#and smell the butter from the popcorn that is who knows

[deliciousangelfestival]

You're the One - 1

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 2,100

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 ,-

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”

Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.

It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.

Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.

That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.

But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.

Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.

But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.

Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.

In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.

“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.

“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”

Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”

She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”

Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.

“Wait… my wallet.”

He heads back inside.

“Jade?” he calls out. No response.

On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.

“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.

Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.

“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.

Then it hits him. The home theater.

As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.

“Jade!”

Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”

She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.

Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.

“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”

“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”

Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”

Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”

The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.

Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.

She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”

“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.

Then, a notification chimes.

Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.

The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”

Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”

Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”

“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.

“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”

The room goes silent.

Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"

Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.

Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”

Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”

Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”

💍🔔💍🔔

15 Years Ago

The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.

“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”

“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.

Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.

But it doesn’t feel like yours.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”

You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.

In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.

It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.

Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.

You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.

It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.

Bucky.

The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.

Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?

You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.

But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.

Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.

“Bucky?!”

There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.

“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.

He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”

Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”

He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”

Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”

But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.

“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”

As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.

And that terrifies you.

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[glaciertea]

Tickets for Two

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader two-shot

Part 2

This is part one of this story that's been on my mind for quite a while.

Summary: Working the graveyard shift at a movie theater has it quirks. It's not the best thing, and it's not the worst.

Well, there is one thing that keeps you from leaving this job.

The huge, gorgeous man who comes in every Thursday.

CW: Nothing for this chapter, just having a crush on Miguel.

Word count: 1.7k

There was something about Thursday nights in the movie theater that always made you exhilarated.

It wasn't the smell of freshly stale popcorn that stunk up your nostrils or the fact that you were able to score the after-hours time slot on this day. The ones many would kill to have because after 9 p.m., the place is a barren ghost town. Oh, no. It wasn't one of those reasons. 

It was him.

Throughout the year and a half you managed to survive working here; you've never seen a man like that before in your life. Yes, you've seen your fair share of attractive people come in and out; of course, this was a place to watch the latest hit-or-miss films. But this one, this one was different.

Tall, high cheekbones, a jawline that could shapren diamonds merely by looking at them, those piercing eyes, and those muscles. You always have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming.

He started coming three months ago for the ‘Traditional Thursdays’ feature presentation. Your theater would show old movies from the 1930's ranging to the 2020's or 2030's. It was a nice addition, as your boss wanted to have that “retro-style feel,” and it was pretty successful… if one were to go at the 9 p.m. slot. That frame usually brought in a decent amount of customers, but you were happy to not deal with that anymore.

You managed to get in the ten-to-one schedule block. It was a ghost town during those hours, especially with the midnight showings. You would lounge behind the concession, eyeing a few nightcrawlers emerge, but you would wait for him.

He would walk through the sliding doors exactly at midnight. Never a minute early, never a minute late. The actual film doesn't begin until 12:10 to showcase the following week's feature and a trailer or two. 

So it gives him enough time to head in your direction. He has become a regular for you, always ordering a medium black roast coffee, a small popcorn, and a pack of gummy worms. It got to the point where you realized the items were never going to change, so you made it a habit to have them prepared for him on hand. You barely speak because you don't know what to conjure up, and you certainly don't want to make a fool of yourself, so you stick to the basic “Here's your order” and “Enjoy your film.”

He always responds with a “Thank you” or an “I appreciate it,” and each time, your knees will wobble. His voice was smoother than the butter that you poured on the popcorn. He had you weak. His chiseled profile, his domineering height—he was too good to be true. You want to know more about him, but he's very much to himself. You are intimidated by him; his demeanor can make him seem unapproachable, but that only draws you in more.

There will be a day you will finally find the courage to strike up a conversation. One day.

You just weren't expecting it to be today. You manned the concussion stand, eyeing the time and counting the milliseconds. It was, of course, slow, but you loved it. Easy money to you.

His order was fresh and ready to go; he was going to stroll in less than a minute, and you had to put a lid on your excitement. And like clockwork, he came in and made his way right to you.

Putting on your best smile, you placed the snacks and beverage on the counter. “I got everything ready to go, sir. Piping hot and a new batch of popcorn made.”

“Actually, I want to switch it up. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

Your brain practically malfunctioned. Not from the request, but from the fact he uttered more words to you. Your reaction must have given something away as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If not, that's fine. I don't want you wasting supplies on me.”

Scolding yourself, you shook your head and waved your hands. “No, no! No, sir, it's not an inconvenience at all. I'll gladly ring you up with a new order. Anything for the customer.” You despised saying that phrase as it got so many ungrateful, smug idiots out of problems they decided to cause. But for him? You would repeat it endlessly.

Discarding the usual and clearing the order from the register, you nodded. “What are your taste buds tingling for?” Did you really say those words in that order? Your body suddenly wanted to combust.

The man raised a brow as you chuckled nervously. “That sounded... less dumber in my head.”

His lips turned upwards at that, and your heart stopped. He smiles? He can smile! You never once saw him do that, but if you did, you managed to miss it. He managed to look more radiant; how was that possible?

“Well, my taste buds are craving pretzel bites, fruit snacks, and... can I make my medium roast into a large?”

“Yes, sir, I'll try to get it done before the film starts.” 

“No hay necesidad de apresurarse. Take your time.”

“Okay.” You squeaked out, hiding your flustered state from him.

Miguel rested his arms on the countertop and observed the way you moved back and forth, blending new beans and meticulously placing the hot pretzels in a bag. 

“Here you go.” You reached down and took a packet of fruits and propped it nicely on the pretzel bag. “Steaming and raring to go.”

“Are you usually precise when making these orders?” Miguel pulled his wallet out and paid for the meal, leaving a nice tip.

“Kind of. Maybe it's because I have more time to do these things, and I like my regulars to enjoy nice treats.” You grinned and went to clean up his usual. “I hope you enjoy.

“I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Definitely keeping sure. Thank you again.”

You didn't know what meant by that as he took up his things and headed off to catch the film. You put your hand to your chest and calmed your heart rate, going on about your night. You honestly believed that would've been the end of that interaction and that the following week would revert back to the same old, same old, but you were far from it.

The next Thursday, he was there, but fifteen minutes earlier, asking for a new item from the menu alongside the other treats. You were once again thrown off, but that didn't mean you got to be near his presence more, and if not longer. 

It started off with small extras. A bag of pretzels, sized up on the popcorn, an extra bag of candy—nothing too extravagant. However, as the weeks coasted by, the orders got bigger. A hotdog, flatbread pizza, sliders—those meals took you longer to make, but you did not mind one bit. 

