#poltergeist x reader

[bunnis-monsters]

Haunted

Male!Yandere Poltergeist x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 13th

Oct 12

Oct 14

summary: when you’re dared to go to a haunted house, you bring something inhuman back with you.

warnings: dubcon, somno, breeding, belly bulge, pregnancy

A/N: this is a 6k word commission!!

When your friends dared you to check out a haunted house, of course you accepted. You were never one to turn down a dare, even if you were afraid.

Tying back your hair, you made sure you packed your flashlight and water before tying your shoes and heading out.

It had been rainy recently. Puddles littered the ground, and the sky was a sad gray. The news reporter mentioned a thunderstorm that night… but you shrugged it off.

‘I’ll be home before then, everything is going to be okay. As long as I make it out before 8 pm, I can be back at my apartment before it’s too stormy to walk home safely.’

In the past few years, you had taken an interest in the paranormal, occasionally visiting haunted hot spots and taking a look. Your friends said they found it creepy and dangerous, but now they were daring you to go check out an abandoned building… maybe they were changing their minds?

You stopped as the sidewalk ended and wild grass began. It seemed no one cleaned and maintained the sidewalk past this point, allowing the grass to become overgrown.

‘That’s inconvenient. Hope I don’t slip…’

Taking careful steps, you wandered further down the road, making sure to be aware of your surroundings. You weren’t exactly in a great part of town, there had even recently been a robbery in a neighborhood nearby.

But from what you heard from your friends, most people steered clear of the haunted house, fearing that they would be cursed if they stepped in.

You, however, were far from afraid. In fact, you were super excited to see if the rumors were true! Of course you were a bit nervous, but it paled in comparison to your excitement.

The abandoned house before you was two stories high, with large windows covered in boards that had been nailed in after a few break-ins.

You could tell the house had been white at some point in time, but now it was almost a grayish yellow, the paint chipping away to reveal the wood underneath.

The porch had a few holes which you attempted to avoid, but yelped when you stepped on a weak floorboard and fell through.

Thankfully you were able to pull your foot out of the toe easily with only a few scratches on your ankle.

As you walked in, the smell of decay and rot hit your nose, making you cover it with your sleeve. The house had been abandoned for years now, and if you hadn’t known, you’d think it had never been lived in at all.

Perhaps items had been stolen, or maybe nothing had ever been there in teb first place, because the house was bare. No furniture or personal items besides a few chairs and tables on the first floor… there aren’t even any appliances in the kitchen.

“I guess even the oven was taken.”

You glanced around the kitchen, noticing a space meant for an oven, but lacking one. “I wonder if it’s different upstairs…”

Climbing up the steps wasn’t easy, and you feared you would fall with each step you climbed. Your foot even fell through one, nearly knocking you off balance!

“Crap! Agh… maybe I shouldn’t go upstairs…”

But… you had to. You weren’t sure why, but something was drawing you upstairs, beckoning you to explore…

When you finally reached the top of the staircase, you sighed in relief. At least the flooding looked stable enough, no holes and the boards weren’t too creaky…

There were three doors to explore, and you decided to look into the closest one first.

The door was plain white, and upon opening it you were met with a pretty basic bedroom. A bed and a dresser, with a broken lamp sitting on a nightstand.

The next room was mostly empty, only a bare bed with a few leaves that flew in from the broken window.

The last room wasn’t easy to get into. You struggled with the doorknob for a moment, then broke it. That allowed you to get in, but you did feel bad breaking something without a good reason.

Walking into the room, the first thing you noticed was how clean it was.

There wasn’t a spec of dust on the bed or nightstand, as if someone had been keeping everything meticulously clean. This was a stark contrast to the other dirty, disheveled rooms covered in dust and debris that was common for a long since abandoned house.

You tread lightly, knowing that upper floors in old houses like these could sometimes be dangerous. The wood could have rotted, or maybe termites chewed through and created thin spots in the floor.

A shimmer out of the corner of your eye made you turn. On the nightstand was a silver locket, shining I’m the evening sun.

“Oh wow, is that real silver?”

You picked it up, turning it in the light to get a good look at it. It seemed to be well taken care of, but it was jammed shut. Despite you trying to open it multiple times, you couldn’t seem to.

Suddenly it felt… strangely warm, and had a slight tremble to it. The locket almost felt like it was.. pulsating…

You felt a strange urge to take it with you…

“Well… no one has lived here for years. It… shouldn’t matter if I take it home.”

After tucking it away in your pocket, you made it downstairs and got ready to leave.

For a moment you considered staying longer and exploring the basement and backyard, but suddenly your thigh felt like it was burning!

You yelped, running outside and reaching into your pocket. The second you were outside of the house, the burning feeling was gone.

Had the locket suddenly become hot or were you just imagining things?

Regardless, you decided that going home was for the best. It was getting late after all, and you weren’t a fan of being outside when it got dark out.

As it started to sprinkle lightly right as you got home, you were grateful you left when you did. You might have been trapped in that old house for the night if you had explored any further.

A strange thought came to your head just then. Did… the locket know it was going to rain?

‘That’s ridiculous…’ you thought to yourself as you changed out of your damp clothes, looking at the locket while you turned on the shower.

‘It’s just a necklace…’

You stepped in, letting the water wash over your body and warm you up. It felt nice, after exploring such an old and dusty house to get all clean and watch the dirt wash away.

You placed a hand over your soft belly, rubbing the soap inyo your skin. “Mmm…”

The shower was relaxing for a bit, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when you caught something in your peripheral vision.

There was a tall, dark figure standing behind the shower curtain, seemingly… facing away from you?

You quickly pulled back the curtain, holding a shampoo bottle as a weapon… but no one was there.

‘�� maybe I’ve been watching too many horror movies. Going to that old house has me feeling anxious.”

You wrapped a towel around your body, trying to ignore the horrible feeling in your gut. It was like your body was screaming at you that someone was there and you were being watched.

‘I’ll feel better after I eat something. I’ll watch a comedy movie, that should calm me down at least a little bit.’

Once the TV was on, the towel wrapped around your body dropped to the floor, leaving you completely bare.

Before you could get dressed, you felt like there were eyes on you again. It made you feel self conscious, like you were being stared at without your knowledge.

You hurriedly ran to your closet, throwing on a pair of panties and an oversized shirt to cover yourself.

“H-hello? Is anyone there? I… can feel you staring at me…”

There was no answer, just the sound of thunder outside. You felt stupid, it was probably just the paranoia from being in that stupid abandoned house still making you think someone was watching you!

‘This is stupid…’

You huffed, settling into your bed and watching some TV. There was no one in your home, you were completely safe and that was that!

At least… that’s what you kept telling yourself. Even as you finally relaxed a bit and got ready for bed, you still felt an aching sensation in your gut telling you something was wrong, that you had brought some kind of curse of demon home with you from that abandoned house.

But even so, you were too tired to make a fuss and decided to go to bed. It was late and you needed sleep for the class you had tomorrow! You didn’t want to be late again…

You drifted off, clutching your pillow as the locket on your nightstand shone in the moonlight. It was the last thing you saw before you fell asleep.

When you awoke in the middle of the night, something felt wrong. It was nighttime so it was normal for it to be dark… but usually at least a bit of moonlight shone through your sheer curtains.

But as you glanced around your room with your groggy eyes, you could barely make out your furniture in the overbearing darkness…

You were so confused with how dark it was that you didn’t even notice the figure staring down at you until you laid back down.

“Ah-!”

Your mouth was covered, and you shook in fear as your body was paralyzed with fear. All you could do was tremble and stare up into the… handsome face of a dark haired man.

“Don’t scream. Not here to hurt you…” he murmured, holding a finger to his lips.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up all of a sudden… it’s dangerous for a girl to be living on her own, you know? But don’t worry…”

He moved his hand from your mouth to your hair, ruffling it. “Your big brother is looking out for you.”

You watched on in shock as he placed the locket in your hand, then slowly faded away. That man… he just disappeared? What!?

It wasn’t easy going back to sleep, but you were beyond exhausted and had a class in the morning. Who was that man… and why had he called himself your big brother?

In the morning, you thought you had left the locket behind in the trash. You threw it away the second you woke up, hoping that would stop whatever was happening.

But alas, as you walked towards your college campus and reached into your pocket to take out your phone, you felt the familiar cool surface of the silver locket.

“Fuck.”

You spotted your friends standing outside of the building, and you jogged over to meet them.

“Hey guys!”

They turned, some frowning while the others put up a half assed smile. “Hey. Did you go to the haunted house last night?”

You nodded, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah… it was pretty scary. I didn’t stay for too long.”

The leader frowned. She tapped against her school binder with her sharp acrylic nails. “Really? You couldn’t even stay the night?”

You shrunk under her judging gaze, your eyes on the floor. “You didn’t say I had to stay the night…”

She scowled. “I shouldn’t have to tell you what’s obvious, dumbass. You want to be a part of our sorority, you have to do the dares just like the other initiates. We let you try, even though you’re…”

The woman looked down at your belly, then back to your face. “Tubby. Just be grateful.”

You nodded, looking away from her. “Alright… I’m sorry.”

As soon as you apologized, the woman smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You didn’t stay the night, but you still went to the house. So…”

She pulled out a card. “Here’s the official invitation to one of our parties. It’s in your honor.”

You beamed, grabbing hold of the letter. “Oh wow, really? I thought I still had more to do…”

“Shh, you’ve done enough. Just be there on time, okay? We have something special planned for you.”

You all got settled in your seats, and you left to use the bathroom. You were so excited, you’d finally get to join the best sorority on campus!

But as soon as you were out of earshot, the group of girls started giggling. “God, she’s so gullible. She really thinks we’d let someone like her into our sorority.”

The leader leaned back in her chair, folding her legs. “As soon as she steps through the door, we’ll all throw food at our little piggy. Hell, maybe she’ll get on the ground and start eating everything we’ve thrown at her.”

They all laughed, other students glancing at them in annoyance and disgust. But they all knew that trying to go against them was a suicide mission. The leader’s father was the sheriff, and she was a daddy’s girl.

The locket pulsed with anger from your backpack, emitting an uncomfortable heat. The entity in your locket had heard every single word…

And he wouldn’t let them do that to you.

As you walked home after class, you yelped when a man materialized next to you. He kept a hand on your waist, guiding you home.

“Y-you’re the man from last night…”

He nodded, keeping you close as he walked. “I am. You have some… interesting friends.”

“…”

You weren’t stupid, you knew they weren’t good friends, but your mother and grandmother had been in that sorority, and you wanted to make them proud.

“… they’re not all that bad. They’re throwing me a party this weekend…”

He didn’t answer, his grip on your waist tightening. “You shouldn’t go.”

You frowned. “I don’t really have a choice. If I don’t go, there’s no way I’m getting into the sorority.”

The ghost sighed, walking into your home with you.

“W-wait!”

You grabbed the locket out of your bag. “Why… aren’t I freaking out? You’re that weird ghost thing! Get out of my house.”

But you didn’t feel scared, there was a strange calmness in your chest that made you feel uneasy.

He approached, and you began to feel almost tired, lethargic.

“It’s because I’m keeping you calm. Last night your heart rate spiked and you were terrified of my very presence, so I’ve been doing my best to eliminate your fears and anxieties.”

He brushed back your hair, his touch cool on your flushed skin. “Easy… it’s strange, I know… but I’m not here to hurt you. I’m keeping you safe, remember?”

That night you stayed up late researching ghosts and other supernatural phenomena. Not much turned up for ghosts being able to control your emotions… just the average poltergeists throwing shit around and scaring the life out of people.

This ghost seemed more like a guardian angel than a poltergeist, but you had no idea why he was protecting you or what from.

You ended up drifting off with your laptop still on. The ghost materialized beside you, his eyes moving over your figure.

Your body was soft and fragile, unlike the younger siblings he had taken care of during his life. He’d been the oldest of seven brothers, and had never gotten the chance to be with a girl, much less watch one sleep.

When you picked up his locket, he felt an instant connection to you. Many people had stolen the silver locket before, but he simply haunted them until they returned it to the haunted house.

His resting place.

With you, though? His heart felt heavy at the very thought of anything hurting you. He wanted to protect you, to watch over you every second of the day and hold you close…

So… he must have loved you like a sibling then, right?

He had never been in love before, the only love he ever experienced was the brotherly love he had for his younger siblings.

He needed to know more about women, what they needed and how they acted. You were almost like a different species to him at this point…

So he glanced at your laptop before slowly sliding it towards him. It took him a few minutes to learn how it worked, but thankfully he had been watching you like a hawk as you typed away earlier and had a basic understanding.

He died nearly a hundred years ago, so without that he would have been clueless! The ghost was smart though, and began searching for answers regarding the female gender.

First, he looked up the definition, nodding along as if it was new information to him. Then, he thought for a moment…

What else did he want to know?

‘Well… if she gets injured, I should know what her anatomy is like so I can help her.’

During his time, many people said women and men were completely different, so he wanted to know. Searching through the internet, he looked up the anatomy of a female body…

Most of it was diagrams of internal organs and bone structure… and then he found something… intriguing.

A picture of a vagina, fingers pulling back the lips to reveal the glistening clit. His body reacted to the picture, and he found himself feeling confused.

His heart raced against his rib cage, his throat dry as his shaky hands typed out the name of the female sex organ.

‘Vagina…’

So many pictures popped up, and his eyes went wide with the variety of different shaped, colored, and sized pussies on screen. He felt his cock twitch in his pants when he stumbled upon a certain gif.

A woman’s wet cunt hovered over a fat cock, slowly lowering herself onto it, letting it stretch her out.

He glanced at you, his eyes moving down your form and to your loose lounge shorts. What did your pussy look like..?

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. ‘No… I… shouldn’t think things like that… I have to protect her.’

But even as those thoughts echoed through his head, he couldn’t help but inch closer, slowly pulling back the loose fabric of your shorts and looking at the soft outline of your pretty cunt.

He let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling back your panties to get a good look at you.

His cock twitched, aching as he stared down at your pussy for the very first time. This… was perplexing. His entire body was telling him to touch and feel you for himself, to spread open your pussy lips and see your cute, perky clit…

He was so confused, his body hot as he struggled to control his urges. What did he feel for you? Why did he want to court you, to kiss your plump lips and slip his fingers inside of you?

Images of you splayed out on the bed, your legs spread wide open to give him a nice view appeared in his wandering mind.

