gotten closer when Shadowsan joined us.”

A soft chuckle leaves Carmen’s mouth just as she was able to remove the nut and can feel the bolt come loose enough that she can yank it out of the table. Shifting her body to look at the young boy through the screen, she positions her left hand over the remaining bolt. Her right-hand repeats the process of removing the nut that is keeping her trapped. “You don’t say? Tell me ‘best friend’ what other grand adventures we’ve been on.” The young boy begins detailing events but with every twist of the nut, Carmen tunes him out until the nut drops in her waiting palm. Taking a deep breath, she leans her head back which makes the boy quit talking.

“Carmen?” The girl asks, but when they lock eyes, Carmen springs into action. Pulling the metal bar out, she leans back far enough to use her legs to push the metal table toward the two agents. The red-headed boy is just barely able to jump away from the table as the other agent’s back is smacked against the see-through glass and pinned there by the table. As she slowly makes her way to the terrified agent, she throws one of the nuts at the laptop screen, causing it to crack as the boy yells her name. The second nut she has makes immediate contact with the female’s forehead.

Before Carmen can get the chance to torture the agent in front of her, the door leading to her exit bursts open as more agents barge in. Looking over her shoulder she smiles as she sees Jules and the loudmouth agent are among the agents now aiming their weapons at her. “Carmen Sandiego, surrender or I will be forced to take you out,” A tall woman states in a commanding voice, and simply by her attire Carmen knows that she’s in charge. Slowly turning on her heels, Carmen raised her hands up, the metal bar being loosely held in her hand. “Drop the weapon.”

The second Carmen sees Shadowsan, she can tell that he’s able to anticipate her next move as he goes for his sword and yells. “Julia move!” Unlike in the past, this time she’s faster than her old mentor and gets to the agent in the blink of an eye. In a swift movement, Carmen is able to twist Julia’s arm behind her and press the metal bar to her neck.

As her now-captured agent yells in pain, everyone in the room takes a small step back. “Do as I say or say goodbye to Jules.” To ensure her threat is heard, Carmen pulls the bar down causing the agent’s skin to tear a little. A small cut, but enough to allow a few drops of blood out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[at1nys-blog]

Masterlist

【The Campers】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ Hungry and exhausted kids (Camp Half-Blood)

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ more to come

【The Gods】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ Thunders leaving hints

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ more to come

. *. ⋆⋆.*.

【Percy Jackson】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

【Annabeth Chase】

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【Luke Castellan】

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【Grover Underwood】

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【Clarisse La Rue】

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【Charles Beckendorf】

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【Chris Rodriquez】

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【Silena Beauregard】

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【Connor Stoll】

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【Travis Stoll】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

【Thalia Grace】

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【Bianca Di Angelo】

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【Nico Di Angelo】

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【Lee Fletcher】

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【Malcom Pace】

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【Michael Yew】

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【Alice Miyazawa】

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【Julia Feingold】

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【Ethan Nakamura】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

【Austin Lake】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

【Katie Garnder】

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【Kayla Knowles】

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【Will Solace】

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【Frank Zhang】

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【Hazel Levesque】

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【Jason Grace】

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【Leo Valdez】

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【Piper McLean】

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【Reyna Ramirez-Arellano】

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【Drew Tanaka】

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【Laurel Victor】

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【Holly Victor】

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【Cecil Markowitz】

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【Chiara Benvenuti】

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【Miranda Gardiner】

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【Zeus/Jupiter】

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【Poseidon/Neptune】

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【Hades/Pluto】

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【Persephone/Proserpina】

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【Demeter/Ceres】

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【Hestia/Vesta】

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【Hera/Juno】

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【Athena/Minerva】

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【Aphrodite/Venus】

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【Ares/Mars】

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【Hephaestus/Vulcan】

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【Apollo】

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【Artemis/Diana】

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【The Hunters of Artemis】

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【Zoë Nightshade】

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【Hermes/Mercury】

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【Dionysus/Bacchus】

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【Hecate】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

【Sally Jackson】

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.➳ nothing yet

[mercvry-glow]

Want and need (18+)

parings. andrew "pope" cody x reader

summary. you're tired of pope's staring, so this time you give him something to do about it.

warnings. this is an 18+ fic so mdni, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, possessive!pope, age gap (pope is late 30s, reader is 25), typical animal kingdom stuff, mentions of drug addiction and drinking (but nothing in depth), pope and reader have wanted each other for a long time and all hell breaks loose, I am not responsible for what you read online, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I really don't even know what to say, this was really self indulgent but also a shit ton of people asked for this. this is my first time writing smut, so please go easy on me 😭 I love y'all tho and I hope this makes those who asked for this very happy and I'd be more than willing to try for other characters too. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 4100+

You were young when you were taken into the Cody household. Barely ten or eleven, chasing the coattails of Baz, Pope, and Julia. They were older, reckless, and way more fun than Deran and Craig in your young mind. You were just a kid back then, all scraped knees and wide eyes, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. And they gave you that—chaotic, dangerous, and messy as it was.

Now, you were older. Maybe not in their eyes, not entirely. To them, you’d always be the kid who used to sneak beers from the cooler and fall asleep on the couch mid-party. But you’d grown. Twenty-five looked good on you. It felt even better.

With the kind of money Smurf funneled your way—whether out of guilt, habit, or because she saw something useful in you—you were living comfortably. Shopping trips in LA with Julia’s old taste still lingering in the back of your mind, a crisp white sports car that purred when you touched the gas, and a room in Smurf’s homethat came with a 12-foot deep pool and too much sunshine. It wasn’t just surviving anymore. You were lounging, tanning, sipping something cold, and living the dream—Cody style.

But even with all of it—the car, the clothes, the pool—you still found yourself looking for him.

Andrew.

He was the one who never really changed. Still guarded. Still intense. Still carrying every unspoken burden like it was strapped to his chest. And even after all these years, you hadn’t outgrown the way he made you feel—safe, seen, even when you didn’t want him to see everything.