You got to chat with him constantly; when Thursday rolled around, you had that extra pep in your step. The conversations ranged from his tedious office filled with people of the same personality, the many tales of strange movie customers from you, or anything that springs to mind. He was awkward, loveable, and sweet, and your crush for him only grew more with each visit. To the point that it was overwhelming.

And it wasn't blowing away anytime soon. 

You were fixing him up a basket of curly fries and chicken tenders casually yapping away when the topic of movie genres popped up.

“I'm into animated movies. They seemingly are able to convey more emotions than actual humans.”

Miguel enjoyed watching you; he honestly preferred looking at you than the film he was supposed to see. “I enjoy them as well. They tend to have moments that resonate with you on a higher emotional level.” He tapped his finger on the glass counter. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Hmm.” You rubbed your chin before moving back over to the fries and dumping some extra salt and pepper on them (they barely had any flavor to them). “I like a good Lixar film. It's funny how they're able to give certain things sentiment. Rather it's inanimate or not, they find a way. I mean, they gave a torso and sweater emotions. A sweater!” You poured the fries into the plastic basket and moved onto the tenders. “Now in particular, I love Bouillabaisse. Up is a heartbreaker, but I can understand the older man's pain. Searching Elmo is so gorgeous, especially for the time it came out. And Coco, that's a tearjerker. That ending scene when he's singing to her? Gets me every time.” 

“I enjoyed all those as well.” Miguel took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee. “Especially the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” You grabbed some tongs and flipped the tenders to cook them evenly. 

“Sí. A bit of a bias though.” 

“A bias?”

“I share the name of the main character.” He stared right into your eyes as he said that.

“Miguel.” It was velvety as it slid off your tongue.

Was that a suave way of him giving his name? It never occurred to you that you actually never learned his name. He knew yours because of the required name tag, but you were glad to know it now and took it with no complaints.

“It fits.” You smiled and finally finished and rang up his meal. “I shouldn't keep you from the movie. I hope everything is of satisfaction for you.”

“You already know it will be.” He paid and reached for his goods when he stopped.

You crooked your neck and looked down to make sure you didn't miss anything. His usual and the new meal were there, so you didn't know what was up. 

“Is everything okay? Did I mess up your order?”

“Everything is fine. I only want to…” he snatched up a napkin and scanned, even going as far as peering over the counter.

“Miguel?” 

“Do you have a pen?” 

“Yes?” You took one from under the register and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He scribbled down at lightning pace and folded it half, sliding it across to you. “I'll see you then.” He bowed his head, snagged up his meal and left. 

You had to wait several seconds to recover from your shock when you hastily snatched up the napkin and opened it up. You drew your lips to your teeth to prevent yourself from screaming. 

There were ten digits written in blue.

[kysslasher]

KINKTOBER DAY 1:: scream— gojo satoru

WARNING:: ghostface!Gojo x fem!reader, choking, blowjob, facial, unprotected sex, taking pictures.

SUMMARY:: Halloween night alone can be scary, but when a phone call comes in on your land line, you can feel the chills in your bones when a raspy voice on the other line meets your ears.

When your parents tasked you to stay home and watch the house you were fine with that, deciding that a Friday the 13th marathon would be a good way to settle. Although it might sound miserable staying home on Halloween but you just couldn't muster up the energy to get sloshed at a random house party dressed up in a costume you had bought at party city.

A fresh bowl of popcorn sits in your lap the smell of butter wafts through the air as the warmth of the bowl against your bare legs, your eyes latch onto the screen as the opening scene starts your brought out of your daze as the old landline your dad refuses to get taken out rings on the wall. The bright cherry red phone illuminating under the TV's glare.

Putting the bowl down on the cushion beside you, you walk over to the phone holding the cold plastic to your hear. "Hello?" your voice the first to speak as your finger absentmindedly began to twirl around the long curly cord on the end of the phone. "Hello?" The voice eerily crackles through the other side. "Who is this?" You ask politely, the off putting tone the voice on the other end makes your face slightly scrunch.

"I think I called the wrong number" he says making you perk up a bit. "oh! was there someone you were looking for that might live here?" you respond as you walk over to your couch grabbing the remote pausing it. "no" he says flatly making you smile.

“well have a good night” you slightly pull the phone away from your ear hanging up the phone before returning to your movie, the phone rings again before you can even unpause it. Picking it up again “hello?” You say picking at nail polish that seemed to have gotten on your skin around your nail. “I must’ve dialed the wrong number” the man on the other line says making your face scrunch with a slight smile.

“So why’d you redial and call again?” You ask, you’ve never had anyone call you twice by mistake. “To apologize” he says his voice becoming softer yet not losing the edge it has. “Your forgiven bye now” you barely pull the phone away before he demands attention once more “what?” You ask your voice filled with amusement; maybe it’s one of those frat pledges calling around, yet you entertain him anyways.

“I wanna talk to you for a second” he replied making you scoff a bit. “They have hotlines for that, see ya” you hang up the phone and start up the movie once more, you get up from the couch walking to the kitchen and opening the large cabinet deciding to make a bowl of popcorn you heat up the bag as you hear the slight sizzle and popping, your phone rings again before once more making you scoff again.

Picking up the phone again “why don’t you want to talk to me?” He asks making you shake your head “who is this?” You ask as you walk around the kitchen island back to the popcorn sizzling away in the microwave. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine” he says his voice dripping with amusement as if it were some kind of game. “I don’t think so” you say as you watch the bag grow bigger and the muffled sound of popping fights your attention.

“What’s that noise?” He says making you laugh a bit “it’s popcorn” you say excitedly, your house is empty and you know that you’re supposed to be looking out for any of your sisters coming back drunk and helping them to bed but it wasn’t that late yet. “You’re making popcorn? I only make popcorn when I’m watching movies” he says you grin “well I was just starting movie, but I want to eat something while I watch it” you say opening the microwave and shaking the bag.

“Oh really? What?” He sounded more excited at the mention of a movie “oh just a scary movie” you say absentmindedly as you move over to the stool at the island your hands reach to toy with the handles of the knife block. “You like scary movies?” He asks making you shake your head “yeah” you caved, you’d entertain him “what’s your favorite scary movie?” His voice coming out very ominous.

“Well I don’t know…” you trail off trying to think before he cute through your thoughts “you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?” He asks making you smile “um…Halloween” you smile at your answer. “The one with the guy in the white mask, he goes around town stalking babysitters” you say as you pull one of the knife handles from the wooden block watching it glimmer under the kitchen light. “What’s yours?” You ask as you walk around your small kitchen “guess” he says amused by your answer making you hum as you think “nightmare on elm street?” You walk through the halls of your sorority.

“The one where the guy has knives for fingers?” He asks making you chuckle at his response “yeah Freddy Kruger” you respond as you walk past the back patio door locking it. “That movie was scary” he drawls out making you hum “the first one was but the rest sucked” you say as you continue your mindless trudging through the grand halls decorated in pictures of classes and sisters who stayed before.