Your fingers moved over your clit, rubbing and circling it, before you moved down to your wet hole, slowly inserting a finger…

He shook his head, looking down to see his cock hard and pressing against his pants, wanting to be let out. He bit his lip, walking over to look at your lovely sleeping face. The ghost hesitantly pulled out his cock, stroking it shyly over your face.

Right before he came he stepped back, cumming all over your blanket. It was sticky and strangely cold, his flushed and body relaxed as he panted softly.

That felt way too good…

Before he knew what he was doing, he curiously leaned forward and licked your cheek. You tasted so lovely, he couldn’t help but move his tongue down your body, to your clothed breast and finally to your soft tummy.

He planted a kiss there, before he slowly but surely slipped off your shorts. You woke up right as he gave your pussy a curious lick, your mouth being covered before you could scream.

Was this it? Was he finally showing his true colors and ready to devour you whole. You squeezed your eyes shut, ready to feel the pain of his teeth on your body, but instead felt soft lips on your clit.

When you peeked at him, he looked up eagerly, as if waiting for you to teach and guide him through this. He wasn’t trying to hurt you… he was just curious.

You whined softly, slowly moving his head and hiding his tongue to your hole, letting out a breathy sigh as he slipped his tongue in. It felt so damn good, you were close to cumming already.

Not understanding that your orgasm was close, he pulled away right before you could cum, his lips glazed over with your juices and his eyes wide with excitement. “D-did I do good?”

You groaned in frustration, grabbing him by the hair and guiding him back, finally riding out your high on his tongue.

He seemed eager to please, and just so curious about your body… after you were done, he sat on your bed and played with your hair, watching over you as you drifted off.

When you woke up, he was gone again. The lovely was sitting on your nightstand, and when you sat up and yawned, he appeared.

He was a bit shy from your encounter last night, holding a few flowers in his hand. After you put them in a vase, you realized that they were stolen from your neighbor’s lawn… but the effort was still cute.

That day, he followed you around while you completed your chores, giving you a dopey smile and causing minor accidents for whatever poor soul dared to approach you.

He was getting more possessive by the day, disliking when any male spoke to you for longer than a few seconds. You were his, didn’t they understand that!?

When someone walked by you, a flower pot would fall into their feet or a rock would move to trip them.

It was confusing, seeing all these people end up hurt or hospitalized all the time. You wondered if you might be cursed…

You were chatting with a handsome barista when the coffee pot next to him suddenly tipped over, spilling boiling coffee all over him.

“A-are you okay!?”

While trying to help him, suddenly he slipped on a puddle of water that hadn’t been there before.

Your ghost friend stayed invisible, pouring a cup of water on the floor just moments before…

After multiple tests, you realized you were the only one that could see the ghost. You weren’t sure if he was brought on by some kind of stress from working so hard or perhaps you really were being haunted. Either way, you could never tell anyone about him. People would think you were crazy, and you didn’t want to get locked away in an asylum forever.

But strangely, your little ghost friend wasn’t that bad of a houseguest. He never made a mess, watched over you while you slept, and even when there were some break ins next door, you were the only one spared.

He really was protecting you.

“I’m… going out today.”

You looked up from your breakfast, watching as your ghost roommate materialized in front of you. Going out? He was always by your side…

“Really? Are you like… moving on to the next plain of existence or something?”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Am I that annoying, hmm? No, I’ve just got some business to attend to.”

He smiled, ruffling your hair affectionately before fading away into nothing, leaving you to wonder what a ghost would do for business.

The ghost stood over another corpse, his body free of blood due to his incorporable form. It was one of the girls who had been planning to humiliate you.

Her jaw was ripped from its socket, tangling from her disfigured face. He glanced down at her phone, picking it up and looking over the contacts.

The leader on his list… and he was saving her for last.

The news of the sorority murders had the entire campus paranoid. Police suspected a serial killer was on the loose and targeting young girls in the sorority, so you found yourself at the station, being questioned during a quiet October day.

“And that was the last time you saw her?” asked the officer, holding up a picture of the latest victim.

You gave him a nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Yes… I hope my information can be useful, have you gotten any leads yet?”

“That information is confidential, ma’am, but rest assured we’ll catch the sick son of a bitch responsible for this.”

You were driven home by one of the officers, and walked in feeling exhausted. The entire week was weighing down on you, and you only felt safe when your ghost roommate greeted you.

“Welcome home…” he murmured, reaching forward to gently caress your cheek. “You’ve been crying… did someone hurt you?”

The way he asked sent a shiver down your spine. “No… it’s just…”

You sat down, his fingers rubbing circles into your back as you spoke. “All of my friends have been killed… and I don’t know what to do…”

You couldn’t see the smirk on his face, but you felt the way his grip tightened on your hips, rocking them slightly. “It’s sad, but you have me, love. That’s all you need…”

Before you could speak, he had you laying on your back, his hands pinning down your wrists. “Those friends weren’t good people, love… I can protect you, take care of you. Provide for you…”

His fingers traced down your body, to your belly. The ache in his gut returned, and his mind was filled with images of your belly swelling up, being heavy and full with his baby… would it matter that your friends were dead when you were waddling around, pregnant and happy?

You whimpered softly, feeling his teeth graze your neck as he palmed his erection. “I realized… that I really love you. That day you picked up my locket… was basically our wedding day.”

His lips crashed into yours, teeth and tongues clashing as the kiss became rough and passionate. These last few weeks had been torture, watching you speak to other people, having to be away from you for even a second was the worst.

“M-Mmph!”

You were getting wet from all this attention, your body feeling warm as he stripped you of your clothes. But you felt guilty, here you were making out with a ghost while your friends were dead and/or in danger!

“N-not now-“

You yelped, his fingers pressing against the wet fabric of your panties. Already you were soaking wet, your face heating up in shame.

“Not now? But you’re so wet… you want this, you know you do…”

Your whines and protest went unheard as he slipped his fingers into your cunt, and no matter how much you squirmed he kept you still as he lapped softly at your clit.

“Pretty girl, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

You came on his tongue and fingers several times, your hole clenching around nothing as he sucked on your clit, his hands keeping your thighs spread open.

“You want me to fuck you, hmm? Wanna feel my cum fill you all the way up?”

You let out a pathetic whine as he rubbed his tip against your wet cunt, your eyes full of pleasured tears. The man wasn’t sure he could get you pregnant, he was a ghost after all, but god damn it he was going to try his best!

The feeling of him slowly pushing into your virgin hole was… strange. Painful, a stretch that you had never felt before, yet oddly… a sense of pleasure began to set in as he bottomed out.

He cooed softly, his hand moving over your soft belly, his eyes on your pretty cunt as it took his cock. “That’s my good girl…”

He started slow, not wanting to hurt his darling. Thrusting in and out, almost agonizing in the way his cock moved inside of your gummy walls.

Soon he couldn’t take it, the need to breed his lovely darling taking over. He pushed your legs up, beginning to fuck you in a mating press as his lips met yours.

“F-fuck, that’s it… take it, let me knock you up…”

He was desperate, almost like a wild animal, and determined to get you pregnant. He didn’t care if he was a ghost or not, he was planting his seed in your belly.

A family with you was all he could ever want, getting to see you hold his little one in your arms and waddle around with a cute pregnant belly… just the thought of being the one to knock you up had him spurting out thick, ectoplasm like cum into your womb.

“C-can’t get pregnant!” you whimpered out, wiggling nervously. “Gotta finish college…”

“Quiet, darling…”

He panted softly, looking down at you for a moment as his hips continued to fit into yours. You looked beautiful now, with your face flushed and eyes hazy from pleasure. If he could, he’d take a picture so he could always remember you in this state of utter bliss.

“I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry your pretty little head…”

Even after finishing inside of you again, your ghost lover wasn’t quite done with you. He stood, holding you up in a full Nelson while fucking into you. Your belly was starting to distend, so full of his cum that your pussy drooled.

Your neck was sensitive from all the hickeys he had left, and you could barely think while his cock pushed in as deep as it could go, kissing your cervix. He had you look down and watch as his cock moved in and out of your, your pretty pussy clenching around him in yet another orgasm.

“A-Ah!”

Soft whines and whimpers left your throat. It couldn’t be helped, there was a bulge in your tummy now, his cum had stuffed you full. “C-can’t… take anymore…”

He kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. “Just a little more, darling… shh, just take it…”

He rubbed your clit, cooing at you like you were a toddler throwing a tantrum. Your leg twitched with the sudden stimulation he was giving your clit, and you can again, your body sore from the multiple orgasms you’ve already had.

The love making lasted long into the night, and you found yourself passing out after cumming nearly 10 times…

But your lover’s night was far from over. After cleaning you up a little and placing a blanket over your naked form so you wouldn’t catch a cold, he set out to see to his unfinished business…

The leader was terrified, holed up in her bedroom alone as her father patrolled the house. Everyone else in her friend group was dead, leaving her the final girl on his list.

He watched her from the window, smirking as her father walked around, oblivious to the danger his snot nosed brat was in.

She got up, sighing. “That creep won’t get past dad. I bet that stupid girl has something to do with this. Even if she doesn’t, if I say the word she’ll be sent to prison.”

The ghost sneered at her words. She really planned to send his innocent lover to prison? Any hesitation he may have had was gone instantly.

He followed her to the bathroom, frowning in disgust as she disrobed. She was nowhere near as gorgeous as you were, he simply wasn’t interested in any other woman than you.

“Ahh…”

Once she settled into the bath, he took his chance and started to cause the light to flicker. This caused her to jump, nearly slipping on the slick bottom of the tub.

“H-hello?”

A soft whisper in her ear made her turn, her eyes wide with terror. “I-if there’s anyone here, you better go before my dad sees you! He’s the sheriff and if I scream-“

“He won’t be able to hear you.”

Hands wrapped around her throat, restricting her air flow. Suddenly she was able to see him, his appearance that of what he looked like when he died.

His black hair was stringy, his clothes ripped and torso torn apart to reveal his rotting organs.

“You should have been more careful. You messed with someone I love, and for that, you’ll pay with your life.”

Unable to scream, her vision went black, and her body limp. He let her sink into the tub, a few bubbles escaping before the bubbles stopped.

In a flash, he was back to his handsome self, a smile on his lips. “My darling is free now…”

You woke up to your TV being switched on, the news reporter staring into the camera with a sorrowful gaze. “Another girl from the local sorority has been killed. While police investigated the premises, they found multiple books full of images of other girls forced into humiliation ritual, along with evidence of her father, the sheriff, helping her cover her crimes up. He is on paid le-“

You shut off the TV, feeling both relieved you hadn’t attended that party, and sad that she died. She wasn’t a good person, you knew that, but you were, and it hurt your heart to see someone die so young.

“Hello, my darling…”

You felt a cold hand brush against your belly. There was still a bulge there from all the cum that had been stuffed into you the night before.

“Sleep well, my darling?”

The ghost kissed your temple, nuzzling against you. “I guess… I’m still pretty tired though.”

He moved to gently massage your sore spots, eyes fixed on your tummy. “Sorry, I think I may have gotten… carried away.”

His grip on you tightened, and the air felt a little colder. “You understand that you’re mine, correct? That moment you picked up that locket, we were tied together for eternity. You can’t get rid of me, I’ll always return to you…”

His fingers dug into your flesh. “And if you want your future to be a happy one, you’ll learn to accept things. I don’t want to hurt my precious one, after all… not like those other girls.”

It didn’t look like you had much of a choice in the matter. You could either accept that this was your life now, or end up like the sorority girls. Little did you know he was bluffing a bit. He would never actually harm you, but he wasn’t against scaring you into thinking he would.

As the years passed by, you got used to your life with him. He was much too possessive for you to go out and see people other than your family, meaning you had to give up college or see people get hurt on your behalf.

But lately he’s calmed down a little… since he’s a father now.

He smiled as you walked down the street, holding your 3 year old’s hand. Your little one was a curious thing, loving to go to the park and take walks in the woods near your home.

As you walked down the path, an elderly couple stopped you to coo at your son. You glanced at your now husband to gauge his expression, and he seemed to be okay with it.

“Oh, how cute!”

“Thank you,” you replied with a smile. “He looks just like his father.”

As you walked home, your little one disappeared from the sight of other mortals, hovering in the air with your husband. He was half ghost after all, it made sense he could do things other kids couldn’t.

Your lover smiled softly, his hand moving over your belly as he watched your son chase a butterfly.

“… about time for our second little one, isn’t it?”

Looks like you were in for another passionate night.

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @sunset-214 @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @swasti8854 @an-ever-angry-bi

[yeyinde]

psychic!Reader being relentlessly stalked and terrorised by dead!Ghost.

He's not sure how he died, but considering the aura he has wrapped around him, it was vicious and violent. And while you're no stranger to helping the dead cross over when they need it, but he can't. Or won't. Everything you try doesn't work, and he soon decides that he's fine with that.

Prefers, instead, to follow you around. And at first, it's fine. He explores the world around him—intangible, untouchable—and asks snarky questions about why you're the only the one who can see him. How this came to be. But then he grows bored. Restless. Shifts into bad jokes. Taunts.

Finds the most amusement, though, in muttering in your ear about all the filthy things he'd do to you if he had his body back—in broad daylight, no less. All explicit, ugly things about testing your flexibility. Bending your knees to your ears. Getting that pretty little mouth on his cock—

Watches you shower. Drawls about having you put on a show for him. Slides into the bed with you when he can manipulate and solidify his form better. Icycold hands against your breasts. Squeezing your ass.

Most ghosts continue with their routine. Go on with their lives. Cogs in the machine. But he spends his time messing with you.

The problem, however, is that ghosts can only do much to interact with the physical world. Knocking things over. Stomping their feet down the halls. Saying a word. A name. A whisper. Cold air. Static. A slamming door.

But Simon's pinches hurt. His hand sometimes feels warm when he cups your beasts, or curls his palm over the nape of your neck, pulling you toward his groin only to huff when your face slips through it.

"not there yet, are we?" he drawls, but holds you there anyway just because he can.

Sometimes you have to remind yourself he's a ghost. A spectre. He can't really hurt you.

But when he nuzzles his face into your neck, and bites down so hard it burns, you find yourself unable to explain the raw, bloodied imprint of his teeth there the next morning. Or how warm, how solid, his body feels when he pulls you against his chest, hands groping at you as he stares at the mark he left with something primal twisting across his once pellucid face. Darkening with malintent. Desire.

Maybe you should have taken his threats a little more seriously after all.

[frankiethedarkangel]

The ghost in your house who takes care of your sexual needs.

He sees you when you’re at your most desperate. Scrolling looking for a video or something to read to relieve the ache. Once you reach for your toys he springs into action.