Sometimes he’d come by, dropping something off for Smurf, checking on Craig or Deran through you, but his eyes always lingered a little longer when you were around. Not in a creepy way. Just… aware. Like he was always assessing, always measuring how close was too close.

But you weren’t a kid anymore.

And you were starting to wonder if he knew that too.

He was always too worried about Julia or Cath to notice the young girl that gravitated toward him more than his brothers—and that was okay, it had been okay. You weren’t supposed to be seen back then, just allowed to linger. And Pope, for all his walls and rough edges, let you. He never pushed you away, never told you to stop following him like a shadow. But he never really looked at you, either.

Then life changed—fast and hard.

Julia left, tearing a hole right through the Cody family like a storm no one saw coming. She vanished into the haze of addiction, baby in tow, and that was that. Cath and Baz fell into each other in the aftermath, and that burned too—more for Pope than he ever admitted out loud. And when Pope finally cracked under the pressure, when he went to jail after a job went bad, everything fractured. The center couldn’t hold.

Life moved on, and you along with it.

You learned not to wait for anyone. You learned how to handle yourself, how to use what the Codys gave you—protection, money, a name that opened doors and slammed others shut. You carved a place for yourself in the world they ruled. No one questioned why you were there anymore. You weren’t the kid tagging along.

You were a woman now.

And when Pope got out, when he came back into that sun-soaked chaos of a world you both knew too well, he noticed.

Really noticed.

Maybe it was the way you carried yourself now—confident, sharper, always watching like you used to—but from a different angle. Maybe it was the way you didn’t look at him like a lost, broken thing the way everyone else did. Or maybe it was just time. Maybe he finally realized you weren’t following anymore.

You were standing still. And he was the one stopping in his tracks.

"You gonna keep watching me like a creep or are you gonna come sit and talk with me?" you called out, not even turning your head, just lazily lifting your sunglasses as you lounged beside the pool.

Your bikini left little to the imagination—tiny, tied at the hips, glistening slightly from the coconut tanning oil that coated your sun-warmed skin. The scent mixed with the citrusy bite of the cocktail you’d been nursing for the past hour, the condensation from the glass dripping down your fingers as you swirled the straw.

You could feel his eyes on you before you even spoke. He always tried to be subtle, lurking in the doorway or leaning against the fence like he had any real reason to be there. But Pope was never good at hiding his intensity, not from you.

"No one else is here anyway," you added, voice lower this time, laced with something soft—an invitation, not a challenge.

You finally turned to look at him. He hadn’t moved yet, still standing a few feet away like he was weighing his options. Same old Pope. Arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like walking ten feet to a lounge chair might cost him something heavy. But there was something in his expression that wasn’t so guarded now. Something careful. Curious.

“You worried Smurf’s gonna pop out of the bushes or something?” you teased, tilting your head with a little smirk. “She doesn’t care what I do. You know that.”

He shifted his weight but didn’t answer right away, jaw flexing like he was grinding down words before they made it to his mouth. Then finally, he started walking—slow, measured, like he was still deciding if this was a mistake.

But he came anyway and sat right at your feet. 

"What's on your mind?" you asked, nudging him with your pedicured foot—painted a glossy shade of white that caught the sunlight just right. It was playful, meant to break through the stiff walls he always had up. You weren’t trying to push too hard. Just enough to remind him he didn’t have to sit there like a stone.

He didn’t flinch at the touch, just looked down at your foot resting lightly against his jean covered thigh, then back up at you with that unreadable expression he always wore. But there was something different in his eyes. Softer. Or maybe tired.

"Nothing," he muttered, eyes drifting to the water. "Just making sure you’re alright."

You rolled your eyes, “Of course I’m fine, you’re watching over me aren’t ya?”

He didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of something passed through his eyes—something just shy of a smirk. You caught it, even if he tried to bury it again just as fast.

You leaned back against the lounge, arching your back just a little as you stretched out your legs, your toes still resting against his thigh. “You always do that, you know,” you said, your voice low and smooth, laced with something warm. “Watch me like you’re trying to memorize every move, but never saying a damn thing.”

Pope’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t deny it either.

“I used to wonder if it was guilt,” you went on, your eyes locked on him now, studying his face. “Me being around… all the time. If maybe, you thought I was just another thing you had to take care of.”

His gaze finally slid from the pool back to you—slower this time. Steady. That unreadable expression giving way to something heavier.

“It wasn’t guilt,” he said. Voice rough, low enough you almost didn’t hear it over the soft splash of water from the filter nearby.

Your lips curved slightly. “No?”

He shook his head once.

Your foot pressed a little firmer against his thigh, not teasing anymore—more like claiming space, letting him feel the weight of your presence. “Then what was it, Andrew?” you asked, letting his name linger in the air between you like the taste of the rum still on your lips. 

“Why do you still look at me like that?”

Silence stretched for a moment too long. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, and Pope never needed many. He was more action than speech. Always had been.

So you sat up slowly, cocktail forgotten now, your body turned toward him as you leaned forward just enough to let your fingers brush his wrist. His skin was warm. Tense. Alive under your touch.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” you said, softly now, like it was a secret between the two of you. “You can tell me things...”

His breath hitched—so slight, but you felt it. Saw it in the way his hand twitched under yours, like he was holding himself back with every ounce of control he had.

You leaned in a little closer, close enough that he could smell the sweet coconut clinging to your skin, the soft salt of pool water in your hair. “You can touch me now, Andrew,” you whispered, barely louder than the wind rustling through the palm trees overhead. “If you want to.”

His hand moved then, slow and unsure at first, like he was afraid you might vanish if he did. But you didn’t. You stayed right there, watching him, heart pounding in your chest as his calloused fingers brushed your thigh—just a whisper of contact, but it lit a fire low in your stomach.

And he looked at you like he didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse, thick with restraint.