“So..you got a boyfriend?” He asks and in return gets a small giggle out of you “why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” You ask as you make it back to the living room “maybe, do you have a boyfriend?” He says as you sit down on your couch rewinding the movie just a bit. “No.” You respond and realize this really was getting entertaining. “You never told me your name” he says as you turn down the tv a bit you watch from where you last watched. “Why do you want to know my name?” You ask as you keep your eyes on the screen seeing the little girl tucked in her bed as the killer stood above her.

“Because I wanna know who I’m looking at” he says sending a chill right through you, a beat of silence follows through before you shakily answered “what did you say?” You look at the windows and doors around you cautiously, almost jumping out of your skin at the sound of a dog near by barking “I want to know who I’m talking to” he says as if he repeated what he said before making your face scrunch. “That’s not what you said” you shake your head standing up from the couch heading to your back door with a clear view. “What do you think I said?” He asks yet you don’t answer looking out of the large glass door into your backyard “what?” He asks as your met with the emptiness of your pool and a small table with chairs.

“Hello?” He asks making you snap out of your frightened haze “look…I need to go” you say turning on the light to your backyard. “Wait- I thought we were gonna go out” he says with a faux hint of desperation in his tone. “No…I don’t think so” you pipe up locking the door content with the full clicking sound to solidify your safety. “Don’t hang up on me” he says more aggressive. You do anyways, you’ve never been the kind of girl to be frightened into doing something you don’t want to.

Stomping off back into the kitchen forgetting all about your popcorn that seems to have doubled in size for how long you’ve kept it in the microwave, you make a round the house making it to the next door before another chilling ring of your phone cuts through the silence of your dinning room. You pick up feeling more annoyed now “yes?” Your voice more loud “I told you not to hang up on me” his voice more ominous now. “What do you want?” You ask your voice filled with disapproval. “I just wanna talk to you” he says as if he’s teasing you.

“Well they have numbers for that” you almost hesitate to pull the phone away from your ear, this time you put your phone on speaker, pulling it away from your face shooting a text to one of your sisters asking if she’d be back soon, but no reply. “They do, but I just wanna hear your voice” he says his voice becoming more steady and less agitated. But once you finish locking all the doors and make it back to the living room the channel has changed to the news.

You watch in curiosity as the woman with grown hair and a blue pantsuit begins to speak, you turn up the volume for a moment. “Reporting live at local college jujutsu tech university where it seems another local serology sister has fallen to her death. Detectives say that her phone fell along with her and the last thing she had done was picked up a call from a random number before falling to her death, though there will be more updates from the lead detective tomorrow morning” the woman says making your heart fall to your ass you turn the TV off.

“you hear that?” He pipes up his voice had a vile hint of amusement in it “it was you?” Your voice shakes. “If you don’t want to end up like that poor girl your going to do something for me” he says “she didn’t have a chance like you but I’m feeling generous tonight” he says you can hear him shuffling around his voice becoming more husky. “What?” You ask you can feel the bile in your stomach ready to crawl up the back of your throat yet you fight it seeing as you want to survive.

“We’re gonna play a game of hot and cold” he says making you feel a sheer shock rock your body. “You’re inside” you say not questioning it for a second you know he is. “Well aren’t you smart” he says and you can tell he’s smiling on the other line somewhere in your house. You roll your eyes as you stand from the couch and head straight to the kitchen stopping the microwave before looking at the knife block to see the once filled block had none in them. “You’re cold. But you also didn’t think I would have an advantage did you?” He asks mocking you as you stare at the empty block. “Fuck you” you spat at him as you continue through the house and up to the next floor. “You’re getting warm” he says as if he’s excited making you shake your head as you slowly walk through the halls.

The many doors that lead to your sister’s room you head farther down the halls “warmer” he trails off making you perk up as you realize where he is. “I know where you’re at” you say sternly. Making him chuckle lowly “nice pink panties…I didn’t take you for the lace and bows kind of girl” his words cut through you like a knife. “You’re a perv” you say as you stomp towards your bedroom swiftly opening the door.

You’re met with an empty room making you feel sick, sweat gathered at the edge of your eyebrow as you look around. “Don’t be shy, it’s your bedroom after all” he says making you frown as you step inside, the pink carpet under your feet making you sigh of relief. “Take a look around, see if you can find me” his voice almost taunting you now. “I did what you asked- I figured out where you were why can’t you just leave?” You ask your voice coming out in a higher pitch, you know he’s in there and it worries you that you won’t make it out alive. “Come on pretty, you know I can’t let you off the hook that easy, now look.” He demands making you shut your eyes real tight before caving and doing what he says.

Walking towards your bed you bend down feeling your skirt ride up a big; lifting the sheets that drape over your frame you quickly look under it to be met with darkness, nothing. “Come on now, you gotta be smarter than that” he replied. You know for sure he’s watching now and the only place he could be hiding is one of the two closets in your shared bedroom. You move over to the closet pulling it open, and yet again…nothing. “Oh you are so hot, I think you know where to look next” he says as you turn around slowly, looking at your roommates side of the room her closet light flickering on making you gasp.

The shadow of a pair of shoes makes your heart race, you walk slowly, “warmer” he says he was teasing you so much it made you want to cry like a kid again. “Warmer” he’d say once more; and as you finally make it to the door the cold metal of the doorknob makes you shiver as you slowly twist it; the door swings open making you quickly fall back tripping over your own feet in fear. A burly tall figure walks out the closet.

You drag yourself away standing up you push yourself against your wall. The mask covering his face was ghostly, the black gaping eyes and mouth as if eternally screaming, your eyes widen as he walks towards you. Your hands shaking and your body is in shock as if refusing to move, you hated yourself for not running. “Red hot” the voice pipes muffled but matching the one of the man on your phone.

He presses against you, a shinning glimmer catches the corner of your eye making you look down seeing a knife that curved slightly at the tip; it presses to your naked leg making you gasp, looking at the masked man. Your arms press against the wall showing him that you don’t plan to touch him, your hands ball into fists your mouth hangs open slightly your breathing heavy, you shut eyes tightly tensing up against wall waiting the sharp dull pain of his knife to hit you but it never does; instead you feel a gloved hand touch your face making you jump as you open your eyes your eyebrows bunch together, his fingers brushed a few stray hair on your face away tucking them behind your ear.

Confusion flashes through your eyes before you brought out of your thought by his voice. “Let’s play another game hm?” He lifts the knife waving it threateningly making you press yourself against the wall harder as if you would suddenly be able to phase through out and escape. “It called Simon says, except you just do whatever I say” he says his voice was filled with delight, it was almost as if he was getting off to the sight of you frightened and wide eyes.