Already unclothed, he touches your bare pussy. Rubbing circles on your clit. You can’t see him, so you’re just anticipating what’s going to happen.

You continue to scroll and periodically glancing to your mirror to see yourself. He continues to touch you. Seeing what you’re looking at he does his best to replicate it. Spreading your pussy open with his fingers to eat you out.

Squeezing and sucking on your breasts, leaving marks that you can’t explain to anyone else. Fingering you and curling his fingers to hit all the good spots.

Seeing yourself spread and gaping from the invisible man just turns you on more. Letting this mysterious ghost pleasure you.

Monster Masterlist

[2-dsimp]

Xavier with a darling who really loves affection both giving and receiving it. They’re like a cuddly puppy, never missing a day of giving him affection. Till one day when they come home from work they don’t immediately hug him, instead going to their room to cry from just having a rough day and being very overwhelmed.

Darling didn’t know how’d he react to them crying so it’s why they went to their room.

Xavier won’t fuck around when it comes to you crying from something other than his doing. Plus he wants to know what the fuck cut into his snuggle time with his dollface.

The poltergeist’s like a feral feline when it comes to not getting those hugs that make him feel all mushy inside. So he’ll definitely have an attitude not at you. But at whatever inconvenienced his puppy from giving him the affection. He acts like he doesn’t care for but is actually feinding for deep down.

[pricelessemotion]

poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween. 

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up. 

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets. 

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer. 

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas. 

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.  

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.  

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity. 

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him. 

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique. 

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths. 

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with. 

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses. 

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located. 

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.” 

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.   

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable. 

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?” 

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?” 

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.” 

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies. 

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest. 

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic. 

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” 

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils. 

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else. 

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—” 

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets. 

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!” 

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity. 

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.” 

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.” 

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place. 

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.” 

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door. 

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.” 

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate. 

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm. 

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns. 

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded. 

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted. 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

[shadesofhogwarts]

Ghost Hunter!Marauders x New Recruit Reader (pt.3)

Remus and you are forced to hide in a closet while a poltergeist rips the hallway apart. You ask him about his scars.

Wordcount: 4.4k

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5...

The morning settled over the house like a soft blanket, gray light slanting through the warped blinds and pooling in lazy puddles across the kitchen floor. James dropped his gear bag with a heavy thump, stretching his arms overhead with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his spine. You followed behind, hoodie half-zipped, shoes streaked with dry mud from last night, fingers numb despite the thin gloves you hadn’t taken off all night. Your hair smelled like smoke and damp wood. You felt like someone who had come back from war, even if it was only the kind of war that left behind EVP tapes and bruises in strange places.

Sirius looked up from where he sat cross-legged on the counter, mug in hand, sleeves rolled. A slow grin pulled at his mouth as he eyed the two of you.

“Well, well,” he said, lifting his mug in a mock-toast. “Looks like the kids finally lost their ghost-hunting virginity.”

You gave him a tired, crooked smile, peeling off your gloves and dropping them next to James’s bag. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only a little,” Sirius said, hopping down with a thud. “You’ve got that fresh-out-of-trauma glow.”

James just grunted and headed toward the kettle. You slid into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and leaned back, watching the steam from the mugs curl like ghosts of their own.

Remus entered a few minutes later, quiet as always, rubbing sleep from his eyes and pulling on an old cardigan with frayed elbows. He nodded at you both in greeting and took the chair across from you, like this was all just a normal Saturday morning.

The silence between the four of you wasn’t awkward. It was something else. Tired. Steady. Like a space that held room for all the things you weren’t saying. James set down a mug in front of you and one in front of Sirius, who looked genuinely touched about his second mug of coffee.

“Gentleman,” he whispered, hand over heart.

You let the heat of the mug seep into your palms. Something shifted in your chest. Something clicked. You hadn’t been sure before– not really. This wasn’t just ghost-hunting, wasn’t just adrenaline or curiosity anymore. There was something binding in this house, in these people, in this terrible, terrifying, wonderful thing you’d stumbled into.

You exhaled. “I think I’m gonna move in.”

Three heads turned to you at once. You took a sip of coffee.

“I mean– I’ve made up my mind about staying here for training. Might as well stop paying rent somewhere else.”

There was a beat of silence. Sirius blinked once. Then grinned like the sun splitting through storm clouds and raised his mug of coffee again.

“To another lost soul joining the haunted house,” he said, voice warm and just a little reverent.

James smiled at you, slow and crooked. Remus hummed lightly. You clinked your mug to Sirius’s, and the warmth in your chest had nothing to do with the coffee.

It felt like saying yes to something you didn’t have a name for. Somewhere you were beginning to be someone.

The decision, once spoken aloud, settled into the room like it belonged there. There were no shocked expressions, no protests, just a quiet kind of acceptance– as if some of them– if not all been waiting for you to say it before you even realized you meant it.

You leaned back in your chair, cradling the mug in your hands. “I’ll head over in a bit. Need to pack up my apartment. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

“Not a chance you're doing that alone,” Sirius said, already nudging James with his elbow. “Tell her, Prongs.”

James looked up from where he was scraping out the last bits of jam from a nearly empty jar. “Yeah, no way. We’re coming.”

You raised a brow. “You two are going to help me pack?”

“We’re excellent movers,” Sirius said, sounding entirely too proud for someone who probably hadn’t lifted a box in his life. “James has muscles and I bring the emotional support.”

James rolled his eyes. “I’m driving.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Fine. But you're paying for anything you two break.”

Half an hour later, the three of you were crammed into James’s car, windows down, music low, the wind tangled in your hair as the city slid past in pale morning light. There was something strangely comforting about Sirius in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the clouds, and James humming under his breath, drumming fingers on the wheel. You sat in the back, watching the two of them banter– light, teasing, familiar. Like this was routine. Like you were already part of it.

Your apartment felt smaller than you remembered. Colder, somehow. Maybe it was the contrast. The silence. The way your footsteps echoed a little more now that you knew what warmth sounded like in a haunted house with three insane ghost hunters.

James grabbed the stack of flattened boxes from the closet while Sirius wandered the space with curious eyes, trailing his fingers across your bookshelf, poking at the string lights above your bed.

“Didn’t peg you as a fairy light girl,” he said, grinning.

“I contain multitudes.”

“You’re keeping these,” he decided, tugging them down with more enthusiasm than care.

You boxed up your books while James started dismantling your makeshift desk, the three of you working in easy rhythm, pausing only for the occasional complaint from Sirius about your heavy “emotional baggage” (read: your journal collection). There was laughter, and a kind of softness in the air, the kind that settles when people who care about each other pretend it’s all just a regular day.

By early afternoon, the living room was stacked with taped boxes, your essentials sorted and marked. You volunteered to run the first batch back to the house– clothes, books, the things you wanted to set up first– while James and Sirius stayed behind to keep boxing up what was left. After loads of insistence from the boys that they could make the trip twice and your stout refusal, you called yourself an Uber.

“Don’t let him pack my plants,” you told James, jerking a thumb toward Sirius.

“No promises,” Sirius called from the kitchen. “One of them bit me.”

“You touched the cactus.”

“Same thing.”

...

When you stepped into the house again– arms full of boxes, hair damp from the light drizzle outside– the quiet felt different. Not empty, just still. Lived-in. Remus glanced up from the couch where he sat reading, a mug of tea cradled in his hands. He offered a soft smile, one that crinkled gently at the corners in a way that made you feel unexpectedly seen.

“Need a hand?” he asked, already setting the mug down.

You hesitated, shifting your weight, then nodded. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

Together, you made your way down the hallway. Your door was still mostly bare, save for the nameplate Sirius had scrawled your name onto in permanent marker two nights ago– back when you were still “the new recruit who might bolt at any moment.” Remus held the door open while you set the boxes down, then quietly rolled up his sleeves and started helping you sort through them.

You stood in the middle of the room, holding a box of books, taking in the space. The bed was still bare, but the walls were beginning to feel less foreign. A little more like you. The scent of candles you had unpacked mingled softly with the cool air drifting in from the open window.

Across the room, Remus was rearranging your bookshelf with careful hands, his brow furrowed in concentration. He handled the books like they were delicate– like they mattered. You watched him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. It was strange how natural his presence felt already. There was a quiet steadiness to him, the kind that made a space feel safer just by being in it.

“You’re good at this,” you said, your voice softer than usual. “Like... really good.”

He looked up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Years of experience. I’ve moved around a lot.”

“I know the feeling,” you said, setting your box down. “Feels like I’ve been doing it forever.”

Remus nodded. There was understanding in his expression– not prying, just present. He didn’t need to ask more. And you liked that about him.

You fell into a quiet rhythm unpacking, moving through the room slowly, intentionally. There was no rush. It felt peaceful, even grounding– the small act of making the space your own.

“Where do you want the lamp?” Remus asked, holding up the mushroom-shaped one you’d stubbornly held onto over the years. It was slightly tacky, entirely yours.

“By the window,” you said, walking over to help him. “It always looks good in the corner.”

He set it down gently, and for a moment, you both just stood there, looking around. The room felt warmer. More like yours. You felt a flicker of something quiet and bright– a small relief that this was real. That maybe, just maybe, you could stay.

You opened another box. Inside was a stack of old photographs, a worn photo album, and a few framed pictures. The sight of them hit harder than you expected. Faces stared up at you– people you hadn’t seen in years. Places you hadn’t stood in even longer. It was like opening a door you weren’t ready for, and suddenly the past was closer than you wanted it to be.

You hesitated, then picked up a small, cracked family portrait. The edges were frayed, and the glass was gone, but something about it pulled at you– a snapshot of a time before everything fractured. Without thinking too hard, you slipped it into your coat pocket. Maybe for safekeeping. Maybe because part of you didn’t want to leave it behind.

Remus must have noticed your shift. He turned from the shelf and walked over, his eyes gentle.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, like he didn’t want to break the moment unless you needed him to.

You nodded, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Just... a lot of memories.”

He didn’t push. Just sat down beside you, close enough to offer comfort, far enough to give space. You didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t need you to. His presence filled the room like something solid and kind. And for now, that was enough.

And that’s when you noticed it. In the soft lighting and the closeness of the space, his sleeve had shifted. A jagged scar traced the length of his forearm. You’d seen glimpses before, in passing. But here, now, the silence held weight– and the scars seemed louder than anything spoken.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t look away. You just saw them– and couldn’t stop seeing them.

“I’ve noticed your scars before,” you said softly. “I never really asked.”

The air went still for a moment.

Remus’s gaze dropped, not out of shame, but something more complex. His hand twitched slightly, like he was considering pulling the sleeve down, but didn’t.

“I never thought you’d ask,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I did,” you said. “But I also knew better than to ask too soon.”

He exhaled slowly, glancing down at the thin map of lines across his skin. “It’s not something I usually explain. Most people either stare or avoid it entirely.

You waited, not out of politeness, but respect.

“They’re from a long time ago. Most of them, anyway.” He offered a weak smile. “The newer ones– those happen when I forget I’m not made of iron.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Just let it rest. Then, without thinking, your fingers brushed his– just enough to let him know you were there. That you weren’t running.

“No need to explain if you don’t want to,” you murmured. “I just… I see you, Remus.”

He looked at you then. And in that look was something raw and unguarded– like he’d peeled something back, just for a moment, just for you.

He gave your hand a small, reassuring squeeze. “Thank you,” he murmured, though it wasn’t clear whether it was for noticing or for not pressing further.

Before either of you could speak, the air shifted.

You felt it first– a subtle, almost imperceptible drop in temperature. The hairs on your arms rose, and a hush settled over the room, too quiet, like the house was holding its breath.

“Did you feel that?” you whispered.

Remus stiffened beside you, eyes narrowing. “Yeah.”

Stillness spread like a held note. A low hum began to vibrate through the floorboards, the walls– a pulse of something restless and disturbed.

Then, without warning, the book on your table launched itself across the room, slamming against the wall.

You jumped, heart pounding.

Remus was on his feet instantly, already reaching for your hand. “Hallway. Now. It’s a poltergeist.”

Before you could move, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The lights flickered once– then burst, plunging everything into darkness. The floor trembled beneath you, like the house itself was groaning. You heard something sharp scrape across the wood, followed by the violent crash of furniture being flung.

Remus yanked you toward the door, grip tight, pace quick. The hallway was no better– cold, suffocating energy pressed in from all sides. The poltergeist’s laughter echoed down the corridor, high-pitched and mocking.

You glanced ahead. The floor had cracked in places. The ceiling sagged. A cabinet burst open, silverware clattering in all directions.

“Remus!” you shouted, panic rising.

“We need cover,” he said, scanning the hallway. He spotted a door, flung it open, and pulled you inside a supply closet, slamming it shut behind him.

The closet was small and dusty, packed with old cleaning supplies. It was dark, but it was something. Remus stood in front of you, shielding the door, chest heaving.

Outside, the chaos raged. The poltergeist passed by– its energy a storm on the other side of the wall. You could hear faint whispers leaking in, cruel and close, like it was toying with you.

Inside the dark, your breath mingled with his– uneven, too loud in the cramped space. Neither of you dared speak. The silence between you was taut, fragile.

Then Remus shifted, pressing his ear to the door. His hand brushed yours again, steadying both of you.

“We’ll wait here a minute,” he whispered. “They burn out if you don’t give them attention. Once it moves further down, we slip out.”

You nodded, barely a sound. But your mind was racing. What if it didn’t burn out? What if the house gave way first?

“Do you think Sirius and James will be back soon?” you asked, voice low.

“They better,” Remus muttered with a dry half-smile. “But if not– we head for the drawing room. There’s a warded window there. Stronger protections. We just need an opening.”

Time passed slowly. Then Remus pulled back, eyes alert. “I think it’s passed.”

You listened. No crashing. No tremors. Just stillness.

“We’ll give it thirty more seconds,” he said. “Then we run. Stay close. Don’t say its name. That’s how it feeds.”

You swallowed. “Got it.”

He looked at you then– really looked. “Thanks. For what you said earlier.”

You nodded. “Same to you. For trusting me.”

The moment hung there– solid, real.

Then he turned to the door, hand poised near the knob.

“Ready?”

You took a breath. Nodded.

“Let’s go.”

The air in the closet crackled with energy as the poltergeist tore through the house, another crash echoing down the hall. It was closer now.

Without a word, Remus grabbed your hand and yanked the door open with a grunt.

What greeted you made your blood run cold.

