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msriri030 · 6 months ago

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Husband! Bob x Spouse Reader

cw: light angst

Masterlist

You glared at your ex-husband, Bob Velseb, standing at your doorway with a bag of fresh meat that all but screamed his latest gruesome exploits. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots—people had been going missing again.

Bob’s lips curled into a disarming smile, his southern drawl honeyed and deliberate. “I’m home, darlin’. Why don’t I whip up something’ nice' for you and the girls? Just like old times.”

Your hands clenched into fists as a wave of anger surged through you. Did he really think you’d let him stroll back into your life after disappearing when your now three-year-old daughter was only two months old? Fat chance.

He had always been a storm of chaos, leaving destruction in his wake, but this time it wasn’t just about you. Your two daughters, peacefully asleep upstairs, were your everything. You weren’t going to let Bob ruin the stability and safety you’d fought so hard to build.

“No,” you growled, stepping into the doorway to block his path. “You can fuck off and leave the girls out of this.”

Bob’s smile faltered slightly as you jabbed a finger toward the bag in his hand. “And take that mess with you. The girls believe their father is six feet under, and I intend to keep it that way.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, the smile on his face twisting into something colder, more dangerous. But you held your ground, your protective instincts blazing brighter than any fear he could try to stir in you.

“Six feet under, huh?” he drawled, his southern accent dripping with a charm that felt as fake as the smile plastered on his face. “Well, darlin’, ain’t that somethin’? Here I am, back from the grave, just to see my family. Reckon that makes me a ghost, doesn't it?”

You stepped closer, blocking the doorway entirely, your body a shield between him and the peaceful home behind you. Your heart raced, but you didn’t dare let it show. Bob thrived on fear, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Whatever sick game you’re playing, it ends here,” you spat, your voice low but resolute. “You don’t get to just show up after all these years and act like nothing happened. The girls don’t need you, Bob. We don’t need you.”

Bob chuckled darkly, the deep rumble of his laugh sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, darlin’, you wound me,” he drawled, his tone laced with mock sincerity. “I’ve been thinkin’ about y’all this whole time, wonderin’ how my little girls are growin’ up. Don’t you think they deserve to know their daddy?”

“Wound you? You—" Your voice faltered as your hands balled into fists at your sides. You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to steady your trembling voice. “Their daddy is the man who’s been there for them—the one who raised them. Not the one who ran off and left us to pick up the pieces without warning! So no, Bob. They don’t need to know you. Not now. Not ever… I’m sorry.”

Bob’s smirk faded slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. But before he could respond, you continued, your voice breaking with raw emotion.

“Did you even think about how your disappearing act would affect them?” Your eyes filled with tears, and you blinked quickly, refusing to let them fall. “They asked for you day and night, Bob. Day and night. And I—"

You choked on the words, your pain spilling out in each syllable as you met his gaze. Bob’s frown deepened, his confident demeanor faltering as guilt flickered in his eyes.

For a moment, just a moment, the mask slipped, and he looked almost human like when you first met. Then, as if compelled by something primal, Bob suddenly moved toward you, his steps quick and purposeful. The air between you grew tense, and your breath hitched as his intentions became unclear.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the worst, your heart pounding as fear gripped you. But instead of pain, you felt the unexpected warmth of his arms wrapping around you. It wasn’t rough or forceful—it was tender, almost comforting.

Your breath caught as you opened your eyes, looking up at him through a blur of tears. His expression was unreadable, a strange mixture of guilt and longing etched across his face.

“Bob…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He leaned down slowly, pressing a soft, almost reverent kiss to your forehead. The gesture left you stunned, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. It wasn’t what you expected, not from the man who had brought so much chaos and pain into your life.

For a brief moment, you saw the man you had once loved, hidden beneath the years of betrayal and destruction. Yet, the warmth of his embrace couldn’t erase the past or the weight of his actions.

You pulled back slightly, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Bob… Please, just leave. For their sake.”

Your plea wavered with the emotions threatening to overcome you. The love you thought had long since died began to flicker, betraying your resolve. It was a dangerous ember, one that could easily ignite the uncertainty buried deep within you. Bob noticed the shift, his eyes softening as he gently cupped your cheek with his hand.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “I’ll leave if that’s what you want. But just… let me have one cup of your famous hot chocolate. Like old times, yeah? You remember?”

You felt your resolve cracking further as you unconsciously leaned into his touch, nuzzling his hand. His words carried a strange sense of nostalgia that tugged at your heart.

With a sad smile, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in. “Fine… but please, don’t make too much noise. I don’t want the girls to wake up.”

Bob stepped inside, his smile broadening as his eyes roamed the familiar surroundings. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, memories, and the weight of decisions both past and present. You led him into the kitchen, your emotions a storm of conflicted feelings, wondering if letting him in was a mistake—or if the fleeting moment of warmth was worth the risk.

When you turned to try to backtrack, to take control of the situation, the sight of Bob rooted you in place. The man who had ended lives without hesitation now stood frozen before your wall, covered with photographs of the girls. Everyday moments captured with care—birthdays, school plays, lazy afternoons at the park. His gaze, however, was fixed on one particular picture: a family drawing, childishly scrawled in crayon.

It was simple yet heartbreaking—a depiction of all four of you holding hands in a park, smiling under a bright yellow sun. Beneath the figure labeled "Mom" was you, next to two smaller figures marked "Us." But next to the towering figure meant to represent Bob, the words "My Guardian Angel" were written in wobbly letters.

Bob’s face twisted as he stared, his usual confidence crumbling into something vulnerable, raw. Guilt rippled through his expression as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

Finally, he turned to you, who stood leaning against the kitchen doorway, your arms crossed defensively as you waited for him to process whatever he was feeling.

“I guess you couldn’t really tell them their dad’s a red devil, huh?” he murmured, his voice unsteady as he finally walked toward you.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze locked on the stove as you quietly prepared the hot chocolate. “No,” you replied softly but firmly. “I can’t.”

The silence between you two stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft clinking of the spoon as you stirred the hot chocolate on the stove. Bob watched you intently, his gaze tracing every movement with a mixture of longing and regret. He had missed you—the way you moved, the way your voice filled the room. For all his selfish desires, he knew better than to say it aloud.

Your voice shattered his thoughts.

“You know, Belle—our youngest—found an old picture of you.” You smiled faintly, but the sadness in your eyes cut deeper than any words could. “She was kissing it and asking where you were. I had to remind her… you were in ‘heaven.’”

Bob’s confident demeanor faltered. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze for the first time, guilt etched into every line of his face.

You poured the steaming hot chocolate into a cup, setting it down in front of him with deliberate care. “You know what’s funny?” you continued, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion. “I feel jealous of how much she loves you. Because I know you don’t deserve it.”

Bob flinched as if the words had physically struck him, but he stayed silent, gripping the cup as if it were the only thing grounding him.

You stared at him, your expression hardening as you leaned forward. “They buried their memories of you with love,” you said, your voice low but sharp. “Now that you’re back…”

Bob finally looked up, meeting your glare, but the weight of your next words shook him to his core.

“What do you want me to tell them? Why?” Your tone cracked with emotion, though your resolve remained unyielding. “There’s no way to revive the man they’ve idealized without killing the truth of the one who actually left.”

The room fell silent again, the tension between you two palpable, as Bob struggled to find words that didn’t exist.

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kaces-graham-crackers · 8 months ago

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Trick or Treat, Kiss or Keep - Halloween Special

Astrid Deetz x Reader

Warning: The following themes appear in this story: Bullying, Slight Swearing, Lots of Emotional Stress, and themes leaning towards psychological horror (Please be wary if you read any further!)

Summary: You and Astrid Deetz were once close, but everything fell apart. Now on Halloween night, both are left vulnerable, forced to confront the past. Old feelings resurface, secrets are revealed, and you must navigate the emotional fallout. Be careful what you wish for—everything can change in an instant.

Word Count: 7.4k

Miss Shannon’s School for Girls was buzzing with excitement as Halloween approached. The grand halls were filled with the usual chatter. You were at the center of it all—popular, outgoing, and well-liked. People gravitated toward you, and it wasn’t something you thought too much about. It was just how things were.

But in the midst of all the noise, there was one person who barely seemed to exist in the social sphere.

Astrid Deetz.

You glanced over at her as you walked down the hall, noticing her sitting quietly by herself at the far end of the courtyard, scrolling through her phone, her headphones on. She was always in her own world, a stark contrast to the person she used to be. Once upon a time, she was your best friend. You used to share everything—laughs, secrets, and the occasional mischievous prank. But that was before everything fell apart.

Before her father died.

You sighed and turned away, focusing on your friends as they talked about the big Halloween party that everyone was buzzing about. But no matter how much you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept drifting back to her—to the person Astrid used to be, and the person she had become.

She pulled away, you reminded yourself. I tried to be there, but she didn’t want me around.

At first, you hadn’t understood why she distanced herself. You had offered her comfort, a shoulder to lean on, but she walked away. And after a while, you gave up. What was the point of trying when it seemed like she didn’t want you in her life?

But what hurt more than the loss of friendship was the realization that your feelings for her had shifted. That the crush you had ignored for so long had always been there, lingering beneath the surface. You were so used to pushing it aside that when the distance grew, it felt like you had lost more than just a friend.

Now, as you climbed the stairs toward your next class, you saw Astrid again, walking toward you, head down, focused on her phone. She wasn’t paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere, and before you could step aside—

Crash!

The two of you collided, sending her books and papers scattering across the floor. You stumbled back, barely catching yourself as you looked up, your heart racing.

“Sorry!” you blurted out, immediately crouching down to help her pick up the things she had dropped.

Astrid didn’t even look at you, her dark hair falling over her face as she mumbled something into her phone. She seemed annoyed, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

The girls nearby—your friends—began to laugh, thinking it was all some kind of joke. Julia Ripley, ever the instigator, smirked and leaned in closer. “Nice move, Y/N. Didn’t know you were so eager to knock her down.”

You shot Julia a look, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you muttered, picking up Astrid’s phone and handing it back to her. “Sorry, Astrid.”

Astrid finally looked up, her gaze hard and distant. She grabbed the phone from your hand, barely acknowledging your apology. “Watch where you’re going,” she said, her voice sharp.

Her words cut deeper than you expected. It wasn’t like you meant to bump into her, but the coldness in her tone stung, bringing back the old wounds you thought you had buried.

“I wasn’t the one on my phone,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astrid’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but instead, she just shoved her things into her bag and stood up, her body tense. The girls around you snickered again, feeding off the tension.

You felt something inside you crack. It wasn’t fair—you had always been there for her. You had been the one to stand by her when her world fell apart, but she had pushed you away, and now she acted like you were nothing.

“You know,” you said, your voice louder than you intended, “I was always there for you. You’re the one who didn’t seem to want me around.”

Astrid’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t need you,” she spat, her voice dripping with bitterness. “I never did.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could feel the hurt bubbling up inside you, but you refused to let it show. Not in front of her. Not in front of everyone else.

Your heart shattered, but you didn’t let it show as you muttered, “I was always there for you, Astrid. Always.”