You nod not putting in trust into your voice knowing it would come out cracking and garbled. “Take off your shirt” he says pulling away slightly, the warmth of his body getting lost almost makes you upset. You push off the wall your face not hiding its disgust. “Oh come on pretty, I’ve been toying with you all night, tell me you don’t feel the sexual tension” he sounded overbearing, his mere presence overwhelmed you.

“I’ve already saw your panties sweetheart, no need to be shy” he laughs as the moonlight pours through the window a glimpse of his blue eyes shows through the black fabric covering his eyes, they twinkled different shades of blue, and glimmer of lust. Your arms reach the hem of your shirt slowly pulling it up over your head and tossing it on the bed. You hang your head in embarrassment, your arms cover your chest as your skin feels as if it’s on fire.

The gloved hand reaches for your chin gripping it tight within his grasp to make you look at him. You are the cutest little thing” he says matter of factly as he turns your head side to side “I just want to ruin your pretty face” he says deeply making your stomach churn “please don’t kill me” you whisper “I promise I’ll do what you want and I won’t complain I swear” your lip quivers. “Poor thing, I’m not going to kill you; you’re too pretty for that” he mumbled back as his thumb pressed against your bottom lip. “Get on your knees” he says his blue eyes clashing with yours making your stomach flip.

Slowly but surely you get on your knees, looking up at him as your eyelashes slightly block your view. “Show me how much you want to live” he says making you realize what he truly wants making a smirk grow on your lips. “For a killer you really are a perv” you say under your breath shaking your head, you pull the black robe up over his belt buckle before he holds it up for you, you remove his belt before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

Then you saw it. The bulge ticking out through his boxers you pull his boxers and pants down in one swoop he was big, and thick making your mouth almost water at the sight. Taking him in your palm you felt him twitch within your grasp. “Go on, show me” his condescending tone makes you look up at him with a glare “don’t rush me” you gripe before flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groan "shit". His head was thrown back as breathing becomes labored.

You let his tip fall past your lips you swirl your tongue around him as you slowly push yourself down farther until he reached the back of your throat making your eyes water. Tears fall past your waterline as you let your moans mix with his with the incessant sounds of gargling and wet sounds ring out. His free hand reaches the back of your head resting there as you pick up speed, spit drips down your chin, you look up at him with wet eyelashes.

“Fuck, that’s it pretty” he groans as his hand grips your hair tight keeping you still as he thrusts into your throat like your his own personal toy, you grip his thighs as you fight the urge to gag, he pulls out with a wet pop making you cough as your eyes turn red fighting more tears you gasp. “You can keep going right? I mean after all you want to show me how much you want to live” he says his hand leaving your head to jerk himself off; he rubs the tip against your plump lips before laughs.

“Your makeup is getting messed up baby, but it’s okay; after all I just wanna ruin you” his words made you feel lightheaded, the ache in your panties as they stick to you makes you shift. You nod your head humming pressing your head to his thigh “please let me make you cum” you whisper almost coming out as a moan. “Fuck” he groans you can’t see through the mouth of his mask but you can only assume he’s butting his lip from how disgruntled he sounds.

You press a kiss to the small mole on his hip before fisting around him perfectly, the wet sound of his cock makes you moan, gripping him tighter he thrusts into you “fuck- put it in your mouth” he whispered; and you do immediately taking him in your throat, you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes were closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him.

He began to pull out slowly, just enough to keep his head inside before pushing back in. A groan escaped his throat at how good it felt “that’s it baby, there you go” he moaned more desperate as if he could cum at any moment. The feeling of you moaning around him makes him groan louder his hips continue to thrust into you.

His thighs quivered as his shaky as a moan as his hand presses against against the wall, his muffled moans make your thighs squish together. His forehead presses against the wall. The wet sounds falling past your lips as strings of saliva attach to his cock and down your chin, you couldn’t think of anything as his breathing turned into panting “you’re gonna make me cum” groaned it was on the borderline of a whimper, he pulls out swiftly jerking himself off again you watch with wide eyes opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue as the stringy white ropes of his cum splash your tongue and cheek making you squeal.

“Fuck” he huffs out as he throbs. “I’m not done yet” he chokes out as he watches you collect his cum on your finger with a smirk on your lips you suck it off with a wet pop, he bunches your hair up pulling you to your feet, “no I need you to take your clothes off and get on the bed” he demands pushing you towards the bed. You unclip your bra and strip down to nothing as you watch him do the same. Bending over the bed you can feel a breeze wash over you.

The feeling of his big rough palms on your hips he uses his knee to spread your legs wider. You feel his thumb press against your pussy swirling around your wetness making your thighs quiver in response to the feeling, you can hear him laughing through his mask, though you say nothing as he presses your upper back deeper into an arch your face presses into the blanket that you grip in your fist. “Gonna make you cum on my cock alright pretty” his voice sounded so lustful your head was spinning as you moaned in response.

The feeling of him pressing into you made you hold back a scream that was desperate to rip through your throat at how deep he was and how full you felt. His pace rough and slow, the sound of your bed frame clashing against the wall as the sharp sound of skin on skin fills the room, his rough groans turns you on too much not to moan in response.

His hips change the angle hitting a spot that makes you reach back for his wrist only for him to grab your arm and pressing it to your lower back he picks up pace throwing his knife completely discarding it he reaches over your hand intertwining his hand with yours you press your face to the sheets to hide your moans but he doesn’t let that slide at all. Pulling out he pulls your back to his chest “don’t hide from me pretty, go ahead and ride me, I wanna see you on top of me” he says his breath is heavy.

“fuck- yes” you moaned looking over your shoulder you press a kiss to the mask regardless of if he could kiss you or not; you didn’t care all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He pulls away sitting on the bed, now getting the view you missed his pale skin warm to the touch, the happy trail of white hair below his abs making you bite your lip eyeing him as if you were just presented a feast you straddle him, trying to find the same angle his hips were at you sink down on him making the both of you moan, you grind your hips against him as you begin to set the pace your face presses into the crook of his neck as you bounce on his cock at an unmatched pace.

His hands hold the back of your thighs giving you leverage “god you’re so tight” he whispers into your ear as you rake your fingers against the skin of his back, your moans become louder. “Harder” he demands as his hand sharply smacks you on the ass making you cry out at the stinging feeling you go harder, pulling back from his neck your eyes roll back as you press your forehead to the mask “you’re gonna make me cum” you whimper needing something to push you over the edge.