Furniture was flying down the hallway in wild, terrifying abandon– tables, chairs, shattered glass– anything in its path hurled with violent force. A chair came hurtling toward you. You ducked just in time, the wooden frame smashing into the wall behind you. Your heart slammed in your chest, but Remus was already pulling you forward, weaving through the chaos. His grip was tight, his movements precise, eyes constantly scanning for danger.

“Stay close,” he said through clenched teeth.

You nodded and kept pace as you rounded a corner. Overhead, the lights flickered violently– then burst in a shower of sparks. Darkness swallowed the hallway, interrupted only by brief flashes of destruction.

The house felt alive, like it was breathing with the poltergeist’s fury.

You stumbled when a bookshelf slammed into the opposite wall, raining dust and debris. The floor groaned beneath your feet. But Remus didn’t let go.

“You alright?” he asked, glancing back.

“Fine,” you panted, adrenaline making your limbs shake. “But how do we get to the drawing room?”

“We need to disrupt its focus,” Remus muttered, scanning the corridor. “Throw it off. Something personal, maybe... a distraction.”

Before you could ask what he meant, a violent gust of wind ripped through the hallway, followed by a shriek so sharp it felt like it pierced your skull. The poltergeist's fury was on you.

A table soared through the air. Remus shoved you aside, the table crashing behind you in a spray of splinters.

You both stumbled back as malicious laughter echoed through the house. This wasn’t just random chaos. It was targeting you.

“Where is it coming from?” you asked, breath hitching.

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “The basement.”

Then he turned sharply, eyes locking on the drawing room door.

“We end it where it started,” he said. “That window– it has an old warding charm etched into the frame. Half-eroded, but if we reactivate it, we might trap it.”

You didn’t ask how he knew. Another shriek tore through the walls, and a cold gust knocked over a coat rack with a screech.

“This way!” Remus barked. He dragged you to the drawing room. A side table slammed into the wall beside you as he flung the door open and yanked you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

The room was freezing. Your breath misted in the air.

The poltergeist’s presence here was thick– like walking through molasses.

Remus released your hand and rushed to the bay window. “Here,” he muttered, wiping grime from the wooden sill. A faint pattern emerged– deliberate, worn, but intact. “The original owners knew what they were doing.”

He opened a tin from his coat: chalk, sea salt, a lighter, a chisel. He knelt and began retracing the sigil with swift, practiced strokes.

“Keep your eyes on the door,” he said without looking up. “It’s coming.”

You turned as the door exploded inward with a loud crack. The poltergeist stood there, flickering like a heatwave, pulsing with rage. Furniture lifted and trembled midair.

“It’s almost done!” Remus shouted, sweat dripping down his temple. He poured salt in a circle around the window. “This sigil’s a containment glyph. If it pulls the poltergeist in, it won’t be able to escape.”

“Then what?” you asked, ducking as a lamp flew past your head.

“Then we burn it.”

A book flew by. You ran to Remus’s side and held the tin steady while he traced the final line.

“Done. But it’s not active yet. We need a trigger– something personal. Something to tie it down.”

Your hand instinctively moved to your pocket. The photograph.

You froze, fingers brushing its corner.

Remus turned toward you. “You’ve got something?”

You pulled it out slowly. The old photo. Your family– before everything changed. Before the house. Before all the silence and distance. The only real piece of your past you still carried with you.

Your voice caught. “It’s mine. My family. From a long time ago.”

Remus looked at it, and then at you. “This would work,” he said carefully. “It’s powerful. Emotionally charged. But... you’d have to be sure.”

You stared down at it. At the version of yourself caught in a moment long gone. You could feel the weight of it pressing into your chest. And then you nodded.

“If this helps end it– if it helps finish this– then burn it.”

“You don’t have to,” he said softly.

“I do,” you said, firmer now. “I think I do.”

He took it gently from your hand and placed it at the center of the sigil. Lit a match. The flame caught quickly, curling the edges into ash. As it burned, the lines surrounding it began to glow– faint but alive, like the house itself was holding its breath.

“We’re close,” he murmured. He raised one hand in a strange motion, like he was drawing power from the very air. His eyes were on you, observing you.

Then the floor trembled.

The poltergeist surged forward– distorted, almost human but warped and unrecognizable. Its shriek pierced the air, slamming into your skull like a blade. You staggered, but Remus’s hand locked around yours.

“We need to focus,” he said. “It feeds on chaos. We have to anchor it– make it feel.”

Before you could speak, the entity lashed out– not with furniture, but raw energy. A sharp bolt aimed straight at you.

Remus moved on instinct.

He stepped in front of you, took the hit full force. His body jerked– but he didn’t fall.

“Remus!” you cried, reaching for him. There was a gash on his arm.

“I’m fine,” he gasped, still gripping your hand. “Focus. We finish this.”

Together, you turned back to the window, to the burning sigil and the shrieking entity. The room trembled around you, wind howling as the poltergeist was dragged, inch by inch, toward the light.

It screamed– long, furious, guttural. But the sigil held.

Glass cracked. Salt glowed. The entity thrashed like smoke caught in a storm– and then, finally, it was gone.

Silence crashed over the room.

The air warmed. The lights flickered once, then steadied. No more tremors. No more screaming.

Just... stillness.

Remus exhaled and sank back on his heels. “It’s over.”

You stared at the scorched sill, the faint burn of the sigil still glowing in the wood.

“You sure?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Poltergeists don’t die. But they can be bound. This one won’t be getting out again.”

You didn’t speak. You just stood there and listened– to the quiet, to the house settling.

…

The last shriek had been final. Whatever came after wasn’t rage– it was release.

The lights glowed warm again. The destruction stilled. And something in the air shifted– not just relief, but recognition. The house had felt your presence. It knew you now.

You stumbled, legs trembling. Remus caught your arm.

“It’s gone,” he said, voice hoarse.

But something deeper buzzed beneath the surface– something unspoken. Not just survival. Connection.

Remus looked at you.

“That was... you were incredible,” he said, low, almost reverent.

You met his gaze, heart thudding. Something had shifted between you. Unsaid, undeniable.

“Same to you,” you replied. “We make a good team.”

The front door creaked open just as you and Remus stepped into the hallway.

Footsteps. Voices.

You barely had a moment to exchange a glance before Sirius and James appeared in the doorway, their laughter dying mid-sentence. They stopped short.

The sight in front of them said everything.

The hallway was a mess. Soot streaked one wall; a picture frame dangled by a single nail. Broken furniture strewn around. The air still held a faint, acrid tinge– burnt wood, dust, the kind of tension that clung like static.

Sirius’s smile faded instantly. He scanned the room, then looked at you– disheveled, bruised, adrenaline still humming beneath your skin.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, quiet but sharp.

James stepped past him slowly, his eyes sweeping over the destruction like he was trying to reconstruct the scene. A cracked light fixture. A scorch mark on the floor. The overturned table you hadn’t bothered to fix. His gaze landed on Remus– who looked steadier now, but not untouched. There was still a gash on his arm.

James’s voice was low. “It came back, didn’t it?”

You gave a small nod. “We didn’t have a choice. It hit hard, fast.”

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And you two handled it?”

Remus stepped forward. “We didn’t really have time to call for help.”

Silence. Then James let out a breath that was almost a laugh– but not quite. “I leave for two hours and you fight off a poltergeist without us?”

Sirius shot Remus a look. “Was it bad?”

Remus just gave a short nod. “Could’ve been worse.”

“But it wasn’t,” you added. “We stopped it.”

James studied you for a long moment, like he was trying to read beyond the words. Then he nodded, slowly. “You okay?”

“I am now.”

There was a beat of silence, then Sirius grinned, the tension slipping from his shoulders like a shrugged-off coat. “Well, damn,” he said, clapping James on the back. “I guess we missed the show.”

James didn’t laugh right away. His gaze lingered on the walls, the floor, the faint crack in the ceiling, before finally landing on you. And he looked at you as if searching for if you were not okay.

You gave a small smile. “Yeah. It was intense. But Remus was... incredible,” you added, glancing at him.

James’s expression shifted at that– subtle, but noticeable. He looked at Remus, then back at you, and something passed between them. Something quiet. Respect, maybe. Or understanding.

Sirius raised a brow. “Well, aren’t we all getting cozy,” he said with a smirk. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a dream team.”

James finally let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, the last edge of tension slipping away. “We could use a drink.”

His eyes lingered on you a second longer than necessary– like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t.

The moment passed. The air lightened.

Remus smiled, the kind that didn’t need fanfare to feel sincere. “Let’s see if we can clean up a bit, and settle in,” he said. “The night’s still young.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

And this time, as you looked around at the battered hallway and your strange little group, you didn’t feel like an outsider. The house was still haunted, still strange, still scarred– but in a way, so were you. And maybe that was why it was starting to feel like a place you belonged.

A/n) mission get close to all the marauders done and dusted!!! What's next? I would really be open to anyyy ideas and recs💗

[concretejunglefm]

Poltergeists: an alternate universe.

Tell me all the time not to worry, and think of all the time I'll have with you.

Summary: It's been a year since your best friend Noah went missing, two years since you moved into the house you abandoned after he went missing from it during the night. This is a recount of events leading up to and what happened after the night he went missing and all of the strange events that occurred during your time living in that house.

series masterlist

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader.

CW: Missing persons, elements of supernatural horror, brief mention of stressful pregnancy/childbirth, panic attacks, claustrophobia, and overall layer of melancholy, but extra fluff sprinkled in.

WC: 4.7k.

AN: Just because they’re doomed by the narrative in every other lifetime doesn’t mean Noah and Bubs can’t have at least one where they get their happy ending—with conditions and consequences. The one where they build a beautiful life together, including a family of their own <3

FLASHBACK

Noah doesn’t particularly like to celebrate birthdays. He’s never been shy about the fact that once you pass a certain age, it feels silly to—or maybe that’s just how he feels about his own. He’s always hated celebrating them. Born on Halloween beneath a potential full moon? Maybe the universe had it out for him from the start. 

At least until you came along.

The first birthday you spent together as friends, Noah surprised you with a cupcake in the corner of the school library where you’d tucked yourself away.

“I made it myself,” he whispered, gesturing to the small cake, and your heart melted at the effort he’d gone to. The icing was uneven, the cupcake a little lopsided, but it was the thought that counted. He slipped in a single candle and reached for his lighter—you almost gasped aloud.

“Shhh. It’ll be quick, no one will notice,” he reassured you.

You glanced around, checking if that might be true, and it was. You were tucked away enough between the shelves that not a single soul was nearby—just the two of you.

“It’s time for you to make a wish,” Noah whispered, holding the cupcake out to you. Closing your eyes, you pressed your lips together and blew. When you opened them again, you could tell he wanted to ask what you wished for, but part of you thinks maybe you already had it, sitting there with him in the corner of the library.

After that, it became a tradition. Noah would sit with you—not in the morning anymore, but the evening before. You’d sit together, counting down the minutes until midnight, until you officially turned another year older. Then, in the soft quiet of the hour, he’d light a single candle atop the cupcake he baked out of tradition. You always shared half with him, and somehow the recipe seemed to get better with each passing year.

Despite Noah’s reluctance to celebrate birthdays, he’ll always quietly celebrate yours, and the fact that you made it another year, because in every lifetime you’ve known one another, you’ve never made it past your twenty-third birthday.

Today, you’re twenty-four.

PRESENT DAY

Stepping into the room, everything is dark except for the candles flickering on the coffee table in the centre. Their flames barely illuminate Noah, casting soft shadows across his face in the darkness.

“What are we doing?” you ask, taking a seat on the floor beside the table, legs crossed as you glance over at him. “A séance?” you whisper the last word like you might disturb some imaginary spirit, a grin breaking across your face.

Noah raises his hands in response, wiggling his fingers in an eerie manner before letting out a soft laugh. “No, the power went out and I couldn’t find the torches, so I thought we could do dinner in the dark—so to speak.” He gestures toward the candles and reaches into the brown bag beside him, pulling out multiple takeout trays and setting them down in front of you.

“Wait, is this—?” You peek inside, spotting the familiar sushi logo you remember from your youth, the one you two always went to for special occasions. “But I thought they closed down?”

You furrow your brow, and Noah mirrors the expression, shaking his head. “No?”

“Yeah, they did,” you say slowly, starting to recall when, but then your eyes drift toward his hair, and without thinking, you reach across the coffee table, fingers brushing the ends. “Did your hair get longer?” You wrap your fingers around the familiar strands—yes, definitely longer—before your eyes adjust further in the dim light and you make out the shape of the wolfcut you’ve missed.

“A little,” he says.

He lifts his hand to yours, fingers curling around your wrist as he brings it closer, brushing a soft kiss against your fingertips. There’s a brief flutter in your chest, the corners of your mouth tugging into a quiet smile as you just sit there, taking in the moment—until something shifts.

The edges around him begin to fade.

“Noah?” you call out, voice suddenly tentative.

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps smiling at you, even as his touch begins to slip away.

And then, he’s gone.

Opening your eyes, you let out a soft gasp, only to feel the tight, comforting embrace of something larger behind you. Slowly, the pieces begin to fall into place; the nuzzling against your back, the soft mumbling—it’s Noah.

“Another bad dream?”

You don’t know. Not really. Not when it was him in the dream, but he looked different. Everything felt different, and it felt like he was fading away from you.

“No,” you murmur, shifting as you roll onto your other side to face him. He leans back slightly, welcoming you into his embrace, holding you against him.

“Just…” you pause, your eyes focusing on his face, tracing his soft features. The way his tired brow furrows, how he squints, avoiding opening his eyes fully in the morning light.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, grounding yourself in the solid feel of him against you.

It’s not the first time you’ve woken from a dream—or nightmare—about him. They’ve been a common occurrence since you were young, but this one felt different. It felt familiar, as though it had happened before.

It reminded you of the early days after moving into your house, except you know it didn’t happen. The sushi place in your dream had closed down before you ever moved in, and Noah’s hair—longer, styled the way it used to be—it all felt like him, or like a version of him.

You’ve grown familiar with many versions of him in your dreams. The two of you seem to live a hundred different lives together. Usually, though, it feels like watching flashbacks on a film reel—moments flashing before your eyes with no way to intervene. You’re never a part of them. Not really. Never the one he’s speaking to. Never the one he looks at with those soft, puppy dog eyes—the ones that hold such unmistakable heart-eyes just for you.

You’re pulled back from your thoughts by the sensation of Noah shifting against you, a thigh sliding between yours as his leg hooks around to pull you even closer.

“How long do you think we have?” he whispers, his head tucked down, lips brushing against yours before trailing slowly along your jawline in tentative kisses.

“Mmm, you mean before the rugrats launch their morning attack?”