You nodded, smile turning sultry, sure. “Go ahead.”

And for the first time since you were a kid chasing his shadow, Pope Cody didn’t run.

The tension between you snapped like a live wire—sharp, charged, inevitable.

You shifted, slow and deliberate, rising just enough to swing one bronzed leg over his lap. His eyes followed the movement, hands clenched at his sides like he was trying to stop himself from grabbing you right then and there. But when you settled on top of him, thighs hugging his hips and your hands bracing against his chest, he didn’t move away. Didn’t even blink.

He just stared up at you, jaw tight, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling like he was caught between every wrong instinct he’d ever had—and the one that felt right.

You leaned in slowly, your lips just a breath away from his, fingers sliding up the sides of his neck, thumbs tracing his jaw. “Tell me to stop,” you whispered, though your tone dared him to.

He didn’t.

So you kissed him.

It started slow—soft, testing. But the second your mouth met his, the switch flipped. His hands gripped your hips like he’d been dying to touch you for years and finally stopped pretending he didn’t want to. You moved against him instinctively, gasping softly when he deepened the kiss, his mouth hungry and rough, like he was trying to swallow every second of the years he’d lost, every second he hadn’t let himself want this.

Your fingers twisted into his curls as you rocked against him, feeling him grow harder beneath you. His groan rumbled in his chest, low and feral, vibrating against your lips. He kissed like he fought—intensely, without hesitation, like nothing else mattered but this moment. But even now, even like this, his touch wasn’t careless.

One hand slid up your back, fingers splayed over your spine, grounding you. The other stayed planted at your waist, as if anchoring himself to you, needing you close but terrified of losing control. You could feel it in the way he held you—like he didn’t want to break you. Like part of him still saw that girl who followed him around, and the rest of him was warring with the woman now straddling him in the late afternoon sun.

You pulled back just slightly, lips swollen, eyes locked on his. “I’m not scared of you,” you breathed.

His eyes darkened. “Maybe you should be.”

You smiled. Slow. Wicked. “But I’m not.”

And then you kissed him again, deeper this time, letting your body press flush against his, the heat between you scorching, undeniable, and no longer something either of you could ignore.

A hand slipped under your bikini top, rough palm closing over one of your tits, you gasped into his mouth. His thumb brushed against your nipple, and the sharp jolt it sent through you had you rocking harder against him, your hands fisting in his shirt.

“Fuck—just take it off me,” you muttered against his lips, breathless, needy.

Pope didn’t hesitate. He tugged at the knot behind your neck, and the top came undone with a quick flick of his fingers. You didn’t even care where it landed—just felt the warm afternoon air on your bare skin and the heat of his gaze as he pulled back to look.

His eyes swept over you like a storm cloud rolling in—dark, intense, and full of want. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he rasped, voice strained as he leaned in, lips brushing the swell of your chest.

Your fingers threaded into his dark curls, nails gently scraping his scalp as he sucked a mark into your skin, his stubble rough against your soft flesh. You moaned low in your throat, head falling back as he worshiped you with his mouth, biting, licking, claiming.

“You’ve always been mine,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

You looked down at him, your body flushed and burning, heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. “Say it again,” you whispered, grinding down against the bulge in his jeans.

And in the next second, he surged up, one arm wrapping around your waist as he stood, lifting you with him like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around him instinctively, breath catching as his mouth returned to yours—urgent and possessive. He didn’t say another word as he carried you inside, but his kiss said everything. Every step was heavy with purpose. Like he’d finally given in to what he’d been fighting for years.

He pushed the sliding door open with his foot, barely breaking stride as he carried you inside, your bare chest pressed to him, his lips never straying far from yours. The house was quiet, golden sunlight spilling across the hardwood floors as you clung to him, your fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin.

By the time he made it to your bedroom, the tension had hit a fever pitch. He laid you down on the edge of the bed, standing between your thighs, eyes sweeping over your half-naked body like he couldn’t decide whether to worship you or ruin you.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, heart thudding, watching the way his hands shook slightly as he pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. The way his chest rose and fell, same as your own, like he was holding back something dangerous.

"You look like you're about to bust," you said with a teasing smirk, voice low and breathy.

“I am,” he said simply, stepping closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the edges of your bikini bottoms. “You’re driving me insane.”

“Then lose the rest,” you whispered, voice nearly a dare.

He hooked his fingers under the ties, and with one smooth tug, the last piece of fabric between you was gone. You leaned back slowly, watching his eyes drag over every inch of you, hunger and restraint warring in his expression.

Then he was back on you, like wet on water.

Mouth on yours again, harder this time, kissing you like he was drowning and you were air. His hands roamed everywhere—your waist, your hips, the inside of your thighs—like he couldn’t touch enough fast enough. And you didn’t want him to stop. You wrapped your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer, grinding against his buldge pressed between you. He was rock hard. 

Every kiss, every touch felt like years in the making—pent-up tension finally snapping in the heat of that bedroom. You moaned into his mouth, nails digging into his back as he pushed you further onto the bed, hovering over you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“Fuck—tell me you want this,” he growled against your neck, voice ragged.

“I’ve always wanted this,” you breathed, eyes locked on his. “I’ve always wanted you.”

He crashed his mouth against yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation—just raw need, years of it unraveling all at once. His weight pressed you into the mattress, solid and grounding, as if he was trying to make sure this was real. 

That you were real. 

That after all the years of watching, waiting, denying, he could finally touch you the way he’d needed to.

Your hands were everywhere—his back, his chest, tugging at the waistband of his jeans with trembling fingers until he groaned against your skin. “Jesus, kid,” he muttered, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank them off with a rough urgency, kicking them away as he settled between your legs again.

You arched up into him, your body already aching, your thighs spreading to welcome him as he hovered over you. There was a flicker of hesitation—his eyes searching yours, his thumb brushing your cheek in a moment of quiet, reverent pause.