His hips meet yours matching your pace his hand falls between your thighs his thumb presses against your clit as you roll your hips into him, the white creamy strings that stick to both of your thighs and a ring around the base of his cock makes you dizzy, the tight feeling in your stomach becoming tighter your moans bounce off the walls as his arms wrap around your waist tightly he thrusts are harsh bouncing you in his lap; your head falls back as the euphoric feeling washes over you he slams into you for a final time as warmth cascades over you the feeling of him cumming inside you his thrusts come to a stop.

You both sit in silence coming down from your high your body’s covered in a sleek sheen of sweat you peel yourself back from him you pull his mask off tossing it to the side before coloring your lips with his. Your tongues clashing, sucking and licking at each other needy enough to keep going until your lungs is begging for air you pull back nipping at his lips you smile.

“You asshole, I’m on sister duty tonight” you shove his shoulder and satoru just grins “you deserve to have fun too tonight” he shrugs as he chases your lips “if I get in trouble because of this I promise you I will get even” you replied pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Now get out before someone comes back and catches us” you mumbled as he slowly pulled out.

“Oh please, it’s Halloween night they won’t be back until 4AM” he replies shaking his head.

[mattslolita]

psycho killer - c. sturniolo ( 001. )

in which ... a killer is terrorizing the town of boston and charmaine soon realizes she's the final girl in his twisted game.

ghostface!chris x black!fem oc

warnings ; blood , gore , death , eventual smut , angst , ghostface!chris , final girl! oc

"𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆, 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒓𝒆!"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

in the comfort of charmaine's home, she sat on one of the bar stools at the end of the small kitchen table — her best friends, morgan maldonado and madison filipowicz were both with her, but occupied with separate things; morgan was on the phone with who charmaine assumed was her boyfriend ( unless she felt like cheating on him ), and madison was busy making popcorn for the film they were going to watch.

"hey char, what happened to that cheesy popcorn you always have?" madison asked, as she searched the girl's fridge, "there's like, none left."

"i'm gonna be honest madi, i ate it all," charmaine shrugged, as she scrolled through her phone.

madison shook her head, and went back to the fridge, biting down on one nail as she continued searching. charmaine looked over at morgan, who was sprawled out on her couch, twirling her dark hair around her fingers, her face painted with a rosy tint and a smirk plastered on her face. the evans girl frowned, wondering who it was that she was even talking to.

"wow, chris is making you blush that hard?" charmaine teased quietly, and morgan rolled her eyes, waving her off.

"this isn't even chris, girl," morgan whispered to her friend with an eyeroll, "he doesn't really make me blush like this anymore, anyway."

charmaine nodded, but her jaw clenched at the thought of morgan cheating on chris — christopher sturniolo was morgan's boyfriend, who also happened to be charmaine and madison's best friend, too. he had two identical brothers aside from himself, and they were both best friends with the triplet brothers. charmaine has liked chris for as long as she can remember, and it always puzzled her as to how he chose morgan over her. of course, chris never knew this, and she didn't plan on telling him — it was something bound to break up their friendship ( though charmaine knew the triplets longer ).

the smell of butter wafted through charmaine's senses, telling her that madison had put the popcorn in the microwave. the filipowicz girl came and sat down on the counter next to charmaine, a small grin settling on her face. "which horror movie are we watching tonight?"

charmaine grinned back, having always loved that she and madison loved horror movies. "oh, it's definitely a friday the 13th kinda night."

"ugh, we always watch that one," morgan whined suddenly, as she sauntered into the kitchen, her arms crossed, "can we watch the craft or something?"

"can you stop being a hoe and sleeping with every guy who gives you attention?" charmaine sneered, causing madison to snort and hold back a laugh, and morgan to give her an unimpressed look.

"you say that like it's a bad thing," morgan suddenly grinned, causing charmaine to roll her eyes and shake her head, "it's not my fault i'm sex positive!"

"whatever you wanna call yourself, morgan," madison giggled, causing charmaine to stick her tongue out at morgan playfully.

"whatever, friday the 13th is it," morgan sighed, resting her elbows on the counter, "let's play something while we wait for the food."

"what're you thinking?" charmaine questioned, setting her phone on the counter and facing her best friend.

"truth or dare."

morgan grinned, and madison and charmaine shared a knowing look. "girl, is this an excuse for you to just tell madi to make a move with that one girl already?"

madison's cheeks tinted, and she rolled her eyes. "that's not happening, by the way!"

"ugh, fine!" morgan grunted, but she sent madison a pointed look, "you don't even have to pick dare if you don't want to!"

"whatever, let's just play," charmaine said, waving both girls off, "m, truth or dare?"

morgan pretended to tap her chin in thought, then she smirked at charmaine. "dare."

"i dare you to call that one strip joint and pretend you wanna get hired there."

madison's eyes widened and morgan's jaw dropped, causing charmaine to burst out laughing. "what the actual fuck kinda dare is that?"

"it's a good one, don't lie!" madison grinned, pointing to morgan. 

"fine, whatever, i'll do it," morgan said with an eyeroll.

before she could make a move to grab the phone though, it began ringing — the three best friends exchanged a glance with each other, before morgan shrugged and moved towards it. "this doesn't count as your dare by the way!"

"it's probably just steven again," morgan grinned, as she picked up the landline, bringing it up to her ear, "hello?"

madison sat on the counter idly, and charmaine scrolled through her own phone as morgan talked to whoever it was she was talking to ( charmaine wouldn't be surprised if it was another one of her side pieces ). but from the way morgan's eyebrows furrowed, something was off.

"who is it?" charmaine mouthed her, madison raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"i don't even know," morgan mumbled, holding the phone away from her momentarily, "it's just fucking silence."

"here, let me see," madison said, hopping off the counter and going to grab the phone from morgan, "hello?"

but madison was met with silence as well, causing all three girls to share a look with each other. finally, charmaine shrugged and walked over to the phone, taking it from madison and holding it up to her ear. "hello?"

"hello? who's this?"

charmaine's eyes widened, causing morgan and madison to watch closely. "who're you tryna get to?"

"i don't know," the voice said, and charmaine felt a chill down her spine. it sounded much too deep to be normal, but something about it was highly attractive.

"well, you better figure it out," charmaine said, "bye have a good night."

"wait, don't hang up!" the voice said, and for some reason, charmaine's eyebrows rose and she didn't, "i wanna talk to you."

"yeah, they got like, five hundred numbers for shit like that," charmaine said, shaking her head, "see ya."

charmaine hung the phone before they had a chance to reply again, and both girls looked at her curiously. "so who was it?"

"i don't even know, some weirdo saying they wanted to talk to me," charmaine shrugged, and morgan grinned at the girl.

"well it's about time somebody wants to talk to you," morgan snickered, "you need to get a man."