Noah chuckles—a low, quiet rumble in his throat—as he dips his head to press his mouth against your neck. You smile, humming softly as you melt into him. You can already hear the footsteps, the youngest making his presence known, no doubt ready to leap onto the bed and tackle you both.

“Probably less than ten seconds,” you add, just as you feel a playful nip against your skin, making you hiss softly.

“I can work with that. You always said I was the best ten seconds of your life,” he teases, rolling you both over quickly and pressing you down into the mattress.

Your hands glide over the expanse of his back, feeling his muscles shift beneath your touch as you squeeze gently.

“Mm, did I say ten? I meant eight,” you tease with a quiet laugh, cut off by a sharp gasp as he nips at you again. “Hey!” You swat lightly at his back, and he just buries his head against your chest, laughing under his breath.

And then—right on cue—the door swings open and your youngest comes charging through like a flying monkey, launching toward the bed with zero hesitation.

Noah’s already off you, tucked beneath the covers, doing his best to stay quiet while Eren starts giggling uncontrollably.

“Well, good morning to you,” you smile as he flings himself into your arms with a cheerful, “Hi, Mom!”

You embrace him tightly as his little arms wrap around your neck. Four years old, and somehow he clings to you more with each passing day—something you cherish, especially after the struggles you had during your pregnancy and his first year. He’s a sensitive boy, Noah would argue he takes after you, but there’s always been a deep tether between you two. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows the things you know, just without the words to explain or understand them yet.

“Where’s Daddy?” you gasp, glancing at the suspiciously still lump beneath the covers where Noah is hiding.

Eren giggles, poking and prodding at it, until Noah finally throws the covers back and springs out with a dramatic growl, mimicking a bear disturbed from hibernation.

“You woke me!” he tries to sound offended, but it only makes Eren laugh harder, too full of joy and energy for this early in the morning.

When Eren finally pries himself away from you, he climbs onto Noah’s back as Noah gets up on all fours.

“Shall we go find your sister?”

“Yeah!” Eren points toward the bedroom door enthusiastically.

Noah shifts to sit up, reaching behind to steady Eren’s legs as he scoots off the bed. Unlike Noah, Eren doesn’t have the same long limbs or towering height—that all seemed to go to your daughter.

“Okay, hold on tight.”

Eren does exactly that, gripping wherever he can as Noah carries him out of the room. Just before they disappear down the hall, you hear Eren’s distinct little voice echoing, calling out, “Saaaaaasha!” in his own drawn-out way.

The sound of laughter—Eren’s, easily recognizable as it pierces through the air—fills the space, mixing with the splashes of water as he plays in the shallow end of the lake with his uncles, Folio and Jolly. Your head rests in Noah’s lap, and when he shifts slightly, you raise your hand to shield your eyes from the sun beaming down on you.

It’s one of the hotter early days in June, and instead of staying inside, you’ve all chosen to come out to the lake, the same one you frequented as teenagers. The one where, with Noah and your shared friends cheering you on, you found the courage to jump off the rope swing. The one where he took you on your first date. The one where he later proposed in that very same spot.

It became yours in every way imaginable.

And then it became Sasha’s, too, when her impatience triggered your water breaking during a lakeside walk—still two weeks before your due date.

“Here, Mom!” she calls out, and you peek out from behind your hand. She’s sitting cross-legged, covered in grass and surrounded by daisies she’s picked from the field. “I made you a crown.”

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you say softly, sitting up. Noah’s arm, which had been loosely draped over you, slips slightly but still stays around your front—his constant tether, always needing to feel you close in some form.

Sasha pushes to her feet and steps toward you, lifting the flower crown as you bow your head, and she places it carefully on top.

“What about my crown?” you hear Noah chime in from behind you.

“You’re not a princess,” Sasha replies without missing a beat. At barely six years old, she’s already as snarky and quick-witted as her father.

From the other side of her, Nicholas lets out a laugh, tossing a few daisy petals onto the grass. “Yeah! You heard her—you’re not a princess,” he teases.

You wrap your arms around your daughter, drawing her into a hug. “Thank you. I love it.” She turns her cheek toward you, the universal sign that she wants a kiss. You oblige—then hold her in place to smother her in kisses, the same way you often do with Noah and Eren, until she starts squealing and giggling for you to stop.

“Uh, Folio—no!”

Your attention snaps toward the lake at the sound of Matt’s voice, loud and authoritative, and both you and Noah glance over to see Folio helping your rascal of a son onto the log swing.

“What? I wasn’t actually gonna let him go,” Folio tries to justify, and Jolly quickly joins in, defending him. Before either of them can say more, they both help Eren down and start ushering him in your direction.

“Sorry Uncle Matt had to spoil the fun, buddy,” Folio calls after him.

Eren doesn’t seem to care, charging full-force toward you and Noah. You manage to dodge out of the way just in time as he body-slams into Noah, practically winding the poor guy.

“Why can’t I go on the swing?” he asks, his voice soft and sad, as if he’s the one who did something wrong.

“You’re not big enough yet, buddy,” you reply gently.

“Sasha has,” he says with a pout.

That immediately turns your attention to your eldest, and all she does is mumble a sheepish, “Snitch,” under her breath.

You narrow your eyes at Folio, who’s now rejoined the rest of you alongside Jolly, while everyone else bursts into laughter. You want to be mad at Folio for whatever new phrases he’s been teaching your daughter when you’re not around, but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to be. Not at the guys, and definitely not at your kids.

On the way back from the lake, you make a pit stop at the local diner on the edge of town. The group of you stumbles in, Sasha quickly picking a seat by the window and tucking herself in beside her Uncle Nicholas and Folio, while Jolly takes the other side. Noah slides into the booth next, and you take the spot at the end, with Matt sitting in a chair pulled up at the head of the table.

On the table, you catch sight of the front page of the local newspaper—an article about two missing 23-year-olds, a girl and a boy. There’s no update, just a mention that the trail has gone cold. Another pair of faces fading into the abyss. The sight of it makes your blood run cold, that familiar twinge of guilt stirring in your stomach, the one you always feel with news of another disappearance. You don’t even notice how the chatter among the guys dies down until you finally look up.

Despite the day’s activities, your four-year-old still has endless energy. As he wriggles off your lap, he’s quick to make a break for it. “Eren! Come back here!” You roll your eyes, scooting out of the booth to chase after him as he starts darting around the diner.

The moment you’re out of sight, Nicholas is the first to break the silence. He looks up from the newspaper and asks quietly, “How’s Bubs doing?”

“She’s okay,” Noah answers with a shrug, his eyes flicking to Sasha—subtly suggesting they be mindful of little ears. She’s like a sponge at this age, soaking up everything around her and occasionally regurgitating it to anyone who’ll listen.

“Eren!” you call after him, letting out an exasperated sigh as he just slips from your grasp.

“Oh? Where are you off to, bud?”

The stranger your son has decided to charge into—like a wild animal—reaches down instinctively, steadying him before he can stumble on wobbly legs. As you catch up and reach out to grab Eren, your gaze lifts to the man, and your thank you comes out slower, more fragmented, the moment you recognize the local detective.

“Thank… you.”

“No worries. They’re a handful at that age, aren’t th—” He stops mid-sentence when his eyes meet yours. You catch it—that flicker, like he’s trying to place you, and it makes your stomach twist.

It’s the same look you’ve been given since your twenty-fourth birthday—each time another twenty-three-year-old goes missing, because you’re always mistaken for them. The resemblance is uncanny, and the same goes for Noah, every time a young man disappears the year after—almost always someone tied to the first victim.

“Do I—” the detective begins.

You quickly reach for Eren, your fingers unintentionally digging into his small shoulder. “Come on, bud. Let’s go back to Daddy.” You try to keep your voice even, calm, turning on your heel before the detective can finish his thought, but then you hear him say it—just one word.

“Bubs.”

The name only a handful of people call you. The people closest to you. Mostly Noah. Sometimes the guys, but never a random detective.

You close your eyes, freezing for a moment, and hear a soft whine from Eren complaining that you’re hurting him—your grip unintentionally tightening further. Your heart hammers in your chest, and for a moment, it feels like the world is about to be ripped out from beneath you. Like the universe is playing one final, cruel trick, giving you a taste of a life beyond that fated point in time, and every life taken in your place has been a lie. That none of this is real, and you’re about to fall back into that night. The night you sat at the kitchen table with Noah, just on the cusp of turning twenty-four, a cupcake in front of you, and beside it, a positive pregnancy test.

You had no idea then how far along you were—your periods had always been irregular, but a doctor’s visit the next day confirmed it: you were over sixteen weeks along, and carrying a healthy baby girl.

You both cried that day. Not just because you had survived another year, but because you were beginning a life together, because maybe—just maybe—this was the one lifetime where you wouldn’t be taken from one another.

“Bubs?” you hear again, but this time, it’s Noah’s voice.

When you open your eyes, you see the concern written all over his face. He gently pries your hand from your son, Eren rubbing his shoulder with a pout that mirrors his father’s so perfectly it stings.

“Sorry,” you murmur, shaking your head. Noah sends Eren back toward the booth and reaches for you, his hands resting on your arms as he leans down.

“Everything okay?” His thumbs squeeze lightly over your biceps, grounding you as he searches your face.

You glance over your shoulder to find the detective is gone, and with him, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach begins to fade.

You look back at Noah, briefly considering telling him. Telling him about the moment that just overtook you. How it felt like the truth was unraveling. You never keep things from him—especially not when it comes to your intuition. Not when you both know the life you share is built on the backs and sacrifices of others, but this time, you say nothing, you just nod. You push a smile, because you know what he’ll say—what he always says: That you don’t need to worry, because neither of you will ever wake up alone again.

“Come on, it’s bedtime.” Noah nudges your youngest off his lap, and you watch as he raises and drops his legs against the couch in defiance, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like a whiny “but Dad…”

Takes after his father in more ways than one with that stroppy attitude, you can’t help but think, and it amuses you.

Sasha is quietly tucked against your side. She hasn’t said a word since either of you got home. While Eren continues his protest about going to bed, she leans in closer, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she whispers in your ear like she’s sharing a secret.

“He’s scared of the closet. He said there’s a monster in there.”

You feel your insides go cold.

You’re the adult here, you should be the one reminding your kids that monsters don’t exist, but instead, your first instinct is to tell her he’s right. That there is something, because all you’ve ever known are monsters—ones that find their way out of closets, or worse, lure you into them.

That’s how it always happens in your dreams. How it’s played out in every lifetime. Something pulls you in, and you’re never seen again. You’re gone. You cease to exist, and the idea that it could happen to your baby—

It triggers something inside you, but it’s not the protective momma bear instinct. It’s something more selfish. The pure, primal panic of fight or flight, screaming at you to grab him and run.

“Are you coming up?” Noah asks. Eren is now half-asleep, draped over his shoulder. Sasha reaches up for him too, wanting to be carried on the other.

Noah, having grown outward over the years with muscle, still has the strength and height to carry them both—even though they’re well past the age where they should be asking, but neither of you have the heart to stop it. You both want to savour every second.

“Yeah, just a second,” you say.

“You can hop on my back too if you like,” he teases, grinning as the kids cling to him—Sasha’s longer limbs making her hang from him like an overgrown cub clinging to its parent.

The offer makes you laugh quietly, and just like that, the ice in your chest begins to thaw. The dread that had been slowly building starts to ebb, replaced with the reminder that this is your life now. You’re safe, you’re here, and everything is real.

You’ve seen those dumb TikToks and Reddit threads about the “lamp theory,” but thankfully, the only lamp you have to worry about is the ugly one in the corner—the one your neighbors gifted you, and that you still haven’t worked up the nerve to throw out.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, Noah is already stepping out of Eren’s room. You lean against the hallway wall as he walks toward you. “Did he settle okay?” you ask.

Between the two of them, you worry about Eren the most. He acts brave, but you see through it. For all the ways he mimics his father in looks, his eyes are yours—a window into a soul that mirrors your own. You know he’s just as sensitive, that he feels things deeply, the way you do. Including his fears.

“Yeah,” Noah murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “He was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.”

Then, without warning, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal in surprise, slapping a hand against his back as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom. He only sets you down once you’re inside, pressing a kiss to your lips, eager and playful, before helping you out of your clothes.

He guides you into the en-suite bathroom, the one you had installed after realising one bathroom for four people was quickly becoming a nightmare.

The warmth of the water, along with Noah’s soft, grounding touch, is enough to ease your mind. Every tender kiss, every gentle brush of his fingers across your skin, helps wash away the remnants of the day, until there’s nothing left but comfort.

Later, you both fall into bed, exhausted but content. You naturally fold into each other, bodies intertwining with the same ease and intimacy you’ve always shared, ready to let sleep take you.

It’s barely past midnight when you’re startled awake by the feeling of someone crawling up the bed. Blinking into the dark, your eyes adjust just enough to make out Eren’s small figure.

“Baby, what is it?” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep.

He lets out a soft whine and climbs into bed, not to Noah, but to you, tucking himself tightly against your body as he mumbles about the closet, about the monster. The same thing Sasha had whispered to you earlier.

“There’s no monster in there, bud,” Noah tries to reassure him, his voice low and groggy. “I checked before I went to sleep.”

But Eren just buries himself deeper into you. “There is, Mom,” he insists, so small and sure in his fear.

You want so badly to tell him you know, that you believe him, but instead, you just hold him tighter, wrapping your arm around his little body and cradling the back of his head, your fingers gently stroking through his hair. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “You can stay here.”

Noah shifts and turns on the lamp on the nightstand, squinting against the light. “Come on, bud. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be scared of.”

Your eyes widen as you glance over at him, instinctively pulling Eren closer. “If he says he’s scared, he can stay here with us,” you say, firm but calm.

“No, he should be brave,” Noah replies gently. “And we can show him there’s no such thing as monsters.”

You know what he’s trying to do—not dismiss your fears, not undermine you—but to reassure both you and Eren. To remind you that this life, this safety, is real. That there’s nothing lurking in the dark.

Even if part of you still isn’t convinced.

You’re reluctant to follow, and Eren is too, tucking himself behind you the moment Noah enters his bedroom. For a brief second, in the moonlight, you could swear the room looks different. It mirrors how your room used to look before you and Noah moved into his one together and began changing it for your children, but as quickly as the thought strikes, it vanishes the moment Noah flicks on the light. The room looks exactly the way you remember it.

“See?” Noah says gently as he walks toward the closet.