“You sure?” he asked, voice low and gruff, but laced with something almost tender.

You reached up, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you pulled him back down to you. “Fuck me,”

That was all he needed.

He tugged on his cock a few times before sliding into you slowly, carefully, and your head fell back with a soft cry—his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. He filled you completely, a delicious stretch that had your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist.

He didn’t move right away—just held himself there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard, like he was memorizing every second. “You feel like… fuck,” he whispered. “You were made for me.”

And then he started to move.

Slow, deep thrusts that left you gasping, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your chest, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising intensity, pulling you closer every time he drove into you.

“You’ve always been mine,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing your ear. 

Your heart twisted, heat building, rising between you in waves. You met every thrust, your bodies moving in sync like they were meant to be tangled like this. And as his pace quickened, rougher now, needier, you clung to him—your body trembling, your voice breaking as the edge drew closer.

“Pope—” you gasped, barely able to get his name out before it hit you. A rush of heat, pleasure, everything blurring as your back arched as you came, orgasm tearing through you, raw and electric.

He wasn’t far behind—groaning into your neck, his rhythm faltering, then stilling as he found his own release, his entire body shuddering above you.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breath and the faint rustle of sheets. Pope didn’t move for a while—just rested there, head buried against your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you like letting go might shatter the moment. When he finally looked at you again, something had shifted. There was no going back.

His grip on your waist tightened as he thrust deeper again, rougher now—no more holding back. His mouth was at your throat, breathing you in like he needed your scent to stay sane, his teeth grazing your skin as he growled, “You don’t know how long I’ve fucking waited for this.”

You moaned, your fingers tangled in his hair as you clung to him, legs locked tight around his hips once again. “Fuck-ddon’t stop,” you whispered. “Show me.”

That snapped something loose in him.

“You want me to show you?” he rasped, voice thick with hunger. “You think I can be gentle with you now? After all these years, watching you walk around in those little shorts, laughing like you didn’t know what you were doing to me?”

His hand slid up your body, wrapping lightly around your throat, thumb resting on your jaw as he looked down at you, eyes blazing. “This body’s mine now. Say it.”

Your lips parted, breath hitched, your voice shaky, “It’s yours- fuck! All yours,”

“Damn right it is,” he grunted, thrusting into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, his other hand gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist. “You’ve always been mine, I knew I’d take you like this.”

You cried out, body burning under his every touch, the filth of his words twisting deliciously in your stomach.

“You like that?” he growled against your ear, biting your lobe before sucking it. “You like me talkin’ to you like this? Fuckin’ you like you were made for it?”

“Y-Yes—God, yes—Pope,” you gasped, head swimming as he hit deeper, angling his hips just right to make your toes curl.

“I don’t want anyone else lookin’ at you like this,” he snarled. “No more showing off at that pool like you’re just some pretty slut.”

“Wh-why? You jealous?” you teased, barely able to keep your voice steady as your back arched into him.

He bit down on your shoulder—not enough to break skin, just to mark you. “I own you.”

With that, he flipped you onto your stomach in one rough motion, dragging your hips back until you were up on your knees, face pressed into the sheets. You gasped, the new angle hitting something brutal, perfect, as he thrust back in with a groan.

“This is mine,” he growled, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard you knew it’d bruise. “You’re mine.”

The way he said it—like a promise, like a warning—you believed every word.

“Fuck- I get it—Oh my god!” you gasped as he tugged on your hair, hips barely able to meet his harsh pace. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans out, bucking even harder as he fucks you with intent. You pant, eyes fluttering as he continues his brutal rhythm that’s hard enough to shake the bed frame. 

You’re not even in your own body anymore, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. The once lavender scent of your room, now replaced with sex and what lingured of Pope’s cologne. 

He slides a hand down between the two of you, thick fingers catching on your clit as he rubs in tight circles bringing you closer to your next orgasm. 

“I- fuck Andrew… I’m- I can’t!” you moan into the bed, fists wrapped in the sheets like your grip will somehow alleviate the growing feeling in your stomach. 

“Cum for me baby, I want to feel you.” he head dips to your shoulder blades, kissing down your back as he eases you to the brink once again. 

It’s a white hot feeling as it rips through you, but Pope doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, pulling back just enough only to slam back into you one last time. 

He tenses, body stiff as he gives you a few more sloppy thrusts as he cums inside you—thick, hot, and everything you want as he pulls and lays beside you taking a few deep breaths. 

You can feel him dripping out of you, but you don’t care. Too spent, you take your time before turning to look at him. Pope’s curls are a mess, though you’re sure your own hair isn’t much better. 

It’s silent for a while.

 you’re cuddled up to him, tracing little shapes on his chest with his arm thrown around you. It keeps you close to him, like maybe you’ll disappear if he’s not touching you in some way. 

“Why’d you let me do that?” His voice is soft and gravely, but genuine all the same. 

“Believe it or not, I’ve wanted you to do that forever…” you give him a small smile, still tracing your little shapes into his freckled skin. 

He sighs, something deep and heavy laced in it. “I’m not good for you,” he mutters. 

“I think I can decide that for myself,” you shift your head to look up at him, deep hazel eyes meeting your own. 

His lips capture yours in a kiss, something softer than earlier but the meaning is still the same. 

You're his, and honestly you don’t really mind it. 

mercvry-glow 2025

[vin-taege]

slasher summer (m)

Summary: erik gets more than a little excited because of your couple costume for a summer-ween party.

Genre: pwp! smut

Pairing: Erik Campbell x f!reader

Words: 4.9k

CW: Knife play (not a real knife!), mirror sex, face sitting, roleplay (kinda?), very brief panty kink (erik is a freak), gagging, light slapping, degradation

Note: 0% proofread, 100% self-indulgent

It was game over for Erik the second you walked out of the bathroom.