"morgan, shut the fuck up," madison said, crinkling her nose and slapping the girl's shoulder, "she doesn't need to get anyone. just because you fucked half the school behind chris's back, doesn't mean everyone wants to do that same thing."

morgan's jaw dropped at what madison had said — truth was, morgan was always knocking charmaine for not wanting to just get with anybody randomly. she would take a dig at her about that stuff around charmaine and all her other friends too, which really upset her, being that she was supposed to be her best friend; charmaine guessed madison just finally got tired of it.

"wow, madi, didn't know you had the capability of being mean to anyone," morgan mumbled, and charmaine snorted.

"talking about everybody all the time just pisses me off," madison shrugged, turning to give charmaine a smile, "especially when it's about my girl."

before charmaine could respond to madi, the phone rang again, much to to her disappointment. with a groan, charmaine picked up the phone once again. "hello?"

"looks like i called the wrong number again," the voice said, and this time, charmaine rolled her eyes amusedly.

"yeah, i guess you did," charmaine sighed, sitting on the counter, "why did you redial it again?"

"to hear that pretty voice," he purred, and charmaine felt her cheeks get warm.

a small smile graced her features as she began swinging her feet back and forth. madison was now in the living room on her phone, and morgan; well, she was somewhere in the house. 

"huh," charmaine said, looking around.

"what's your name?"

charmaine chuckled, holding the phone away from her and looking at it in disbelief. "no way you just asked me that, dude."

"what's wrong with asking your name, pretty girl?" he asked, and for a split second, charmaine's eyebrows furrowed — she felt like she somewhat recognized the voice.

"first of all, i've seen too many horror movies to be telling you my name like that," charmaine said, as the microwave went off, signaling the popcorn was finished, "second, why do you wanna know my name?"

"cause i wanna know who i'm looking at," he said lowly, causing charmaine to immediately jump off the counter.

"what did you just say?" she asked nervously, looking around, seeing madison still sitting on the couch. morgan was still nowhere to be found.

"i said i want to know who i'm talking to," he said humorously, causing charmaine's eyebrows to furrow once again.

"yeah, nice try, that's not what you said," charmaine said seriously, beginning to grow annoyed, "look, find someone else to be all creepy with, i'm done here. bye."

"hang on-"

"it was funny at first, but you took it too far!" charmaine said.

"don't you-!"

before he could get another word out of his mouth, charmaine clicked the line off and set the phone back on its hook with a loud sigh. madison's head snapped up, and she looked up to see charmaine with her hands on her hips.

"everything okay, char?" madison asked, making her way over to the girl, "did they ever tell you who they were?"

"no, just some asshole being creepy as fuck," charmaine admitted, rubbing her temples with both her hands. "i swear-"

the phone rang, yet again.

💌 lil

i giggled when i first wrote this ngl. lmk how y'all like it so far😏.

@muwapsturniolo @luverboychris @guccifrog @prettiest-poision @mrssturnioloo @mattsivy @mattsturniolosleftnut @e1ias3 @eyeliketoeatpoosay @breeloveschris @mayhem-72 @l0akkz @summerssover

[bettyfrommars]

Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face.  “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat.  “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name.  You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick.  Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention.  It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was.  His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.  

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter.  You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him.  Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.  

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van.  The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention.  He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively.  “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle.  “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.  

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment.  You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.  

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed.  “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Please, you have about as much game as I do.  There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter.  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.  

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you.  It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.  

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead.  “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too.  No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it.  It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything.  As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.  

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look.  “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.  

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again. 

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat.  “Do you, um,  have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh.  Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns.  “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb.  “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.  

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air.  “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene.  I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart.  “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

 “Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans.  “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead.  “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t.  You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand.  The distance was suddenly too far.  

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a 

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.  

 “Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks.  “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Scream

Hii guyss I hope you enjoy the third story of my Spooky Friday series, If you want to read the other ones you can find them on my masterlist :)

The house is quiet, wrapped in a peaceful stillness that you’ve been looking forward to all day. Alone in the kitchen, you’re making popcorn in the microwave, getting ready for a cosy night in with a scary movie. As the microwave beeps, signalling that the popcorn is done, the sudden ringing of the phone startles you. The sound is sharp, cutting through the silence.

You frown. Who could be calling at this hour? You pick up the phone, a bit of curiosity sparking inside you.

“Hello?” you say, keeping your voice calm.

“Who is this?” responds a deep, unfamiliar male voice.

Your eyebrows knit together. The voice is strange, but there’s something about it that sends a small chill down your spine. You decide to play along, your heart picking up just a little.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are first?”

“If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he replies, a teasing edge to his tone.

“I don’t think so,” you say, half-smiling as you pull the popcorn bag out of the microwave, the rich smell of butter filling the kitchen.

There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line before he speaks again.

“What’s that noise?”

“I’m making popcorn,” you answer casually, shaking the bag and pouring it into a big bowl.

“I only eat popcorn when I’m watching movies,” he says, his voice smooth and nonchalant.

“Funny, I’m about to watch one,” you reply, leaning against the counter.

“What movie?” he asks.

“A scary one,” you say, shrugging as you start to head toward the living room.

“Do you like scary movies?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, feeling the conversation growing stranger by the second. “I guess so.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know… maybe Halloween.”

“Good choice,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. “Guess mine.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help feeling intrigued.

“Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“Interesting,” he says, his voice lowering. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You laugh, caught off guard by the sudden question.

“Why? Are you planning to ask me out?”

“Maybe… but first, tell me, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“You never told me your name,” he presses.

Your heartbeat quickens. There’s something unsettling about the way he’s insisting.

“Why do you want to know my name?” you ask, tightening your grip on the phone.

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

The air freezes around you. Your eyes widen in shock as the lights suddenly go out, plunging the room into darkness. Your breath catches in your throat. This isn’t a joke anymore.

“This isn’t funny,” you say, your voice trembling slightly, the phone still pressed to your ear.

“I’m going to find you… and when I do, you’ll be mine,” he says, his calm voice sending a wave of fear through you.

You drop the phone, panic rising in your chest as you stumble into the kitchen. Grabbing a knife with shaking hands, you hide behind the kitchen island, your ears straining to hear. Footsteps. They’re soft, deliberate, moving around the house.

The man’s voice continues to echo in your mind, as if he’s already inside your head. "There’s no way out," you think.

Suddenly, the footsteps grow closer. You hold your breath, heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s echoing in your skull. The sound of a floorboard creaking gives you away. Before you can react, a shadow looms over you.

He grabs you. The strength of his grip is terrifying as he pulls you toward him. You scream, instinct taking over as you swing the knife wildly, your movements frantic but uncoordinated. He knocks the blade from your hand, sending it clattering across the floor. You push and kick, your fists pounding against his chest, but it’s like hitting a wall. His grip tightens as you struggle against him.