Suddenly, a wave of crippling fear crashes over you. “Noah, please… don’t. We can check in the morning, yeah?” You try to keep your voice steady, but the tremor betrays you. Eren clings to you, and you hold him tighter in return.

Noah brushes off your concern with a calmness that only unsettles you more. He turns the handle.

Your heart pounds. Your chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. Eren’s little hand squeezes yours, like he’s trying to anchor you, to keep you from falling into the panic that’s threatening to swallow you whole.

Then Noah opens the door and steps inside.

It feels like your heart drops to your stomach.

“See? No monsters,” he says from within, his voice echoing slightly in the small space. The only things visible are a shelf filled with Eren’s toys and a rack of tiny clothes.

There’s nothing there, but that doesn’t stop the way your chest heaves or your heart hammers against your ribs. You close your eyes, trying to ground yourself, forcing a deep breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. 

You’re safe. He’s safe. It’s just a closet.

For a brief moment, you’re taken back to the memory of when you first met Noah, in a closet at a house party you hadn’t even wanted to attend. A group of kids from your grade thought it would be funny to lock you inside. Noah had been your saviour that day, not just for getting you out, but for helping you face your fear—or so you thought. He had stepped inside the closet with you, choosing to face it with you. He felt it then too, the unmistakable connection pulling you together, and you hadn’t parted ways since.

When you open your eyes, you feel your cheeks wet with tears, and Eren’s sleepy, soft voice follows. “Mom? Are you crying?”

You raise a hand and wipe at your face, only now realizing the tears were even there. When your eyes land on Noah—thank God, now out of the closet and the door closed—he’s wearing a familiar expression. His gaze softens, laced with guilt, the kind that says he’s already awarding himself Worst Husband of the Year, but you know that’s not true. He never intended to upset you.

You shake your head, brushing off the emotion, and lean down to press a kiss to the top of Eren’s head. “Go back to sleep, baby. We’ll leave your nightlight on.”

Eren scrambles back into bed like you asked, and it’s Noah who tucks him in. Then he crosses the room to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and dipping his head to your neck, mumbling a soft apology.

You forgive him—long before he even needs to ask, and definitely long before you both end up back in your own bed, limbs tangled together. He wraps around you protectively, pressing soft kisses wherever he can reach until sleep takes you both.

And when it does, you find him again—the Noah from your dream. The one who looked the way he did when you first moved in together at twenty-three, sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you.

[babyy-blossom]

The Poltergeist, the Werewolf, and the Bloody Baron

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

📌fluff, angst, while looking up stuff about hogwarts I stumbled across Peeves (which I had known about) but the article read that Peeves might have been freaked out by the bloody baron and I couldn’t resist writing about it. Not finished but I wanted to post this to see if it would gain traction. Then I’ll decide if it’s worth posting the rest. Masterlist

Summary: Peeves decided to play a trick, resulting in missing your date with Remus.

The library, the quietest place is the school… not.

“Peeves! Give it back, now.” For the past 10 ish minutes you’ve been taunted by that damn poltergeist. First it took your quill, then it took your book, and now that mischievous clown is placing the book on the top shelf with the everything inside it. Could you have gotten back? Yes, but with your wand. That is if you had it. But he took that too.

“Mmmhhh nah, I think I’ll keep it,” he replied, not even staring you a glance as he tucked the book, which had all your belongings inside, between rows of other books.

A evil scheme began to take root in your mind. A glint of mischief that could rival Peeves’ ran across your eyes.

“Peeves,” you now had his attention, “if you do not give me my stuff back right now I will summon Baron.” If a poltergeist could die, he would be dead. Dead from a heart attack.

“You wouldn’t.” His eyes narrowed at you.

“Try me.”

Oh the day you were having. It was because of Peeves you had missed your date with Remus. How in the world were you going to explain this one to Lupin?

He’d been setting this up for weeks. He’d never spare you any details but just him talking about it would get him giddy.

And now to him it probably looked as though you stood him up.

You promised Peeves that you wouldn’t involve the bloody baron, but perhaps he could use a good scare. He gave you back all your belongings but only after threatening him. Maybe he did deserve to be taught a lesson.

Thinking about seeing Remus face to face was crushing your heart.

Upon walking back to the Gryffindor common room, you had caught the eyes of Sirius.

“Hey! Where have you been!” He called out running after you. Your shoulders slouched. The last thing you needed was to be interrogated by Sirius Black. “Hey I’m talking to you.”

“What, Sirius.” You didn’t look back. Just kept walking.

“Hey don’t get snappy with me. You are the one that stood up Remus. You should see the state he’s in right now.” Hearing that made your lip tremble.

You opted to not speak or look at the dark haired, pasty skinned man beside you.

Upon seeing the painted door of Gryffindor, you let out a sigh of breath you didn’t know you were holding in. As you crossed the threshold of the doorway a hand clamped down on your shoulder roughly. It was Sirius guiding you more forcefully than needed to the boys dorm room.

“You caused it. Now you fix it,” Black stated as he opened the door and you pushed into the room.

There was Remus, lying in his bed curled up with his arms covering his face. He was wearing brown khaki material slacks paired with one of his signature sweaters and a white button down shirt underneath poking out.

He looked breathtaking, that is if he wasn’t currently sulking on his bed and was at your date instead.

You knew he had been crying.

My had badly you screwed up you thought to yourself.

You turned to Sirius and shoved him out of the room but not before giving him a nice punch to his sternum as payback for him being so rough with you.

You made sure to lock it with a charm.

“Remus?” Lightly and softly calling out to him stirred him awake from his crying induced nap.

Your shoes made a hollow sound as you walked heavily over to his beside.

[professorsnape394]

Day 3: Haunted Hijinks

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating: 🥰

Prompt: Haunt

Summary: Peeves has it out for the new Professor and only Severus Snape can help.

A/N: So I had initially intended for his to be a shorter story but it ended up being even bigger than my last. I apologise if there maybe isn't quite enough Snape for you, but good news is there will be a part 2!

Warnings: ghosts?

Word Count: 2518

Credits to Gif Creator

Week 1

The haunting started just as I had anticipated. Doors slamming, objects randomly disappearing and reappearing in different places, drawers sporadically flinging themselves open and emptying their entire contents onto the floor.

I wasn’t scared. I knew it was coming.

When I first joined the school Minerva was over the moon to have her favourite student joining the faculty. I received an overwhelmingly warm welcome by everyone… everyone, except two.

The first was to be expected. Severus Snape was never a man for comradery. Despite the fact we had both attended Hogwarts at the same time as teens, my presence here didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. While I had been admittedly disappointed by his cold reception, I wasn’t surprised by it. Snape rarely acknowledged me, even when we had shared classes together. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he didn’t even know I existed.

The second, less then pleasant reception, came from a poltergeist.

As confirmed by Minerva, Peeves had a habit of making every new professor’s life at Hogwarts a living hell. Everyone had experienced the same treatment, all except one.

The torment was to last one month exactly, worsening as the weeks went on. This was his way of initiating you into the faculty apparently. The silver lining of it all though, was after the month was done, no professor would be pestered by the poltergeist thereafter.

The first week passed without issue. Yes, it was annoying to go to pick up your hairbrush only to have it vanish from plain sight. And constantly tidying up the contents of my desk was becoming a bit of a nuisance but nothing I couldn’t handle for the next few weeks.

Week 2

“Peeves!” I groaned, jumping from my chair, as my whole desk hit the floor. “I’m trying to work.”

The room echoed with deep belly laughter, an apparition of the ghost appearing as he zoomed from one side of the room to the other.

Books flew from their spot on the bookcase, smashing into the opposite wall before fluttering to the floor. One after the other the shelves emptied themselves, leaving only the bare bones of the old oak bookcase.

While trying to right my upturned desk, a loud creaking caught my attention.

“No!” I screamed, watching the shelves come crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

This had been the way of the week. Standing by, watching the poltergeist wreak havoc on my chambers, powerless to stop his antics. Within the short space of a week Peeves had turned my life upside down. Every day I awoke to each room in my quarters being completely trashed by the ghost. My clothes were piled high, the empty drawers dumped beside them, class assignments and student essays lay scattered across the floor, he had even taken to raiding my bathroom cupboards, squeezing out the contents of every bottle he came across, smearing it over the floor, walls and mirrors.

Despite my efforts to clean up after him, I soon realised it was a futile task. No matter how quickly I cleaned up one mess, Peeves had already created three more. It was halfway through the week when I realised it would be easier to live with the mess for the next two and a half weeks. Paying my dues turned out to be a lot messier than I had anticipated.

Week 3

The penultimate week took a different toll than the others. I saw Peeves a lot more than he had previously allowed; choosing to take to his physical form and follow me around the castle grounds.

He whispered nonsense in my ear, spoke over me while I taught, interrupted my conversations with my colleagues and worst of all he sang. Day and night, Peeves belted out a badly pitched tune, throwing in the occasional made-up limerick to just to taunt me.

Last night was a particularly difficult night. Somehow Peeves had gathered every radio, gramophone and record player from around the school and scattered them throughout my bedroom. Dozens of different melodies blasted through the speakers, all while Peeves sung along to songs that he never even knew the words to.

My three-day migraine turning into four, I was surviving purely off of caffeine and sheer will power at this point. I hadn’t had a minute of sleep since the week began, and I wasn’t sure I could cope with it any longer.

“Not long now, my dear.” McGonagall encouraged, gently patting my arm reassuringly.

Struggling to keep my eyes open, I took another large swig of my morning coffee. “How did you put up with it, Minerva. I don’t think I can last much longer; it’s beginning to affect my teaching.”

“I’m afraid it’s just one of those things we have all had to endure, my dear.”

“Not everybody.” I huffed, turning my narrowed gaze to the potions master at the far end of the table. “How did he get away with it? Why doesn’t Peeves make his life hell.”

“That would have to be a question you ask Severus.”

“Pft.” I grunted. “He’d never tell me. He hasn’t even spoke to me since I started here.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No but…” I didn’t have any excuse.

“Then maybe now is your chance. Severus had never been one to make the first step, but I know he’d appreciate it if you paid him a visit.”

“Do you think he even remembers me? I mean it’s been years since we were in school and even then we didn’t exactly run in the same circles.”

“I’m positive he’ll remember you, Y/N, maybe more than you’d expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mea- “

Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, my mug of coffee flew from my grasp, levitating in the air tauntingly, before finally tipping its entire contents onto my lap.

I jumped from the table with a gasp, thanking Merlin the beverage had time to cool before I was scolded.

My cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Not only was my dress and robes stained dark with coffee but the entire school had been privy to my torment.

I immediately ran from the Great Hall, hoping to escape any further public teasing from the spectre.

By the time the school day had come to an end my head was pounding from the lack of sleep, Peeves had interrupted all six of my classes today, and I had heard students whispering about the coffee fiasco on more than one occasion.

This was my breaking point.

Putting aside my shame and anxiety, I stormed down to the Dungeons to find out how Snape escaped the poltergeist’s awful induction. I was willing to beg on my knees if that is what it took.

“Y/N?” Snape breathed, seemingly shocked at the sight of me on his doorstep.

“I need your help Severus. Please.”

“Come in.” He granted, clearing his throat as he returned to the room.

I took a seat by the fire, waiting for him to join me. Instead, the potions professor paced around the room, never quite settling on one spot.

“It’s nice to see you again.” I called over my shoulder to him, hoping to break the ice.

“Is it?” He stumbled. “I mean; yes, it is.”

“It’s been a long time; I don’t even think I remember the last time we saw each other.”

“Graduation.” He said without hesitating. “I saw you afterwards in the Hog’s Head with Potter and Black.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.” I chuckled nervously, wondering how he possibly remembered that when I couldn’t.

“I remember Sirius got so drunk that night, he ended up sleeping at mine and-

“What do you want, Y/N.” Severus snapped, his entire demeanour changing as he made his way to stand in front of me.

“I need your help.” I repeated.

“With the Poltergeist I presume.”

I nodded simply in response, suddenly understanding why the students found him so intimidating.

He had changed a lot since school. He was no longer the scrawny little teenager whose clothes never quite fit. He was a man now, tall and built out. His clothes fit him perfectly, they even showcased the outline of a bicep on either arm. His voice was like velvet, deep and rich, and it hit my ear in exactly the right way. His face, while no longer youthful, suited the aged lines etched into his forehead. His eyes had always been my favourite though; dark as the night sky and just as mysterious. I never could bare the intensity of his gaze and experiencing it now made me feel just like that awkward 14-year-old again.

“Peeves is not one to be stopped. With exception of Dumbledore and the Bloody Baron he listens to nobody. A deal was struct with a previous headmaster to allow the spectre to have his fun for one month, after which he is not to intervene with the professors to ensure the sanctity of the school and the students education.”

“But he never tormented you.” I whispered, hoping to gain some more insight.

“I cannot help you.” Snape’s eyes saddened.

“Why not? Is it because we were never friends in school? I tried to talk to you Severus, I did, but you just never seemed interested, I- ”

“I cannot help you, Y/N, because I did nothing to deter the ghost.” I opened my mouth to object, but Snape never gave me a chance to speak. “Peeves never haunted me because he never wanted to. It is my understanding that before the castle was built, these dungeons were the grounds in which Peeves was brutally murdered, more specifically, this very room. The ghost refuses to enter my chambers at all. I cannot help you, Y/N, because the only place in this whole castle where you can escape the phantom is here.”

My shoulders drooped at the revelation.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked like he really meant.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” I puffed, trying not to sound as disappointed as I was. “I guess I’ll just have to suck it up like everyone else, I guess.”

Realising Snape probably didn’t want me to stick around for some unnecessary small talk, I immediately tried to make myself scarce. However, while heading out the door I was forced to stop in my tracks.

“Y/N.” Severus called after me.

God, I loved the way he said my name.

“If you ever need a break from him. To do your marking or even just to read for a bit, you can come here. There door is always open.”

“Thank you, Severus. I really appreciate that.” Though it wasn’t likely I’d ever take him up on the offer. Being in such close quarters with a man like him was bound to set me nerves on edge.

Week 4

With 7 days to go until my living hell was no more, I was sure I could power through the fourth and final week.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Day one came in full force. I awoke to the deafening sound of fireworks; fizzing and sparkling at the end of my bed. My heart pounded in my chest; the combination of insomnia, my high caffeine intake and now this, heart palpitations had become a regular occurrence for me.

Nevertheless, I promised myself to power through the day, trudging out of bed to start my classes. I waded through piles of my belongings; the floor hadn’t been visible for a fortnight now and I was almost starting to get used to it. As I made my way to the bathroom, I flicked my wand turning off each blaring radio as I went, hoping it would earn me a moments peace before I was thrust into the chaos of Hogwarts.

