#I LOVE THE HAUNTED HOUSE GANG!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantasmalnightmare · 8 months ago

Text

"Huh never thought about it that way, but guess you're right." Being at the top, he constantly had to remind himself that he shouldn't underestimate those weaker than him. Until recently, the moniker "invincible" tended to make him feel indestructible and arrogant. Then Takemitchy had come along, and he'd reminded him that even though someone may be physically inept, there were other kinds of strengths. Whether it be intelligence, such as Kisaki's keen wit, or the raw charisma that drove people to follow Takemitchy, he'd learned to be wary of all to some degree.

"Well yeah... Of course I know not all women are the same." Mikey pouted. "Not like I would force anyone to join. And my men are smart enough not to go against me. If they disobey me I'll.. Kick them out." He just managed to leave out the part about beating the shit out of them first, since he didn't want to scare the happy families in line. "Don't women want equality and the freedom to chose to take that risk anyway?"

Despite coming a long way, he still had his moments of arrogance. Thinking he could perfectly prevent any wrong from happening in his gang was one of those occasions, and another was believing he could protect Sonia, if only she would agree to join. "Fine fine." He shrugged, as he got into the car next to her. "But either way we're friends now." He would let it go for now, not wanting to push her too hard. If she wanted to stay in her gilded cage, well that was her decision.

Mikey helped her out of the car once the ride had ended, a grin spreading across his features. "Nah. All my close friends get nicknames, so get used to it." He gazed a bit longingly at the games as they passed by. He'd always loved them, but they could come back later.

He'd never seen someone so excited for a haunted house. "Hah, doubt anyone died in there, or the park would probably get sued. But that would be something I guess." He wasn't disgusted at all her by her casual flippancy on such a macabre topic. Death never bothered him much, not since he'd first laid eyes on his brother's dead body. Hopefully his logical viewpoint didn't douse her excitement too much though.

He side eyed the heiress, as she read over his shoulders, suddenly bothered by how much shorter he was. Grumbling softly in frustration, he followed after her. Of course, he wouldn't go through the princess area without making a quip, especially since he was feeling especially sore about their height difference. He spotted a ride featuring Belle, and he ran over to it, bowing to her. "Your carriage awaits princess," he teased. Despite his joking, she was determined to get to her destination, and before he knew it, they had arrived at the back of the line for the haunted house.

"A pet cemetery... 'What type of dog does Dracula have? ... A blood hound.' Wow talk about some lame Dad jokes." He looked around frowning. The decorations were unfamiliar, and he slowly realized he'd never done this ride before. In fact, he couldn't remember ever going into a haunted house. "Have you been in a haunted house before? Guess I've never done this one." Or any one. The queue moved into the building, where there were various clowns in cages on the wall.

The Toman Leader blanched. "Clowns? Shit I fucking hate clowns." He turned away from the wall, but then he ended up turning back towards them. He'd rather stare at them then risk them sneaking up on him. Deep down he knew he was being silly, and that these were just decorations no different then the stars on display in the Space Mountain line, but they were still creepy as hell.

Well, that was a small victory: Mikey, like so many boys, had deemed that women were weaker, gentler, and in need of protection. A mindset that she'd been taught to use when the right opportunity presented itself: that was the thing about being in an organized crime family, it was far less about shootouts than it was how to effectively manipulate others to achieve the desired outcome. In Toman, Sonia suspected punches and kicks were the order of the day to win a fight. In her family, it was leverage: secrets, motivations, blackmail when necessary. Filling a void that someone so desperately needed was how the Borghese Family stayed on top: being fully run by women set them apart. No matter how the world changed, there were men who deemed women in need of their protection: out of the kindness of their hearts, out of the desire to feed their ego. It didn't matter what it was, as long as it could be used in a woman's favor.

"I am glad," She replied, her sigh content. "Because I think that lesson will take you far: never assume based on appearances that someone is weaker, more helpless, than you. It can be the person you least expect who possesses the sharpest claws and the sweetest poisons." Men, in her experience, were far more upfront with displays of power. That worked for a street fight but much less effective beyond petty crime and gang violence.

She frowned then, at Mikey's insistence about not knowing why women in general shouldn't join. "You do realize that women as a whole are not all alike?" Sonia asked quietly. Considering they were in a theme park aimed at children and families, the topic she was about to bring up wasn't exactly appropriate. "Some might be capable of holding their own, but it does not mean they are safe surrounded by enough men who despise the idea of them being seen as equals. I have seen more than I would like of such retaliation to that notion."

The sorts of girls who showed up at one of the many Borghese businesses, wanting to flee a broken home or a broken romance where she'd come out the other side as, at best, a punching bag. These girls often made for devoted members, if they could keep their hearts and personal desires in check. "My point is, do not underestimate members of Toman who would react poorly to the idea of women joining their ranks as members and not as something...lesser." A girlfriend, maybe. But from the testimonials she'd listened to, it was often something far less pure and genuine.

He pressed her further. Just a little bit further. And Sonia listened as politely as she could, but in the midst of childrens' glee and glimmers of excitement even in, from what she assumed, was the most skeptical of adults, she didn't know how to reply. Not with something true, something real. The reality being that anyone who attempted to leave the family was found. Leaving without permission and defying the donna ended up with the same conclusion: a body bag, often incinerated or weighted down and dropped into the bottom of the sea. People disappeared when they defined Valentina Borghese, just as they did when they'd defied her father in his reign before hers, and his grandfather before him.

"If you like me at all, Sano-san," Sonia finally decided, leaning against the metal barrier that separated their loading lane into the roller coaster from the one behind them. "You will not ask me again to strike out on my own path, as you put it. I would rather not explain why here. Let us ride the roller coaster instead!"

Something they could both agree on, if their mutual cries of excitement and delight were of any indication. Sonia gave him a look, though accepted his hand, as she pulled herself up and out of the coaster's spaceship car. "No matter how many times I say it, you will not relinquish your hold on the 'princess' moniker for me. Will you?" She asked as they walked down the various lanes and ramps, out of the ride building and back into the afternoon sunlight. "But yes, I would like to ride all of the roller coasters offered! After the haunted house. We must go to the haunted house!"

Her urgency in visiting the haunted attraction, for the meantime, surpassed her urgency for him to stop calling her a princess. "But who has time for games?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder. She was taller, her legs a bit longer, but Sonia was also fueled by devotion. A love for all things macabre and haunted since she was a little girl, that love surpassed hunger or intrigue at carnival games. She briefly registered that there was some sort of American-themed wild west shooting game available, something that she likely had a decent chance of winning if Mikey wanted a prize from one of the booths. She'd ask him later, when she was far less distracted on an important mission. "There is a haunted house! I wonder if anyone has actually perished in it? Would that not be fascinating!?"

Even if he didn't agree, Sonia didn't give him the opportunity to show his disgust, at the idea or the ride itself. After looking over his shoulder at the map he held, an easy feat due to their height difference, she directed them towards Fantasyland, bypassing all of the pastel-colored princess-themed rides (she'd likely hear some sort of teasing about that from him) to the only ride that had wails and screams coming from it: a brick mansion with an outdoor cemetery and a moving queue. "This way!" She told him excitedly, leading them right into the end of the queue. "Look at this, there is a cemetery for pets! Some of the tombstones have writing on them...I think they are jokes! How lovely!"

#more-than-a-princess #☾✩☽ the invincible mikey-------------------------- ic manjiro sano #☾✩☽ verse: crossover #//They are quite the pair #Casually capable of murder but love haunted houses and games #Draken is calling the gang concerned already #Invincible Mikey being scared of clowns just seems so funny to me #I can take on a whole mafia family but but clowns? Nah

28 notes · View notes

runningupthatvecna · 2 months ago

Text

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

#nora writes #get the peaches #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #this took me way too fucking long to finish holy shit #but it's here now #it's here !!!#finally lol #also sorry for the title it makes me cringe but i couldn't come up with anything else for the life of me #oh well i hope y'all enjoy this either way :)#thank u for reading <3

668 notes · View notes

pinescent-and-gingerbread · 4 months ago

Text

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned. Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for, not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg.

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten.

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied.

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.”

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine. Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple.

You felt completely stuck.

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out. You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this.

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.”

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.”

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.”

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again.

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

#Okaaaay this is super cheesy but I like it!#please comforting Arthur heal our hearts #Also this is the second time I write a love confession in here and def not the last time #Hope I won't repeat myself too much.#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan comfort #pinefic

800 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 8 months ago

Text

[Murder Clown Gang at the carnival-

Pink: Everyone remember our little arrangement? Whoever has won the most prizes gets to go on the tunnel of love first with dear Mimey. So far, I have eight

Blue: I have two... [sniffles] A little girl gave me one of hers when I started crying....

Purple: Mimey and I actually enjoyed the carnival together while y'all were off hunting so I didn't have any time to collect any myself.. Bummer - you guys wanna the pics we took in the hall of mirrors?

Orange: Pfft- Amateurs. I got twelve. I'd like to see Green and Red beat that-

[THUD]

[Red and Green arrive at the meet up spot - Red carrying a large garbage bag and Green holding on to a small mountain of stuffed animals, several more taped to their chest and legs]

Orange: Wha- Fucking how?!

Red: Strategy....and pointing out how rigged this games are helps...

Green: Hehe.... Just look at these little guys...I couldn't just leave them up there on those hooks. Mimey, pick your favorite-

Pink: Hm...Seems like you both have won a hefty number....The tunnel of love is only two to a seat, though....

Mime Darling: ......! [Points at a ride across the way that'll seat them all] :)?

Pink: It certainly isn't the most romantic attraction, but if we are all together I suppose that's good enough-

[The murder clown gang all head over to the haunted house ride - dragging a sobbing Blue along with them]

Blue: Do it for mimey, do it for mimey-.... [cries harder as fake spider web brushes their shoulder]

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #Murder Clown gang #yandere harem #yandere clown

683 notes · View notes

2-dsimp · 8 months ago

Text

===+====+======+==

Yandere monster gang

Introducing the poltergeist

===+====+======+==

(Fem! Reader)

===+====+======+=========

Cw: 🔞MDNI�� Slight smonophillia, slight degradation, slight rough play, facials, non-con, humiliation, titfuck, M! Oral receive

===+====+======+==

Yandere poltergeist who loves to watch you at every second of the day, In his lonesome plane of existence since you were the only source of happiness he could get due to his unfortunate circumstances. Which made you feel chills and goosebumps prickle on your skin whenever you could feel a presence. It didn’t matter if you were eating, sleeping, changing, or even taking a shower you’ve always felt as if you weren’t alone.

Yandere poltergeist who’s not shy to say hello with a lecherous grin on his face as his materialized hand gave the fat of your ass a smack while you passed him walking down the hallway to your room. Making you squeak, startled from the invisible force that assaulted your butt. But to no avail you kept on moving with the motive of brushing it off as a weird occurrence trying not to dwell on it too much.

Yandere poltergeist who is an attention whore that finds it amusing to watch you shrivel up in fear and scramble to find logical explanations for the little pranks he’s done in mansion. By leaving harsh markings in the form of bites or scratches that form scraggly initials on your skin, jerking off traces of his essence into the foods that you cook, and messily smearing mysterious goop on your panties, bras, and sheets on your bed so that it stains. He just loved the adorable expression of confusion and conflict making your face scrunch up in a cute frown.

Yandere poltergeist who was slowly starting to get irritated from the lack of reactions he’s been getting from you as you became more accustomed to the strange instances of random noises, missing items, knocked over books, and featherlight caresses of your body. The last straw was when you invited someone over without his permission his vision turning red as he saw them putting their hands over what’s his.

Yandere poltergeist that decides to take it into his own hands to punish his darling…

Yandere poltergeist who hovers above your defenseless body sprawled out in the bed. While he began to start using up the energy he’s saved up in return for halting his daily routine of actively haunting his darling. Taking advantage of the fact that you’re a heavy sleeper he put the ropes he found in the basement to use and tied your wrists and ankles down to the bed post. He planned to teach his darling some manners and make it so you respected his house rules.

Yandere poltergeist who greedily caresses every curve and crease of your skin while practically tearing off the thin layers of your sleeping pajamas. Exposing your breast and delectable pussy to his viewing pleasure before he uses his cold materialized hands to roughly grope and tweak at your hardened nipples which jolted you awake from your restful slumber as he’s leaving little love bites along the expanse of your neck.

Yandere poltergeist who smiles endearingly at your struggles and attempts at screaming for help at the sight of a faint mirage of a scruffy young lean man wearing glasses straddling you. while he continues to defile your body with his throbbing cold length that rubbed against your belly button getting coated in his slimy pre. As he makes his way up towards your breasts dragging the fat leaking tip between the valley of your generous mounds.

Yandere poltergeist that sandwiched his pulsating cock in between your tits using his hands to take your soft flesh and languid thrusts up against your pursed lips in rapid succession. Enjoying the way your boobs bounced and jiggled with every jab of his translucent dick that kept on prodding at your full lips.

Yandere poltergeist that whispered words of flith into your ears

”I love it when you struggle sweetheart it turns me on so much that I wanna ruin you”

“Now Why don’t you open that sweet mouth of yours and suck my cock like a good little slut”

Yandere poltergeist who takes his hand and forcefully squish your cheeks so your lips open into an o shape perfect for him to fully rock himself inside the moist cavern of your mouth hissing at the blissful feel of you having no choice but to suck on his twitching dick violating your throat.

Yandere poltergeist who doesn’t last long due to having no prolonged physical contact in years and plants his hips against your face driving his the tip of his balls deep down your throat expelling all the pent up cum he had stored in his transparent balls with a relaxed moan.

Yandere poltergeist Having some semblance to realize that you were choking on his dick and begrudgingly pulled out from your mouth with a small pop and continued to spurt lines of his semen all over your face, neck, and tits. His eyes filled with desire and satisfaction at your lewd state enjoying the embarrassment and defeat washed on your face. Oh he was going to have so much fun with all the plans he’s got stored for his dearest houseguest.