A major thing that you both bonded over was your love for horror films, especially with slashers. There’s just something so fun about watching a group of teenagers getting picked off one by one. Not to mention, how hot some of the killers are. This fixation of yours was something Erik loved to tease you about—not that you were ashamed.

There’s something weirdly sexy about a big, strong man in a mask chasing you. And when he catches you, he pins you against the wall, and sticks something inside you? Verbatim, you’ve explained this to Erik time and time again, only to be met with a soft snort—and at times, followed by rough sex.

This time, Julia and a bunch of her high school friends held a mini-reunion, which was mixed with a Summerween celebration. For the first time in your relationship, you have never seen Erik get so excited over a reunion of any kind. He immediately agreed to putting on a couple costume with you—but of course, done in a way special to only the two of you.

So here he was now, sitting on the foot of your bed, starting to sweat a little under the shimmery, black fabric of the Ghostface robe. He passed the plastic knife from gloved hand to gloved hand while he waited for you to finish your makeup. The mask was lying next to him, ready to be used for the night.

Just as he was about to get up to check on you, the bathroom door opened. You walked out, adding an extra sway to your hips. Subconsciously, Erik licked his lips. The white sweater hugged your figure, tucked under light, baggy jeans. The bob wig was a bit silly, so you made the executive decision to ditch it. You held the cardboard phone up and pressed it against your ear.

“Oh, Mr. Ghostface, the star of your movie is here,” you sing-songed. You walked towards Erik, yelping as he pulled you into his lap. His eyes roamed your body, briefly stopping at the dip of your v-neck, just above the swell of your breasts. You whispered, “Someone likes the costume.”

“As if you don’t like mine.”

He pressed his lips against yours, slowly, deeply. He coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, letting it dance against yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer. His hand wandered to your chest, kneading your breast over the fabric of the top.

“Erik,” you murmured, trying to pull away. His lips chased yours, continuing to kiss you between words. “We’ll be late.”

“What if we just don’t come?” He pulled away to smirk at you, only to be met with the usual response of you rolling your eyes. He pouted, leaning back into your neck. Finding your sweet spot, he went back to kissing you. This time they came hot and heavy.

You moaned softly as he marked you, alternating between nibbling and licking your skin. When he was satisfied, he sat back, admiring his work. Right under your jaw was a pretty little bruise. You could only hope that the strobe lights and alcohol could mask it.

“Happy?” You furrowed your brows, pretending to be angry, though far from it.

He chuckled, his laugh low and beautiful. “You’d really rather be at that party instead of letting me fuck your brains out?”

“I promised Jules I’d go. She put a lot of effort into planning this, okay?” You ruffled his hair, already getting up. “And Bobby kept talking about how excited he was to show us his costume.”

“He goes as ‘human Lightning McQueen’ every year! You’ve seen this before.” Erik groaned, dramatically plopping back onto the bed.

You giggled at his antics. “We’ll stay for only 30 minutes, and I swear we can book it.”

Just like that, Erik reanimated back to life, a pleased smile on his face. He hurriedly fitted the mask back over his head. Standing next to you in the mirror, he patiently waited as you reapplied your lip gloss.

“Smile for me, gorgeous.” His phone clicked, followed by a flash.

────୨ৎ────

Erik has been eyeing you like prey for the past ten minutes. There you sat, amidst a sea of Bobby’s football friends and Julia’s sorority sisters. True enough, Bobby was chugging a pint of Hice Pale Ale, ignorant of the liquid spilling into his shiny, red, racer jacket. The yellow “95” gleamed across his back. Beneath it, someone had taped some notebook paper with the word “kachow!” on it.

The last time you saw Julia was when she greeted you at the doorway. You almost didn’t recognize her with the red wig. Fake vines wrapped around her limbs, little leaves jutting out of them. They all connected to the back of her green dress, the hem distressed to look like foliage.

“Poison Ivy?” you grinned at her. Her eyes lit up. She hummed in approval, twirling around for you. When she spun back, she took one look at your couple costume and snorted.

“Woah, you guys really are freaky.” She pretended not to notice the hickey on underneath your jaw.

Since then, she’s been whisked away into the backyard. You could barely hear the trampoline springs over the booming music, making you feel as if the whole house was jumping along. Beside you, Stefani was telling you about her latest college troubles. You would’ve taken her more seriously if she weren’t dressed as a Disney-bound version of Mirabel Madrigal. She lost you two topics ago, when you caught Erik basically undressing you with his eyes from his side of the room. Not that you could see his blue irises—of course he kept the mask on.

There he was, your Ghostface. A constant reminder of your 30-minute deadline. He was so focused that he didn’t even drink. You tilted your head, biting your lip as Erik followed suit. He lifted a gloved hand, making a call sign against his ear. You brought your attention to your phone.

Nothing.

You raised your head to look back at him, only to find that he was gone. Glancing around the room, you tried looking for the bright, plastic mask. Still no Erik.

“Hey, you okay?” Stefani asked, looking around with you.

“Yeah, sorry. I just thought I saw Erik just a second ago.”

Right then, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up. You held the caller screen up apologetically to Stefani. She waved you off, promising to get coffee with you the next day.

You side-stepped between bodies in various outfits, sighing in relief once you stepped out the front door. The music was fainter out in their porch, the air fresher. You took a deep breath of it before answering.

“Enjoying the party?”

Almost immediately, you scanned your surroundings. Save for a few costumed smokers, no one else was outside. You looked up at the windows looming over you, all of them blocked by curtains or blinds.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over finding me.” You could almost see Erik’s smirk deepen.

“What, you aren’t even gonna say the line?” you bit back sweetly.

“I already know what your favorite scary movie is,” he paused. “Just like how I already know that you’re out on the porch with wet panties. You thought I couldn’t see you rubbing your thighs together the entire time on the couch?”

Your breath hitched. Swallowing thickly, you heard him laugh. “You sure it’s not just the mask making your eyesight shitty?”

“You better fix your tone before I fix it for you.”