She turned to leave, her head held high, but before she could take more than a few steps, you noticed something taped to her back.

Kick Me.

Your stomach dropped as you realized what had happened. The girls—the same ones laughing at you now—had probably put it there without Astrid noticing.

You pulled the sign off her back and crumpled it in your hand. “Well, I’ll keep that noted,” you said quietly, holding back the anger that was building inside you. You pulled out a small box from your bag—the one you had been holding onto for years, unsure if you’d ever give it to her. “I promise I won’t bother you again.”

Astrid stopped, turning slightly, her expression confused as she glanced at the box you were offering. You handed it off to her and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, but she stayed silent, watching as you walked away, leaving her standing there, the crumpled sign still in your hand.

Without you there to shield her from the worst of it, the bullying came back with full force, creeping into every corner of Astrid's life. It started slowly at first—a whisper in the hallway, a subtle snicker behind her back. The same girls who had once stuck close to her, laughing with her at lunch, had turned on her, mocking her with cruel smiles. They no longer treated her like one of them. Instead, she became their favorite target

"Bad friend." "Such a freak." "Dick."

The names came faster, louder, no longer just murmurs. They trailed behind her as she walked to class, a never-ending barrage of taunts and jeers. Each one stung, each word a reminder of how quickly she had fallen from whatever thin pedestal she had once stood on. The girls would throw fake smiles her way in passing, only to tear her down the second she was out of earshot.

In gym class, they’d intentionally leave her out, pretending not to see her as they picked teams. At lunch, the spot they had once saved for her at their table was gone, replaced by smug looks and snide comments.

"Guess you're sitting alone again," Julia Ripley sneered one day, loud enough for everyone in the cafeteria to hear. The rest of the group erupted into laughter, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Astrid clenched her fists, her stomach turning as she moved to the far corner of the room, sitting at a table by herself. It wasn’t like she was ever one to seek attention, but the isolation stung in a way she hadn’t expected. It reminded her of everything she had lost. Of you.

You were the one who had kept the worst of this away from her. You had stood between her and their cruelty, even when she didn’t notice it. Even when she had been too blinded by her grief and her anger to see that you were protecting her all along.

The realization hit her hard one evening, as she walked through the hallways after class. She overheard one of the girls laughing with her friends. "God, remember when Y/N used to hang around with her? I swear that's the only reason people didn't mess with her back then."

Another voice chimed in, "Yeah, totally. Y/N was the only one keeping her from being a total loser."

Astrid’s heart sank. It wasn’t just their words—it was the truth behind them. You had been her shield, the one person who had protected her from the relentless bullying that was now pouring in from every direction. And she had pushed you away, thinking she didn’t need anyone. Thinking she didn’t need you.

But now? She was alone.

The girls who once stood by her side had turned into her tormentors, and the rest of the school followed suit, treating her like an outsider. The isolation weighed on her more than she ever thought it could. She found herself dreading every moment at Miss Shannon's, wondering when the next sneer, the next insult, would come. She had no one to turn to now—no one to sit with at lunch, no one to talk to during class. The people she once thought were her friends had abandoned her the moment it became convenient.

And you? You were the only one who had ever been real. The only one who had cared, even when she didn’t deserve it. Even when she had lashed out, pushing you away with cruel words. The memory of the argument echoed in her mind, the way you had looked at her with hurt in your eyes, the way she had said things she could never take back.

"I don’t need you. I never did."

The words tasted bitter now, and the weight of what she had done gnawed at her. How wrong she had been. She didneed you—she always had. But she had thrown that away, and now she was facing the consequences.

Every cruel word, every mocking glance, every laugh behind her back—it all felt like punishment. And she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take.

One evening, as Astrid sat at her desk, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on her, she noticed the small box you had given her earlier that week. She had shoved it aside after your argument, not even considering opening it at the time. But now, with everything swirling around her—guilt, regret, and the growing realization of her mistakes—her curiosity got the better of her.

With trembling hands, she reached for the box, her fingers brushing against the lid. A part of her didn’t want to open it, knowing that whatever was inside would only remind her of what she had lost. But another part of her—a part that missed you more than she cared to admit—couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Slowly, she lifted the lid.

Inside was something she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just any piece of jewelry or a token of the past—it was a small animal tooth, crafted into a pendant. The sight of it hit her like a wave, memories flooding back instantly.

She remembered the day you had found it, the two of you exploring the woods near the school, laughing as you pretended to be on some grand adventure. You had stumbled upon the tooth—an old keepsake of the forest, worn and weathered—and immediately decided to keep it. She hadn’t thought much of it back then, but you had been adamant, saying it would bring you both good luck.

And now, etched into the bone, were the letters “Y/I/H x AD 4Ever.” A promise, a bond that had once seemed unbreakable.

Astrid’s fingers traced the engraving, her heart sinking as the weight of the memory settled over her. The late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the sense of belonging she had only ever felt with you—it all came rushing back, tinged with the bitter sting of regret.

Why did I push you away? she thought bitterly, gripping the bone tightly in her hand. Why did I let this all fall apart?

She clenched her jaw, trying to hold back the wave of emotions crashing through her. She had been so angry, so hurt after her father’s death, that she had pushed you away without a second thought. She had convinced herself that she didn’t need you—that she didn’t need anyone. But now, looking at this simple, meaningful piece from a time when things had been so much easier, so much better, she realized how wrong she had been.

You were always there, she thought. And I threw it all away.

Astrid’s grip tightened on the pendant as her guilt deepened. She didn’t deserve your friendship. Not after everything she had said, everything she had done.

Later that night, as Astrid sat at her desk, her thoughts clouded with memories and guilt, she heard a faint rustling at her door. The soft sound barely registered over the hum of her own mind, but when she glanced down, she saw an envelope—plain, black, and unmarked—slipped under the doorframe.

Curious, she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There was no name, no sign of who it was from. She opened it slowly, pulling out a glossy, printed invitation:

Halloween Party at Julia Ripley’s House This Saturday—Be there or be forgotten.

Astrid scoffed under her breath. Of course, it was from Julia. It was always her, throwing lavish parties and acting like she owned the school. The thought of going made her stomach turn. The idea of being surrounded by people who whispered about her behind her back, who made her feel like an outsider in every room she entered—people like Julia and her friends—it was the last thing she wanted.

She tossed the invitation aside, rolling her eyes at the pretentiousness of it all. What’s the point of showing up to something where you’re only going to be mocked?

Astrid hadn’t been to a party in ages, and she had no interest in the social scene anymore. Not after everything that had happened. The halls of Miss Shannon’s were already hard enough to navigate, and the idea of facing the crowd outside of school, where the insults weren’t whispered but spat directly in her face, was exhausting.

But then, a stray comment floated through her memory—something she had overheard in the hall earlier that day.

"Yeah, Y/N’s definitely going to Julia’s party," one of the girls had said, laughing about how they couldn’t wait to see what costume you would wear.

Astrid’s heart had lurched at the mention of your name, and now, it did again. You were going.

She bit her lip, glancing at the small black box still open on her desk. The pendant inside—the one with the animal tooth and your initials intertwined with hers—sat there, a reminder of what she had thrown away. The realization that you had never really given up on her, even when she had given up on herself, had shaken her to her core.

The guilt had been gnawing at her for days now, ever since you had walked away from her after your argument in the hallway. She hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but it hurt, knowing how badly she had hurt you. She had pushed you away in her darkest moments, convinced she didn’t need anyone, least of all you. But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she had lost.

You were always there for me, and I was the one who left you. The thought kept repeating itself in her mind, over and over again, a painful truth she could no longer ignore.

And now…you were going to be at that party. The chance to see you, to explain, to finally apologize for everything she had done, made her heart race. Maybe—just maybe—this could be her chance to make things right.

She stood up from her desk, pacing her small dorm room as she debated what to do. Part of her wanted to forget about it, to hide away in her room like she always did these days, to avoid the crowd and the stares and the inevitable whispers. But another part of her—a deeper, more desperate part—wanted to see you. She needed to see you.

What if this was her only chance? What if you never spoke to her again? What if the door she had slammed shut so long ago could finally be cracked open, even if just a little?

The thought of you, of the friendship—and maybe more—that she had ruined weighed heavily on her chest.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, her heart heavy with indecision. Could she really face you after everything?

The memory of your face, hurt and betrayed during your last confrontation, flashed in her mind. She had been so cruel, so blinded by her own grief and anger, that she hadn’t realized how much she was hurting you in return. But you had never stopped trying. You had never given up on her, even when she had been at her worst.

And that necklace—the pendant—it was proof. Proof that, even now, you still cared.

Astrid looked at the invitation again, staring at it for a long moment. She had no idea what she would say if she saw you, no idea if you’d even want to hear her out. But she couldn’t hide forever. She couldn’t keep running from the mistakes she had made.

Her fingers tightened around the invitation, determination creeping into her chest. She would go to that party. She would see you. She would find a way to apologize, to make things right, no matter how difficult it might be.

But what she didn’t know—what she couldn’t have known—was that the party wouldn’t be what she expected. Nothing could have prepared her for what was waiting for her when she walked through the doors of Julia’s house.

The night of the Halloween party arrived, and Astrid found herself standing at the bottom of the grand, sloping driveway of Julia’s house. She looked up at the looming structure, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and dread. The house, which always had an air of old-world elegance, had been transformed for the occasion. Black and orange streamers lined the walkway, fake cobwebs clung to the trees, and glowing jack-o’-lanterns grinned wickedly from every corner.

The house itself was a strange sight—a looming, gothic-style mansion with towering spires and a stone façade that seemed to absorb the moonlight. It looked like it had been plucked straight from a haunted movie set, with vines creeping up its walls and the shadow of bare, twisted branches looming overhead. The front porch had been decorated with fake tombstones and skeletal figures, and the grand windows glowed brightly from the lights inside, cutting through the eerie atmosphere.

Despite the elaborate decorations, it was the sheer size of the house that made it unsettling. It felt as though the windows watched her, almost as if the house itself had its own pulse—one that beat in time with the heavy, thumping bass of the music coming from inside.

Astrid hesitated, lingering at the edge of the driveway. She could hear laughter and chatter filtering out through the open windows, the muffled sound of party-goers enjoying themselves. Everyone was probably in some over-the-top costume, laughing and taking pictures, oblivious to the person standing outside, contemplating whether she should go in.

Her grip tightened around her phone, the weight of the invitation pulling at her again. You’ll be there, she reminded herself. Maybe this is my chance.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and made her way up the steps. The porch creaked beneath her feet as she approached the door. A skeleton animatronic on the porch swung its bony arm, a hollow, mechanical laugh escaping its jaws as it greeted her arrival. She forced herself to ignore the knot of unease forming in her stomach and pushed open the door.

Inside, the party was in full swing. The interior of the house was just as elaborately decorated as the outside—blood-red lighting washed over the grand foyer, casting long, eerie shadows against the walls. A giant chandelier hung overhead, draped in fake cobwebs, while ghostly figures dangled from the ceiling. The air smelled like a mix of too-sweet candy and perfume, and the sound of people talking and laughing filled the space, almost drowning out the pulsing music that seemed to shake the floor beneath her feet.

She stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room for a familiar face. But she didn’t see you. Instead, all she saw were people dressed in elaborate costumes—vampires, witches, zombies—mingling in groups, none of them even noticing she had arrived. A part of her wanted to turn around and leave, but she stayed, rooted in place, determined to find you.

Astrid kept to the shadows, moving along the walls to avoid drawing attention to herself. She wasn’t here to socialize or make small talk—she was here for one reason, and that was to find you and apologize. The weight of everything she had done, everything she had said, hung heavy on her chest. She didn’t know if you would forgive her, but she needed to try.

Suddenly, the music cut off.

Astrid froze, her heart skipping a beat as the house plunged into silence. The chatter of the guests grew quieter, murmurs of confusion rippling through the crowd. For a moment, all that could be heard was the soft rustle of costumes and the shuffling of feet. Then, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into complete darkness.

Gasps echoed around her, followed by the sound of people shifting uncomfortably. There was an eerie stillness in the air, as if the entire house was holding its breath. Astrid felt her pulse quicken, her hand instinctively reaching into her pocket for her phone.

Suddenly, the sound of a recorded voice crackled through the speakers, filling the dark space. It wasn’t the music that had been playing before. Instead, it was the sound of people gasping and whispering, their voices faint but filled with an edge of fear. It was as if the very walls of the house had come alive, replaying the reactions of the party guests as they stood in the dark.

Astrid’s breath caught in her throat. She didn’t like this—not one bit.

She stood in the corner, frozen, unsure of what to do as the whispers and gasps continued to play on repeat. For a moment, she wondered if it was just part of the Halloween decor—some kind of haunted house effect Julia had set up to scare the guests. But something about it felt off.

She pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight to cut through the darkness. The bright beam of light flickered as it swept across the room, illuminating the faces of mannequins—twisted, grotesque mannequins—that had been scattered throughout the house. They stood motionless, positioned in strange, unnatural poses, their faces twisted into eerie, silent screams. Some had limbs missing, others had blood-red paint dripping down their plastic faces. Each one had a sign hung around its neck, scrawled in dripping red letters.

Bad Friend. Liar. Asshole.

The words stared back at her, harsh and biting, like cruel accusations carved into the very mannequins themselves. Astrid’s stomach twisted with unease. The mannequins hadn’t been there before, had they? She would have noticed. Right?

As she swept her phone’s light across the room, her breath quickened. More mannequins lined the walls, their distorted figures positioned in grotesque mockery of real people. It was as if they were watching her, judging her. And the worst part? Every single mannequin bore a name—her name.

Astrid Deetz.

It was written on every sign, alongside the cruel words: Bad Friend. Asshole. Dick.

Astrid felt a lump form in her throat, her heart racing as panic began to settle in. This wasn’t just part of the Halloween decor. This was something more. Something meant to get under her skin, to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Her hands trembled as she turned in place, the light from her phone casting long shadows on the floor. She could hear the recorded voices growing louder now—mocking whispers, cruel laughter, as if the house itself was laughing at her. The walls seemed to close in around her, the once festive atmosphere now twisted into something sinister.

Astrid’s breath came in ragged gasps as the reality of the situation sank in. This was a prank. A cruel, calculated prank, meant to make her feel like she was nothing. And it was working.

She stumbled backward, her legs shaky as she tried to move away from the mannequins, her light flickering as it caught more of the red-painted words.

BAD FRIEND. ASSHOLE. YOU DESERVE THIS.

The whispers in the recording grew louder, harsher, until they were ringing in her ears, drowning out her thoughts. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block out the noise, but it only seemed to get louder.

And then—right in front of her, projected on the wall—was the worst thing of all.

A photo of you, standing with Julia Ripley, her arms draped over you, leaning in as if to kiss you. You were blurred, but the image was clear enough. It was meant to look like you and Julia were together—meant to hurt her, to break her down even more.

Astrid’s knees buckled as she collapsed to the floor, her heart shattering at the sight. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream, to tear down the image, to run. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

She could only sit there, frozen in place, as the world around her fell apart.

The party had dragged on, and you were on the verge of giving up. Astrid hadn’t shown, and as the hours passed, the hope you’d been clinging to slowly dissolved. You were about to grab a drink, resigned to the idea that maybe tonight wasn’t the night to fix things, when something strange caught your eye.

A crowd had gathered around the large TV in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the usual video games or party antics playing on the screen—it was something different. Something wrong. The air in the room felt heavier, the laughter quieting into hushed whispers, and you pushed your way through the crowd, anxiety creeping up your spine as you tried to get a better view.

And then, you saw it.

On the screen was a live feed of Astrid, kneeling in the middle of some dark, abandoned room. Her body was shaking, her hands covering her face as she sobbed uncontrollably. In front of her, projected on the wall, was a cruel, photoshopped image—you with Julia Ripley, standing too close, her lips almost touching yours. The sight of it hit you like a punch to the chest, the knot of horror tightening in your stomach. This wasn’t some innocent prank. This was deliberate. This was cruel.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the reality of what was happening crashed down on you all at once. They had set her up. This wasn’t a party invitation—this was a trap, designed to humiliate Astrid, to break her down in front of everyone. Julia Ripley was behind this.

You whirled around, scanning the room, your blood boiling as you spotted Julia, sitting comfortably in a lavish chair she had dragged out—her "prom queen" chair, a symbol of her self-obsessed reign over the social scene. She was sitting at the front, watching Astrid’s breakdown on the screen with a smug expression plastered on her face, completely unaware of the rage building inside you.

Without thinking, you stormed toward her, anger boiling over with every step. Julia saw you coming, and before you could even speak, she reached out, her arm moving to wrap itself around you in a flirtatious, almost possessive way. She looked at you with a sly grin, as if she expected you to join her in her twisted satisfaction.

But you were beyond furious.

“You went too far,” you said, your voice low and sharp, your hands clenched into fists as you shoved her hand off you, disgusted. “When you said you invited her, you meant to a prank party, didn’t you?”

Julia’s smirk faltered. Her hand recoiled, but she tried to play it off, huffing in annoyance as she leaned back in her chair. “She deserved it,” she snapped, her voice dripping with condescension. “After the way she treated you, how can you still defend her? You deserve better.”

You couldn’t believe the audacity, and the rage inside you boiled over.

You clenched your fists tighter, every muscle in your body trembling with anger. “Deserve better?” you echoed, your voice shaking with barely controlled fury. “I could never be your girlfriend—I’m in love with Astrid! I always have been, and I always will be.”

Julia’s eyes widened in shock, and a hush fell over the room. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but you didn’t care. You had held it in for too long, and now it was out, ringing in the air for everyone to hear.

“I’ve always been in love with Astrid Deetz,” you repeated, your voice firm, filled with emotion. “Because unlike everyone else in this room, she’s real. She’s the realest fucking person I’ve ever met. Yeah, she can be a dick sometimes, but she’s mourning. She’s going through life with a mother who is too busy to acknowledge her and a father who was the only person who ever truly understood her, now gone forever.”

The room was dead silent now. You could feel every pair of eyes on you, but all you could think about was Astrid—how broken she had looked, sobbing on her knees in that abandoned house.

“At least Astrid’s dad loved her for who she was, not for what she could do for him,” you continued, your voice growing louder, more passionate with every word. “He didn’t need her to win some meaningless trophies to impress other middle-aged women going through their midlife crises.”

Julia’s smug expression melted away as your words hit her like a sledgehammer, her face paling as tears welled up in her eyes. The entire crowd stood frozen, the weight of your words settling over them like a heavy cloud.

Everyone was silent. The only sound that remained was the faint, echoing sobs from the live feed of Astrid on the TV.

You turned back to the screen, the tears now welling up in your own eyes as you heard the sound of Astrid’s broken confessions playing over the speakers. Her voice, fragile and filled with regret, crackled through the room, cutting through the silence like a blade.

“Where is she?” you demanded, your voice shaking. You turned back to Julia, who had nothing left to say. She stared at you, tears streaming down her face, but you had no sympathy for her. You didn’t care about her tears.

All that mattered was Astrid.

Julia stammered, trying to pull herself together, but she was too flustered to form words. You couldn’t wait any longer. You needed to find Astrid, and you needed to find her now.

Without another word, you rushed toward the door, your heart racing as you prepared yourself for what came next. Astrid was out there, alone, broken, and you weren’t going to let her suffer any longer. You had to save her.

As you sprinted through the streets, your heart racing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Astrid—how broken she looked, how badly you needed to find her. You heard snippets of her confession playing on the live feed, her voice choked with emotion as she admitted her guilt and sorrow.

“I was a terrible friend,” she sobbed. “I didn’t deserve her… She was always there, but I pushed her away. I didn’t know how to handle it… And now, it’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you heard her words. You had to get to her. Now.

Miraculously, You had found the abandoned building. This was the second option for the Halloween party if Julia’s dad wasn’t leaving for a yacht trip. You vaguely remember the room Astrid was in and raced through the abandoned house, your heart pounding. The air was thick with the smell of decay, and the dimly lit hallways were littered with mannequin limbs and scattered decorations. The floor creaked beneath your feet as you pushed open a cracked door, your chest tightening with fear.

“I don’t deserve her… I pushed her away because I didn’t know how to deal with it…,” Astrid’s voice, thick with emotion, echoed through the room as you sprinted through the dark hallways of the abandoned house. Her confession played on the live feed, each word pulling at your heart. Tears pricked your eyes as you heard the depth of her regret, and with every step, the urgency to find her grew.

You finally pushed through the door, in the center of the room, under the faint flickering red lighting of the chandelier, Astrid was kneeling. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably in front of the photoshopped image of you and Julia. You could feel the anger bubbling inside you, wanting to scream at Julia for orchestrating this awful setup, for making Astrid feel so broken. But as soon as you saw Astrid, all that mattered was getting to her.

You knelt beside her, gently placing a trembling hand on her shoulder. Astrid flinched at the touch, her body tensing, but when she looked up and saw it was you, her devastated expression deepened.

“Why are you here?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You shouldn’t have come… You don’t need to see me like this.”

Your throat tightened as you fought to keep your voice steady. “I’m here because I care, Astrid. I’ve always cared.”

She shook her head, her eyes filled with regret and self-loathing. “I don’t deserve your care. I don’t deserve you.” She let out a broken laugh, her voice raw with guilt. “I’ve been horrible to you. I said… I said I didn’t need you, but I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry at everything—at the world, at myself.”

Her words cut deep, but you could see the pain behind them. The guilt had been gnawing at her, consuming her from the inside, and now, as you knelt beside her, you realized just how much she had been carrying alone.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “ I know you didn’t mean those things. You were grieving, and I should have understood that. But I never stopped caring, Astrid. I never gave up on you.”

Astrid looked at you, wide-eyed and tearful, her breath catching in her throat. “But I was so awful to you…” she choked out, her hands shaking.

“You were hurting,” you said, gently wiping the tears from her cheek. “And I know that now. But I’m here, Astrid. I’m still here.”