Yandere poltergeist who will haunt you forevermore and keep his pretty houseguest as his sole form of entertainment

1K notes · View notes

whencartoonsruletheworld · 3 months ago

Text

my pitch for a phineas and ferb-themed ride at the disney parks (hire me disney you cowards)

the queue is an interior building with pnf-themed decorations. kinda like the figment ride in epcot, a lot of it is winding through a "museum" of pnf and/or doof inventions. most of those inventions disappeared of course, so they're models, parts in glass cases, etc. overhead are tv monitors that play a shuffled loop of phineas and ferb songs, but bc there are so many good songs they can use it hopefully won't get repetitive unless you're there for nine hours. the exception to this is one small part of the queue (small to avoid people being stuck there too long) where it exclusively plays the quirky worky song and you see the pnf gang building the ride you're about to go on, either as statues/figures or through a "screen" that shows looping animation

you get onto the coaster car from the first episode as phineas, baljeet or isabella reads the safety spiel over the loudspeaker. actually as i'm typing this it might be fun to loop each of the backyard gang doing their own version that'd be cute

the ride takes off and you hear the vamp from the "rollercoaster" song as you're loading in.

once inside, the ride is styled like epcot's guardians of the galaxy ride, where you're on a track looping through a mix of screens and sets. the first part plays more of the "rollercoaster" song as you run through the "coolest coaster ever" scenes.

miscellaneous room/scene ideas: fireside girl action segment, carpe diem room, obviously a space segment w/ meap and queen candace and the catu aliens, obligatory scary bit through the haunted house, rock concert w/ love handel, backyard beach/atlantis, owca headquarters, 2nd dimension bit (might be too confusing for new fans?), relatively normal area where candace is gesturing wildly to a linda animatronic that won't turn around and see the rollercoaster car, idk a hamster & gretel segment or smth

a little bit in, you hear a beep and a call for agent p. a small animatronic of perry rises from the front of the car as you enter a tunnel, where a screen of major monogram tells perry to get his ass to doofenshmirtz evil incorporated to fight doof. perry salutes and slides back down into the car, and the ride then takes a "wrong track" (kinda like when you run into a "broken track" on everest) to DEI.

we go inside and see animatronics of perry fighting doof as an inator sparks. it goes off, sending us down yet another "wrong track," which shoots through wilder parts of danville. at the climax, we start looping and the climax of the "rollercoaster" song starts playing ("we're rightside-up and upside-down...")

at the end of the ride, we see an animatronic/animation of doof hanging upside-down from rope as perry glares at him cross-armed, and doof intermittently yells "curse you, perry the platypus!" on a screen, monogram congratulates the riders for saving the tri-state area with agent p. perry makes platypus noise.

you go to another room, right before the exit. you see candace pointing to an empty backyard, saying stuff like "but it was right here! and it was huge!" as phineas and ferb sit under the tree and address the guests. if you're far enough away from the last room, perry can be sitting under them being cute.

the exit queue has posters for dwampyverse stuff, like "love handel reunion", "doctor zone: the movie", the og rollercoaster poster, etc.

you exit in a gift shop where you can buy perry the platypus inaction figure (he doesn't do anything!) and big sticks

lastly,

you know when rides break down or stop for a sec and you get in-character voiceovers telling you to stay seated or w/e? i think we should have three that loop: one of doof giving a basic spiel, one of milo murphy being like "yeah i went on the ride. sorry about that. it should start working soon lol" and one where literally the whole thing is candace yelling "NO MOM I SWEAR IT'S A WORKING ROLLERCOASTER AND PHINEAS AND FERB BUILT IT! MOM LISTEN–"

#phineas and ferb #mine #pnf

358 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 month ago

Text

fate steps in

18+. mdni. no smut but my blog is strictly 18+.

day two of spooky week is a little meet cute with stevie who helps poor reader when she’s scared

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

Eddie's idea.

Clearly some scheme to get the girl he was seeing this week to cradle under his arm instead.

He’d gotten the whole gang in on it, Steve was surrounded by couples. Robin and Vickie. Nancy and Jonathan. Eddie and whatsherface.

And Steve.

Left to wander the mazes on his own. Stuck by himself or with some stranger on the ferris wheel.

Robin had tried to convince him to find a date, rambling through girls he’d been on one date with or a list of names he’d vaguely mentioned before. It’s not lost on him that he was the awkward fifth wheel here.

“It's not like the others.. they can actually touch you here," Eddie amazes, walking the group through the shabby makeshift gates.

Chance would be a fine thing. Steve thinks to himself.

It'd been a while since anyone had touched him like that. Well, touched him at all, really.

He sighs walking around the shoddily painted amusements, trailing behind the group while his eyes latch onto every single loved up couple walking past.

He also sighs as Eddie guides them up to the entrance of the haunted manor, prepared to wander around aimlessly on his own while Eddie shuffles off to the nearest dark corner and the rest of them run through as fast as they can.

Nancy clings onto Jonathan’s arm, Robin and Vickie laugh at the jumpscares, unfazed by the entire thing.

And Eddie? He’s gone the second the lights flash back on, disappearing into the abyss like this wasn’t his idea in the first place.

A clown of some sort pops out of the wall right between the group and Steve, too engrossed in their conversations to realise he’s no longer following behind.

His eyes dart around the dark corridor, no trace of his friends to see. Oh fuck.

Steve’s not scared of generic clown masks or fake blood but he really, really didn’t want to do this on his own.

A deep cackle begins from behind or maybe in front, it’s too dark for him to see clearly, not with the lights flashing in his face too.

It’s just an actor. An actor. He reminds himself. Snarling in his ear as they pass, before letting out the most guttural scream he’s ever heard.

He grabs onto the nearest object. Nails digging into the soft surface as the lights flash rapidly in his face, the actors hiss and laugh at his reaction, no doubt amused by his petrified face.

This object, just so happens to be a hand.

Your hand to be exact.

Looking equally as terrified as he was.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” he yells over the ominous background noise, dropping your hand as quickly as he’d grabbed it.

Your eyes are wide, shaking in your spot, “please hold my hand again,” offering your tremoring palm back out to him.

Steve does so, gladly. Clasping your hand again rapidly, finding quick solace in the warmth of your palm, the gentle squeezing of your fingertips against his knuckles.

“I think.. I think they’re gone,” he laughs awkwardly, hoping you’ll want to hold his hand for the entirety of this hell house.

You nod, clearly still reeling from the scare. “Can we leave before they come back?” tugging gently at his arm.

He’s more than happy to get the fuck out of there before he embarrasses himself in front of you again.

Steve leads the way, a knight in shining armour ready to lead you through the ghouls in the dark. His friends still nowhere to be found, as to be expected. It doesn’t really seem to matter anymore, he had a pretty girl holding his hand and no friends around to tease him about it.

“Are you here on your own?” you ask warily, probably wondering why he was stood yelping in a dark corridor on his own, second guessing taking his hand.

“No no, my friends are here.. somewhere, they all walked off,” trying to reassure you that he wasn’t some creep trying to prey on scared women.

You nod, squeezing his fingers as the door ahead slams shut, “oh, me too.. bitches,” laughing to yourself.

“Yeah, bitches,” Steve repeats, only slightly hoping this scary house went on forever.

“I hate these things,” swallowing loudly, “I didn’t even wanna come in here,” he can feel your eyes on the side of his face, eyeing the nervous sweat, no doubt. “But I’m glad I did now,” averting your eyes as quickly as possible, chuckling into the darkness.

His heart is in his throat, and not because of the ghouls hidden behind doors.

“Me too,” smiling sincerely at some girl he didn’t know the name of but was pretty certain he’d marry.

When you do eventually reach the end, enduring plenty more failed jumpscares and reassuring hand squeezes, he doesn’t want to let go.

The outside is cold, much colder now he wouldn’t have you right by his side.

“You know, I wasn’t even really scared,” he mutters into your ear, grateful that his thumping heart could finally rest.

“Oh totally,” you smirk, “me neither,” wiping your clammy palms down your jeans.

He gets a proper look at the girl he had been clinging onto for the past twenty minutes. You look different in this light, even prettier than before, especially now the terror had been wiped off your face.

Someone yells something from across the courtyard, your head flying around to find the voice, meaning you must recognise the voice. Their hand hurriedly beckons you over, a gaggle of girls and their unimpressed boyfriends linger, waiting for you like his friends were undoubtedly doing somewhere.

“Oh shit,” pouting slightly as you turn back around, “I gotta go, I’ll see you around.. thank you again!” before you’re gone, scurrying over to the group with one last glance back at Steve before they pull you away.

A harsh hand claps him on the shoulder, jeering right into his ear, “well who was that, Stevie boy?” Eddie swings into Steve’s peripheral, with that arrogant grin Steve wishes he could slap right off.

He scoffs, shaking his hand from his shoulder, “that was.. that was.. I don’t know,” realising he’d never even asked your name, let alone your number.

“Well shit, what were you doing in there? We’ve been waiting for you for ages man,” wiggling his brows suggestively, as if Steve would ever behave like such a miscreant like him.

“Gross,” grimacing at Eddie’s blatant disrespect, “we were just talking,” his eyes turning to scan the crowd, desperate to find you once more.

“If that’s what just talking looks like, I think that we should go back in there,” slinging his arm over the shoulder of Stacy or Hannah, whatever her name is.

Steve begins to walk off, unwilling to waste anymore time entertaining Eddie’s dumbass schtick and get to finding you.

“Woah dude, wait,” Eddie calls, “I was just joking, no need to get your panties in a twist.”

“I need to find her,” only stopping to try and persuade his friends to help him re-find the potential love of his life, “are you gonna help me or not?”

They look between one another, well aware that the girl he had spoken to for twenty minutes probably wouldn’t appreciate a group of his friends tracing the ground to find her.

“Steve,” Robin warns softly, “if she didn’t give you her name in there, I don’t think she’ll want you stalking her for it,” flashing him a pitying glance, one he received quite often.

“That’s not- Jesus Rob, I’m not a stalker,” running out of motivation to convince his friends, “are you coming or not?”

Nancy stands with her arms firmly across her chest, “I am not going in anymore of those things.”

He looks to Eddie for a little backup, surely he’d understand, right?

Eddie just shrugs, looking around at the displeased group, “sorry man.. you’re on your own.”

He scoffs, all night he’d traipsed around after these fuckers and yet, the second he finds anyone with even a tiny bit of interest in him, they can’t do the same for him.

“Fine. I’ll meet you back at the car,” spinning back around to continue his quest, they could all kick rocks for all he cared.

Fuck ‘em.

The doe-eyed couples and high-schoolers in dollar store makeup crowd the street, making it damn near impossible to spot anyone, let alone a girl he’d only seen in dim lighting. He couldn’t forget you though, not ever.

As if by fate, he spots your powder pink jacket, pacing up the cobblestone path, your brows screwed together and a saddened expression on your face.

Steve speeds up, pushing past the bustling crowds before you slip out of his eyesight again. He couldn’t let you leave without at least trying. Maybe you had a boyfriend or maybe you wouldn’t even be interested at all but if destiny had brought you two together in that house, he had to at least try and honour it.

You look up from the floor, stopping before you crash straight into Steve’s chest, “oh my God,” a smile creeping onto your lips, “you! I was trying to find you, I mean.. to thank you, obviously,” clearing your throat, turning all bashful and coy.

Enchanted by the curve of your lips, he stumbles on his words, forgetting the very reason he’s stalked the entirety of the park,, “I was hoping I’d bump into you too,” turning into a frazzled mess under the weight of your gaze, “I didn’t get your name, or.. or your number,” expelling the air from his chest, praying that your frantic searching had meant something too.

“My number?” searching his face, letting your smile take over the rest of your features, “my number! Yeah.. yes, of course,” a breath of relief escaping your lips, “do you have a pen?”

No.

He didn’t have a pen. Who carries a pen anymore?

Nancy Wheeler, that’s who. Suddenly regretting his harsh words for her over preparation would really help right now.

“I don’t.. fuck,” flustered and upset, he’d walked the length of this place only to fall at the very last hurdle.

You put your finger to his face before bounding off to one of the trucks, muttering something to the guy behind the counter. Almost sprinting back over with the pen in your hand, a glorious grin that takes over your entire face.

Yanking his hand, damn near giving him a burn with the ferocity of which you pull his sleeve up, “here okay?”

Steve nods rather enthusiastically, he’d let you tattoo your number on his forehead if only it meant that he had it.

You etch your number into his skin, fluttering your lashes when you’re done, “I have to go but please call me,” squeezing his arm for good measure, “it was so nice to meet you!” hollering as your friends wait impatiently.

“I will! I’ll call you!”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #chelseeebespookyweek

190 notes · View notes

britcision · 29 days ago

Text

My other lil bit of Halloween fun is technically not ready yet but in the spirit of “I want to go to bed”, y’all can have an unpolished lil early snack! And I’ll try and get the good one up over the weekend!

So sit back, relax, and enjoy the Dead And Loving It Halloween Special, The Haunting Of Hood House! (Most of part 1…. Part 2 possibly next year I dunno)

——————

The Haunting of Hood House

Honestly, Jason was fully aware he shoulda said no. Between his now-triple life as a crime lord/vigilante, Fright Knight to the ghost king, and now university student, his dance card was full for more than just every hour in a day.

He was a busy bee. Probably shoulda given university another year or so, to be fair, but that was just the thing. Before all this ghost stuff came along, he’d figured he finally had time for a second half to his life; it was why he came back into the public eye at all.

He hadn’t gone in for the summer semester, counting on the tabloids being a whole ass thing (and they were), but he’d figured that getting himself announced at the New Years gala would give plenty of time for stuff to settle down so he could go to university in the fall.

And then, on Christmas day, he’d met Danny. And his life gained another side whether he liked it or not. And it had been too late to walk back the gala by the time he realized just how time consuming it would be.

(On the plus side, his ghost training was coming along well enough that it was finally helping him cut down on time spent on the crime/vigilante side. He wasn’t exactly up to ol’ Halloween’s standards yet, but he had full control of the powers he currently had, and was learning more about being a Fright Knight from the man himself.