Desperation fuels you, and you manage to slip from his grasp for just a second, running toward the doorway. But before you can reach it, he’s on you again, tackling you to the ground. The impact knocks the breath out of you, and you scramble, fighting to get free. His hands are on your shoulders, pinning you down as you twist beneath him, your breaths coming in short, terrified gasps.

With one last surge of energy, you reach up and rip off his mask. The face beneath shocks you. Brown eyes, familiar and amused, meet yours. Carlos.

You blink in disbelief as he bursts out laughing, still hovering over you, holding your wrists to the floor.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says, his voice thick with amusement. The fear that had been suffocating you dissolves into a mix of anger and relief. You shove him off you, your heart still racing from the adrenaline.

“This isn’t funny, Carlos!” you snap, pushing yourself up from the floor, your hands shaking from the struggle.

But Carlos just grins, standing up and looking down at you with that infuriating smile of his. “No estaba bromeando con eso de que serías mía,” he says in Spanish, his voice low, teasing, as he steps closer, closing the distance between you.

(I wasn't joking about you being mine)

Your breath hitches as he moves closer still, his presence warm and overwhelming. "Carlos…" you begin, still feeling the adrenaline in your veins, but before you can finish, he reaches out, his fingers gently brushing your cheek before tilting your chin up.

Then, without warning, he kisses you.

The world seems to tilt. It’s not gentle, but urgent, heated from the rush of emotions—the fear, the relief, and the undeniable pull between you. His lips are firm against yours, and for a moment, all thoughts of anger and confusion melt away. You kiss him back, your hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer.

When he finally pulls away, your breathing is uneven, and you can still feel the lingering heat of the kiss. Carlos grins, his face close to yours, his breath warm against your lips.

You cross your arms, trying to regain some sense of control, but the small smile pulling at your lips betrays you.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, still breathless, your heart pounding for entirely different reasons now.

"But you like me that way," he says as he kisses you again.

[crying-wolves]

🪻 ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴀᴛʀᴇ ᴇᴍᴘʟᴏʏᴇᴇ!ᴀʙʙʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ 🪻

cw: 18+ MDNI!!! little bit of richgirl!abby, anxious!abby, little bit of loser!abby but i’ll let you be the judge of that, alt!reader, reader w/ tattoos + piercings, reader doesn’t care about their job, abby and reader are, like, 18 - 20, mostly fluff, petty theft, minor drug use (abby and reader get a teensy bit high), nsfw under the cut!

a/n: this is ENTIRELY self-indulgent cause i work at the movies and i think i would've liked my job better if Abby was there with me :) thank u so much for reading i love u so much i hope u enjoy <3

wc: 1.3k (a lot longer than i was expecting pls forgive me)

not proofread! im so eepy

dividers by @cafekitsune !

🪻movie theater employee!abby whose family is, as she likes to put it, ‘relatively well off’, so she’s never had to get a summer job before… 

…but when her father emails her an application from their local theater, going on and on and on about how she could manage to learn a thing or two about responsibility and time management and a hundred other things she’s apparently lacking in, she doesn’t see any other option but to piece together a meager resume and send it in.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a response back almost immediately, because they’re just that desperate for new hires.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who shows up to her interview the next week in pressed black dress slacks and a perfectly ironed blue button-up, only to be met with the hiring manager’s tattered black jeans and stained work shirt.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s nervous as fuck during the interview and thinks that she’s taking too long to answer simple questions and tripping over her words, but the manager hires her on the spot, in like, 10 minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who calls her dad on the ride back home to tell him the good news, is met with balloons that say ‘congrats!’ in big sparkly letters on the front and her favorite take-out when she steps through the front door.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who arrives on her first day on the job 20 minutes early. Spotless, bustling with excitement, and so, so unprepared to deal with all that’ll happen in the day.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is introduced to you, after you arrive 10 minutes late, fruity energy drink in hand and sunglasses still hanging on the tip of your nose as your new trainee.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who initially thinks she’ll evaporate in the stuffy heat behind the concessions counter, suddenly feels an icy-cool wave move through her body when you shoot her a lopsided smile.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can hardly hear a word you say as you explain what all the buttons on the register screen do… 

…‘cause she’s too focused on the way your work pants cling to your thighs and flare out at the bottom. on the pretty tattoos sneaking up and down your right arm. on the shiny lip ring that a part of her strangely wants to lick at–

🪻movie theater employee!abby who squeaks out a “yep, yeah! uh, got it!” when you ask her if she has any questions.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who definitely does not got it. Not one fuckin’ bit.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who fucks up a whole lot, at first, and manages to oversalt a batch of popcorn, stock too much of the same candy, overcharge 3 separate customers, spill a strawberry soda all over the counter, get scolded by 2 old men, and burn herself on the hotdog grill.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who smells like butter and exhaustion by the end of her 4 hour shift, but brightens up when you tap a star-shaped sticker onto her shirt and mumble out an amused “see you tomorrow, trainee.”

🪻movie theater employee!abby who realizes she has to do this all tomorrow again and lets out a shaky sigh on the way back to her car

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s slowly getting the hang of it after a few weeks at the theater…

…getting compliments from customers, multitasking between different orders, knowing the back room as well as she does the flavors of the drinks you silently sip during your shifts.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s a little enthralled by you, even if you don’t really notice it.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s too afraid to ask for your number, so scours instagram for your contact instead.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who throws her phone across her bedroom when you finally follow her back one night.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who super smoothly asks you when you’re working so she can try to arrive at her shifts when you go on break.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who freezes up when you invite her over to the park bench in front of the theater and offer her some cajun fries and a hit from your cart.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes you up on both offers, because she’s starving and she wants you to think she’s cool.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who takes a bigger hit than you were expecting and is a little confused when you giggle at her sudden coughing.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who spends the next 7 hours of her shift trying to act normal, but sees you trying not to bust out laughing in the corner of her eye every few minutes.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a lot closer to you after that…

…who watches you undercharge a frazzled mother on her kid’s birthday, and doesn’t say anything to the supervisor. who sees you swipe a few chocolate bars from the candy cart to give to a group of kids in the arcade. who is certain of your favorite slushie flavor because your lips are always some different color everytime you come back from your too-long bathroom breaks.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who argues about which book-to-movie adaptation is the absolute best when the day’s going by slowly.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who sneaks into different showrooms where the movie has already been playing for a while with you so you guys can guess what’s happened in the plot before.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hides with you in the stockroom to take a break from the yelling customers and screaming kids every once in a while.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who traces the outlines of your tattoos, all heart-eyed while she’s listening to you talk about the new superhero movie that just came out a week ago.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who places a hand at the small of your back when she has to squeeze by you to grab a bucket of popcorn for a customer.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who gets a little green with jealousy when a customer compliments your piercings or makes a joke that really isn’t that funny to begin with, but you laugh anyways cause you’re required to be cordial with them.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s so stupidly thrilled when you kiss her after a rough closing shift and can hardly breath when she climbs into her car to drive herself home.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who is so very happy that her dad convinced her to get this stupid job in the first place.