Her sobs began to quiet against your shoulder, her body trembling as the weight of everything she’d carried finally seemed to lift, if only slightly. For so long, she had been drowning in her pain, and you could feel the relief in the way she clung to you, her fingers gripping your shirt like you were her lifeline, afraid to let go in case she sank back into the darkness.

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, letting her sobs subside into quiet, steady breaths. Your hand moved gently through her hair, offering her the comfort she had denied herself for so long.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she whispered eventually, her voice hoarse and heavy with regret. “I pushed you away because I didn’t know how to handle anything anymore. I was angry. I was scared… and instead of asking for help, I turned into someone I hate.”

Your heart ached at her words, hearing how much she had struggled, all the while shutting you out. But now, here she was, vulnerable, her walls crumbling around her as she finally let you in.

“You were hurting, Astrid,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. And I forgive you. We can fix this.”

Her eyes searched yours, wide and tear-filled, as if trying to grasp the truth of your words. “But how can you forgive me after everything? I treated you like you didn’t matter. I threw away our friendship, pushed you out of my life… How do we come back from that?”

You smiled gently, brushing away another tear that escaped down her cheek. “We come back from it by starting right here, right now. You’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”

Astrid’s lip quivered, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath shaky as she let out a soft sigh. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured, her voice breaking with emotion. “But I’m so grateful you’re here.”

You smiled, tightening your embrace around her. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Astrid. With you.”

She closed her eyes, resting her head against your shoulder again, her grip on your shirt loosening as she let herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The tension between you faded, replaced by the quiet comfort of being together—finally, after so much time and distance.

As the sound of her steady breaths filled the room, you realized that it wasn’t just the apology or the confession that mattered. It was the fact that you were still here, together, ready to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Astrid nodded against your shoulder, her body calming as the weight of her guilt began to lift. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a second chance with you,” she said, her voice raw but grateful. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

You pulled her even closer, holding her tight as your heart swelled with love and relief. “You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered softly. “We’ll do it together.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Astrid let herself believe that maybe—just maybe—things could be okay again.

After a long, tear-filled confession, you and Astrid left the abandoned house. The chilly night air hit your skin, the weight of the tension left behind in that eerie place still hanging in the air. The house itself, with its broken windows and crumbling walls, seemed to watch you both as you walked away. Its dim, flickering lights and twisted mannequins were now just a distant memory, but their haunting presence clung to you. The cracked door creaked one last time before closing behind you.

The air felt heavier, but for the first time in a long while, there was also something new between you—hope.

You guided Astrid back to your place, her hand tucked into yours. She was silent most of the way, her fingers tightening around yours every so often, as if she was afraid you might disappear. The long walk through the dark, empty streets felt almost comforting after the night’s emotional chaos, the streetlights flickering softly, casting long shadows on the ground as you both walked side by side.

When you finally arrived at your house, the warmth of the familiar environment enveloped you. Your parents were already asleep, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you like a protective blanket. You led Astrid to your room, offering her a soft smile as you turned on the small lamp by your bed.

“Come on, let’s get you settled,” you said gently, watching as Astrid glanced around the room with an almost shy expression. She looked so different now—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. But there was also a kind of peace in her eyes, like she was finally letting herself breathe again.

You both climbed into your bed, wrapping yourselves in the warm blankets, and for the first time in what felt like forever, things felt... okay. You lay next to each other, sharing quiet conversation as the weight of the night slowly faded away.

At one point, you admitted, “I heard most of your confession, you know.”

Astrid stiffened beside you, her eyes widening as she turned to face you, clearly embarrassed. “You did?”

You nodded, your gaze soft. “I did. And I’m glad I heard it, Astrid. I needed to know how much you’ve been hurting.”

Astrid’s face twisted in regret, but before she could speak, you gently wrapped an arm around her. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You don’t have to say anything else. I’m just glad you’re here.”

She held onto you tightly after that, her body relaxing against yours as the tension melted away. But then, as you shifted slightly to make room, Astrid’s hand gripped your shirt, stopping you from moving any further. You blinked, confused for a moment, until she pulled you back toward her.

And before you could even react, she crashed her lips against yours.

The kiss was soft at first—gentle, almost hesitant as if she was testing the waters. But soon, it deepened, growing more heated and passionate. Her hands tangled in your shirt, pulling you closer as her lips moved against yours, and you responded in kind, matching her intensity.

The kiss turned sloppy, her fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer. The heat between you both was palpable, the passion years in the making, but just as things started to intensify, there was a sudden creak at the door.

Your mother.

The door opened slightly, and Astrid, in a panic, shoved you so hard you fell right off the bed with a soft thud.

“Oh my goodness!” your mom squealed from the doorway, her eyes bright with surprise. “Astrid, honey, is that you?” She didn’t seem to notice you, sprawled out on the floor, as she focused entirely on Astrid. “Are you staying over tonight? I’m so glad to see you back!”

Astrid, flustered and embarrassed, stammered, “Uh, no—no, ma’am. I’m not staying.”

Your mom beamed, already half out the door. “Well, you must stay for dinner. You’re looking a bit thin! I’ll go tell your father to break out the good china tonight! It’s so good to see you again, sweetie!” With that, she closed the door, leaving the two of you in stunned silence.

Astrid peered over the edge of the bed, looking down at you with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

You, still dazed from the sudden shove and your mother’s enthusiastic surprise, could only mutter, “You kissed me…”

Astrid burst out laughing, rolling onto her back as she covered her face with her hands. Her laughter was light and mischievous, her embarrassment melting away into something playful. “Duh,” she said between laughs. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You stared up at her, feeling a mix of disbelief and affection swirl in your chest.

“Now,” Astrid said, her laughter still bubbling in her voice, “come on back up here so I can ruin your dinner with some more sweets.”

Grinning, you scrambled back into bed, leaning in to kiss her again, the warmth of her lips meeting yours once more. This time, the kiss was slow, sweet, and filled with everything you hadn’t been able to say before. It was perfect.

The next day at school, the change was obvious. People stared as you and Astrid walked through the halls hand-in-hand. The whispers didn’t bother you. They couldn’t. Not when Astrid was right there beside you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You walked her to class, stealing a quick kiss before she disappeared inside. She blushed slightly but smiled at you as she waved you off.

As Astrid made her way through the day, she started to notice something—the bullying had stopped. There were no cruel whispers, no mocking looks. Instead, people seemed wary, like they knew something had shifted but couldn’t quite place it.

Later, after classes, Astrid found you waiting for her by the lockers. She was curious, the confusion evident on her face as she asked, “What happened today? Did you… do something?”

You shrugged casually, pulling out your phone and showing her a video. It was of you, roasting Julia Ripley in front of everyone at the Halloween party the night before. You had confronted her, tearing into her with the same fiery passion that had always defined you.

Astrid’s mouth dropped open, completely gobsmacked as she watched the video. “You did this?”

You smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just kept it real. Like you would.”

Astrid’s shocked expression slowly morphed into a smirk. She leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, "Guess I’m rubbing off on you...knew I would eventually." leaving you blushing as she walked ahead, as you followed suit.

#x y/n #x fem!reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday addams x reader #reader insert #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x you #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #kaces-spooky-corner

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0lemonsdoapop0 · 3 months ago

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/64216093/chapters/167197534

we got a new chapter of the Bob/Reader fic up boysss

what will happen next? you decide!

#bob velseb #spooky month fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #fanart #canon x reader #reader x character #reader fic #x reader #reader insert #spooky month #spooky month fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 link #choose your own adventure #cyoa fanfic

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snailsnips · 1 year ago

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\\ umm wip or somth i dunno ┑(。・・)┍

#WIP #still needs renderinn #havent gotten around to it #has literally sat on my folder untouched for like - a month? i think?#i don't normally post so much of my progress but this sideblog's already beggining to collect dust #feat: max =)#bob velseb #spooky month #sm bob velseb #spooky month bob velseb #spooky month bob #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb x self insert #tw suggestive #tw kidnapping #tw dubcon #<- just in case #minors dni #snailsnips

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doppel-doodles · 4 months ago

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Self ship community, I see you, I shake your hand-

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spooky-daggers · 4 months ago

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Perfect- Oddball x F!Reader

AO3

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 8,369

Summary: You're a mechanic and droidsmith that works among the 212th Attack Battalion. During your time among them, you've fallen in love with clone commander and pilot, Oddball (Davijaan). Tonight, you've planned the perfect dinner date, but your plans go off the rails when Oddball sees you in your new dress.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Intimacy, Idiots in Love, Gift Giving, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Romantic Gestures, Date Night, Established Relationship, Sex, Blow Jobs, Making Out, Making Love, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, 2nd person POV, No Y/N, Reader with a clone-gifted nickname, Multiple POVs

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noobiestnoober · 3 months ago

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Haunted House Hunt (Reader, Kol and Rebekah Mikaelson)

Kol bets you won’t last an hour in a haunted mansion. You accept. You expected creaky floorboards, maybe a cold draft… You did not expect Rebekah Mikaelson in full ghost mode. What starts as a dare quickly turns into a chaotic, ghost-filled sibling showdown—and the house might not be as empty as they thought.

👻 Mischief. Screams. A chandelier with opinions. Read if you love supernatural pranks, Mikaelson drama, and haunted vibes

The full moon hung low over Mystic Falls, casting silvery shadows across the crumbling façade of the Whitmore estate—a decaying mansion left to rot on the outskirts of town. Long abandoned, its once-grand halls had become the subject of local lore, whispered about in hushed tones: cursed walls, footsteps with no source, and mirrors that reflected more than your own face. It was the kind of place only someone with a death wish—or a Mikaelson—would find entertaining.

"Bet you won't last an hour," Kol said smugly, tossing you a rusted key that felt cold to the touch. He leaned lazily against the hood of his car, moonlight glinting off his smirk. "You scream before the thirty-minute mark, I win. You survive the full sixty? You get to choose my next humiliating dare."

You snatched the key midair. "You’re going to regret that."

"Am I?" Kol tilted his head, the challenge twinkling in his eyes. "Don’t get lost in there, love. That house has a way of... remembering its visitors."

You rolled your eyes, but your heartbeat spiked as you stepped through the creaking gates and onto the overgrown path. Kol followed close behind, humming a haunting little tune that didn’t help your nerves one bit.

Inside, the mansion breathed with decay. The once-glorious grand hall now lay blanketed in dust and cobwebs, the chandeliers hanging like frozen insects, their crystals dulled by time. The air was thick, tinged with mold and something metallic—like old blood. Every step echoed like a scream swallowed by the darkness.

"This place could use a decorator," you muttered.

Kol chuckled. "It’s got charm. Gothic dread and death—very on brand for us."

Ten minutes in, he was already wandering ahead, poking his nose into faded portraits and crumbling side rooms. You followed the beam of your flashlight, which danced over broken furniture and cracked tiles, each one whispering its own story.

"Honestly, I expected more," Kol called over his shoulder. "Where are the poltergeists? The spooky whispers? This is just—"

A sudden thud echoed from upstairs, followed by slow, deliberate footsteps.

You froze. So did Kol.

"...You didn’t invite anyone else, right?" you asked.