They’d even had time to plan and make a run on their first Lazarus pit, which had gone… as well as could be expected.)

The point being? His schedule was full. Between homework and crimework, he didn’t have time for fun university extracurriculars the way he’d kinda hoped he would.

But when some of the geeks from his Gothic Lit class asked him to help them set up a haunted house… how the hell was he supposed to say no to that?

Danny sure as hell hadn’t been able to (and had laughed his ass off when Jason mentioned exactly why he had to reschedule one of their hangouts - after all, the two of them just showing up meant that the house was technically being haunted), which was how they’d roped in a couple more kids from the engineering department. At least three were planning to use parts of the set up as their final projects.

(Harper was having a field day rigging all of the floors for piezoelectric lights, sound, and fog machine. The more people jumped or ran, the more dramatic the atmosphere would get.)

So, despite already having basically no free time, he and Danny were now partially responsible for setting up a haunted house.

Jason was pretty sure his classmates had initially wanted him mostly as financial backing; ten minutes after agreeing to help, he’d been shyly approached with links to a set building company and day rates to have them build a “house” on the university grounds.

Jason Todd himself would be damned if he would just be the money man though. No, he wasn’t having his name attached to a haunted house project that wasn’t the best it could possibly be.

And, well, he had access to a lot of surplus construction supplies and actual local handymen, in the form of his gang. He was pretty sure most of them knew that Jay, Red Hood’s right hand man, was Jason Todd Wayne by now; it had never actually come up, but he’d made a few media splashes.

No one seemed actually confused or surprised to be asked to come put up haunted house on university grounds. Just the shell though; Jason demanded integrity from goons and student body both, and firmly told the rest of the Lit class that if they wanted to throw a haunted house, they were bloody well going to decorate and staff it with their own hands.

(About two people had been disappointed. As soon as he’d admitted he’d also footed the bill for supplies, all the rest had been eagerly battling it out over room themes and who got to use the nail guns.

Jason confiscated the nail guns on day three, after Danny and Harper got into a “nail fight”. Because of course they did.)

And, really, most of them had also taken Danny’s “contributions” well too. Because along with the more normal special effects the other engineers was setting up, Danny was serious about putting the “haunted” in the house.

“It’s an ecto-accelerator,” he’d explained cheerfully, slapping the large, chunky device that Jason knew full well was at least three blenders jammed together with car parts. “Gotham’s got a lotta ambient ecto for a normal city, so we’ll get half a dozen blob ghosts by the end of the week.”

A couple of the Gothamites in the group had tittered a little at Gotham being called “normal”, but one or two (the ones Jason happened to know were doing way better in their classes) had looked thoughtful. Slightly suspicious.

Cuz yeah, sure, Gotham was far from normal in almost every way, but most of the people were still unaware of how serious the “occult” menaces to the city were. It certainly wasn’t “the most haunted city in America”, and while the Danny/Phantom secret was still well under wraps, Danny being from Amity Park wasn’t.

He’d made waves in the engineering department from his first solo project, and honestly none of them looked too surprised any more.

One of the Lit geeks had raised a hand like they were in class, which Jason had bullied Danny about for hours.

“Uh… what are blob ghosts? And do we want them? Like… isn’t that cheating if you have actual ghosts? I thought you guys wanted to build effects systems,” they added quickly, glancing from Danny to Harper.

Danny had stared blankly for a moment (possibly from the hand raising), then shook his head.

“Oh, no, the accelerator was my project from last semester. This semester it’s gonna be the ghost shield which keeps all the blob ghosts trapped in the house!”

(And should keep the Curse and the asshole entity locked out and away. Not necessarily, y’know, necessary, but it’d be good to see if it worked.)

Harper had just grinned, hands in her pockets.

“An’ it means I have to build my stuff more than just people-proof, which has gotta be worth bonus points.”

Their other two engineers had agreed, apparently completely down with the occult at this point.

The formation of the blob ghosts was apparently going pretty well. Jason couldn’t reliably sense them yet, but he trusted Danny’s word on it.

And Fright Knight’s.

Because yeah. That. Was a thing that was also happening.

This one was also entirely Jason’s own fault; back at the beginning of October, when he’d first agreed to this whole mess, he’d had to tell people why he was going to be busy.

And. Well.

It made sense at the time to just tell the elder Fright Knight the truth about why they’d had to shift their training schedule. He was the Spirit of Halloween! It was even thematically appropriate!

And frankly, the speed at which Danny had started shaking his head and trying to stop him should probably have been a warning.

But so would telling Jason ahead of time not to tell Halloween that they were going to be working on a haunted house! Danny had even shared the story of the time he stole the original nightmare blade, the Soul Shredder as a prop for his own school haunted house!

And, y’know, incurred Halloween’s wrath and started a whole Thing, but he’d also given the sword back and all seemed to be forgiven now.

(Although. Given. The look in blazing eyes when Danny mentioned it. Not forgotten.)

And it seemed to go fine at the time, so Jason had kinda figured it was just another of those things where Danny was weirdly protective of his “normal” life. Didn’t want ghosts getting involved.

Cuz Halloween was very supportive. Agreed immediately to switch up their schedule, no muss no fuss. Offered to help.

And Danny had refused outright, which obviously made Jason want to agree. And Danny hadn’t actually said why he didn’t want Halloween to help.

(Which, y’know, the guy was right there, but still.)

His arguments had basically boiled down to “no one’s supposed to know I’m the Ghost King, we can’t have the actual Fright Knight following me around”, which was apparently the argument that had carried to keep Frighty from following him to Gotham.

But neither of them had known Jason then. And Jason was a Robin; they were very good at loopholes.

Because really, it wasn’t all that hard for an actual ghost to go undetected. Especially if they only popped in for short visits.

And could there be a better haunted house consultant than the Spirit of Halloween?

“Sir Jason, yon webs are sagging.”

The answer, it had turned out, was yes.

“My liege, real blood would serve much better…”

Almost. Anyone.

“BEWARE!”

And apparently the Box Ghost had overheard somewhere that Danny was now allowing visits to Gotham, on the dual condition of short duration and invisibility.

Snatching the box of tiny robot spiders before it could be dumped out, Jason glared at the spot Pitty was growling at.

“Boxy, seriously. We talked about this!” He hissed, wrapping both arms firmly around the box.

A few plaintive tugs, and then the Box Ghost gave up. On that box. And another five cardboard boxes of supplies rose into the air.

“FEAR THE POWER OF THE BOX GHOST!”

“Once the damn house is finished, Boxy! There’s still stuff in all of these. Didn’t I promise to build you a box fort if you could just be cool for another week?”

A blue, capped head popped into visibility behind one of the floating boxes. He did, at least, look mildly contrite.

“Indeed you did, young knight… but! The Box Ghost needs no assistance! There are none more ferocious nor powerful in the world of objects cardboard and cubular!”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

“That’s not even a word, Boxy…” and paused when another breath froze on its way out of his mouth.

So did the Box Ghost, floating boxes stilling from their orbit of the room. Almost on reflex, he popped into full visibility just as Halloween did, directly behind him.

The Box Ghost turned slowly, peering up at the much larger armoured figure. Fright Knight narrowed blazing purple eyes down at him. The Box Ghost narrowed his back.

“None. More. Ferocious.” He growled, boxes rising slowly around him.

Halloween put his hand on his sword.

Jason pressed his lips together so he didn’t laugh. Fighting in the living world was currently a Danny-only activity, with Halloween having the only exception - to stop anyone else trying to start trouble. Technically, throwing down over who was scariest with the Box Ghost was not covered.

And, really, not all that much of a question. Even Boxy knew it, deflating as armoured fingers curled around the hilt.

“But in matters of Halloween and frightfulness I will concede,” he grumbled, boxes settling gently back to the floor.

Halloween pointedly turned his attention to Jason instead, who was still very specifically not laughing.

“Young knight, the woman “Harper” has once again weakened your electrical traps. Shall I destroy her, or will you deal with this yourself?” He asked, voice dropped below his usual booming tones only because Danny had sworn to send him back if another student caught him.

Amusement dying almost immediately, Jason rolled his eyes.

“Look, Sir Halloween. We’ve been over this. They’re hers, they’re not death traps, and you shouldn’t be touching them. You know how Danny feels about electricity around his tech.”

A lot of ghosts seemed to know how Danny felt about electricity in general, and how it related to his death. Despite a temporary team up with Vlad, Jason didn’t actually know if the Spirit of Halloween was one of them.

Until it was proved one way or another, or Danny brought it up to the ghost himself, Jason was sticking with plausible deniability.

And the Fright Knight huffed, drawing himself up as his flaming hair flared.

“If the mere existence of such a trap may displease the King, she should be destroyed with all the more vigour!”

Showing irritation never worked with the old knight; for one thing, he couldn’t stop himself from escalating. He just couldn’t. He didn’t know how to back down.

Luckily Jason was more than used to dramatic and boisterous hotheads. He folded his arms instead, raising an eyebrow at the Fright Knight.

“She’s building the power system, Sir Halloween. We talked about this, remember? Using the steps and fear of the guests to power Danny’s stuff?” And the entire rest of the house, but Frighty only cared about Danny.

And had been over this with him and Danny both half a dozen times.

As always, the mention of fear perked him up.

“Ah, yes! Using their own terror against them to power our devices! And… how does that relate to the electricity?” He asked, a little suspiciously.

Well, if he paid attention this time Jason might not have to go through it again. Putting his reclaimed box down, he leaned against the table it had been on.

“It’s called piezoelectricity. Harper’s sensors in the floor detect where people are walking, and the receptors take the extra energy when their feet hit the ground and turn it into electricity. The faster they walk, or if they start to run, the more energy gets converted, and since the electricity powers the lights, sounds, and fog machine, the more people react the more intense the house gets.”

It was actually surprisingly harmless for Harper; she hadn’t even put in any of the small shock plates that had found their way across the floors. That had been all Frighty, and as soon as they found out where he’d gotten them, they’d be going back. Once Danny phased them back out.

Silence reigned for a long moment, and for once the Spirit of Halloween seemed to be really chewing over and digesting this information. Jason let himself hope.

“So… the electricity… it’s definitely not for shocking the unwary intruders?” Halloween asked, with just the faintest tinge of hope still in his own voice.

Fighting not to let his die, Jason shook his head.

“Nope.”

“Not even as a backup plan?”

“Nope. We want people to come and visit, Frighty, that’s the whole point.”

“But what if your enemies use this opportunity to infiltrate your stronghold?” Fright Knight asked boldly, drawing himself up like he was even now standing against such foes.

Jason bit back a grin.

“It’s not a stronghold, Sir Halloween. There’s nothing here they could use against us.”

Silence again.

Then.

“Not even just a little shock?”

“Still nope,” Jason shook his head, arms folded. Safely hiding where his fingers pinched the skin just below his ribcage, holding in a laugh.

Fright Knight was practically pleading.

“Just a small one? A little static shock? They probably won’t even die from it,” he wheedled, and Jason had to stifle a snicker in a cough.

“No! Look, most people will be wearing rubber soled shoes anyway. They wouldn’t even notice,” he pointed out in what was a mostly level voice.

Fright Knight huffed, turning away and grumbling under his breath.

“Rubber can be made to melt…”

Aaaand they were back on that again. Stepping forward, Jason caught him by the shoulder, schooling his face to his most earnest expression.

“You know your advice is always appreciated, Sir Halloween, and the king and I take it very seriously. Should we ever need such traps, you’re the very first person we’ll ask. But this is a diplomatic venture, and chivalry demands we not allow harm to come to our guests.”

It was a line they’d used before; the very first explanation Jason had hoped the bombastic ghost might understand. And he did, usually.

He just. Didn’t seem to remember it. But then, he wasn’t exactly the overly chivalrous kind of knight.

And once again, Halloween drew himself up and pounded on his chest, nodding seriously.

“Of course, Sir Jason! And I shall ensure that this venture of yours is of the utmost success! With no traps that shall interfere with the Harper woman’s electronics,” he added in a low grumble, probably hoping that Jason wouldn’t notice that he hadn’t just said “no traps”.

Again. Former Robin.

Buuuut so long as they turned the traps off before guests showed up, there was no reason he couldn’t ask the other Bats to come do a pre-show run through and see what they made of it.

Pretending to be oblivious, he turned and scooped up the power drill he’d originally come to the storeroom for and saluted the ghost with it.

“Always appreciated, Sir Halloween.”

Danny stuck his hand through the wall, brows furrowed in concentration. He could have used the panel about three feet further down, but then he’d have to reach around at an awkward angle, or yank cables to pull the bundle closer.

Honestly, in his plans the circuitboard should have lined up near perfectly with the damn panel; he’d done his measurements and everything before he started! But no, it was all the way over here, and now he had to deal with this

It was almost like something had snapped off the supports and tangled all the wires up…

There were more cables than there should be.

Again.

No, wait, the intruder wasn’t a cable. It felt… like a rope?

Fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall, he sighed heavily. The temptation to just yank the damn thing out was tempered only by the sounds of construction, impromptu karaoke, and occasional screams of every other member of the project.

Who knew what Fright Knight had rigged this one to do, or where it would actually go off? Other than, y’know, completely fucking his own wiring.

Danny breathed out slowly through his nose, shifting his grip until he was only touching his wiring and not the rope, and phased the whole lot through. He’d turned almost everything off to go wire-spelunking anyway, so it should-

A loud thunk behind him preceded a sudden silence where a low humming had been pretty much ignorable. Danny grimaced, but kept going until the junction was back in place at the access panel before letting it rejoin the physical world.

The ghost shield didn’t immediately power back up, but that was fine. He could give it a couple kicks, maybe try a hard reboot if it was really fussing.

More importantly, he had to find what the hell the Spirit of Halloween had done now. His ecto-accelerator was working as expected, and blob ghosts would all be kept around to feed on the concentrated ectoplasm anyway.

Really, he’d been shutting the shield down anyway to let Halloween in and out.

Maybe he should stop doing that…

Then Danny brightened up.

It was Jason’s fault Halloween was here at all. And it was Jason’s class’s haunted house.