“Yeah? And how are you gonna do that when you aren’t even here?” You bit your lip nervously. It wasn’t beyond Erik to find a good, quiet spot out in the open and take you right there. Honestly, his primal need for you never failed to turn you on.

“That’s up to you to figure out, princess. I want to play a little game with you.”

“Wrong movie, smartass.”

“You mouthing off at me?” He chuckled as you stayed quiet, already slipping into subspace. You wanted to whine at him, to beg him to just take you home and fuck your brains out like he promised. But you also still had your pride, and if he wanted to prolong the chase, then damnit, you’ll give it to him before your ego takes a blow. “That’s more like it. What a good girl.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you know the game, ‘hot and cold’?” You perked up. The fucker was going to make you find him.

You took a tentative step towards the road. Erik, his eyes never leaving you from wherever he was, automatically responded. “Cold. Freezing, actually. You learn fast, smart girl.”

Turning around, you slipped back into the house, straining to hear him over all the noise. “Warm.”

You made your way to the kitchen, carefully surveying the packed crowd for even a glimpse of him. You felt eyes boring into the back of your neck. Before Erik could speak, you already knew he wasn’t there. Instead, you followed your gut, pointing you to the staircase.

Maneuvering around college kids passed out on the steps, you finally reached the second floor. The music was still going strong, but you could hear Erik clearly this time. Your eyes roamed across all the doors, some of them left ajar, others shut.

“Warmer.”

One by one, you peeked into each room. Before you could even fully step into one, Erik would already steer you away with an “uh-uh” or an even more annoying “cold, lukewarm.” Finally, you’ve exhausted all other options aside from the last door to the left. Without even looking inside, you already knew that it was Erik’s room, your backup hangout spot ever since he moved in with you.

The door was slightly opened, moonlight seeping into the floorboards as it strained against the sheer curtains. So that was how he could see you before.

“You’re on fire.” His voice was lower, dangerously quiet.

You pushed the door open with a creak. The room looked ordinarily chaotic, yet empty. A mountain of CDs was piled over his desk, next to the spot where he used to keep his PC. His sheets were a mess, a deep, blood red and crumpled. A single sock and a hoodie spilled from his tipped-over laundry bin. Laying neatly in the middle of the bed was the Ghostface mask.

Fully inside now, you shut the door softly behind you. At this point, Erik has fully succeeded in messing with you. You were horny, and now, a bit freaked out and spooked. The light still hasn’t been turned on. Your eyes were just starting to adjust to the darkness, the furniture farther away from you looking like dark splotches bleeding into his bedroom walls.

“Erik!” you whisper-shouted. You rolled your eyes, walking to the foot of his bed. All the noise from the party downstairs was muffled. It almost felt like you were in a separate place, an isolated reality where you lived out the character you dressed up as. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t catch how the closet door slowly opened. Instead, you were glancing at the ceiling, calling out to him mockingly. “Oh, Mr. Ghostface, please don’t kill me! I want to be in the sequel!”

A clothed hand wrapped around your mouth, stifling the scream from your throat. The tip of a plastic knife pressed against your stomach, forcing you back into the masked man’s body. Something hard pressed against your ass, rutting teasingly against you.

“Finally found me, princess,” Erik drawled out.

Your heart hammered against your chest. Blood rushed to your ears, adrenaline fuelling you. You thrashed around in his grasp, fully playing into your role. His grip on you tightened, pushing you until you were pressed against the wall mirror.

“You almost gave me a heart attack, you asshole,” you whined as soon as he took his hand off your mouth. You grinded your ass into you, making him let out a groan.

“Shut up and hold this for me.” He pressed the knife handle sideways against your mouth. Like a brat, you pressed your lips together tightly. Sighing at your antics, he drew a hand back and slapped your ass. When you yelped, he quickly slotted the knife handle in between your teeth. “There we fuckin’ go. Didn’t have to be so difficult.”

Sloppy kisses trailed down your neck. Erik took his time going over the marks he had already made, making a show of holding your gaze through the mirror as he sucked and bit on the little unmarked skin you had left. He pinned your hips against the glass, bucking into your jeans. You swore you were leaking into the denim.

“Did you have fun playing? I still need to give you a prize. Still need to stick something inside you. Isn’t that what you always wanted?” He softened his voice condescendingly.

He let go of your hips, hands travelling up your stomach. His fingers caught on the fabric of your shirt, lifting it teasingly, before settling on the neckline. You saw his knuckles tighten, your eyes widening as you shook your head in protest. Smirking at you, Erik ripped your shirt down the divot of the v-neck. He pulled the tattered fabric under your breasts, bunching it alongside your bra. You shivered as your nipples pressed against the cool glass.

Erik didn’t waste any time. His large hands enveloped your breasts, offering warmth as he kneaded the flesh. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, lightly tugging at them. Gritting your teeth, you threw your head back, letting it fall against his shoulder. The additional friction from the leather gloves made your head swim. He cooed, gently prying the knife from your mouth. Strings of saliva fell from it, dribbling down your cheeks and throat.

“You look so good like this, princess,” he whispered into your ear.

He pressed the tip of the knife into your sternum, putting just enough pressure for it to leave a red mark, but not to actually hurt. You brought your head back down, looking at your position. Erik stood behind you, still fully clothed—save for the mask. And you, on the opposite end of the spectrum, looked spent even before you had properly begun.

Your hair was a mess, stray strands sticking to your cheeks with a mix of sweat and spit. Red lovebites littered the sides of your neck, some of them only deepening in color. What used to be your thin sweater was now a mess of fabric crumpled under your breasts, almost as if framing them. You were panting hard.

On the valley between your breasts, Erik ran the knife up and down. He pressed the flat side onto one tit, slowly scraping it until the tip was digging lightly into your nipple. You moaned, steadying yourself against the mirror. “What are you gonna do to me, you psycho?”