His grin slipped. "Nope. Did you?"

Before either of you could react, the lights flickered violently. At the top of the staircase stood a ghostly figure clad in white, with long, tangled blonde hair and vacant, hollow eyes. It stared down at you both in absolute silence.

Kol’s bravado evaporated. "No bloody way."

The figure let out a piercing, mournful wail that chilled your bones.

Kol grabbed your arm. "Run."

No hesitation. You bolted through the corridors, tripping over loose floorboards and half-broken chairs as the howling echoed behind you. Doors slammed on their own. Paintings fell from walls. It felt like the house itself was alive. You barely made it into the drawing room before the heavy doors slammed shut behind you.

Kol leaned against the wood, panting. "Okay, that’s... not what I planned."

Then—laughter. Rich, amused, and unmistakably familiar. From the shadows emerged the 'ghost,' pulling off the white curtain she’d draped over herself. Rebekah Mikaelson. Smug. Triumphant.

"Really, Kol? Trying to host a haunted house hunt without me? How rude."

Kol stared at her, wide-eyed. "You orchestrated that? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"That was the goal," Rebekah said sweetly. "I even rigged the lights. Very convincing, wasn’t it?"

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to calm your pulse. "Okay, that was evil—and brilliant."

"Thank you," she said with a gracious nod.

Kol groaned dramatically. "You cheated."

"There were no rules against psychological warfare," she said, crossing her arms. "Besides, it was more fun than watching you two tiptoe through dust for an hour."

You smirked. "Pretty sure I win the bet, by the way. I lasted the full hour and you screamed first."

"That’s highly debatable," Kol muttered, brushing dust off his shirt.

Rebekah walked around the room like she owned it—probably did, in some century. "Next time, I say we try that monastery outside Richmond. Supposedly cursed by witches."

You raised a brow. "There’s going to be a next time?"

Kol shot her a glare. "Not unless I plan it. And no fake ghosts, Bekah."

Rebekah turned, smiling mischievously. "Who said I was fake?"

A loud creak groaned above your heads. One of the chandelier’s crystals dropped to the ground with a soft, chilling clink. The room went quiet.

Your voice came out a whisper. "Okay. We’re leaving now."

The three of you exited the house quickly—maybe a bit too quickly—laughing nervously under your breath as you stepped into the cool night air. The mansion loomed behind you, silent and still.

As Kol drove you away, tires crunching on the gravel, you glanced back. In the top window of the Whitmore estate, a pale face watched from the shadows. And this time... it wasn’t Rebekah.

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whereslynx · 8 months ago

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Oscar and reader kept getting walked in on by the gang so they never get time alone and so they basically poke fun about how they seen spooky ass so many times

a/n: oops, my hiatus went on a little too long than i expected 😭

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Oscar couldn’t stop laughing as he leaned back on the couch, his chest shaking from how hard he was trying to catch his breath. You were curled up next to him, red-faced and fuming from yet another interruption. He rubbed a hand over his face, the mirth never leaving his eyes. “How many times this week now? Four? Five?”

“Six,” you corrected sharply, swatting his arm in frustration. “And two of those were Sad Eyes! Why does he think he can just walk in here like he owns the place?”

“Man’s got no shame,” Oscar chuckled, shaking his head as if Sad Eyes’ antics were some eternal mystery. He shifted to sit up straighter, his grin widening as he added, “But Joker? Nah, that’s on you. How you not gon’ lock the door after last time?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I thought he was supposed to be out, not walking in on us mid—”

Oscar smirked, leaning back with a casual confidence that only made you more flustered. “Mid-Spooky business,” he finished for you, his tone dripping with humor.

The sheer absurdity of his words broke your composure, and you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “They’ve all seen more of you than I have at this point!” you managed between giggles.

Oscar’s laughter followed, deep and warm, filling the room. “Don’t act like you’re shy about it,” he teased, his arm sliding around your waist to pull you closer. “Besides, you’re the one yelling, ‘Don’t stop!’ loud enough for the whole block to hear.”

Your gasp was immediate, and you smacked his chest with mock indignation, your cheeks heating up at the memory. “Oscar!”

“What?” he said, his grin widening as if he hadn’t just called you out in the most shameless way. “I’m just saying, mami, maybe next time you wanna blame someone, you start with yourself.”

You groaned again, trying to fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Next time, you can deal with Sad Eyes walking in.”

“Sad Eyes?” Oscar scoffed, throwing his head back with a fresh round of laughter. “That man’s probably got a tally going by now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along, the frustration of the situation melting away with his infectious energy. His fingers brushed your cheek, and he leaned in close, voice dropping into something softer. “Let ‘em see, baby. Don’t matter. You’re all mine.”

Your heart flipped at his words, and for a moment, the world outside disappeared. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other—interruptions, nosy friends, and all.

Oscar’s lips pressed gently to your forehead, his grin softening into something warmer, something that spoke volumes without words. “Alright, alright,” he relented, his tone affectionate. “But for real, they gotta start knocking. A man can’t get some quality time without someone barging in talking about business.”

You sighed, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you snuggled closer, the comfort of his presence easing your lingering frustration. “Maybe we should hang a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door,” you suggested, a hint of playfulness in your voice.

“Nah,” he countered with a mischievous smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll just start charging them every time they interrupt. Five bucks a head, ten if it’s Sad Eyes.”

Your laughter bubbled up instantly, the image of Sad Eyes begrudgingly pulling out crumpled bills vivid in your mind. The sound of your amusement seemed to wash over Oscar, his chest aching in the best way as he watched your face light up. Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, the touch both tender and grounding.

“Seriously, though,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing giving way to something softer, more sincere. “We’ll figure something out. You deserve some peace, without all the interruptions.”

Oscar groaned dramatically, but the warmth in your shared laughter made it impossible to stay frustrated. You glanced up at him, catching the hint of sincerity in his smirk.

"You're sweet, Spooky," you teased, brushing your hand along his cheek. "Even when you're a pain."

"And you're trouble," he fired back without missing a beat, his grin tugging wider. "But you're my trouble."

Just as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours, the door slammed open. Sad Eyes strolled in, looking far too pleased with himself. "Yo, Oscar-oh, come on! Again?"

Oscar's patience snapped as he grabbed the nearest pillow and chucked it at him. "Do you ever knock?"

Your shoulders shook with laughter as Sad Eyes dodged effortlessly, leaning against the frame. "What can I say? Maybe put a sock on the door. Or better yet—get a lock."

You could hear Joker’s voice from the front porch, his heavy footsteps following soon after through the door, “Yo, Sad, what’s taking so long—“ He said before stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of you and Oscar all cuddled up on the couch.

“Oh, hell nahhh,” He mumbled, a cackle leaving his lips, “Almost got PTSD, thought I was gonna have to see Spooky’s ass again,” Joker laughed, earning a suppressed chuckle from Sad Eyes, but only a scoff from Oscar.

"Get. Out!" you and Oscar yelled in unison, your voices overlapping in perfect exasperation. Sad Eyes and Joker cackled, backing out but leaving the door wide open behind them for extra chaos.

Oscar let out a frustrated groan and flopped his head against your shoulder. "I swear I'm gonna kill those guys."

You giggled, letting your fingers weave through his hair as you teased, "No, you're not. But maybe you'll actually charge them next time."

"Fifteen bucks each," Oscar grumbled, his lips curving into a reluctant smile. "And I'm using it to buy a damn lock."

#omb #on my block #on my block x reader #fanfic #oneshot #spooky #reader insert #spooky x reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #antonio sad eyes guzman #joker

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msriri030 · 2 months ago

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All I ask: Husband Bob x spouse! Reader

quick oneshot, prequel to other work here or stand alone

Masterlist

The sudden flash of red and blue lights outside your living room window sent a jolt through your system. You turned to your husband, Bob, his back turned to you, seemingly unfazed by the commotion.

"Bob… Why are the cops outside?" you asked, your voice tinged with unease.

He remained silent, his posture rigid. As you stepped closer, you noticed he was wearing a devil mask, its sinister grin illuminated by the flickering lights.

"Honey... why are you wearing that costume?" Your voice trembled, tears welling up in your eyes. "Did you scare some neighbor by accident? Bob! Answer me! What's going on?"

He turned to face you slowly, the mask concealing his expression. His voice, laced with a Southern drawl, sent a chill down your spine.

"I did something really bad, darling?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as fear gripped you. The room seemed to close in, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. You took a step back, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"Bob... please, take off the mask," you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached up slowly, removing the mask to reveal a face you barely recognized—eyes cold, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

"It's too late for that now," he said, stepping closer.

The red and blue lights of the police cruisers pulsed through the thin curtains, casting eerie patterns on the walls like warning beacons in a nightmare. Outside, voices crackled over radios and dogs barked in the distance. But inside the cabin, time stood still.

Bob stood in front of you, barefoot and wild-eyed, his chest heaving with slow, deliberate breaths. His shirt was torn and stained—a mixture of dirt, sweat… and something darker. His pupils were dilated, fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

You had known this man—this man who once kissed you when you were on your first date, who cried when your daughter arrived. But this... this wasn't him. The warmth was gone. The man who used to bring you wildflowers and terrible jokes had been replaced by something hollow and unnatural.

“Don’t be scared, darling,” he said, voice disturbingly gentle. His hand rose slowly, caressing your cheek with a tenderness that made you shiver. “I love you too much to eat you… like the others.”

The words didn’t register at first. It was the kiss—the soft, reverent kiss he placed on your lips—that forced your brain to snap into focus.

Your breath hitched. “O… others?”

Then you saw it. His hand, now resting against your face, was slick and glistening. The metallic scent hit you a second later—coppery and sharp. Blood.

Your knees threatened to buckle. You didn’t scream. Couldn’t. The scream lodged itself in your throat like a bone.

You stared at him, horror dawning in your eyes. “Why?” you choked out. “Why would you do this? We have a baby to care for… So why, Bob?”

His expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of guilt, or maybe hunger, rippled across his face. He tilted his head, eyes never leaving yours.

“I was hungry,” he said simply, as though the explanation should be enough. “My love… you don’t understand. It started small. Just… cravings. I thought it would go away.”

He took a step toward you.

“I tried, I swear I tried. But then they came. Strangers, trespassers. And it got easier. Then I met you but the hunger never left..”

You backed away instinctively, the heel of your boot hitting the edge of the table. The room spun. A dark red smear on the floor caught your eye. You hadn't noticed it before. It led toward the back door—the same door your neighbor’s teenage son had walked through earlier, asking about your generator.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Your babies. You had put them down for a nap just hours ago. Upstairs.

“Where are they?” you rasped, voice cracking as the panic took hold. “Where’s Emily? Belle?”

Bob blinked slowly. “Safe. Sleeping. I could never hurt them. They are ours.”

The word ours made your blood run cold.

Somewhere beyond the walls of the house, a police officer shouted something—distant but growing closer.

You looked at Bob, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to scream, to do something—but your body felt frozen, anchored by the weight of disbelief.

There was still time. There had to be.