This wasn’t a Danny problem, this was a Jason problem. And maybe next time the stubborn fuck would listen when Danny said something was a bad idea.

Humming cheerfully, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent off a quick text, wandering idly back towards the ghost shield generator. One quick kick and it chugged back into life, good as new.

He was gonna have to put some internal batteries in on the next rebuild though. It had to be able to survive a power cut to be worth anything in Gotham.

Flicking into his notes app, he added it to the list of improvements.

While he didn’t actually know where Jason was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t close enough to hear Jason’s response to his text. That was fine though, because he could feel the pulse of exasperated-resigned-annoyed the second he saw it.

Humming happily to himself, he dug out the extra set of cords to let the lights dim in time with any power surges from the ghost shield. It’d only take a few seconds now that the damn board was back in the right place, and should add some extra spooky ambiance once the house started seeing guests and he turned off the accelerator to let the blob ghosts play.

Really, he owed Harper for the idea. He’d been explaining to her how the little guys always chewed on power cables, lack of physical teeth or not, just to get to the current. And technically what she’d actually said was “man it’d be cool if we could get them to fuck with the lights”.

And technically Danny could probably have trained them to actually play with light switches. This would be much easier though, and interestingly random as the blobs bounced around.

All he had to do was hook up these last few connections… and test it out.

And since Halloween was clearly around anyway… he was definitely big enough to make the ghost shield hum a bit. That’d be great for calibration.

And he owed Danny for fucking up his circuitry with his latest booby trap anyway. It all worked out nicely really.

By the time Jason poked his head through the door, Danny was just finishing the last of his adjustments, almost every wire properly soldered into place.

“What’s he done now?” Jason sighed heavily, exasperation both so clear and so clearly a put on that even a normal human would probably feel it radiating off him.

Danny nodded towards the stretch of wall near where he’d last seen the rope.

“No idea, but he’s tied something to something else that got in the way of the ghost shield controls. I fixed that, the inevitable booby trap is all yours,” he added sweetly, blowing Jason a kiss as best he could with both hands busy.

Jason pretended to chomp it out of the air like a shark, and then puke it out. He was getting creative.

Danny could respect that.

“Great, thanks,” he said sarcastically, then frowned at the offending section of drywall. “Is there-“

“No, the access panel is over here,” Danny told him brightly, twisting the last screw down to hold all of the less permanent wires in place. Really, at some point he should probably put a casing over the whole mess. Keep any damp or curious critters out.

But any curious critters were going to be a little busy avoiding curious ghosties, and the ghosties wouldn’t try and move the wires. That’d stop them from being able to siphon the electricity.

Little fuckers.

Maybe also some extra ghost shielding. Hell, the power going into the shield was controlled from this panel, and the main power cables were nicely strung along the back. How hard could it be to extend a little extra shielding…

Jason cut him off from the thought with a heavy, dramatic sigh, thunking heavily into the wall just beside Danny.

“Great. We got time to take another panel out and fix it again?” He asked semi-redundantly, taking in Danny and Heather’s carefully applied pattern of sprayed on filth and decay.

Grinning and straightening, Danny cracked his back and moaned happily.

“In your dreams. Halloween’s a week away, and we open this weekend.”

“So how do you want me to track the trap, your majesty?” Jason asked with a heavy roll of his eyes.

Danny grinned up at him. All the brighter for the sass.

“Oh, that’s not my problem. I’m not the one who said he could be such a huge help,” he shot back cheerfully, taking the moment to roll out his shoulders and do a couple of twists too.

He spent a lot of time hunched over between classwork and this little side quest, and while he wasn’t suffering for it yet, he’d rather not start.

“Besides, do you have anything else to do?” He pointed out with a cheeky grin.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, arms folded.

“About a million things, yeah. But none more important than making sure our guests don’t get electrocuted,” he added with a sigh, turning to frown at the wall. Reached out and knocked against it gently. “Wish I could just bring the hood out.”

“A little x-ray vision would be a big help,” Danny agreed, already looking for his next task. Would he have time to fuck with the ghost shield a little more to protect the board?

Probably not. While the machine itself was already doing excellent work as the centrepiece of a truly excellent mad science lab (although not up to Fenton standards), it still needed a quick coat of grime of its own, and probably some webbing.

Most of the rest of this room was ready, between Harper’s piezo-floors and Heather’s expert spray paint skills. So long as the shield could affect the lights throughout the house, he could probably finish here in half an hour.

Or delegate to Heather, once all the parts of the ghost shield were safely protected from rogue spray.

Danny could have run by the 3D printers in the Makers Club for some custom shielding pieces, but why bother? Leaning into his toolbox, he pulled out a roll of duct tape.

Glancing back, he was pleased to see Jason’s quiet was because the big guy had already stuck his head in the wall.

Sure, officially no one here was supposed to know about either of their ghost powers (Harper being the obvious exception), but no one was around. And it’d save time dismantling the trap so they could get back to work.

The Lit nerds had come up with the full floor plan by themselves, and while only a couple of them got nail gun privileges, they’d all been excited to get hands on.

And had clearly been relying on their giant tank of a nerd for some of the more hard to reach set up.

Danny could get it floating, or they could schlep ladders around, but why bother when Jason could reach the top of every doorframe already?

Once Jason was done dismantling yet another booby trap.

Reaching out with a foot, Danny gave him a light kick in the ass, knocking a shoulder into the wall.

“Dude, just go invisible and trace it directly. Painting’s gotta be finished tonight to be dry for tomorrow,” he reminded the larger man when Jason pulled his head out to glare at him.

“Such insightful. Very wisdom,” he snarked, straightening himself and returning said glare to the wall.

Danny snickered.

“I’ll tell Tucker you’re after his Miette status.”

“I’ll tell him you called him that again,” Jason shot back immediately, flipping Danny off without looking.

Touché.

Rather than concede the point, Danny got back to his own efforts instead. Time to tape up any cracks and crevices except the heat vents… and yeah, actually, putting a suitably ratty bag or strip on linen to cover those (both for spray paint protection and to flap dramatically) would only add to the atmosphere.

“Just get going while we’re still young and pretty.”

He could feel Jason’s amusement too, a warm balm on his back even over the exasperated-tired-over it from Fright Knight’s continued escapades. Felt it when Jason changed, his aura amping up automatically with his ghost form.

“Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you get your subject in line and remind him we’re not trying to kill anyone?” Jason asked, immediately phasing through the wall to get the last word.

Danny rolled his eyes despite the grin, carefully taping around the joins in the main control panel.

“What, again?” He muttered under his breath, chuckling softly.

As far as he was aware, more than half the problem was that ol’ Halloween wasn’t actually all that clear on what was lethal to humans at all. And that? That wasn’t a problem Danny could solve.

Technically, he could Command the spirit to stop putting up booby traps. Force him into an advisory role only.

(And yeah, Danny had to admit, for all he was a pain in the ass? He’d been right about adding a couple extra googly eyes in covert spots on the bubbling slimes. Super creepy when one rolled up and looked at you.)

Except that Danny hated using his Command on anyone, even when they were being a pain in his ass. It was creepy, kinda gross, and made him feel like a dick.

Besides, with ghosts it was actually way politer to just smack someone upside the head if they were being a shit. Hell, that was usually why they were being a shit.

Danny hesitated, a new thought blooming slowly.

Could… that be why Halloween was being a pain in the ass? Jason’s training hours had been cut back, but their time spent with the original Fright Knight was actually going up now that he was “helping” with the house.

Did he just want their attention? Or was he bored enough to fish around indirectly for a little ghostly rumble?

That would also have to be Jason’s problem, he decided with a philosophical shrug. Like most of the other older ghosts, the old Fright Knight actually avoided throwing down with Danny these days.

Whether it was the same fear that made him bend the knee to Pariah Dark or just plain not wanting to risk even a temporary win and the burden of the crown didn’t actually matter. It wasn’t loyalty; Halloween had been eager enough to bend the knee to Dan, but Dan also commanded him to run around wreaking terror and mayhem.

Danny mostly just asked him to wrestle with any ghosts who tried anything in Amity Park while he was gone; a duty Halloween kicked ass at and seemed to be taking seriously, but wasn’t his idea of fun.

But hey, it got him out of his pumpkin, and out of his lair without the fear of someone trying to seal him again. So long as Frighty mostly obeyed Danny’s orders, no one could even try it without having Danny come kick their ass.

Maybe Danny should let him wreak a little havoc in Gotham on Halloween though. As a treat.

Not his usual “turn inanimate objects into hordes of ghosts to take over the world” shtick, but since Scarecrow usually had dibs on the holiday (and was still decidedly out of action), some of the up and coming rogues were looking to make a name for themselves.

A not particularly nice smile pulled at Danny’s lips.

After all… apparently no one else had ever tried anything on Halloween while Crane was out and about. It could only be a good thing for Gotham as a whole if someone else staked an emphatic claim this year.

Aaaand it’d keep Frighty out from under their feet, or setting up any more booby traps while they got the last details into place.

If any of the bats objected, they could take that up with Jason too. After all, this whole thing was his idea.

The Spirit of Halloween drifted through the house, muttering disconsolately to himself.

All he wanted to do was what he’d been asked; to improve this “haunted house” his king was constructing.

It was certainly a better effort than the one which had first brought the ghost boy to his lair; that had been a single room, and a rather pathetic showing. Bouncy spiders, inflatable figures, utterly unfrightening.

This house had some real potential! Between the elaborate traps the humans were setting in each room and the far more convincing decor, it would be so easy to make something truly terrifying.

All it needed was some more sharp edges… something a little heavier to hang above the doors… and while apparently electrical traps were out of the question, he was sure that something horrific could be done with those powered floors.

Possibly an eject port. Those were new and the potential fascinated him ever since the doctors Fenton showed off their new flying seats.

If the king would only give him a chance, Halloween was sure he could turn this building into a true House of Horrors.

But no. Once again, his ideas were discarded. They would undo his modifications to the floor (and frankly he was rather pleased with how he’d managed to warp its purpose without transforming it into an independent entity; he’d needed to make use of young Sir Jason’s “phone” to learn to adjust the voltage the human way. He’d used his hands and everything because the king did not want him using his blade).

Honestly, why would you invite such an expert if you did not wish to use his advice?

And he wasn’t even supposed to let these foolish humans know he was here, so he couldn’t properly howl his woes to the winds.

Grumbling under his breath instead, he stalked back to the nest of wires he’d modified. If his work were to be undone, he could do it. He was here to help, if they’d just let him.

“Who the hell are you?” A sharp voice asked from behind him as he knelt before the nest, and he froze.

He wasn’t in the habit of being covert; that had been about the most interesting part of the whole debacle thus far.

He wasn’t a stealthy ghost. His presence was part of his armoury, inspiring fear and awe in all who could see him coming. Which only worked if they saw him coming.

He’d forgotten to be invisible.

For all that the king’s wishes had been annoyingly vague, there was just one thing he’d been explicitly clear on.

No mortals were to see him.

Very slowly, his helmet creaked around to face the glowering young mortal woman in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

He. Could. Use the Soul Shredder to send her to her own nightmare dimension. Then no one would know she’d seen him.

Except that the king had forbidden him from using his sword. And the young knight liked the woman Harper and would likely notice her absence.

Wretched nuisance.

She also didn’t seem the sort to scare easily, which he usually appreciated in a foe.

Even under the glare of his blazing purple eyes, she marched straight up to him, hands on her hips, and glowered.

“Are you the asshole who’s been fucking with my power supply?” She asked sharply, actually prodding! Prodding him! With her feeble mortal finger!

And he was unable to appropriately respond!

And if she were a true ally of his king, simply fading from sight would only affirm what he was in her mind…

For a brief moment, he wondered if he could persuade her that he was the Box Ghost, but discarded the idea immediately. No, he was no coward to hide behind another’s name!

Especially not that lowlife.

He would face the punishment from his king, content at least in the knowledge that it would be just, and would not maim or destroy him.

Which meant not smiting the puny mortal who’d rumbled his plans.

Unless…

She was an ally to the young knight. And fearless. And endeavouring to build and properly haunt this house. Perhaps she could be of aid to his own mission…

Which meant he had to be (a grimace hidden entirely under his helmet) tactful. Appealing even.

Straightening to his full height, he then bowed just below hers.

“Indeed, Dame Harper. I must apologize; Sir Jason has informed me of the true intent of your most excellent devices, so I came to repair what I have wrought.” It grated on him, a ghost of his calibre forced to treat any human as an equal… but less than it used to.

A useful opponent, and a worthy one, was hard enough to find. And… horror of horrors… under his new king, he was almost… getting used to it.

She didn’t seem overly impressed, folding her arms and giving him another, more sceptical once over.

“Yeah… and from that get up, I’m gonna guess you’re probably not from the university,” she said dryly.

The Spirit of Halloween cursed internally. Of course! That would have been the perfect excuse! A mere student in a costume! His time of year was all about disguises!

Yet already he’d declared his association to the younger Fright Knight by use of his title. She had already seen through such a potential escape.

Still, it meant she was observant. Passably intelligent. Good marks in an ally.

Better to act like he’d never intended to deceive her, though. It may let him glean some more insight into just how trusted she was.

“I am not.

From lands beyond and sights unseen

Your cohorts called upon me for aid

To plan a magnificent Halloween

So that all who enter be truly afraid.”

One of his better works off the cuff, he thought a little smugly… then deflated a little.

“I was not aware your devices were not some form of trap,” he added in more normal tones.

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, although her stern expression did not change.

“Uh huh. Yeah, ghost bullshit was gonna be my next guess. You thought the generators were a trap?” She asked, a little incredulously.

Sir Halloween shifted uncomfortably. He still wasn’t used to explaining himself, and wasn’t sure how little he could get away with.

“I believed them an excellent tactic to terrify and incapacitate any land-bound intruders,” he agreed cautiously.

Definitely a smile pulling at her lips this time, though she fought it. Perhaps she would be more amenable to his suggestions than the halfas…

The Harper woman sighed and uncrossed her arms, hands on her hips once more.