Erik chuckled darkly, withdrawing the knife from you. He turned his attention to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and unzipping. He yanked them down your legs, letting you shift from one foot to another so you could kick them away. With his free hand, he held you by the throat, dragging you with him as he walked backwards. Hitting the foot of the bed, he pulled you into his lap.

Tucking the knife into the waistband of your panties, he pried your thighs open. You breathed heavily, staring at yourself in the mirror. Reaching around you, Erik rubbed your slit through the ruined fabric.

“I’m gonna have some more fun with you. I wouldn’t want to waste something as precious as this.” He brought his fingers up to your face, pressing them together and separating them, a string of your wetness connecting the digits together. “You’re a sick little whore for enjoying this, aren’t you? Getting wrecked up here while your friends don’t know any better.”

“I-I’m not,” you protested weakly, shuddering when he circled his fingers around your clit. Subconsciously, you arched your back, chasing after his touch. He added pressure, listening in bliss as whines and moans spilled out of your mouth.

“Yeah, you’re not what? Enjoying this, or a slut? Can’t make your mind up when you’re too busy gushing through your panties, huh?” With his other hand, he unsheathed the knife from your panties, pressing the dull blade against your neck. His ministrations grew faster, coiling the rope in your stomach tighter. He growled into your ear, “Look at yourself when I ruin you.”

As soon as you tilted your head towards the mirror, you came undone. Erik rubbed you off, slowly down as you rode out your orgasm. Mentally, you thanked the loud music, clouding the animalistic shriek you just let out.

Limbs turned to jelly, you collapsed back into Erik’s chest. He set the knife aside, slipping both fingers into the waistband of your panties. With your remaining strength, you lifted your hips, letting him peel the ruined fabric off you. You watched, entranced, as he uncovered your wet core. Slick coated the sides of your thighs, dripping down into the curve of your ass.

Erik held your panties in his fist, closing his eyes as he took a whiff. “Jesus, I’d get drunk on that.”

“Fucking freak,” you muttered teasingly, grinning at him.

“What the fuck was that?” He raised an eyebrow. He cut you off with a sharp smack to your cunt. Though not painful, the contact made you jolt in surprise. He then cupped a hand over your heat, soothing you. “Color?”

“Green.”

He lifted you off, stretching your legs as he placed you gently on the bed. You waited patiently as he kicked his boots off, lying down so that the top of his head was pointing towards the mirror. He brought his hands up, gesturing for you to come to him. “Take a seat on your throne, princess.”

You chuckled, scrambling to get on top of him. As you slung a leg over his chest, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You lifted your hips, admiring the sight of Erik’s face between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs, guiding your pussy to his mouth.

“Can you breathe?” You checked on him.

“Don't need to,” he grinned lazily. You rolled your eyes, slowly dropping your weight until you felt his tongue part your folds. You slotted perfectly on him, his gorgeous nose brushing against your clit.

“Fuck yeah,” you hissed, feeling him lick up your slit. His lips suckled your clit, alternsting between kissing and licking.

You whimpered, rolling your hips in time with each flick of his tongue. Steadying youself, you leaned back, planting your arms on the top of his thighs. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched yourself ride his face.

The feeling was addicting, and the noises were pure filth. Erik didn't shy away from moaning in contentment—the act of eating you out was already so sacred to him. He was loud, messy. Nothing turned him on more than to slowly become lightheaded from being smothered by your pretty pussy.

His grip on you tightened, and you thought it was a sign for you to give him some air. So, like a good girlfriend, you moved to lift your hips up. Almot immediately, Erik clamped down your thighs, digging his fingers into your flesh. He lifted his head up, chasing after your dripping cunt.

“Get the fuck back on me,” he growled, eyes dripping with want, pupils blown out the point where there were only blue slivers around it.

You wanted to laugh at his eagerness, but it was cut off by a moan. You relaxed your thighs again, wholly presenting yourself to him. He focused on your clit, licks getting slobbier. He sucked loudly, smacking his lips as he devoured you.

It felt so good you had started to tear up. The feeling of his tongue on the bundle of nerves consumed all of your thoughts. As your moans got more high-pitched, you shifted, leaning forward so he had better access to your clit. You knotted your fingers into his hair, bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt.

“F-fuck, it's so fucking good baby. So close. ‘M close, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, I'm gonna cum—!”

You threw your head back, tears leaking as you screwed your eyes shut. Beneath you, Erik kept a firm hold on your thighs, refusing to let you off. Your body shook as you came hard, mind going black for a few seconds until you've reached the end of the high.

Clumsily, you rolled off him when he finally loosened his grip. You collapsed next to him, chest moving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. Beside you, Erik took a few gulps of air before sitting up as if he wasn't inches away from passing out just a few seconds ago.

“What's with the stupid look on your face?” You tried to sass him, though it came out pathetically in between breaths.

He scoffed, smile only growing wider. He made a show of licking his lips. Your cheeks heated up when the moonlight hit his face, revealing the aftermath. Slick coated his mouth, dribbling across his cheeks and down neck. The tip of his nose glistened, equally covered in your juices.

He draped himself over you, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. His lips moved slowly against yours, tongue slipping sensually into your mouth. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on him.

“You still alive or are you tapping out, final girl?” He asked when he pulled away. His words were playful, but you could hear the worry in his gentle voice.

“Drew Barrymore was the first ever kill in the franchise, you poser.”

He snorted at your monotoned delivery. You quirked your lip, offering a small smile. Your eyes landed on his crotch, a prominent tent poking into your thighs.

“I remember talk of sticking something inside me?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Oh princess, that was a promise.”

As if flipping a switch, Erik's eyes darkened. He hitched up the thin robe, unbuckling his belt and slipping it out of his belt loops. He wrapped it in between both hands, tugging harshly to make it snap. You rubbed your thighs expectantly, doe-eyed as he took both of your wrists and brought them above your head, tying them together.

He sighed in relief when he finally freed himself. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, pre-cum dripping from the red tip. It curved towards his stomach, a vein wrapping around his thick shaft. The metal ball of his prince albert glinted invitingly.