Bob’s gaze softened—sickeningly tender—as if he hadn’t just confessed to unspeakable horrors. As if this was just another night, and not the unraveling of your world.

“All I ask, darling,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “is for you and Emily not to forget that I love you... so much.”

And just like that, he turned.

He walked slowly, almost serenely, past the shattered front door, the blood on his hands glinting under the flashing police lights like some grotesque badge of honor. The silhouette of his figure dissolved into the red and blue haze outside.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your knees buckled beneath you as the front door creaked in his wake.

Silent tears streamed down your face, each one heavier than the last. The sob that escaped your throat was raw and broken, the kind that came from a soul frayed beyond repair.

Outside, the shouting grew louder. Boots thundered against the porch. Flashlights swung through the dark like hunting knives. But it was already too late.

Because even if they caught him—even if they shot him down where he stood—the man you loved was already gone.

And the thing he left behind?

Would haunt you forever.

#spooky month bob #bob velseb spooky month #bob spooky month #spooky month bob velseb #bob velseb fanfic #bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb x self insert #bob velseb x y/n #fanfic #bob vesleb #spooky month #light angst

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kaces-graham-crackers · 8 months ago

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Steps of a Midnight Waltz - Halloween Special

Jenna Ortega x Reader

youtube

Summary: When Jenna invites you to an exclusive masquerade hosted by one of her famous friends, you expect a night of glamour and mystery—but not like this. Surrounded by ghostly guests and forced to relive a stranger’s tragic love story, the two of you must uncover the truth before the clock strikes midnight…or risk being trapped in their world forever.

Word Count: 4.5k

The soft hum of the television filled the living room, casting flickers of light across the walls. You and Jenna lay comfortably on the couch, limbs entangled in a way that felt second nature after three years together. It was one of those rare nights where neither of you had obligations pulling you away, and you’d settled into the rhythm of your lazy evening routine. You’d made dinner, and she’d attempted to surprise you with dessert—though the slightly charred edges hinted she might have gotten distracted.

She handed you a dish with a sheepish grin. “Hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Definitely,” you smirked, pulling her close for a quick kiss. “But we might need some whipped cream to help with the taste.”

Jenna rolled her eyes, swatting your arm before resting her head against your shoulder, exhaling a contented sigh. This felt like everything you’d worked hard for—a cozy house you could call home, where she could crash after long filming days, away from prying eyes. She even had her own set of keys, a secret most people didn’t know. Just her way of slipping in and out unnoticed, something that amazed you considering her popularity. Sure, fan mail sometimes found its way to your doorstep, and the paparazzi occasionally loitered around your neighborhood, but inside these walls, it was just you and Jenna.

The two of you had just finished watching the latest episode of some murder mystery show when Jenna’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her brows furrowing slightly as she sat up.

“What’s up?” you asked, shifting so you could look over her shoulder.

“It’s Percy,” she murmured, showing you the message. Percy Hynes White—a close friend from the Wednesday set. “He’s inviting us to some Halloween masquerade party in the hills.”

Your eyebrows rose. “A masquerade party? Isn’t that a little… theatrical?”

She chuckled, tilting her head in thought. “Percy always did have a flair for the dramatic. He says it’s exclusive, just a handful of his close friends and some others from the industry.”

You took a breath, considering. Halloween was always a fun excuse to get dressed up, but something about the invitation felt… different. “Exclusive in what way?”

Jenna shrugged, but her eyes gleamed with intrigue. “He says it’ll be unforgettable, that he pulled some strings to make it really immersive. Maybe it’s some kind of performance thing?”

You glanced at the message again, Percy’s words echoing in your mind: Dress to impress, but don’t look too closely under the mask.

Jenna leaned into you, her eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. “Come on, it could be fun. Plus, it’s been a while since we did something different for Halloween.”

You grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Alright, but if this turns into some horror-movie experience, I’m blaming you.”

Halloween night came swiftly as you both got ready rather quickly, ready for whatever the night brought you both. Jenna appeared from her room, adjusting her mask delicately as she walked toward you. She was dressed in a midnight blue gown that shimmered under the low lights, hugging her form and flowing elegantly with each step. Her dark hair was swept back, revealing a pair of sparkling earrings, and the way her mask accentuated her eyes left you completely mesmerized. The faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips told you she noticed your reaction, and she lingered just a bit longer, letting you drink in every detail.

“Close your mouth,” she teased, her voice a soft whisper as she reached for your hand, the warmth of her fingers pulling you out of your daze.

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head slightly. “You’re one to talk.” You glanced down at yourself, taking in your outfit—a well-tailored ensemble that hit the balance between formal and comfortable, a layered look that was sharp and understated, yet eye-catching in its simplicity. Jenna’s eyes swept over you with an approving look that made your pulse quicken.

“Shall we?” you asked, offering your arm with a grin that felt a little too wide, a little too proud.

She took it, her hand light on your forearm as she gave a playful nod. “Lead the way.”

With one last look at each other, you stepped out together, ready to face whatever the night had in store.

The drive through the winding hills of Los Angeles felt endless, the road narrowing as you ventured further from the city lights. Jenna was next to you, her fingers laced with yours, a mixture of excitement and curiosity glinting in her eyes. The invitation had given you an address, but no further instructions, and the closer you got, the quieter it became, the distant sounds of the city fading into an eerie silence. Even the moon seemed hidden behind a veil of clouds, casting a dim, otherworldly glow over the road.

When you finally pulled up to the entrance of a sprawling estate, there was no doubt this was the place. Large iron gates, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, opened before you, as if expecting your arrival. Beyond the gates, a grand mansion loomed, its silhouette stark against the night sky, ivy curling around the dark stone facade. It looked like something from another era, timeless and haunting.

Jenna squeezed your hand, her eyes gleaming beneath her delicate mask. You could feel her anticipation as you reached the grand staircase leading to the entrance, the sound of distant music drifting through the thick wooden doors. A sense of excitement buzzed between you, but something else lingered in the air—an unspoken feeling of unease.

“Ready?” she asked, glancing up at you with a grin that held a hint of mischief.

You returned the smile, adjusting your own mask. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The doors opened with a low creak, and you stepped into a dimly lit hall, chandeliers casting warm golden light across the marble floors. The scent of old wood, wax, and something faintly floral hung in the air, inviting yet oddly unfamiliar. Around you, figures in elaborate costumes and masks mingled, their faces hidden beneath intricate designs of lace and feathers, jewels catching the light.

Jenna looped her arm through yours, her eyes roaming the room. “This is amazing,” she whispered, her gaze taking in the rich details—the polished wood paneling, the velvet curtains, the shadows that seemed to flicker at the edge of the room, as if watching.

You wandered through the room together, and as you moved, you noticed the guests were unusually quiet, their voices barely above a murmur. Some stood in groups, exchanging hushed words, while others seemed lost in their own world, dancing to the hauntingly beautiful melody echoing through the halls. It felt like stepping into another time, where the past lingered just beneath the surface.

Percy spotted you from across the room and made his way over, dressed in a black suit with a silver mask that covered half his face. His eyes glinted with a knowing look as he greeted Jenna, pulling her into a quick hug before turning to you.

“You made it,” he said, his tone almost too casual, as though he’d expected you all along. He gave a slight nod to Jenna, his voice low. “I’m glad you could come. This place has… a certain charm, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, glancing around. “It feels like we’ve walked into a dream—or maybe a ghost story.”

Percy chuckled, the sound soft and oddly distant. “You’re not far off. This place is full of memories. Just be careful what you wish for.” He gave you both a cryptic smile before blending back into the crowd.

You exchanged a look with Jenna, a shiver running down your spine at his words. There was something strange about the way he’d spoken, like he was in on a secret you weren’t privy to. But before you could dwell on it, Jenna’s hand tugged on yours, leading you toward the center of the room where a small group had begun to dance, swaying to the ethereal tune filling the hall.

As you began to waltz, Jenna’s eyes sparkled beneath her mask. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Feels like we’re in another world, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, but as you spun her, your gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when you noticed something peculiar—no one else seemed to blink. The other guests moved with a rhythmic grace, their faces hidden, yet they held an unsettling stillness, their eyes unblinking, expressions frozen. An eerie sensation crept over you as you watched a masked couple dance, their movements smooth but unnervingly mechanical, like they were moving on a loop.

“Jenna,” you whispered, pulling her a bit closer, “does anything feel… off to you?”

She tilted her head, her brows knitting together as she looked around. “Now that you mention it…” Her eyes narrowed, observing the room with newfound caution.

Just then, the music shifted, the tempo quickened, almost imperceptibly at first, but then it grew, urging the dancers around you to move faster. There was something unnatural about the pace, a feverish intensity that set your instincts on edge.

You shared a look with Jenna, an unspoken agreement passing between you both. Just as the other dancers’ movements grew frenzied, you stepped away from the floor, hand in hand, leaving the strange whirl of figures behind. With a steadying breath, you guided her toward the lavish refreshment table, hoping a drink might shake the creeping unease that had settled over the room. Jenna’s grip tightened on your hand, her gaze darting to yours with a spark of concern.

“Maybe we should—”

The air grew cold, and a collective whisper echoed through the hall, sending chills down your spine. The dancers froze mid-movement, their heads turning in unison to face you, eyes gleaming with a strange, unnatural light.

And then, almost as one, they resumed their dance, spinning and twirling. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, and you turned to see Percy standing at a distance, watching with that same unsettling smile.

“What’s going on here?” you asked, your voice coming out as a strained whisper.

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming beneath his mask. “Sometimes, the past doesn’t stay buried. Sometimes, it comes back for those who walk in its shadow.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as his words sank in. You glanced at Jenna, catching the flicker of unease in her eyes, and a silent understanding passed between you. Something was very wrong here, and you were caught in the middle of it.

You wandered through the crowd, each new step revealing odd inconsistencies that tugged at your instincts. The clock on the grand wall, gilded and majestic, ticked backward in quiet defiance. The ballroom mirrors reflected only fragments of the room, casting eerie angles of the scene but omitting people altogether. Occasionally, the live band’s music warped and echoed, like it was playing from a distant place, the sound bending just enough to send shivers up your spine.

As you both sipped your drinks, Jenna leaned in close, her voice hushed. “Have you noticed?” She nodded toward the guests around you. They seemed lost in conversation, but the same words repeated over and over, as if the entire scene was caught in a loop.

Before you could respond, a woman in an elegant mask leaned close, her voice soft but brimming with urgency. “It’s almost midnight,” she whispered. “You’ll want to take your places.” And before you could question her, she melted back into the crowd, leaving you and Jenna alone with her cryptic warning.

The masked host's voice boomed across the room, drawing every eye to the center of the grand ballroom. With a flourish, he held up a delicate glass, commanding the attention of his guests. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight, you are not merely observers—you are participants! The midnight waltz shall reenact a tale of love and loss, bound by fate and preserved through time."

The crowd murmured, intrigued, and the host’s gaze lingered on you and Jenna. He gestured toward the both of you, his eyes glinting beneath his ornate mask. "Our main players, our lovers—these two shall carry the heart of tonight’s story."