“I guess they would work pretty well for that… but nah. I prefer more direct methods if I’m gonna fry someone, don’t want anyone else getting caught in the crossfire,” she added with a wicked gleam in her eye that he very much liked.

Then she pointed her chin at the wiring he’d been about to restore.

“Go ahead and fix that up then, and I’ll decide if I forgive you.”

Commands from a mortal rankled, but it was to do as he’d intended anyway. And would give him more time to assess her potential.

From his understanding, this woman no longer hunted the night, but had been a mighty hunter while nought but a child. Those habits were hard to break.

About to turn back to the panel, he hesitated. If. She was going to watch him work. He would need to remain visible.

And there were far too many mortals in the house.

“Ah… Dame Harper. I have been commanded to remain unseen by those unaware of the Infinite Realms. If you wish to observe, we shall need to ensure others do not come across me.” He hoped she would assume that he hadn’t been meant to hide from her.

He wasn’t sure if he’d succeeded as her smile became distinctly wider and far more devious, looking him up and down one last time.

“No one’s allowed to know about ghosts, huh? And you’re not exactly a subtle one. No worries, I have the perfect plan.”

Grumbling to himself as he pulled the last of the blades from the swinging arms Sir Spookier-Than-Thou had set up through the upstairs and downstairs hall, Jason gave the mechanism one last look.

He could dismantle the whole thing if he had to, but that’d take time. And besides, it was pretty good work.

All he had to do was slow the swing a little, find something a little more family friendly to add to each arm, and it’d be a pretty bangin’ addition to their haunted house.

He wasn’t sure if he should tell the Spirit of Halloween that or not; if he’d feel better knowing his work was appreciated, or get over excited and back on his bullshit.

Either way, someone was going to cart these mysteriously glowing blades back to the Ghost Zone that they’d surely come from, and it wasn’t gonna be him. About six of his classmates were waiting on him to help with some final additions, and while most of it could pretty easily have been done with a scaffold, they didn’t have time to build one.

Not when Jason could just reach up.

Or a couple of the other guys could just stand on a bucket, but hey. His room was pretty much complete, all he needed was to test the spring loaded launchers on his “batarangs” and he was done.

(The day he’d discovered the cute, stylized little marshmallow bats he’d known exactly what he had to do with them. B was just lucky it had been close enough to Halloween that Jason decided to go with this first.

It did make a nice test run for the Bat Cave though.)

There might be a couple more cosmetic tweaks, some spit and polish, but he’d be essentially ready.

They weren’t exactly in competition, no scoring or voting or anything, but the Lit geeks in particular had been gushing and bragging about their own horror rooms from day one. Some of them were honestly really impressive; Heather’s 13 Ghosts setup that Danny had hooked the ghost shield into was extremely well designed, and used pretty much every inch of the master bedroom.

Ray and Tyra had both gone with more classic horror (and adjoining rooms; Jason particularly liked the chase from Tyra’s Grimm fairytale forest to Ray’s werewolf lair), and they actually had four different set ups featuring Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

While those might have been more obscure before Dracula Daily (and included less internet jokes), Jason enjoyed the narrative that started in the back room of the first floor, up the stairs (the road to castle), a gorgeous crypt, and then the final ascent to the roof and the opportunity for guests to “climb” down the wall (in lizard fashion, obviously) over an air bag or take the “Descent To Hell” (an inflatable red twirly slide that Danny still wanted to slick with dish soap. Jason and OSHA both disagreed).

There wasn’t exactly a unifying theme beyond “horror”, but they had at least planned ahead enough to group the rooms by type. The decorations along the halls to gradually show the genre changes would be the last things going up, but Jason was pretty sure the new swinging arms would be a great addition.

It wouldn’t be a seamless change, but it would be on brand.

And sure, technically his own Phantom of the Opera room was also one of the outliers from a thematic and stylistic perspective (because he’d chosen the book, not the stage show - although he had snagged the score and had a play around in an editing suite for background music).

He’d taken the “basement” for the forgotten halls below the opera house, so it didn’t really matter that his dripping stone, hall of mirrors, and final Grand Decision were a lot more classically gothic than the rugged and rural first floor, or the more urban and scifi second. He’d been able to source a bunch of old theatre dressings from a recent rogue attack, so it had been easy to set the bones up.

It was a great house, and while he’d been a little worried about the size when they’d drawn up the plans, they were pretty much on schedule.

Despite the interference of the Spirit of Halloween.

Who was gonna go drop stuff off in the Ghost Zone, and maybe just stay there until the night itself. Jason couldn’t give the command or make it stick, but Danny could, and probably would if the Spirit mucked with his new tech one more time.

For all that he insisted this whole mess was Jason’s fault (and therefore Jason’s problem), he was the one who decided how far any of it went.

Wondering idly what he could suggest to get Frighty back under Danny’s feet, he tossed the last blade in a decidedly triangular box and hoisted it quickly.

He wasn’t entirely sure what the blades were made of, or what they’d do (the Soul Shredder was a unique weapon that he hadn’t made himself, but Jason had no idea what he could make), but he wanted the Box Ghost to get his hands on them even less than he wanted his fellow students to.

All he had to do was find ol’ Halloween… and the big guy never really bothered to shield himself. It took very little focus to expand his aura through the rest of the house these days, and he didn’t even need to get past the first floor. The Spirit of Halloween was at the back, the room below Danny’s where Harper had her main boards and batteries set up for ease of use.

(It wasn’t technically part of the attraction, but she’d still made it look spooky and on theme in case anyone peeked around the door.)

But the Fright Knight had better be in there fixing things or hiding from people, not fucking with the piezoelectrics again, or Jason was gonna start a training session of his own on the spot.

(Not that he’d reliably win a regular fight; he was damn good, but the Spirit of Halloween was older, more used to ghost powers, and loved his sword and duels almost as much as he loved poetry and terrorizing the wretched.

But on Earth, with more than half of their powers denied them by Danny’s rules? Jason could come for his ass.)

————

Listen. This is not the universe for short oneshots, okay?

But there are some sneaky hints for the road ahead in our main timeline too, for attentive eyes 👀

Happy Halloween!

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #halloween #danny fenton dead and loving it #dfdali #dead and loving it halloween special #the haunting of hood house #danny and jason make a haunted house!#all will go perfectly well #i promise #for sure #no issues anywherw #happy halloween’

162 notes · View notes

sweetpastillas · 1 year ago

Text

i Love NPMD's subversion of the trope where the supernatural haunts the bullies who rightfully deserved it. you have famous horror figures in movies who hurt the characters for revenge, because those characters held some power over them or knew someone who did – think carrie white, or iterations of freddy krueger or jason voorhees, the latter's mother, etc. you have modern stuff like unfriended and subsequent films within the genre, where "the ghost did this because they were bullied by the protags" becomes the main premise. because the trope is a staple in horror, whenever it shows up we think the characters deserve these deaths for what they did to the victim anyway; we just come for the spectacle. the inciting incident itself always shows their pre-existing behavior and actions, and explains why the movie happens.

but the thing that NPMD does is give that power to the bully. max is able to continue terrorizing nerds because of what was done to him. the only reason we don't completely sympathize with him (i would love those fix it fics where he gets to change after the accident) is because we understand the nerds' point of view. they dont do it because they would get a kick out of seeing him humiliated, they do it to get him to stop hurting them. they do it to survive. thats why we know they dont deserve it.

imagine if NPMD was a super serious horror film, where the waylon house accident was a flashback only shown in the 3rd act? it would be a decently sized twist to know that our brains are used to expecting a sympathetic backstory to the ghost or an evil side to the gang when no, he was the asshole.

i also love how it subverts the other horror trope too. usually the aforementioned horror icons go after those popular kids because of a movie's intent to punish vices. people who party and fuck are meant to die. if it were any other characters like, let's say, teenage and meaner tom houston and becky barnes, they would be wiped off the board without a thought.

but the protagonists are the titular nerdy prudes. people who want to party and fuck but dont. who only could in a world without max's strict social hierarchy, when outliers to their group like steph could be able to convince them to.

i also dont know if this has been said before but man i love figuring it out now

i probably have more thoughts on this but uhh later I LOVE YOU STARKID

#starkid #npmd #nerdy prudes must die spoilers #npmd spoilers #team starkid #nerdy prudes must die #im sure im not the first to realize this but come on pls its so cool to think about #hatchetfield

831 notes · View notes

yk-4 · 2 months ago

Text

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS, APOCALYPSE

w. haitani rindou

ⓘ rindou reminiscing your first kiss. short n' sweet. sfw. slight angst. hint of rindou smoking. heavy depictions of anxiety. song : apocalypse by cigarettes after sex.

—

rindou's grip tightened on the steering wheel, the worn leather cool beneath his fingertips. the familiar scent of asphalt filled the cab of his beat-up toyota truck, a stark contrast to the sweet memory that flooded his mind. he wasn't sure why he was remembering it all now, driving through the deserted streets that lead to your place, the moonlight casting a shadow on his face. it was the fleeting moment of a summer long past, the one that made him believe that maybe, he deserved you after all. maybe.

it still haunts him, the way the air hung heavy with the scent of sunbaked asphalt—a familiar aroma that clung to the old skatepark like a second skin. vandalisms of frat names, scrawled in bold spray paint, marred the concrete ramps, a testament to the place's rowdiness. but you were oblivious to it all, your gaze fixed on the sunset that painted the sky before you. he watched you, too, captivated by the way the hues of orange danced on your eyes. and then, in that moment of shared stillness, his cigarette-stained voice broke the silence, a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "i wanna kiss you so bad," he said, his words hanging in the air like a whispered confession. fuck!

"y-you wanna kiss me?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper. the question hung in the air, confirming his fears, he felt his cheeks burned. he tried to compose himself, meeting your gaze, but the words caught in his throat.

then your eyes met his, under the soft glow of the golden hour. and the world seemed to fade away in that fleeting moment, your breaths mingling in the warm air. damn it! a sudden surge of determination replaced his hesitation. your sweaty foreheads touched as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours.

just a little taste, he promised himself.

but he should have known better than that.

all his reservations were long gone. no, he didn't care anymore. didn't care that he was a delinquent, didn't care that he couldn't give you a normal life. all that mattered was you, the promise of something real.

you pull away, breathless and dazed.

he swore under his breath, your eyes sparkled under the golden hour. his heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his again. and then you smile, like you were in love with him too—and maybe you were.

realization dawned on him, "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"no, i really wanted to kiss you too." you interrupted, your voice soft but firm.

a silent hope bloomed in his chest. he was sure that this memory would haunt him forever, even if it was fleeting and ultimately unfulfilled.

he let out a deep sigh, as he let the memory wash over him. now he wonders if it haunts you too.

the thought of losing you, after all this time, sent a jolt of anxiety through him. he needed to fix things between you, to make up for neglecting you these past few days. tokyo manji gang was a constant drain on his time, taking him away from you. your cold, short replies to his messages stung his heart, and right now, you wouldn't even answer any of his calls.

"you know you can't have her, rin. people like us don't deserve good things like that. what kind of life are you going to give her anyway?" his brother's words echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of the reality he couldn't escape.

ran was right, but rindou shouldn't have to choose between you and the life he'd always known. he wanted to be with you more than anything, and he knew he couldn't have both. the weight of reality pressed down on him, a heavy burden he couldn't shake.

the cool night air did little to soothe the heat of his anxiety as he pulled up to your parents' house. he reached over and grabbed a handful of pebbles from the floorboard, the rough texture grounding him in the present moment. he started throwing them at your window, aiming for a gentle tap, just enough to let you know he was outside. but there was no response. sudden images of you with another man gnawed at him, a relentless ache in his chest.

he climbed up to your window and knocked gently, his heart pounding in his ears. you were there, your tear-stained cheeks a testament to your pain. his heart sank. how long had you been crying because of him?

"love," he called out, his voice hoarse with emotion. he gently pushed open the window, his heart aching at the sight of your back turned towards him, your face buried in the pillow. seeing him, you sobbed harder.

"shh, stop crying now, sweetheart. please talk to me," he whispered, gently rubbing your back. his touch, usually so comforting, seemed to only intensify your sobs. you clung to him, your body trembling with unspoken emotions, and he held you close, his heart aching with the weight of your pain. "what's wrong, love?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"i've missed you so much, rin! how long are we going to be like this? i-i don't think i can take it anymore," you cried into his shoulder, your voice thick with despair. the words, laced with a desperation he hadn't heard before, pierced his heart. he could hear it in your voice, the slow, agonizing process of giving up on him, and it filled him with a cold dread. rindou tried to compose himself, taking a deep breath and reaching into his pocket. he pulled out a folded piece of paper, a card perhaps.

"look," he said, his voice firm with determination. "i want to be a man you can be proud of, a man you can bring home to your parents. i won't let us be like this forever. because i have dreams for us." he unfolded the paper, revealing the acceptance letter. "i got accepted into your school. i'm going to leave the delinquent life behind, so i can give you a proper life."

his words washed over you like a wave of relief. you leaned into him, your heart swelling with a love that felt both fragile and fiercely strong. you kissed him instantly, the taste of your tears mingled with the warmth of his lips. he was changing for you. he was choosing you. he was willing to fight for a future with you. rindou deepened the kiss, savoring every corner of your mouth.

"i love you," you managed to whisper between the kiss. his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently tracing the outline of your cheekbones, a silent promise of his devotion. "i love you more than anything." he replied.

—

#rindou x reader #rindou x you #rindou x y/n #haitani rindou #haitani rindou x reader #rindou fluff #rindou haitani angst #rindou haitani x reader #tw.anxiety

152 notes · View notes

the-thing-inside-your-closet · 3 months ago

Text

Prompts I’ve seen/found online that I have used an inspiration for many things, but mainly DP X DC stuff.

There’s 200 prompts/quotes in there

1. They match each other’s freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.

2. People often mistake me for an adult because of my age.

3. “I have a solution.”

“Thank goodness.”

“It involves fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

4. Why are you hiding behind me? What did you do?

5. We can’t have a crisis - my schedule is already full!

6. “What’s our exit strategy?”

“Our what?”

“We’re all going to die.”