True disaster stuck, however, as I approached the hall leading to the bathroom. A sharp shiver shot through up my spine as something squelched underneath my bare feet. I closed my eyes, praying it wasn’t what I thought had happened.

My favourite sweater lay sodden in the middle of the hall, amidst a pair of drenched leggings and a stack of soggy assignments. The hall had been completely flood, the source of course being; the bathroom.

“Please please please.” I repeated to myself as I gripped the door handle tight.

Giving me no time at all to mentally prepare myself for the inevitable state of the bathroom, Peeves appeared on the other side of the door, yanking it open forcefully, taking me with it. I was instantly flung into the deep end, finding myself standing in the middle of a domestic rain shower. The shower, the sink AND the toilet all had water spurting out of them, drowning the room until I was in an ankle-deep puddle. Even the bath was overflowing, given that Peeves had deliberately put the stopper in it before choosing to burst the pipes.

I let out a long and frustrated scream.

“This has gone too far, Peeves!”

A far away laugh echoed through the chambers, he clearly got his desired reaction out of me.

While tempted to succumb to the ghosts’ antics; ready to ball myself on the floor and cry it out. I remembered I did have one other option.

No longer possessing a sense of shame I trudged my way through the castle halls wearing only my saturated silk pyjama set and a pair of waterlogged fluffy bunny slippers. My hair clung to the side of my face in strands of tangled curls, the wet ends dripping onto the floor behind me as I walked.

“Please don’t say no to this.” Were the first words out my mouth when Snape opened his door to me.

“Alright.” He answered without question.

“Can I stay with you.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll just be for the week and I can sleep on the couch, or even on the floor but at least I’ll sleep. And I’ll have to use your shower too, as you can probably tell my bathroom is currently incapacitated. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible, and I’ll literally owe you the biggest- Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said okay, Y/N.” It was clear the potions master was struggling not to roll his eyes at me forcing him to repeat himself.

“…But why?”

“I’m not quite as unaccommodating as people seem to assume. I’ve witnessed how much you have struggled these past three weeks. And I know, if you’ve shown up here begging for my help, it must be bad. So okay, you can stay for the week. But be warned, there will be some ground rules.”

“Oh My God, Severus I could kiss you right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

If he were anyone else, I’d have definitely thrown myself at them, crushing their torso to show my sheer gratitude. With Severus though, I knew he was not one for physical forms of affection, and given that I was soaked to the bone I realised it wouldn’t be wise to subject my saviour to my same fate.

“We’ll discuss my stipulations after dinner this evening. Now you best hurry up and take a shower if you want to make it in time for your first lesson of the day.”

As I sprinted to his bathroom, I could have sworn I spotted a small smirk tugging at the corner of Snape’s lips.

He really wasn’t as grouchy as he let on.

[that-choir-girl]

Stubborn — Zak Bagans x Reader

“Y/n, why don’t you go to the top floor of the Villisca Axe Murder house? Stay on the top of the stairs and stay there for about maybe ten minutes. If you feel anything beforehand, don’t hesitate to call for us,” Zak finished in a firm voice.

“On it,” y/n answered in an unusually cheerful voice that surprised everyone. Zak handed y/n some equipment, including an EMF reader and an EVP recorder. Y/n made her way halfway up the stair before she stopped and sat down.

“I have an EMF detector,” said the reader, “along with this EVP recorder. The EMF will record any electro-magnetic pockets that are said to be spirits, and the EVP recorder will record any voices that are not mine. So I’mma turn this on —” She quickly turned on the EVP “— And rolling.” She paused for a moment, the silence pressing in on her ears. She swallowed. “Why do you like to harm people here?” She paused. Are you the Reverend? Or are you something more sinister? Was the murderer possessed?” She paused. “Ending. Guys, I’m coming back down and we can listen to this recording session together,” y/n called through the Walkie Talkie the guys had her carry around.

“Be careful, y/n/n,” Zak answered as y/n began to climb down the stairs.

But as she does she feels something push her down the stairs. She yelps in surprise as she feels a force on her shoulder blades, and she tumbles down the stairs, landing painfully on her head at the final step, groaning. She can hear running footsteps coming towards her and she can faintly hear Zak’s voice from nearby.

“Oh, my God! Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“I’m fine,” y/n gasps in return as Zak tries to help her stand up. She winces and carefully presses her fingers to where she had landed on the back of her head.

“That looked like a painful fall, y/n,” Zak insisted. “You should go sit down.”

“Zak, I’m fine,” y/n insisted, though she winces slightly from the slight movement of her head. “Ow.”

“Nope. That’s it. You’re coming back to rest at nerve center. I can have someone else take your place.”

“Zak,” y/n whines as he pulls her from the ax murder house.

“Y/n/n,” Zak mimics. He then gives her a stern look, his voice suddenly serious again. “Really, y/n/n. You hit your head hard.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n/n. Please?”

The puppy dog eyes that Zak gives her makes y/n’s shoulders relax. A genuine smile forms on her lips. His large, warm hand fit perfectly in hers as he tries to tug her out of the house.

“Alright, Zak. You win.”

Zak carefully leads y/n over towards nerve center where the rest of the boys were waiting. Nick has an ice pack in his hands and he hands the pack over towards y/n. She takes it gratefully and presses the cold pack on the back of her head. A look of relief floods across her face.

“See? I told you that you’d feel better,” Zak teases. Y/n opens her eyes, scowling at Zak.

“Shut up, Zak.”

“Right,” Zak answers, looking slightly amused. He turns to Aaron. “Hey, Aaron. Wanna go finish y/n’s job in the house?”

Aaron sighs, looking defeated. He shakes his head momentarily.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

[concreteangel92]

Thou Shalt Not Kill/Poltergeists Crossover (Bonus Chapter)

18+

AU Noah Sebastian x detective female reader

Summery: Reader is a detective and is assigned to a murder case which she soon connects with previous killings and figures out the religious affiliation, proving there is a new serial killer within the city. Reader soon becomes obsessed with the killers mind and methods and won’t rest until she figures out who the killer is. All while she gets used to working with her new partner on the case, detective Noah Davis

Warnings: mentions of murder/killings, mentions of missing people, talks of religion, Noah’s god complex is a warning all by itself 🤣

So me and @concretejunglefm both loved each other’s stories so much that we saw the chance to merge them into one universe and do a crossover!!

This collab has been so much fun to create and I hope you all enjoy it!!

This is a flashback and would take place around chapter 5 in my story, this also is from Noah’s POV which was so much fun for me to write as normally it’s the readers 🤭

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IN HERE IF YOU’RE A NEW READER!!

READ ‘THOU SHALT NOT KILL’ HERE!

READ ‘POLTERGEISTS’ HERE!

Poltergeist/TSNK Crossover Here!!

story Taglist: @lacy1986 @hayleylatour @thatchickwiththecamera @calleyx13 @english-fucker @malerieee @ithoughtbynowidfeelbetter @softvgold @lilhobgobbler @glccmreid @badomensls @madomens @loeytuan98 @iluvmewwwww75 @rosebushjhj @livingdeceasedgirl @lilrubles @samanthasgone @blackveilomens @hellayeahsworld @lookwhatitcost @doomhands-jr @nojoyontheburn @poisongirl616 @bakanerd @sacredthefran @flowery-mess @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @1toreyouapart @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @overmydeadbodysblog @concretejunglefm @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

Masterlist

Noah sat in his office, laptop open and the sound of his fingers typing on the keys echoed the room as he was finishing up one of his files before he called it a day.

He gaze was pulled from the screen as his phone started ringing next to him on the desk.

He picked up the device and a small smirk formed on his lips as he read the caller I.D.

“Detective Green, you don’t call, you write”

Nosh heard his deep chuckle over the phone as he sat back in his chair as he waited for his old partner to continue.

"I know it's getting late and I wish that I could say this was a personal call but….I was wondering if I could pick your brains about something."

His interest had been peaked.

“Sure…but don’t you have a new partner to help you with this? You do realise I’ve transferred right?”

"I'll admit my new guy he's…”Noah heard his groan of frustration which said everything he needed to say before he continued. "Don't let this go to your head, there's just something... unusual about this case."

“Unusual? In what way?” Noah’s brows frowned as he listened.

"It's a missing persons case."

Noah listened as Kit went over the timeline of the case based off the main suspect, he heard about the blood, the lack of a body, the scratches. Kit read out statements and spoke about all the inconsistencies of the case.

Noah listened to every word intently, taking in every detail as his mind started to create a visual picture of the crime scene.

"Aside from changing the location of where she was sleeping, she insists that everything is the same. After that she never changes her statement. Not even once."

Noah whistled slowly and felt almost impressed at what he’d heard.

“Wow. That’s quite a case you have there”

“Impressive to have found no body with all that blood”

“I would say that you’re probably closer to your suspect than you think…the girl, I’d pay very close attention to her. And the guy’s friends, leave no stone unturned and treat everyone as if they are the killer”

“That’s where they all go wrong….”

"That's what I have been doing, I've been keeping an eye on her but nothing as of yet."

Noah finished the sentence he had been typing on his laptop before the call as he responded.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you that there are other ways of getting new evidence mate”

"I know it just... my gut is telling me that something is wrong and I've been back to that house and I can't find a single thing more than what we already have. As for his friends well they're all... there is one. Mr. Ruffilo. He and ‘bubs’ seemed to have gotten alot closer after their friend disappeared. I've looked into him but he has an alibi for the night it all happened."

“If something is telling you there’s more then it’s normally true, you just have to keep digging, think outside the box if you will”

"Even weirder is no one heard anything. No neighbors? No one in the area? It's as if the house was sound proofed. Fuck I'm going crazy with this case I swear to god."

Noah smirked as he saw the similarities between his old and current partner.

“Sounds like you need a well deserved vacation after this…good luck on the case, it’s a shame I’m not there, it’s definitely peaked my interest….was there anything else?”

Noah waited for Kit to reply as he started to pack some of his things away.

"Oh, one last thing”

Noah hummed in response as he started to shut his laptop down.

"Apparently the LAPD were requesting some files about an old cold case here."

Noah stopped in his tracks and his expression turned dark.

“Oh?”

"It's that Anthony Jackson case. The guy found dead in his apartment. His heart had been..."

“Ripped out?”

He couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging on his lips, he could feel how uncomfortable Green was at the memory as he finished his sentence very casually.

“How could I forget? Nasty business that was….still no leads for that then?”

“Of course there isn’t” Noah leant back his chair again and reframed from letting out a small chuckle.

"No. No leads as of yet. Not unless there's something sparked this interest on their end."

“Well there is a case that I’m working on now actually, I imagine it’s my partner who has put in that request, she’s incredible at what she does”

Noah couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he continued.

“He’s called the 10 commandments killer here in LA, so far we have 16 bodies, all killed and displayed in the style of a different commandment, all bloody and brutal…but no leads of any kind, no trail to follow. Whoever the killer is…he certainly knows what he’s doing”

“Jesus”

*knock, knock, knock*

Noah looked up as the door to his office opened slowly and he heard the sound of her beautiful voice.

“Hey Noah…oh sorry!”

“It’s ok” Noah smiled and made the gesture with his finger to say ‘one minute’

“Was there anything else you needed? I won’t lie to you, I have a better offer waiting for me”

Noah smirked as he heard the whispered words of “oh shut up Noah” coming from his partner.

Noah couldn’t resist giving her a wink as he waited for detective Green’s response.

"No, you're free to go. One of us deserves to go and have a little fun”

Noah chuckled “oh I most definitely will. Thanks for the heads up”

He shut the call off and looked up at his partner with a cheeky smirk.

“Thank you for that”

Noah shrugged innocently and smiled.

“What?”

He laughed as she gave him a look and rolled her eyes.

“You know very well what…Sorry to interrupt, was it anything important?”

Noah finished packing away his desk and made sure everything was turned off as he picked up his jacket and put it on.

“Nah, just an old friend having a catch up”

She nodded and then looked a bit sheepish.

“Erm…so I popped in to see…if you fancied dinner at mine again tonight?”

Noah gave her a charming smile and nodded his head.

“I’d love too detective”

He gestured for her to walk ahead as he locked his office up and he followed behind her out of the station.

“Oh my little angel, you have been busy”

Chapter 12

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Your monster bf at the beach~

Hybrids tend to stick close to you, their animal sides feeling fiercely protective when they see how crowded the beach is. They tend to end up trying to mount you at some point, wanting to show everyone who you belong to… you spray them with a water bottle full of sea water.

Werecreatures are diving into the water immediately to cool off. Once they’ve done that, they’d really prefer running along the beach and bringing you back pretty seashells they find. Then… they cling to, shaking and getting water all over your towel before running off to jump into the water again.

Vampires enjoy building sandcastles under their umbrella of safety. They make you strawberry popsicles and them blood popsicles for the day… just don’t get them mixed up.

Demons(especially incubi) are another possessive bunch, keeping their cock nestled inside of you while in the water, and pushing back your bathing suit to slip into your pussy while you’re sitting on their lap on the beach.

Elves HATE the sand, so they get there early to lay out towels, a place to wipe your feet, and an umbrella to create the perfect lounge area. They will absolutely freak out if you drop water on them or get sand on their towels… but eat you out later to make up for it!

Slimes steer clear of the water, a bit afraid to lose themselves and drift off… but they do wanna fuck into you and cum all over your skin! Their semen works as sunscreen so no one even questions all the white stuff on your face!

Orcs start a barbecue and get you into trouble. Though… the police back off once your orc bf turns and raised an eyebrow. Then you get to enjoy some barbecue while sitting on their cock~

Ghosts/poltergeists stick to you like glue, pouting and nuzzling you as you swim. They smirk and end up fucking into you right as you’re about to talk to someone… the moan you let out was so embarrassing.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[bastardofharrenhal]

when ppl spam fandom tags w non fandom posts

[frankiethedarkangel]

You recently moved into a home that is notorious for being haunted.

Being the skeptic you are, you took the chance with it. You could handle a few bumps in the night, maybe even at the worst, a little poltergeist activity.

After spending the day unpacking you decided to explore the attic. There were a few boxes that needed to go into storage for the holidays. Grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight, you head to the hallway to pull down the ladder to the attic.

It was as you expected. A dusty and over heated space at the top of the house. As soon as you turn your flashlight on you feel as if someone poked your side.

Your flashlight relieved a something in the back of the attic covered by a white, dusty, cobweb ridden sheet. So typical. Making your way to see what it is, you feel like someone’s touching you again.