You exchanged a glance with Jenna, a strange sense of connection sparking between you. Before either of you could respond, attendants appeared, offering you each an item. Jenna was handed a simple, elegant locket—a piece that felt surprisingly familiar, almost as though it was meant to be hers. For you, it was a worn leather-bound journal, its edges frayed and soft with age.

“These,” the host continued, “are yours alone, to aid in your journey. Cherish them well.”

The moment your fingers brushed the journal, a strange, unexplainable warmth spread through your hand, as though it held secrets woven through time. Jenna’s fingers traced the locket, her eyes glancing up at you, a look of bewilderment on her face that mirrored your own.

As you returned to the center of the ballroom, the host’s voice echoed through the room. “Embrace the story, become the lovers, and perhaps—just perhaps—you shall unravel the truth bound within.” He lifted his glass high, and the crowd followed suit, toasting to the night’s mystery.

In your search for answers, you managed to slip away to a secluded area, whispering urgently about the strange inconsistencies you’d both noticed.

“This is way too weird,” Jenna mutters, glancing back at the eerily synchronized dancers. “None of this feels right.”

You nod, gripping her hand tightly as you both approach the grand entry doors. “Let’s just leave,” you whisper.

As you push against the door, an unsettling realization hits you—your hands don’t even make contact. It’s as if an invisible force is keeping you at bay. You try again, pushing harder, pulling, but nothing works.

“What’s going on?” Jenna’s voice shakes slightly, and you can see the worry flickering in her eyes.

You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “It’s like… there’s a barrier.”

A heavy silence falls as the panic begins to rise, your hearts racing as you look at each other, silently questioning your next move. But then, footsteps echo behind you.

“Going somewhere?” a voice asks lightly. You turn to see Percy smiling, his gaze too knowing, his presence almost smug.

You glare at him, frustration and fear mingling. “What the hell is going on, Percy?” you demand, stepping forward. “What kind of game is this?”

“Game?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. Before your eyes, his features change—his eyes darkening, his skin taking on an unnatural pallor as he shifts into a figure far older, with a sinister, regal presence.

You feel a chill run down your spine as he adjusts his collar, seeming unfazed by your reaction. “Convincing, wasn’t it?” he says, that smirk never leaving his face.

Jenna steps closer to you, her fingers tightening around yours. “We’re not playing your game,” she says, her voice cold, steady.

“Oh, but you are.” He gestures to the ballroom, where guests begin removing their masks, revealing twisted, decaying faces beneath. Ghostly forms, eyes vacant and flesh rotting, continue their dances as if unaware of their grotesque states.

“These guests… they’ve been here for centuries, driven by jealousy. This masquerade began as a prank, a cruel game played on two lovers who were envied for their devotion,” he explains. “But it went too far, ending in their deaths. In their rage, the lovers cursed this place, trapping their tormentors and any unfortunate soul who happens upon it.”

Jenna glances at you, dread dawning in her eyes as the host leans closer, a chilling satisfaction in his voice. “To escape, you must reenact their story. Relive their romance, their tragedy. There are three phases—two guided by the artifacts and memories left behind, but the final phase… well, that’s where all the others have failed. The midnight waltz—their final dance together. Complete it, and the curse is broken.”

You swallow, barely able to find your voice. “And if we don’t…?”

He smiles, stepping back as the ghastly figures drift around you. “Then you become part of the masquerade, like all the others, decaying one slow night at a time.”

The realization weighs heavily on you both as he fades back into the shadows, leaving you surrounded by cursed souls and an impossible task ahead.

The grotesque figures around you move in mechanical loops, whispering fragments of conversations that echo as if from another time. The midnight waltz, a doomed love, the need to break free—it all blurs together, and you can feel the walls of the ballroom closing in, the air heavy with the weight of centuries-old despair.

Jenna’s fingers tighten around yours, grounding you. “We’re getting out of here,” she says, her voice low but unwavering. The strength in her tone cuts through the haze of fear clouding your mind, giving you a renewed sense of determination.

You make your way back to the main hall, hand in hand. The first artifact is on display: a delicate, tarnished locket resting on an antique table, its chain coiled like a serpent around the pendant. You can almost feel its significance, the weight of the story woven into its metal.

Jenna picks it up, turning it over in her hands. “There’s something inscribed here,” she murmurs, squinting at the faint etchings. Together, you decipher the words: Bound beyond time, bound beyond death.

You exchange a glance, both feeling the eerie chill of those words sink in. “It must have symbolized their bond,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Their promise to each other.”

Jenna’s brow furrows as she looks at you, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. “Are you saying we… we have to recreate that?”

You nod slowly, realizing that this isn’t just about physical tokens—it’s about re-enacting the emotions, the vows, the essence of the couple’s love. “It’s not forever,” you say, holding her gaze. “But maybe… just for tonight, we need to follow the steps.”

Taking a deep breath, she slips the locket around her neck. The moment it clasps, a strange warmth fills the room, and for a brief moment, the faded grandeur of the ballroom sharpens, as if it’s been restored to its former glory. The guests around you pause, their eyes glinting with a ghostly awareness, and the haunting music softens into a gentle melody.

You reach for Jenna’s hand, repeating the locket’s words together, Bound beyond time, bound beyond death. It’s a strange, almost surreal moment, and as the words leave your lips, you’re hit with a wave of emotions—flashes of memories that don’t belong to you. A hidden garden under moonlight, whispered promises, stolen glances. It’s the love story of two people who loved deeply and died too soon.

The vision fades, and you’re left breathless, the reality of the ballroom returning, though now the locket is glowing faintly around Jenna’s neck, signaling the completion of the first phase.

“One down,” Jenna murmurs, a shaky but determined smile on her lips.

But as you glance around, you realize the ballroom’s cursed guests have taken notice, their ghostly forms edging closer, their hollow eyes fixed on the two of you with a mixture of envy and hunger. The first phase has stirred something within them, a reminder of the love and life they can no longer possess.

With a renewed urgency, you turn to the next artifact: a worn leather-bound journal, resting on a pedestal in the corner of the room. Its cover is cracked and faded, as though it’s been handled countless times, and you can almost feel the weight of its history as you pick it up. The journal, you sense, holds the heart of the couple’s tragedy.

Jenna leans over your shoulder as you open the book, its yellowed pages filled with fragments of thoughts, scrawled notes, and images. It’s a scattered, chaotic testament to their love and the jealousy that surrounded it. Some words are scratched out violently, others rewritten with fervor. Over and over, certain phrases leap out: betrayal, envy, forever.

Your fingers trace the words, absorbing the story that unfolds. The lovers had found solace in each other, hidden from prying eyes, but were ultimately torn apart by the envy of those who could not bear their happiness. And in their final moments, they had written their last vows in this journal, hoping their love would survive, even if they could not.

Jenna’s fingers skim a passage near the end. In the midnight waltz, we found each other anew, becoming one, bound beyond envy, beyond fear. She looks at you, a sense of understanding in her gaze. “The waltz was their key… their way of defying the curse.”

You nod, feeling the intensity of the moment settle over you. “If we can complete it, maybe… maybe it’ll break the curse.”

But before you can speak further, a low whisper fills the air. The host has reappeared, his face cracked and ghastly, a ghostly grin stretching across his face. “Close,” he murmurs, his voice an eerie, mocking echo. “But remember, the waltz must be flawless. Fail… and you become one of us.”

The masked guests begin to unmask fully, revealing hollow, decaying faces, their eyes dark and empty. You realize they were just like you, attempting to escape and failing, cursed to haunt the ballroom forever.

Jenna’s hand tightens around yours, her jaw set with determination. “We’re not failing.”

Together, you take to the center of the ballroom. The final phase is upon you, and the music swells, filling the room with a haunting melody. You hold each other, positioning yourselves to begin the midnight waltz, the final act in the story.

As you sway to the rhythm, following the clues in the journal, the air grows thick, almost tangible with the memories of the lovers’ final moments. Each step is a reenactment of their love, each turn a testament to their devotion. It’s as though you and Jenna are slipping into their roles completely, becoming extensions of their story, living their emotions, their desperation to break free.

The guests murmur, the clock strikes closer to midnight, and you both quicken your pace. The music guides you, but something feels… wrong. The room seems to close in, and you can sense the host watching, waiting for a single mistake.

As the final chime rings out, you find yourself faltering, a sudden sense of dread washing over you. Jenna stumbles, but you catch her, your arms wrapping around her, steadying her.

“This isn’t their ending,” you say, voice firm, defiant. “We’re not bound to their fate.”

In a moment of clarity, you realize the way to break the curse isn’t to follow their tragic path but to reject it. Instead of finishing the dance, you pull away from Jenna, breaking the final pose. She follows suit, her eyes wide with understanding.

“No!” the host’s voice echoes, his face contorted with rage. The guests begin to wail, their figures blurring and fading as the room shakes, the walls cracking, the ceiling starting to crumble.

Hand in hand, you and Jenna turn and run toward the grand doors, which swing open before you. You burst out into the cold night air, the mansion collapsing behind you. The sounds of wailing and cries echo as the walls crumble into dust, the ballroom fading into nothingness.

Breathing heavily, you and Jenna look at each other, the weight of what just happened sinking in. You reach the car, slipping inside, Jenna’s hand clutching yours tightly. She’s shaking slightly, but her eyes hold a glint of relief, mixed with disbelief.

As you drive away, leaving the cursed estate in the rearview mirror, you glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between you. The mansion is gone, but a part of you wonders if the shadows of that night will ever fully leave.

When you glance back one final time, you see faint silhouettes in the windows, figures waving. You can’t tell if it’s a farewell or a warning, but as the city lights come into view, you turn your gaze forward, leaving the midnight waltz—and its ghosts—behind.

The weight of the night settled over you as you drove back toward the city, silence stretching between you and Jenna, punctuated only by the quiet hum of the car engine. The experience had left an indelible mark, a lingering tension woven into every stolen glance and shared breath.

Jenna finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you think… we actually got out?”

You hesitated, the question hanging heavy in the air. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your fingers instinctively tightening around the wheel. “But we’re here. Together. That has to mean something, right?”

She nodded slowly, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes. For a while, neither of you spoke, each lost in the events that had unfolded in that cursed ballroom.

The familiar city lights gradually began to replace the eerie glow of the mansion, grounding you both back into the present. The reality of life outside those doors returned with the first streetlight that passed over you, illuminating Jenna’s face with a warmth and familiarity that finally eased some of the tension in your chest.

As you pulled into your driveway, the house stood as a reassuring sight—its warm lights a stark contrast to the haunting shadows you’d left behind. When the car came to a stop, you exhaled, feeling the grip of that midnight world finally starting to release you.

Jenna unclasped her seatbelt and turned to you, a small, weary smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s go inside.”

Together, you climbed out of the car, and as you stepped through the doorway, you felt the final remnants of the night’s dread fall away, replaced by a familiar comfort. You locked the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet house.

She reached for your hand, pulling you gently toward the living room. Settling back onto the couch, limbs entwined, it was as though nothing had changed at all—as though the night’s horrors had merely been a dream.