7. That is a terrible, horrible, incredibly foolish idea. Let’s do it and see what happens.

8. “This coffee tastes weird.”

“That’s probably because it’s not coffee.”

9. “Can I bother you for a second?”

“You always bother me, but go ahead.”

10. “Are you mad?”

“No.”

“So sharpening knives at 2am is just a hobby?”

11. I’m going to give my inner child a gun.

12. Your inability to learn complicated handshakes is tearing this gang apart.

13. I get so affectionate when I’m sleepy it’s disgusting.

14. Leaving a watermelon on someone’s doorstep in the middle of the night is a pretty inexpensive way to occupy a portion of their mind forever.

15. No offence to myself or anything but what the fuck am I doing.

16. I would love to be mysterious but I never shut the fuck up.

17. The divorce rate amongst my socks is astonishing.

18. Adulthood is a scam I want to be a crow.

19. Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everybody’s problem.

20. My house is haunted because I live there.

21. That’s my emotional support entity of questionable moral standing.

22. God released me into the wild and now he’s hunting me for sport.

23. No, no you don’t want to get to know me, I’m better as a concept.

24. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to pretend I can’t hear.

25. Do birds every just fly for fun or are they always on some kind of mission?

26. The older I get the more I understand why roosters scream to start their day.

27. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’ I am older and I understand absolutely nothing.

28. Source? It was revealed to me in a delusion.

29. Why do drugs after 30 when you can just stand up too fast?

30. I won’t ever be the bigger person in an argument. God made me 5’ for a reason.

31. This meeting could have been a fist fight.

32. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m never going to have a midlife crisis because my entire fucking life is a crisis.

33. Anyone fancy going off the fucking rails with me I’ve had enough.

34. Go ahead and get in the pond since you wanna act like a silly goose.

35. My life is like a romantic comedy except there’s no romance and it’s just me laughing at my own jokes.

36. Who the fuck decided to call it ‘emotional baggage’ and not ‘griefcase?’

37. I don’t have a nervous system. I am a nervous system.

38. “What makes us human?”

“Selecting all of the images with traffic lights.”

39. Don’t let anyone else ruin your day. It’s your day. Ruin it yourself.

40. The sixth love language is combat.

41. “I just told you 2 minutes ago.”

“I do not control the remember.”

42. Due to not wanting to. I will not be.

43. My flabbers be gasted daily.

44. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Like a hallucination, a therapist, or a person?”

45. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you I try my best.”

46. I tried to embrace my inner child today and the little asshole bit me.

47. I think my dark under eye circles are adding to the aesthetic actually.

48. Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot.

49. Next time I’m opening up to someone will be at my autopsy.

50. Too many songs about love. Not enough song about sword fights.

51. “You’re cute.”

“I’m feral and chaotic, don’t touch me.”

52. I’m not as unhinged as I could be and I want everyone to be great full for that.

53. How dare you know stuff about things.

54. “I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?”

“I have a plan.”

55. “Are you decent?”

“Not morally, but I’m wearing pants if that’s what you’re asking.”

56. I may have the right to remain silent but I do not have the ability.

57. I don’t want to look ‘pretty.’ I want to look otherworldly and vaguely threatening.

58. If you ever feel safe please remember that I’m out there.

59. “I’m too good for revenge.”

“Well I’m not. Give me the gun.”

60. “You know I really feel like we aren’t seeing eye to eye.

“It’s because you’re taller than me asshole.”

61. “They rely on you.”

“I can’t be blamed for their lack of judgment..”

62. Well, aren’t you a little Ray of pitch black.

63. I can get behind murder but I draw the line at misogyny.

64. In my defence your honour, I simply do not vibe with the law.

65. Life is a tornado and I’m just the cow being spun around for cinematic value.

66. You can burn all the sage you want, I’ll be back.

67. I believe in holding grudges. I’ll heal in hell.

68. You know…they make medication for the way you act.

69. I like men with massive, throbbing vocabularies.

70. My swear jar could finance the fucking space program.

71. “Well if you want my opinion-”

“I don’t. I have my own.”

72. I’m awake but not operational.

73. Due to personal reasons I’ll be going back to sleep.

74. The bags under my eyes are Prada.

75. I identify as a threat. My pronouns are try/me.

76. Audacity must be on sale this year…

77. “Have you ever been handcuffed?”

“Sexually or by law enforcement?”

78. I don’t like salad or eye contact.

79. “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

“No you’re gonna hit me!”

80. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

81. I have to keep reminding myself that I am an adult and will be charged as one.

82. Apparently ‘spite’ is not an appropriate answer to ‘what motives you?’

83. There is a fine line between my crazy and my intelligence. I use that line like a jump rope.

84. I don’t know where you got your opinion but I hope you kept the receipt.

85. Sometimes when I close my eyes…I can’t see.

86. Is being stupid a profession or are you just gifted?

87. Some days the supply of available curse words is insufficient to meet my demands.

88. I’m running out of reasons to not stab you.

89. When I said ‘how stupid can you be?’ It wasn’t a challenge.

90. Love at first sight? Tired, boring. Love at first assassination attempt? Spicy.

91. I’m sorry I don’t take orders. I barley take suggestions.

92. And that’s a wrap on another day where I acted like I knew what I was doing.

93. Now if you’ll excuse me…tonight’s bad decision isn’t going to make itself.

94. I take super hot showers to practice burning in hell.

95. I wanna be 14 again and ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.

96. Don’t be ashamed of who you are. That’s your parent’s job.

97. Being an adult is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

98. If I’m ever murdered, feel comfort in knowing I ran my mouth until the bitter end.

99. My spirit animal would fucking eat yours.

100. Some people will only like you if you fit inside their box. Don’t be afraid to shove that box up their ass.

101. I wonder if people look both ways before getting on my fucking nerves.

102. If I was a bird, I know who I’d shit on.

103. Giving a fuck doesn’t really go with my outfit.

104. I’m not insulting you, I’m describing you.

105. Life is full of disappointments and I just added you to the list.

106. And then I decided to take a detour to deliver an ass beating.

107. I wanna contribute to the chaos.

108. I’m gay and also stronger than all of you. So don’t try any shit.

109. With all due respect, which is none

110. What, pray tell, the fuck?

111. My arson charges don’t define me.

112. Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range.

113. I don’t understand your specific kind of crazy but I do admire your total commitment to it.

114. I am not above slashing my own tires to avoid going to this family brunch.

115. I don’t want to heal my inner child I want them to get revenge.

116. In order to insult me I must first value your opinion. Nice try though.

117. There’s someone for everyone and the person for you is a psychiatrist.

118. Keep rolling your eyes, maybe you’ll find a brain back there.

119. I think my guardian angel drinks.

120. In my defence, I was left unsupervised.

121. I believe in you. I also believe in Bigfoot so don’t get too excited.

122. If you figure me out I want an explanation.

123. I don’t think I meet the height requirements to ride your emotional roller coaster.

124. When killing them with kindness doesn’t work, try voodoo.

125. Another fine day ruined by responsibility.

126. You call them swear words. I call them sentence enhancers.

127. Stop petting my peeves.

128. What a year this week has been.

129. Don’t follow me I don’t know where I’m going.

130. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I am awake.

131. I didn’t say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

132. Please don’t interrupt me while I’m ignoring you.

133. Everyone has the right to be stupid but you’re abusing the privilege.

134. I just know I will die trying to pet something I shouldn’t.

135. At this point, if a clown invited me into the woods, I’d just go.

136. I told him to take care of his eyes because they’re the only balls he has.

137. The trash gets picked up tomorrow. Be ready.

138. My last words will probably be sarcastic.

139. We don’t have time to unpack all that.

140. I may have committed light treason.

141. How is ‘pretty boy’ supposed to be an insult? I’m the prettiest goddamn boy in this town.

142. I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual.

143. “Based on statistical evidence, I’m immortal.”

“How so?”

“Haven’t died yet.”

144. I’m just here to establish an alibi.

145. Take the day off from being the bigger person and choose violence, you deserve it.

146. Forgive and forget? I’m neither Jesus nor do I have alzheimers.

147. People are so ungrateful. No one ever thanks me for having the patience to not kill them.

148. “I can see your bra.”

“Fucking good it was expensive.”

149. Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.

150. My idea of ‘help from above’ is a sniper on the roof.

151. “We’re surrounded!”

“Excellent, we can attack in any direction!

152. Lord give me patience or an untractable handgun.

153. Step back! I’m a professional idiot!

154. “Trust your gut.”

“I have anxiety. My gut is always telling me to abort mission.”

155. Keep your morals away from me.

156. Your existence gives me a headache go stand over there.

157. What, from the bottom of my heart, the fuck?

158. My heart is not a home for cowards.

159. Underestimate me so I can embarrass you.

160. “It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce them.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

161. You’ve got heart, kid. Several hearts. Honestly, I’m a little scared of you.

162. It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.

163. I’m no doctor - but I think he’s dead.

164. I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.

165. “What brings you here?”

“A continuum of terrible choices.”

“You’d be surprised to know how often people say that.”

166. “I thought we agreed to tell each other when we were bleeding internally.”

“That’s a very specific promise I don’t remember making.”

167. “Did you really google how to flirt with a girl?”

“What? How’d you know that?”

“You do realise there’s a search history?”

168. “I’m gonna…”

“If you kick down the door, I swear…”

“I’M GONNA PUNCH IT WITH MY FOOT!”

169. “Is it still murder if I give them a heads up?”

“That’s a threat.”

“Damn.”

170. Surprise! I’m back from the dead! Isn’t that exciting?

171. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis.

172. I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.

173. You’re important to me you piece of shit.

174. “Why are your hands purple?”

“That’s a very good question.”

175. Can someone turn off the sun please?

176. “I had a thought.”

“Oh no.”

“I swear it’s a good one this time!”

177. I’ve met bread smarter than you.

178. “Please stop getting shot, it stresses me out.”

“Oh, well if YOU don’t like it.”

179. Dude, we are not asking the dragon for directions.

180. You’ve got as much charm as a dead slug.

181. For you, I could steal the stars - but I can also get them through legitimate means, if that impresses you more.

182. I am under no obligation to make sense to you.

183. You smile like an idiot when you’re talking to them.

184. Don’t you sign to me in that tone.

185. Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.

186. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t care. Shut up.”

187. Now that I made it weird, I’m going to make my exit.

188. So uh, I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional or…?

189. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“Smart man.”

190. Well, if you’d woken up properly the first time I kicked you, I wouldn’t have had to do it four more times.

191. “I have NEVER been so insulted.”

“You don’t listen much, do you?”

192. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“Yup. I just don’t care.”

193. I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into. I just thought it would be amusing.

194. I would tell you to be yourself but that almost got us killed last time.

195. “Why aren’t you worshipping me, mortal?”

“Not interested. Thanks.”

196. “I’d rather be dead.”

“Then I have some good news for you.”

197. “Did you hear that scream?”

“Yes, I’m the one who screamed.”

198. “What happened to your-”

“I lost a bet.”

“Why-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

199. Reading way above my grade level didn’t get me as far in life as I had hoped.

200. Due to foreseen circumstances well within my control I will be late.

#writing prompts #prompts #I found a lot of these online so I’m not 100% sure of many of their sources #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp

159 notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 6 months ago

Text

Burn For You

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, kissing, smut. PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering (female receiving).

Summary: Coming back to LA from college was like coming back to an alternate universe. So many part of the hood were equally familiar and completely foreign to you. However, the one thing that hadn't changed much is Franklin Saint. Or so you thought. He walks with a cane now and is no longer the sweet boy you've nursed a crush on your whole life. After spending a day with him, you invite him back to your house after a few confessions leaves you hungry for him.

Word Count: 7,145k

AO3 Link

A/N: I....did not think this would turn out so long LOL. This is a very sweet ask from @kaaliyahsierra, thank you for trusting me with this, lovely! Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @nworbaij @nerdieforpedro @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics

Damn, the neighborhood had really changed. As you drove through the old haunts of Compton, you looked around at the busted places, plazas full of thugs, homeless on every corner. And it seemed like the gangs had increased their activity. There was a boy on every corner.

Coming back from college, this almost felt like a nightmare. Like you stepped off of a crazy Scooby Doo type of town. Where everything and nothing felt familiar. Was this the cost of leaving? Not feeling you belong anymore?

“Girl, cheer up! It’s not all bad,” your friend, Tucky, said. You may have mentioned how shocked you were once or four times.

She proceeded to tell you all the ways that LA was still the same. There were still bad little kids scrambling to get home before the streetlights came on. There were still cop cars and helicopters lulling people to sleep. There were still the hot ass summers.

You put on a brave face and nodded. You didn’t want to spend your last few weeks here being miserable or grumpy. You came to unwind a bit from college before starting your job at the bank. It wasn’t the first thing you wanted to do, but it paid well enough and you were inside a building all day. Even during hot summers.

Tucky drove to your parents’ house and you couldn’t help looking at all the different ways drugs, crime, and poverty was slowly melting LA right before your eyes. You could only shake your head at it.

Tucky pulled into your driveway and helped with your bags. Inevitably, your eyes searched across the street for Franklin Saint. Having grown up in the neighborhood, you used to run with him and the crew. You used to chase each other around the lawns, rode bikes, got into all kinds of trouble as kids.

Franklin was the first to go away to college. He set the bar for everyone, but not everyone was able to meet it. Melody was set to go as well, just like you, but you never learned why she didn’t.

It was silly to look for Franklin. The odds that he was still living at home with his mom were slim. It was just that…well…you still carried a torch for him. A huge one. So huge it felt like it would crush you most days. He was the measuring stick by which you judged every guy at college.

Eventually, you stopped trying and learned to like the guys around you. At every corner, they fell short. They weren’t tall enough, broad enough, dark enough, smart enough, or funny enough. You ended up losing your virginity to one of them. Bad experience all around. You thought that it’d be magical or heavenly like all those books you read or shows you watched.

It was nothing but a disappointing seven minutes. You vowed never to try again unless you were absolutely certain about the guy. And it never happened. Because none of them were Franklin.