This time it’s bolder than feel as if there was someone poking your side. Something touched your ass. Trying to ignore it, but definitely feeling weirded out, you make a logical explanation for it. Just a muscle spasm you told yourself.

That was until you actually reached the cloth covered objects. Pulling the sheet off, you see there’s a painting of a man. Must be one of the previous owners.

Before you could even move something pushed you against the wall hard. Letting out a scream you try to fight off whoever it was. But there was nobody there.

Feeling something touch you again. Almost as if someone is running their fingers up your legs. You decide to call out.

“Who’s there?”

As expected nobody answers, but it takes you by the hips and pushes you against the wall again. By now you’ve pieced together it’s the ghost you heard about. Well, the poltergeist.

“It’s you isn’t it?”

Looking at the painting as you ask. Almost as if it’s giving you an answer, your pants are pulled off and you feel a finger rubbing your wetting slit.

Rubbing circles on your clit with what feels like it’s thub. Slowly pushing a finger into your pussy. It feels so wrong, but it feels so good.

After the mystery of a person fingers you, you feel a while body pin you to the wall. Holding your hips tight. Slowly what feels like a hard dick is pushing into your now soaked pussy. Using you make itself reach an orgasm.

You feel the ghost cock twitch inside you. As if it was a warning, it cums inside of you. It pulls out and just, disappears. Getting yourself dressed you feel the ghost’s cum leaking out of you.

“It’s green? Green goo?”

Monster Masterlist

[2-dsimp]

Imagine if Xavier and (freaky type of) darling met in a haunted house when they were recording one of those "WENT TO A HAUNTED HOUSE AT 3 AM WITH THE HOMIES (GONE WRONG)" videos😭😭😭

Xavier: (trying to scare darling and their friend group they have)

Friend group: GUYS, RUN!-

(Freaky) Darling: "Nah, he wants smooches. If he can bite, I can fu- " [ insert roblox man face as darling just walking towards Xavier with no fear]

Friend group: (questioning Darling's sanity)

Xavier: (Wondering if he should be concerned or not)

A/n: he’d match your freak a bit too well lmao

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

『♪』Yandere!Poltergiest who featured on your Haunted Video making it X-rated instead.『♪』

Tw: MDNI NSFW Fem! Reader, public sex, humiliation, degradation, ghost sex, NONCON, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex tape, creampie, you have to pay for your poor friends therapy.

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

“This is what trespassing cunts like you get—damn, this pussy’s a sopping mess. You wanted to be a fucked on cam huh?” Xavier sneered, his cold fingers squeezing at your meaty thighs, leaving deep indents.

You resembled a sex doll getting used on camera. Bare tits jiggling, panties hanging off your ankle, spread legs. Showcasing your gaping empty cunt fluttering around an invisible shaft.

Your friends, were forced to stand and watch in horror. You were levitating helplessly in the air. Looking like a stuffed turkey on thanksgiving. A phantom cock visibly outlined within your belly, kissing your womb with every mean thrust.

“Smile at the camera whore, let all your viewers know how damn happy you are to be a deadman’s fleshlight.” The ghost, snickered tugging your hair so you could look at yourself through the camera lens getting defiled on film.

“Fuck, I’mma cum—you better not waste a single drop! Keep it all inside like a good lil bitch.” He groaned, biting into your neck. Hips stuttering against your ass, making your warm walls quiver from being sprayed with his icy ectoplasmic jizz. Which dripped down from his plump balls like raindrops onto your friends below, who let out shrill noises of disgust.

They didn’t believe you when you said you were being haunted. Now they’ll have to go and see therapy if they make it out alive that is.

[pricelessemotion]

love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you) | E.M.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: [2.4k] eddie takes you on that halloween date. it doesn’t go quite like you expected.

warnings: pure fluff, a little awkward date shenanigans, r is described as having frizzy hair and wearing prescription glasses, r also has an (unnamed) sister

a/n: ah! i’ve been dying to write and post a part two for this fic since halloween and i thought there was no better time to post it than now! happy valentine’s day 🖤

masterlist | part one

“There, perfect!” Your sister punctuates the end of her makeover with the snap of her powder compact and the flourish of a makeup brush. 

You turn slowly, the pink cushioned stool a little wobbly under your unsteady frame. Your reflection looks comical, all blurred edges and wavy lines. Without your glasses, the bedroom vanity has turned into a funhouse mirror. 

“What does it matter if I’m going on a date with him if I can barely see him?”

You don’t need glasses to know that she’s rolling her eyes. Even though you can’t quite see her, you can hear her exasperation in the way she’s loudly chewing her gum. “You’re going to the movies, you’re barely gonna be able to see him anyway. Besides, you’ll be able to see him when he’s close enough to kiss and that’s the whole point.”

You blink each eye one at a time, trying to gauge which one is better. Your left eye is slightly clearer, though the difference is negligible. “I think you’re severely overestimating my eyesight.” 

“I think you’re severely underestimating my dating advice.” She blows a bubble, the view of her face becoming a bright pink smudge before it pops and she continues smacking. “Just trust me, it’ll all be fine.”

You do trust her. Even though she has spent the last two hours plucking and primping and preening, you want to take her advice. She’s not doing this to be condescending or controlling. She’s genuinely excited that you have a date, even more so that it’s with a living breathing human boy and not another library book. 

You don’t have much experience. With dating, with seeing someone, with kissing someone. What it means to be dating someone versus what it means to be seeing someone. What you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone. I mean, are your lips supposed to be on top of each other or are they supposed to interlock like the teeth of a zipper? Yeesh, you didn’t even wanna think about how teeth and tongues factor into the equation. 

These types of questions would usually be the kind that you would ask an older sister. You’ve just never had the bravery to say them out loud. Sure, you’ve watched romance movies and rewound and observed so much that you were afraid the tape in the VHS was going to break. And you’ve read enough romance that Ms. Marissa gives you side-eye when you pass the library’s reception desk. But there’s a difference between fiction and real life. A bridge you’ve yet to cross. You’re sure that you’re going to need all the help you can get.  

So, you heed her advice. You let her spray you with enough Aquanet to try to keep the flyaways at bay. You let her paint your lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss that isn’t too sticky and tastes like vanilla. You don’t, however, let her see you sneak the thick frames into your bag for emergencies. If it were up to her, the frames would be set out with Thursday’s garbage and you’d be wearing contacts like everyone else in your age group. 

She drops you off at The Hawk with another smack of her bubblegum and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She barely waits for you to close the door of the station wagon before she’s speeding away, her Halloween plans including a keg, a pushup bra, and a slightly inebriated Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s easy to spot. His silhouette sticks out against the brick building, white shirt, black leather, and blue denim against a red background. He lights up when he sees you and it’s the first time you’ve understood the meaning of the phrase. Since you can’t quite see his face clearly, you’re paying extra attention to his body. The way he pushes off the wall to stand tall. The way his shoulders visibly relax. You bet that they could see his smile all way in Indianapolis. 

“I know you’re usually supposed to give flowers on dates, but this is the best I could do.” 

He presents an origami paper flower in the shape of a rose. It’s made from binder paper, evident by the familiar feel of it in your hands. The folds are a bit unsure. There’s evidence of it being undone and folded again with a cleaner precision, you can feel the wear and tear on the paper with your fingertips. You’re dumbfounded. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, twirling the stem between your thumb and forefinger, watching the rosebud spin. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.” 

“Never?” He gapes at you in apparent disbelief before he schools his expression. “Well then, I’m glad to be the first.” He offers his arm to you like a real gentleman and you take it. 

The leather in the crook of his elbow is cold to the touch, but being in such close proximity you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. 

“It’s a continuous marathon, so they’re showing movies all night. We can start with any one that you want.” He gestures up to the marquee above the concession stand. When you look up to the sign, the words might as well be written in Cyrillic the way the letters all blur together. 

After a trip to the concessions stand, the two of you eventually settle on The Exorcist, which you had decided to cling to after Eddie’s nervous yet adorable rambling about which movie would be better to start with. 

Horror movies are even scarier when you can’t tell what’s going on. It didn’t occur to you how much you relied on sight to be able to mentally prepare for jump scares. Eddie must think you’re a total wimp the way you practically leap out of your seat at every flash on the silver screen that accompanies a discordant string of violins. 

You jump when you feel a hand brush your bicep, your arms flinging out. It’s much too late when you realize that intimate touch was Eddie trying to figure out if you were alright. The large Coke that Eddie had gotten–two straws because he said he didn’t wanna be presumptuous–the casualty of your fright. The flimsy lid pops off like it has nothing better to do and the dark brown liquid splashes over the arm of the seat right into Eddie’s lap. 

Eddie recoils, half-jumping and half-hovering in his seat because he just got a handful of ice-cold soda in his crotch. The people behind you are jeering, grumbling about the disturbance and Eddie half-whispers fucking shit under his breath, in what you’re sure must be a mixture of disdain and disgust.  

You pull napkins out of your purse and thrust them in Eddie’s direction before rushing out of the theater, chest heaving and eyes stinging. 

It’s a wonder you don’t trip and fall on your way out. You’ve walked these dimly lit halls hundreds of times, so luckily instinct and muscle memory win out and you make it out of the theater mostly unscathed, just with a few bruises on each shoulder. Nothing compared to the mortification of what had happened inside. 

Because it’s October in Indiana and you can’t seem to catch a break, it’s raining. Only every so slightly, but enough that you’d be soaked to the bone if you walked home thanks to your sister’s insistence that you dress for fashion and not function. You huddle close to the payphone, pondering if you have enough change to call around and get your sister to pick you back up because no way are you waking up your parents for this. 

The doors to the theater creak open behind you and suddenly you’re not alone anymore. The biting cold chills you to the bone but it’s Eddie’s presence behind you that sets you on fire. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last hour and a half in the dark with your nerves on edge, but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice makes your throat constrict. 

“I’m sorry,” You blubber. “I’m so embarrassed. I just wanted everything to be perfect and I ruined it.” 

“Hey. Hey.” Eddie repeats himself more forcefully when you don’t meet his gaze the first time, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just a little soda. I’ll live.” 

His fingers rub the back of your hands in a soothing motion. Back and forth, thumbs caressing the valleys between your knuckles. He’s close enough that his features are almost in focus. You still have to squint. 

“You keep doing that.” He points his fingers toward your furrowed brow before mimicking the action on his own face. The finger is not accusatory, it just seems like Eddie likes to talk with his hands. 

You sigh, a resigned and weary sound. “My sister convinced me that I shouldn’t wear my glasses.” 

Eddie makes a face that you can’t quite discern in the dark before letting out a soft hmph! “Your sister kinda sounds a little mean.” 

“She means well.” You defend, weakly. You love your sister to death but there are times that your differences become much too apparent and that leaves you with nothing to do but suffer the consequences. This is one of those times. 

“Did you bring them with you?” 

“Yeah,” You reach into your bag, finding the frames folded into one of the inner pockets. 

Eddie takes them and puts them on you. “You keep doing that.” You murmur, a repeat of his earlier accusation. Now, though, you both know it’s in reference to him adjusting your glasses not just once but twice. 

“It gives me an excuse to be close to you.” 

You can see him with unrelenting clarity now. The little crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles warmly down at you. The way the slight breeze has carried the miserable drizzle under the theater awning. The way that drizzle clings to his curly hair like dewdrops on morning grass. You almost robbed yourself of all of this, and for what? Eddie knows what you look like. 

“Y’know what I thought when I saw you yesterday?” Yesterday, when you had been wearing a witch hat on top of your frizzy hair and the same Coke bottle glasses that sit on the slope of your nose now. “I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought I made a fool outta myself and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day, not in a million years.” 

“The whole scaredy cat schtick was quite endearing I must say.” 

He nods seriously, just a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I try my best.” 

You look down at the seat of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain splashed right across his crotch.“Oh god. I'm so sorry. Again” 

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“You didn’t say anything about apologizing.” 

“Well then, this is me saying something. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“It looks like you pissed yourself,” You wail mournfully. 

“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.” Eddie jests before he tugs you into his chest and plants his chin on top of your head. 

You nuzzle your face into his sternum, appreciating the soft hiss he lets out when your cold nose touches his warm skin. You inwardly groan because, quite frankly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than running out of a nearly full movie theater the way that you did. The only thing more embarrassing than that, you think, is going back inside after having embarrassed yourself. You tell Eddie as much, with the reassurance that you don’t want the date to end and if he really wants to, you can go back inside and finish the movie. He’s already tugging you toward his van that’s parked on the other side of the street, saying the six words that make your night:

“I own The Exorcist on VHS.”

You spend the entire time back in the trailer park cuddled up having quiet conversation about gory practical effects over a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The closest he gets to kissing you is when you duck into his chest to hide and his lips brush your temple. He could’ve lived off of that single brush for the rest of his life if he had to. 

When Eddie pulls up to your house later that night, he really does mean to give you an innocent kiss goodnight. The neighborhood is quiet, seeing as it’s probably been an hour since the children of Hawkins had fallen into their sugar-induced comas. He turns the engine off and shifts towards you, his smile both giddy and shy while he tells you that he had a really good time tonight. You mirror his expression and tell him the same. You both lean forward, chests rising and falling in tandem, noses brushing. 

When you finally make it past the front door, your lips are swollen and your glasses are fogged up. You kick off your shoes and pad up the carpeted steps two at a time, racing to your bedroom window. When you turn on your lamp and look out to the tree-lined street, Eddie waves at you, his rings glinting in the streetlight. You wave back, watching the van disappear into the distance. 

“Hey,” Your sister is leaning against the doorframe, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“How’d it go?” You’re already slightly aware of the answer since she’s standing in front of you with a freshly washed face and hand-me-down pajamas instead of in an empty house in Loch Nora. 

She shrugs noncommittally, “It was a bust.” 

You hum in solemn solidarity, trying to tug the grin on your face into a much more situationally appropriate neutral expression. You feel for her and you don’t want to rub it in her face that you had such a good time, despite her advice. Unfortunately, you do not seem to have as much control over your facial muscles as you think you do. Your sister sees right through you, grabbing the purple throw pillow at the foot of the bed and launching it at your face telling you to shut up. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you, huffing with righteous indignation at her before the two of you collapse onto the bed in muffled laughter. 

“So, how’d it go?” She whispers in your direction, mindful of your sleeping parents down the hall. 

You trace your cupid’s bow, feeling the chapped and swollen skin for the hundredth time that night. You turn your head toward hers, readjusting your glasses when they slide down your nose. 

“It was perfect.” 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished 🖤