But as Jenna’s fingers laced through yours, her head resting against your shoulder, you could feel the strength in her grip, the weight of everything you’d both just survived. And despite the questions that lingered, there was a peace that began to settle between you, a sense that, whatever shadows may still linger, they couldn’t touch you here.

As you drifted into the comfort of each other’s arms, the clock on the wall chimed softly in the distance, marking midnight. For a moment, a chill swept through the room, a final reminder of the midnight world you’d escaped.

But then, Jenna’s fingers traced a small circle on your palm, grounding you both. The warmth of her touch dissolved any lingering doubts, and you let yourself sink into the quiet safety of the present, leaving the echoes of that haunted waltz to fade into memory.

#x y/n #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader #x fem!reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #tara carpenter x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #wednesday addams x you #kaces-spooky-corner #reader insert #jenna ortega x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #x reader #Youtube

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0lemonsdoapop0 · 2 months ago

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It's another chapter of Bob/Reader !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and things get a little ha n d syyyy

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mysteriesmuse · 2 years ago

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Obsessed, Devoted, & Utterly Whipped Dipped (?)👀

A/N: thinking about spooky royalty Gomez and Morticia Addams this week and I want me someone as devoted and obsessed with me as they are 😭😭🖤

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Katsuki Bakugou who loves to make you swoon.

Who is absolutely, totally, completely devoted to you . . . (and whipped for you) . . . I’m talking — frequently walks past you and gathers your hair in one large hand and twirls it around his thick finger just to expose your neck to the chilly air. Likes to duck his head and give a playful nip to your ear as you slap his chest with the back of your hand. Kats who leans back and walks away with a rumbling chucke, but not before giving you a warm apology kiss and then taking the time to fan and brush your hair back to its ethereal state behind your shoulders and tucked behind your ears.

Katsuki who has you pressed against the duvet just pouring melting with adoration all over you. Slow and sensual — only to pause in your undressing and slide down to cup the back of your knee and press wet kisses up and down every inch of your shin and calf — and then your other shin and calf — leaving you feeling all hot n’ bothered but also as light as a feather as he says, “it’s because this part of you doesn’t get enough love.” And you’re left with your toes curling and thighs clenching as he presses his puffy lips up and down every inch — especially every beauty mark.

Katsuki who takes every opportunity he can to whisk you out onto the dance floor. Takes you hand in his and ducks his head so that he stares at you, eyes slightly hidden from his bangs and presses a searing kiss right onto your knuckles that are firmly grasped in the sweaty, clammy, calloused adoration that are his. Who flirtatiously takes you into a dip on the dance floor as your finishing move. He likes having been able to watch you grow more and more comfortable in it, and it’s now as you giggle with your little smile turned upside down that his chest is rumbling with glee as well. He remembers the early days where you’d sheepishly smile with your chin tucked. Nowadays tho, you let yourself grow heavy in his hold and tilt you head all the back until your neck is exposed. And Katsuki can’t help himself but to press The Most “searing-toe-curling-kiss” into the juncture between collarbone and neck — prime real estate for a vampire. And the man is giving gleaming red eyes and a charming smile when you tilt your head back up at him with round eyes. And he’s following you with a boyish shrug as if he didn’t know that giving a good suck to your neck and jugular didn’t turn you on. So you drag him by the collar (bc he never wears a tie) back to the bathroom and immediately attacking him with some of The Messiest mosquito bites Katsuki thinks he’ll ever receive — and he’s never gonna be able to send this shirt off to be properly dry cleaned once he’s buttoned it up and ready to make an exit. Because it’ll be stained from the substantial amount of your dark lipstick smeared across his chest all the way down to the navel.

#mysteriesmusing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou drabble #bakugou headcanons #reader insert #mha fanfiction #a little hint at some steamy sorta vampy action here 🖤#Been really thinking about this lately #gotta love the spooky season!!#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #Also yes I’m like imaging reader with a classy black lippy

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rose-lunaire · 2 years ago

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theodore nott | halloween special

i’m honouring friday the 13th by posting the first chapter of my october series.

slytherin season masterlist

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

warnings: ghosts? alcohol consumption, smoking

autumn mornings at hogwarts were supposed to be dull. dark fog creeping through the heavy curtains, muffled snoring and groaning that slowly blurred into grumpy remarks and the sound of footsteps on the staircase. it was normal. comforting. just as for theo was your careless singing in the shower. your roommates always complained how you woke them up abruptly, but for him it meant safety. it meant you were near and excited for the day. it meant that everything was alright.

you would hum while brushing your hair, your hustling would slowly wake him up. and so theo would smile at you, jokingly complaining about your morning habits. you would scoff at him, maybe throw a pillow at him in retaliation. the laughter would commence as theodore slumped out of bed, lazily getting ready for the day. people would give you weird looks while getting down to the great hall. your morning were full of laughter and playful banter that could light up even the gloomiest of souls.

“i like your voice”

normally compliments made you flustered. you would let out an awkward chuckle or two and flush a little. who knew that an innocent sentence like this could send chills down your spine?

the letters were written in perfect cursive, like by a studious second-grader or an old-fashioned professor. it looked like copied from a calligraphy textbook. but what really scared you was that it wouldn’t fade. the hazy surface of the mirror was eerily cold. you could see the dread in your right eye reflected in the dot of the third “i”.

maybe it was a silly prank? your boyfriend, theodore, wasn’t one for jokes, but it seemed like the only logical explanation. maybe he was testing out a new spell he has learnt? right, it was probably it. you could swear you had seen a glimpse of a smile on his lips as you went to the bathroom. “that bastard”, you thought, chuckling at yourself. there was no need for worry, it was just a prank. right.

“if you liked my voice that much, you could’ve just told me, you know”

nott was barely awake and visibly confused. “angel, i love you, but you sound like a choking hippogriff” he grumbled and rolled over to the other side of the bed. “no, teddy, please don’t fall asleep” panic seeped though your voice. the boy sensed it (or had enough of you shaking him awake) and let you drag him into the bathroom. it took him a full minute to realise what’s going on. “oh fuck.”

“okay, to summarise what we know now: no one has entered the dorm room since chris and blaise left. according to the archives, there is no spell that could leave such an imprint. also, it’s not potter who wanted to give you a scare. there is only one creature that could do it.” he didn’t need to say it out loud. ghost were an inherent part of every wizard’s life. they presented as an imprint of one’s soul, bound to someplace close to their heart. you’ve seen them countless times, salazar, you greeted them each morning running to class. the thing is, they were allowed to stay at hogwarts only under some conditions. “on a second thought, forget it, school ghosts aren’t hostile.”

“theo?” he hummed in response, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “what if it wasn’t a school ghost?” no, that was stupid. hogwarts was the safest place in the magical world. there’s no way an evil spirit could just march in there and mess around without any consequences. yet after six years of studying here, you weren’t so sure about it anymore. you squeezed your boyfriend’s arm.

day passed and you felt yourself becoming more paranoid than ever. always looking over your shoulder, hand clasped tightly over your wand. theodore picked up a habit of checking the bathroom before you entered. it was getting ridiculous but none of you could help it. in a desperate attempt to comfort you theo even considered consulting snape about spirits.

“i miss your smile”

the sound of your screams rocked the foundations of slytherin dungeon. it echoed through the crocked staircase, rang in the main fireplace of the common room. you were shaking. the world developed awfully sharp edges and all the lights were blinding. everything was shaking. it made you want to scream even more. suddenly your body rose from the floor. you started wiggling and kicking the air, panic seeping though your breathless struggle.

“didn’t know you’re so strong” a displeased grumble came from behind your back. your vision was so focused you couldn’t see what was right in front of your face. his features scrunched tightly, forming creases around his deep eyes. you counted two blinks during what felt like an eternity. theodore nott was carrying you to bed. he was shaking. were you shaking? it felt like the whole world was shaking with you. “calm down, love” he sighed. “skurge!” it was like a whole anvil was lifted from your chest. the boy caressed your cheek carefully, like checking for any injuries. then everything started to blur perfectly and weariness washed over you completely.

there was no plasm left on the bathroom floor. either nott’s charm was successful or there was nothing here in the first place. he didn’t like the smell lingering in the room. it reminded him of an old sweater he wore to visit grandparents’ graves. it was the odour of the chemicals used in muggle trains. feeling reminiscent of the split second before the ink spilled all over a potions essay. taste of fire whiskey before he was too drunk to ignore it. but it was the note on the mirror that made him puke.

the mirror incidents increased in frequency as halloween approached. you and theo were barely sleeping. teachers would take pity on you and wouldn’t reprimand you for dozing off in their classes. it was bad. so bad you started giving up. stopped checking the bathroom two times before entering, stopped singing, stopped looking into the mirror. the sight of your hazy eyes was worse even than the foggy messages.

slowly it started affecting your roommates. heavy and disorderly footsteps became the trademark of your dorm room. schoolwork kept piling up relentlessly and none of you could force yourselves into completing the assignments. coffee was spilled, ink filled up your cups to the brim. weekends were the real torture that commenced with student’s smiley faces and happy chatter.

“enough!” even draco was agitated from his friends behaviour. “we’re throwing a fucking party and your attendance is required” he scoffed at your disheveled appearance. truth be told he was concerned. he saw theodore skipping classes just to smoke his heart away. his precious coat grey from the smoke and muddy from late night walks by the lake. he was always brooding, but this was extreme even for nott. as for you, well, you were a wreck. too unsettled to even notice the difference theo’s behaviour. you were both constantly on edge, frantically holding hands until your knuckles whitened.

malfoy didn’t lie. it was fucking party. music blaring so loudly it almost drown out your thoughts and worries. after the second glass of whiskey you let out a broken laugh. crabb was on his fourth glass and was telling something about muggles and their weird traditions. an empty bottle became a makeshift broom that muggles use to try and become wizards. goyle was trying to hold him up, but was laughing so hard he fell to the floor first.

by midnight blaise started talking uncontrollably. it was a constant stream of words, from which you picked out particularly “ghost”, “mirror” and “freak”. turns out you and theo weren’t going crazy or at least weren’t the only ones losing their sanity. the look of terror on his face would’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t for your own worries. as your circled quieted down, a group of ravenclaws approached with their gossip. and more booze.

“i can’t believe it’s real!” exclaimed one of them. “the fuck do you mean?” theo was sobering up from anger. “the legend! i mean, don’t tell me you haven’t heard of amanda dovetail?” one look into your tired eyes and she lost her amusement. the girl cleared her throat. “so, she was a second-year slytherin. i believe she died quite suddenly after living a life of curiosity and passion for learning. many believe her spirit couldn’t give up the school of her dreams yet, so she stayed around. her energy is weak, so she chooses to come back only once in ten years. but then it’s like she’s living there all over again.”

you put down you glass carefully and got up. nott wanted to stop you, but one look into your eyes and he stayed in his place. you wanted out.

you spend the rest of the night reading charms textbooks and old students’ diaries. turns out amanda indeed comes back every october and tries to bond with the current residents of her old dorm. after all this fear and weariness you still wanted to help her. so you read out loud, slowly and patiently explaining more difficult concepts.

the next morning your notes were scattered all over the room. the first letters of each page read: thank you.

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