As you were lost staring at his front door, Franklin emerged from his house. He limped with a cane and you lurched forward as if you could do something about it. Why did he have a cane? He was too damn young for a cane.

He still looked good though. He wore a wine colored polo shirt buttoned to the top, dark jeans, and sneakers. From where you could see him, it looked like his hair grew out as well. He walked with the surety of being mature. Gone was the sweet boy who you used to make up excuses to go see at Cho’s.

Tucky came out of your house. You turned to her. “What the hell is Franklin doing with a cane?” You asked.

Tucky looked across the street at Franklin, who stood in his doorway talking to his mom, Cissy. “We didn’t know if we should tell you…Melody shot Franklin,” Tucky said.

“She what?” You practically screamed.

Melody shot Franklin? Too many questions ran through your mind. That girl was as in love with Franklin as you were. What the hell could have happened in four years? And why the hell didn’t your friends tell you anything? Not even your parents?

That seemed like pretty huge fucking news to not share with somebody. Tucky knew how long you carried the torch for Franklin. She knew that you felt horrible liking the same man as Melody. How crushed you were when it seemed like he was more into her and not you. How could she not tell you?

“You were off at college and we all kinda promised to let you enjoy it. What good would it have done to tell you he got shot? You would’ve just run back here,” Tucky said.

“That was my decision to make,” you said.

“No, it wasn’t. You have a chance to get out of this shit. Not everyone does. So no, it wasn’t up to you to decide to let the hood drag you back into this shit. The first chance you get, move out of the neighborhood and don’t come back.” Tucky grabbed your last bag from the car and took off inside your house.

You rubbed your head. All these conflicting emotions were giving you a headache. The hot LA sun beat down on you with the briefest glimpse at a breeze. You looked once more to Franklin’s house. He was facing you and then he waved.

You gasped. You didn’t actually think he’d see you though you made no move to hide. You waved back. Franklin kissed Cissy on the cheek and then limped down the steps. You thought he was going to head to his car out front, but he continued past it. Crossing the street.

Your heartbeat sped up. Your lips trembled. You weren’t expecting to talk to him right now. You had no idea what your breath smelled like or how you looked. You wore petal pushers, a yellow tank, and flip flops. Not exactly queen of sexy at the moment. There was nothing for it as Franklin got closer.

“What are you doing back here?” Franklin asked. He approached you and then swallowed you up into a big, deep hug. The kind that made you melt against him, like he was soaking up every negative thought you had.

“All done with college,” you said with a grin.

“Four years went by that fast? Damn,” he said. He got a faraway look in his eye before he smiled at you.

“College did good for you?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Wasn’t without some problems. I sure missed everyone here though,” you said.

“Everyone?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes and fought a smile. Franklin was the only one who could put you back at ease. Like four years was just a thought in your head. You were transported back to the good old days of high school. Franklin, still young and sweet, the gang together. You did hear about Kevin’s passing though. It had been too hard to make it back home to see everyone. You were still reeling from the fact that Tucky kept so much from you.

“Yes, that includes you Franklin Saint,” you said.

Franklin chuckled. “You know, to this day, you’re the only one who calls me by my full government name,” he said.

“It’s a good strong name. Why not use the whole thing?” You asked.

“‘Cause I’m not in trouble,” he said.

You crossed your arms and leaned on Tucky’s car. The afternoon sun already made it hot to the touch, so you could feel the heat through your pants. Still, you leaned on it and looked at Franklin. “I’m happy I ran into you,” you told him.

“Me too. Glad I got to see you. How ya been?” He asked.

You caught him up on nonsense about what you studied at school, the friends you made, and the food you tried. Tucky came outside while you were in the middle of talking. She said hi to Franklin and told you that her mom paged her, she needed to get back to watch her siblings.

“I thought we had all day to hang out together,” you said.

Tucky rolled her eyes. “I did too. My brother was supposed to watch them but Mama said she don’t trust him as far as she can throw him. I’ll try to get over tomorrow. It depends if she work a double shift,” Tucky said. She hugged you bye and then waved to Franklin. She got in the car so you moved onto your front lawn to let her pass.

She drove down the street, leaving you without anything to do today. Your parents were on a mini vacation up to Santa Barbara at the moment. Just you and the house for a few days before they got back. What the hell were you going to do now?

“You hungry?” Franklin asked.

“Huh?” You heard what he said, you just needed a moment for your mind to process it. He repeated his question and you nodded.

“Yeah, I can eat,” you said. You were hungry enough to eat a fuckin’ cow. Between the flight into LAX, cruising around with Tucky, and everything she revealed, you were starving. You had wanted to stop at In and Out, but Tucky wanted to unload your stuff first. Too many instances of people getting robbed in broad daylight.

“Lock up the house, I’ll take you to get some Fatburger,” he said.

“Are you sure? You don’t have anything to do today?” You asked.

Franklin smiled. “Not anymore,” he said.

You walked backwards from him with your hands in your pockets so he wouldn’t see how fucking giddy you were. That you got to spend some time with Franklin Saint. Alone. None of the crew with you.

You’d been alone with him before throughout the years. Times where everyone else split but you two lived close to each other so you could linger a bit longer. Melody, with her cop dad, had to be home way before the streetlights came on. She usually initiated the great departure. Kevin and Leon would go next and then there was just you and Franklin.

There had been many times where it felt like it could lead to something more. But you were too chicken to say what was on your mind. To let him know that you were feeling him. And if he turned you down, at least you’d know and you’d stop guessing and torturing yourself. But then your feelings would be out there. And if he did turn you down, you’d still have to be around him after.

You turned and went to get your purse, making sure your wallet was inside. You locked up the house and then walked with Franklin to his car. He was able to move pretty well with the cane. You wondered about the shooting and his recovery, wondered how he felt getting shot by the one girl you swore would end up with Franklin.

He opened the passenger side for you and you smiled at him as you got in. He limped to the front seat, getting in, and then peeling away from the curb. He was a careful driver, following all of the laws and not speeding too much. It was LA. Everyone sped. And those who didn’t were tourists and people who just moved here.

You talked about nothing important, asking Franklin what he’d been up to since you last seen him. He was vague about his work, but mentioned that he was trying to get into real estate. That was what he and his mom were trying to do together, but it was slow going because of people like her old boss.

Making it to Fatburger, Franklin got out of the car first. He told you not to move while he came around and opened the door for you. “You don’t have to do that, Franklin Saint,” you told him.

“I want to do it.” He smiled and took your hand. You must have gotten off in an alternate LA. An alternate universe. One in which you were holding hands with Franklin Saint and he was about to buy you a burger.

You ordered and while you waited for the food, you pestered him with questions. “I guess I never thought you’d go into real estate like your mom,” you said.

He shrugged. “All these investors and white dudes come into our hoods to make money off of our backs. They leave the places like shitholes and then get mad when people want something better. If they can do it, I can do it better,” he said.

You smiled. If nothing else, at least that same fire in him never went out. “My mom and I own an apartment block not too far from here actually,” he said.

“Wait, really? What’s the rent like?” You asked.

“You trynna move out already? You just got back,” he said.

Your orders were called so Franklin grabbed them. You made your way back to his car, leaning on the hood while you dug into your burger. You moaned at the first taste of it. What you loved about Fatburger was that it tasted just like someone whipped it up in your kitchen. A hood staple. Nothing fancy about it.

“I had four years without my parents down my back about everything. There’s no way I can stay in that house for too long,” you said.

“I can show you one of the empty units if you want,” he said.

“Yes! Please,” you said. It’d be a bit awkward paying Franklin and his mom for a place to stay. But fuck. Anything had to be better than being back under your parents’ roof. They were sweet, truly, but even while away at college, they refused to see you as an adult. You needed out, as soon as possible.

You fell into a comfortable silence as you ate your food. The sun was finally starting to lose some of its heat. Honking cars, slamming brakes, and helicopters made for a chaotic song in the background as you looked around.

Finished with your food, you threw out everything in the nearest trash can. When you approached Franklin again, he caught you about the waist and pulled you closer.

“Stay out with me,” he said.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. This was so surreal. And unfortunately, you weren’t cool enough to go with the flow. “Franklin Saint, what are you doing?” You asked.

“I really did miss you,” he said.

You licked your lips. If only this man knew…knew about the many times you spent awake, dreaming about him. Wondering about him. Daydreaming about him. He had no idea.

“But this…” you said, letting the sentence dangle. You were still too nervous to be out with it. To go on and say what you meant.

Franklin chuckled and gripped your hips a little tighter. He interlocked his fingers behind your back. “A lot has changed. A lot of bad shit. I got some scars. Thank you for not asking about the cane, by the way.”

You smiled. You did want to ask about it, but Franklin was entitled to tell you about it or not. Tucky was wrong. People were responsible for their own informed decisions. You didn’t have a right to demand information from Franklin.

“But what’s never changed was how I felt about you,” he said. He looked at you while he said. Everything in you told you to believe it. To cherish it. To hold it in your heart and never let it go.

“Stop playing,” you told him, laughing to diffuse the sudden too tense situation. You tried pulling out of his arms, but he held on tight.

“I’ve done a lot of shit. Regretted a lot. One of my biggest regrets was never telling you how I felt in high school,” he said.

Your lips parted on a quiet gasp. “In high school? You were on Melody,” you said.

He winced as you said her name. You wondered about which memories those conjured up for him. You may not feel right asking him, but you would definitely ask Tucky the next time you hung out with her. You had been too out of the loop.

“I liked you. But it never seemed like you liked me back and I was too nervous to ask. When you left for college…all I could think was that I should’ve kissed you,” he said.

Today was a day for revelations it seemed. You stared, open mouthed at Franklin. Your head emptied of every thought except that…Franklin Saint liked you back. Been liking you since high school. And he was the nervous one? He was the one that wasn’t sure about your feelings?

“Franklin Saint…I’ve had a crush on you since we first met,” you told him.

“You have?” Franklin asked. He smiled. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You shrugged. You licked your lips, so dry in the face of everything you kept locked down for years. Practically a decade at this point. You rehearsed what you would ever say to Franklin if you had the chance. That rehearsal did nothing for you at the moment since you couldn’t remember a single sentence.

“It felt like you were more into Mel. She was my friend too and I saw the way she looked at you…”

There were plenty of times that you caught them looking at each other when they thought everyone else weren’t looking. You thought they would have ended up together by now. Mel on her first kid at least.

Hearing that she was the one to shoot him was still odd to you. There was so much you were missing.

“I did like Mel. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t. But I think Mel was safer,” he said.

You looked up at him. Night was fast approaching. The lot lights were starting to come on, bathing Franklin in a pale glow. His eyes darkened in the shadow of the light but this up close, you could see him. Really see him.

“Mel lived right next door. She had a cop for a dad. I knew who she was inside and out. Or I did,” he said. “But you…you scared me.”

“I scared you?”

Franklin nodded. “You’ve always been special. Always saw the world better than I ever did. I thought if I told you, if I kept you here selfishly…I’d never forgive myself,” he said.

“Think mighty high of yourself to think I would stay home from college for you,” you said. You smirked to let him know that you were teasing. But only a little. You probably would have found a college closer to home if it meant that you got to be with Franklin Saint.

Your feelings weren’t one sided. All these years. Wasted. Gone. All the nights spent dreaming about a life with Franklin. Those could have been nights spent on the phone talking to him.

“Not that. You deserved to live your life without worrying about me. Or anyone from the neighborhood,” he said with a smile. That damn smile. No matter what he did, he always had the same smile. The kind that warmed you down to your toes.

“What about what I wanted? You don’t know what I would’ve done had you told me sooner,” you said.

Franklin nodded. “I’ll live with that. At least you went to college guilt free,” he said.

You sighed and leaned your head on his chest. You breathed in his beautiful clean scent. Felt his strong arms around you. His long legs pressed against yours. This. This was your dream. To be wrapped up in his arms and forgot the world existed.

You pulled back and looked at him. “Take me home?” You asked, a shy smile on your face. This was the boldest thing you’d ever done in your life. Your stomach rebelled, screaming that this was too much for you.

But it wasn’t. He would make sure of that. Franklin Saint was always goofy, kind, and sweet. Four years and whatever went down for him couldn’t change that completely. Couldn’t change him.

“Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you into anything, I swear,” he said.

You placed a hand over his heart to calm him down. “I’m very sure,” you said. You hoped you sounded calm. This was what you had been dreaming about as soon as you were old enough to recognize that he was a very attractive boy and made your stomach feel funny. You dreamed about kissing him, getting naked with him, and feeling him move inside of you.

It was so close for the taking. All you had to do was reach out. And be honest. Speak up for once in your damn life and grab what you want instead of waiting for divine intervention. Like you were going to trip and land on his dick somehow. No. You wanted him. And you wanted him now.

“If anything, it feels like I’m pressuring you.”

Franklin smiled and then leaned down to press his lips against yours. It was nothing like what you imagined. It was so much better. His lips were soft, but forceful as he took control and kissed you like two lovers reunited after decades apart.

He stole the breath from your lungs as he swept his tongue inside, exploring your mouth. He sucked on your bottom lip, awakening an ache deep in your lower belly. You sighed and gasped against his mouth, loving the expert way he kissed. He Kissed, with a capital K. The kind that turned you into a giant puddle.

His hands migrated from your lower back to your ass, cupping it in his big hands. You moaned against his mouth, a little embarrassed to make such a sound. Franklin didn’t miss a beat, continuing to kiss your socks off. Well, if you were wearing any.

He pulled back slowly. Both of you were out of breath. You blinked a few times, clearing the lusty daze, before looking into his eyes. “You still sure? You can say no,” he said.

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Franklin Saint, take me home now,” you said.

Franklin chuckled and released you. You shivered from the onset of a chill in the air. It was still muggy out, hot enough to know you won’t get any type of cool relief tonight from a fan. Franklin opened your door first and then got into the driver’s seat.

He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it, before pulling out of the gravel parking lot and headed back to Compton. This type of night, right after rush hour, it didn’t take long to make it back to your house.