Erik fisted himself slowly, looking down at you like a present he can't wait to tear into. His gaze started at your mascara-streaked face. It crawled down to your tits, chest heaving in anticipation. Finally, it settled on your pussy, the oasis in between your legs. He's gotten you so wet that a damp patch had started to form in the covers.

“Why don't you take a picture, it will last longer,” you huffed impatiently. His eyes snapped back to yours, a dangerous glint in them. You swallowed thickly.

He looked pissed. Pissed in a way that got your thighs rubbing and your throat dry.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, then looked around, as if trying to find something. You caught the way his eyes lit up when he finally saw it. He repositioned his hand so he was holding your jaw. Squeezing down, he forced your mouth open, quickly stuffing your ruined panties in.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” he mimicked you. He grasped the base of his dick, slapping it twice on your clit. “I'm not taking your shit anymore, princess.”

“That fucking mouth,” he punctuated each word with a light slap to your cheek. “—is a punishment waiting to happen.”

Suddenly, in one move, he buried himself into you. A muffled scream tore its way out your throat, the sudden intrusion becoming a mix of pleasure and pain. You blinked back tears, wriggling your hips away.

“Yeah? That hurt, princess? Little slut gonna cry?” He goaded, bringing his hips back only to thrust into you again. You mewled, seeing stars as the tip of his piercing brushed your cervix. “Not so fucking smart now, huh?”

He continued to fuck you like that, slow and deep. Each time he snapped his hips, he hit the delicious spot that made your brain short-circuit. You gasped out, shuddering breaths barely making it through the balled up cloth.

Everything felt too much, yet too little. He had hooked his arms under your shoulders, hands pressed flat against the top of your head. Erik used you to push himself deeper, pulling you towards him whenever he sheathed himself in you. You were leaking from both ends, tears streaming from pleasure as your pussy gushed and clenched around his thick cock.

“Fuck, you take me so well. Look at this greedy hole, so fucking eager to get filled with cock,” he flicked your clit, which was still sensitive from the earlier round. You cried out, arching out of the mattress. “All bark, no bite. What's wrong, huh? Out of words?”

“Fuck you,” you wanted to scream out. It came out disjointed, more like an “uck ou” intermixing with a prolonged “aah!” when he hit your g-spot again. He widened his eyes in mock sympathy.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is it too much for your pretty head? Fucking you dumb aren't I?”

He pulled out and—in contrast to his harsh words—gently rolled you onto your stomach. Caging you with an arm on either side, he re-entered easily from all the slick you've made. His scent, alcohol and menthol, his moans, his leather, his hair trickling into your own as he bowed his head—everything about him took over you.

No other thoughts, your eyes glazed over, arms dangling off the footboard, wrists marked by the belt—Erik shifted gears and pistoned in and out of you like his life depended on it. You could already feel another orgasm building up in your lower belly. Your walls clenched around him, toes curling as he abused that fucking spot that made you see stars.

“Look,” he rasped, breath stuttering. Using a hand, he pulled your hair back, tilting your head up. You whined, locking eyes with your wrecked reflection. The girl in the mirror barely resembled you anymore, eyes unfocused, neck in shades of red, face coated in spit and sweat and tears—so much tears from how good it all felt. It spurred you more, moans growing high-pitched.

“I know, I know,” Erik cooed. “Gonna cum? Cream all over my cock, princess, go ahead.”

He sped up, the room filling with loud sounds of skin slapping against skin. Your orgasm washed over you like a rolling tide. Your legs shook, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you bit down hard on your panties. Meanwhile, Erik thrusted shallowly a few more times before burying himself to the hilt. His chin laid against your shoulder, hot breath heavy on you when he let out a long groan.

Ropes of his cum spurted against your walls, filling you with warmth. Sweat dripped from his fringe, dropping to intermix with the light sheen on your shoulder blade. His weight pinned you to the bed, an almost comforting feeling as you both stilled—spent.

Sluggish, he reached into your lips, pulling your panties out and chucking them into the oblivion that was his room. You sighed in relief, opening your jaw a few times to get the ache out. Next, he fumbled with his belt, eventually getting it loose. It fell to the floor with a small, metallic thud.

You panted into the sheets, dizzy as you came down from the high. You were too out of it to recognize him sitting back up, nor the quiet ruffling of sheets. Erik grabbed the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling your head back. You barely registered seeing yourself in his phone camera—eyes glossy, lips and chin slicked with spit. Erik loomed behind you, equally a mess but doubly cocky. He fixed the mask back over his head before feeling around for his phone. When he found it, he bit the tip of the glove on his free hand, dragging it off. He stretched his arm past you, angling the device so you were both on screen.

“Smile for me, gorgeous,” he echoed, snapping a picture.

────୨ৎ────

It was reaching 3 a.m. when you finished. You vaguely remembered the feeling of a damp cloth wiping in between your legs, followed by a fluffy towel. You were still incoherent when Erik had carried you over to Bobby's room, now fitted with his oversized shirt and boxers.

“Not your room,” you had mumbled into his shoulder. Your voice was rough, the result of screaming your lungs out and a dry mouth.

“I know, baby, but I'm not letting you sleep on sticky sheets.” He disappeared downstairs to a mellowing party, and came back with a glass of water. He was still wearing his sweat-soaked costume.

After making you drink water, he quickly changed into new clothes and laid down next to you. You shuffled around, letting him place an arm under your head as you faced him to cuddle.

“I think I passed out,” you whispered. You could feel his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“I might have, too.” He threaded his fingers through your hair, attempting to untangle the knots. “You okay?”

“Won't be walking well for a week, but so worth it,” you grinned lazily. “You ruined my costume though.”

“I'll buy you a new one. Or we can go as someone else next time?”

You hummed in consideration. “Pearl and the projectionist?”

“You know the way to my heart.”