Franklin pulled into the driveway and opened your door. You climbed out with a goofy grin on your face. Both of you had been too excited to do much talking. Your hand had been on his thigh the entire ride home.

Franklin told you about all the ways he knew that he liked you. Like in high school, you wore a specific pair of pants that really made your ass stand out. Or when you’d call him by his full name and he felt it in his chest. The way he’d get excited to see you at any function you all hung out together.

You told him about all the times he’d been sweet to you. When you would work on the same project for school or he’d walk you and Mel home. You were across the street so he’d drop you off first and you had to stare out of the window while he walked Mel home. You didn’t tell him that part. But you did tell him that you always hoped he’d ask you to one of the school dances until you learned that he wasn’t much for dancing.

Now that you were at your place, you were completely turned on. Desire rippled through you like waves of heat off of asphalt. The crush that you lovingly tended to these long years burst free. Now, you were just desperate to get him underneath you. Or on top of you. You’d take him any way he wanted to give it to you.

Franklin kept up with you as you went up to your front door and unlocked it. Tucky dumped your things unceremoniously in the living room. You turned on the light with a giggle, moving things out of the way so that you could pass through without falling on anything.

Franklin chuckled with you, closing and locking the door behind you. He looked too inviting standing in the doorway of your house. He’d been inside before, everybody in the group had, but that was different.

Now, you were both adults. Now you were about to do adult things in your house. Your mom would clutch her pearls if she ever knew.

You smiled at Franklin. He smiled back. He limped closer, somehow making that sexy as well. He looked more distinguished than broken. Like the cane was a prop. A way to make people think he was weak when he wasn’t.

He took your hand and led you to your bedroom, knowing the way from memory alone. He didn’t turn on any more lights until he got to your room. Thank god you took down anything embarrassing from your childhood days. Now, the walls were a bit bland since you took down some posters.

You had planned on replacing it, but you didn’t spend long summers back home. You ended up finding a part time job in college, something to give you some spending money while your parents helped with school as best as they were able.

Franklin closed your door and then led you by the hand to your bed. He smiled as he pushed you to sit down. He leaned his cane against the corner of your bed and then moved to kneel.

“You don’t have to–”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” Franklin said. He grimaced but knelt down, moving in between your legs. Now, you were looking down at him slightly. He pulled you into a sweet, burning kiss that warmed you from the inside out.

As you kissed, his hands began exploring under your shirt. He found the edges and slowly lifted your shirt, warm fingers touching your cold skin. You shivered from the heat of him. The taste of him. You could get drunk from his kisses alone.

There was only the sound of your kissing and breathing, the window closed to the outside world. You were the only two people in existence at the moment. The only two who mattered. You felt like pinching yourself. Never, never, ever in your wildest dreams did you think that you’d be here with Franklin Saint.

You kissed for hours, or it could have been minutes, before Franklin pushed your shirt up and off. His calloused thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples and you moaned. “Fuck, that feels so good,” you said.

“You feel so good,” Franklin said. He moved his lips down the side of your jaw, down your neck, and to your chest. He took one nipple into his mouth, suckling it to the point of pain. That pain morphed into something dangerously delicious in your lower belly, pooling desire in your panties.

You leaned back on your bed, giving him more access to your chest. His other hand continued to roll your other nipple between his fingers, giving you too much stimulation at once. You were squirming, fidgeting, moaning with pleasure. This was how your first time should have been. It should have been with Franklin Saint.

Franklin switched nipples, giving the other the same attention he lavished on the first. Cool air in the room hit the first nipple, making it bead up. You needed some friction. You rubbed your legs against his chest, needing him way closer than what he was.

Franklin looked up at you from suckling on your nipple. “What you need?” He asked.

“You. I need you,” you cried.

Franklin leaned back from suckling on you and you cried from the lack of contact. He pulled his polo shirt over his head, tossing it onto the ground to join yours. Your eyes looked over his wonderful body. The dark, smooth skin of his chest. The powerful, ripped arms. Franklin was still skinny, but he seemed to have lost the vestiges of boyhood. He was a man, through and through. Lean, honed, and sculpted.

He kissed down your belly. You giggled as he found a few ticklish spots. You ought to feel embarrassed. After all, this was Franklin Saint. The same boy who saw you get sick after eating too much ice cream when you were younger.

But this felt too right. Too destined. Like you were always on a collision course with him and it was only a matter of time before you ended up in this exact position. At the mercy of his loving hands and heavenly mouth.

He moved to undo your pants and he helped you wiggle out of them. You had to lay back and lift your hips in order to get everything off. Franklin grabbed your knees and gently pulled your legs back open, getting a good, long look at your glistening pussy.

Fuck, you felt yourself getting wetter just from seeing the way his eyes got bigger. Like he was a starving man staring down a feast fit for a king. He bit his lip as he trailed a finger through your wetness. You hissed. That contact alone was enough to send you through the roof.

You watched his face as his fingers explored your pussy. Nudging your pussy lips apart, he gathered up enough of your essence to soak his finger. Then he pushed his finger inside of you. You gasped, leaning back on your hands to keep you from just falling back and losing your marbles.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he breathed.

“More, Franklin Saint. Please,” you moaned.

Franklin continued to go slow, moving his eyes from your pussy and to your eyes. He smirked as he fingered you, getting you so wet you were dizzy with arousal. Your skin sizzled. You panted, eyes starting to cross. Just when you thought you were going to go over the edge, Franklin slowed his finger.

You groaned, looking down at him. He smirked as he withdrew his finger altogether. You pouted, ready to complain when he painted your nipples with your essence. He stared at you while he leaned up on his knees and suckled your titties back into his mouth. He alternated between the two.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You brought one of your hands to the back of his neck, pushing him down onto your nipple. He chuckled and used his free hand to play with your clit. You jerked, moaning in your room without abandon. You were free to be as loud as you wanted.

You wanted him to hear you. To hear how well he was treating you. Because if you had your say, you would do this every night. Open yourself to him as often as you wanted. It was more than sexual. You knew this man inside and out. You knew his quirks, his habits. Why he smiled or why he smirked. You knew what made him sad and what made him happy. You knew which foods he liked and which sweets made him grin like a kid. You knew him on a deep level and it was enough to make you tear up.

Franklin licked the last of your arousal from your nipples and pulled his finger back out of you. He brought his wet finger up to your lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

You opened your mouth and sucked on his finger. It was so filthy, it made your pussy clench. You never thought much about tasting yourself. But when he demanded, you jumped to obey. You moaned around his finger, swirling your tongue like you wanted to do around his dick.

As if he sensed the direction of your thoughts, his eyes narrowed and a sexy grin spread across his face. He winked at you before pulling you into a sweet kiss. You sighed, melting into him.

“Lay down,” he said.

You did as you were told, laying on your back completely and getting comfortable. Franklin shifted on the floor, grunting a bit. You felt guilty for him being on his knees for so long, but he made no indication that he was in serious pain. And you didn’t want to ruin this moment by babying him.

He hooked his arms under your knees and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed. You yelped and giggled in response. “I could have moved,” you told him.

“I would have asked,” he said.

You giggled some more, lifting your head to look at him. You gave him a look and all he did was wink once more. He kissed your thighs, looking at you while you did so. Everywhere his lips touched, your thighs tingled. You licked your lips, watching his sexy display before you.

The way his fingers pushed into your plushy thighs. The way he alternated nibbling and kissing your legs, moving closer and closer to the wet center of you. You rolled your hips as he finally put his face where you needed him most.

You were close, you could feel it. You just needed his lips on you. Everywhere on you. Franklin blew a cool breath of air across your heated core and you moaned. He dropped his head and began to lick you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. You weren’t prepared for how well his mouth would feel on you. Suckling and licking on your clit. Your hand flew to his mini afro, pulling at him like a wild animal. You made all kinds of guttural, primal noises as he seemed to sense exactly what you needed.

He listened to every sigh you made, every moan you uttered. He paid attention to when you got quiet and when you were screeching with pleasure. Incoherent words fell from your lips as he ate you out.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he moaned into you.

He brought one hand up to cup your titty. Your hand found his and you interlocked your fingers. Whether it was that extra connection or the slow way he teased your clit, you were finally screaming through an orgasm. Light and fire exploded behind your eyelids as you came, so consumed by the raging inferno that you couldn’t see or hear anything. Your mind was lost to the intense pleasure you received from Franklin.

Your hand clutched his as you came and came, waves upon waves of fire licking up your body. You released his hand in increments, slowly returning to your body. Pools of sweat gathered in your chest, neck, and back. Your heart was beating a thousand miles per minute.

Franklin moaned as he dragged his lips away from your pussy. You made an entire mess on your bed, but fuck it. Well fucking worth it.

Franklin climbed to his feet, hovering over you with a self-satisfied smirk. “You good?” He asked.

“So, so good,” you said and grinned. You got up slowly from your bed, standing up and stepping close to him. He lifted his eyebrow at you.

You smirked at him as you undid his belt and pulled his pants down. You dropped down to your knees, staring into his dark, beautiful eyes as you did so. He grinned.

“And I thought there could be nothin’ sexier than that ass,” he said.

You giggled. His dick was hard and thick in all the right places. You palmed him. He was so smooth and hard as steel. It amazed you. The feeling of him. You explored his balls as well, so heavy already. It made you ache just thinking of him filling you up. Just a fantasy though, you did not want babies.

You pushed for him to sit and then you scooted in between his legs. You took him into your mouth and Franklin hissed, his hand coming around your neck. He didn’t stop you, so you started to work on him, swirling your tongue around his thick tip.

He moaned, throwing his head back as you sucked his dick, tasting beads of precum as it leaked into your mouth. You played with his balls as well, using your hands to grip the base of his shaft. You let some saliva drip out of your mouth so that you could coat his dick and make it easier to slide your hands.

Every dirty thought or fantasy poured out of you, sucking him exactly as you had in your mind over the years. Every which way you thought to take him, you did. Bobbing your head up and down or massaging his balls just right. You hoped this would lead to more, but if it didn’t, you wanted to give him a night he wouldn’t forget. A night you would always remember over and over again.

“Fuck, baby,” Franklin moaned. You tried to pay attention to his words and actions like he did for you. But this blow job was more about you. You didn’t think you were one for sucking someone off like this, but fuck. Sucking Franklin Saint off did something to you. Turned you feral.

You slurped his dick, lewd sucking noises filling the room and mixed with his soft pleas and curses. He shifted his hips, moving them so that he was meeting your strokes in the middle. You sucked him down further, trying to fit more into your mouth without gagging.

“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned. You kept going. The goal was to make him cum. To make him feel good. To find pleasure in your mouth like you found with his mouth on you. He tried tapping your shoulder but you only continued, looking up into his eyes with a silent dare.

You wanted him to cum in your mouth. He looked at you and cursed as his dick twitched and released hot pulses of cum. You swallowed him down as he continued to release a thick load into your mouth.

He cursed again and again as you swallowed each and every drop. Franklin fell back onto the bed with a sigh and you slowly released his dick. He twitched, sensitive from a powerful orgasm.

You climbed onto the bed, snuggling into him. He panted and huffed. “Stole my damn soul,” he said in between breaths. “Give it back.”

You laughed, loudly, at his corny ass. “No refunds,” you told him and kissed his cheek. He turned his head and kissed you, tongue exploring your mouth. You sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned.

The kiss grew more passionate. Like you were both starving for each other and one hit wasn’t enough. He moved to climb on top of you but hissed with pain instead of desire. You broke the kiss and then pushed him until he was at the head of the bed, cushioned by your pillows.

You climbed off of the bed, finding his pants, his wallet, and then pulling out a condom. You opened the foil package, rolling it into his hardened dick. And that was just from kissing you. You grinned at him as you rolled it on, all the way down to the base. Then you pinched the top to give him some room.

You climbed onto the bed while he watched you with a soft look on his face. You blew him a kiss as you climbed onto him, trying not to hurt him.

“You won’t hurt me,” he said.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you said. And it was so true. So deeply true that you just wanted to make him happy. Make him feel nothing but peace in your presence. Make it worth taking a chance on you.

You lifted off of the bed and then guided him inside of your body. It took a few tries but you finally got him lined up just right. He helped steady you as you sunk down onto his dick. You both shared a moan.

Fuck. He felt so good stretching you that you closed your eyes and savored the feeling. The raw feeling of him inside of you and beneath you. His strong hands around your waist and back, steadying you.

You weren’t always good on top, but you made the effort to last as long as possible. You stayed on your knees, not athletic enough to properly bounce on his dick. You did your best though, moving so that you weren’t grinding on him, you were genuinely riding him.

You watched Franklin’s face, the drops of sweat sliding down the smooth planes of his face. He looked so damn good. From his hair to the goatee on his face. You planted your hands on his thighs, leaning back a bit and took him in deeper at this angle. You continued to bounce and moan, titties flying everywhere.

Franklin quickly solved that, grabbing your titties in his hands and leaning forward to suckle on your nipples while you rode him.

“Feel so good, so good,” you moaned.

“Fuck, ride me so well,” Franklin moaned.

Your nails dug into his bare shoulders as you continued to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach. You felt it, getting closer and closer, making your body turn to mush with desire. You clutched Franklin to you as the orgasm finally rippled through you.

A few pumps later, Franklin joined you, roaring out his pleasure as you felt him twitch and jerk inside of you. Your body bowed as his twitching touched a deep part of you. You moaned and collapsed on top of him.

You panted a few times then tried to move, not wanting to crush the poor man. But Franklin tightened his hold on you, bringing his arms to wrap around you.

“Stay just like this,” he whispered softly.

“Franklin Saint,” you muttered, smiling against his damp skin. You licked his chest and felt him shudder beneath you.

“Don’t play with me,” Franklin warned. You turned your head towards him and smiled, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Long overdo,” you said sleepily.

“Way too fuckin’ long,” he said. He kissed the top of your head. He eventually did slip out of you and took off the condom, but you were too wrapped up in each other to want to move. You stayed up until the sky brightened outside, talking and laughing with him until you both drifted off to sleep.

Whew! Need some more Franklin??? The Secret Franklin Saint Files

228 notes · View notes