SMUT UNDER THE CUT ! 18+ MDNI!

🪻movie theater employee!abby who lets you eat her out in the tiny bathroom stall in the women’s room on nights when the theater is dead… 

…your left hand squeezing at her tits, your right stretching her left leg over your shoulder. She looks down at you, panting, shuddering, trying and failing to conceal the little huffs and content sighs that fall from her lips every time your tongue swipes against a particularly sensitive spot.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who makes out with you in the backseat of her car when your breaks coincide, and whines in pleasure as you grind your clothed cunt against her covered thigh.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who can feel her hand start to shake and her throat go dry as she scurries to the back when you call her from your bedroom, voice all pitched-up and needy, while on your day off. Words strained and quickening wet sounds coming from your background.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who almost gasps when you two are the only ones working the concessions counter and she feels your hand slide from her lower back to squeeze her ass.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who’s obsessed with the way you watch her expressions as you slowly finger her in the empty break room.

🪻movie theater employee!abby who hates that she won’t see you until next summer, but has a million different secret pictures and texts from you that she has saved in a locked file on her phone to get her through the year <3

[the-kr8tor]

Fluffy friday!!!

And they were "best friends"! Who happens to like dancing together in the kitchen while cooking dinner together and giving soft kisses laced with promises and unspoken words while snuggling on the couch for date night.. I mean movie night. Lyla only sneaks in to take one picture of them all cuddled up, swear! 🤭

Hi, bestie! Thank you for the lovely request! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention, cw vomit mentioned (just a passing joke, no detailed desc), FLUFF

It's fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The popcorn pops on the stove, the sound blending in with the music on the radio. The microwave dings, signaling the butter's fully melted. Your flat smells heavenly. Bare arms wrap around your middle, Hobie's chin rests on your shoulder while you take out the hot butter from the microwave.

"I thought you were preparing the drinks?" Leaning on his strong chest, you take a peek at his face.

"I'm done already, you're just bloody slow on your end" Hobie side eyes you with a sly smirk.

You take the bait, "I can't make the popcorn pop faster or else It'll burn, do you like your popcorn burnt to a crisp?" You can smell your soap on his skin, heart thumping fast at the thought.

"I like this song" he ignores your quip, not wanting to ruin the night. Hobie turns the volume up on the radio, swaying you with him. He practically drowns in your laugh. Turning you around to face him, your 'best friend' holds you by your waist, while you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, fingers intertwined.

Despite the punkness of the music, Hobie dances with you like it's a slow romantic song. He feels the occasion calls for it, you're wearing soft and comfortable clothes, cooking in your sweats, the soft pitter patter of rain against the windows. Him smelling like you, the domesticity of it all makes him tender. You gaze at him softly as he sways you to the beat.

"And here I thought you were gonna throw me around"

"It's still on the table" he twirls you around, slightly dizzy from the movement and from his touch.

When he stops your little twirl, hands curling around your hips, thumb grazing the smooth skin under your shirt. Hobie chuckles at your flustered smile. "I think it would've been better if you threw me around because I think I'm about to throw up" you joke, pretending to hurl towards him.

"Disgusting, I just showered, y'know" He says as he continues swaying you to the music.

"You sure?" Pretending to sniff him, you lean up to his neck, lips dangerously close to his pulse. Hobie freezes in place, not knowing what to do. "Is that my perfume?" Teasing him, you pull away. Seeing his flustered face for one quick second before it returns to his nonchalant expression. You want to rag at him more just to glimpse it again.

"Nuh-uh, do I look like someone who uses perfume? Especially someone else's?"

"Yuh-uh, let me get another whiff to confirm" taunting him again, you try to lean up again, Hobie stops you with his palm right on your face. His hands are big enough to cover your entire face.

Smiling at your playfulness. It's not like he doesn't want you touching him, it's because if you did it again, his lips might meet yours instead of his neck. And he might not be able to hold back.

"Perv," He shakes your head, palm still resting over your face, making you giggle. "Go get the popcorn, I'll ready the movie"

"Okay" smiling, your voice muffled by Hobie's hand.

—

Bowl of popcorn in hand, Hobie beckons you over to the plush settee. "Did you add salt?"

"Of course I did," you scoff, sitting next to him, but not close enough for your thighs to touch his.

"Get your arse over here, bowl's too far" he uses the excuse to get closer to you, hand pulling under the soft blanket you're currently sitting on.

Sliding towards him, "whee!" You giggle like you're sliding down a slide in a playground.

Hobie chuckles, throwing his arm over your shoulders casually, his hand rests on your elbow, cupping it. You lean on his side, head nuzzling on his chest for extra comfort as the movie starts.

He reciprocates by rubbing soft circles on your elbow. Hobie rests his feet over the coffee table.

You click your tongue, "no feet on the table, Hobie!" Pinching his toned thighs.

"Ow, fine!" He puts his feet down on the soft carpet. Stealing popcorn that's already on your hand.

"The bowl's right here" you gesture at the bowl of buttery popcorn on your lap.

"I like this one better" Hobie winks at you before bringing the snack to his mouth.

Heat rises in your cheeks at his charm "fine, Two can play at that game" you take his can of soda from his lips, the fizzy drink spills a bit, Hobie watches in surprise as you take a sip. Your lips touching the can that were on his lips a few seconds ago.

Hobie has no idea how to survive the rest of movie night, he can barely make out what the characters' are saying on screen. He sneaks a peek at his communicator blinking awake, Layla slyly winks at him before her hologram disappears.

"Goddamnit" he accidentally lets out.

"Hmm?" You blink curiously at him.

"Nothin' when will they start killing each other?" He diverts your attention back to the screen as he watches you explain basically the entire movie to him. He doesn't care though, smiling softly as you excitedly talk.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

[lunamothmayhem]

Good Night(Wing) Chapter 3 part 1 (the Nightmare) part 1

I'm just gonna post the little bits I finish writing so I don't lose motivation before I finish, cause this is getting bigger than anticipated and taking longer than I wanted to finish writing.

The warm feeling of contentment flowed through his veins, The purring in his chest growing, as the echoes of their siblings, I haven’t seen Jazz in months, laughter filled though his ears. The knowledge that his family was safe and sound in his apartment, Jazz is in college, Ellie and Dan are with CW, Sam and Tucker are with their families, that they knew they where safe and that he’d keep them that way and they’d do the same had him smiling as he let the darkness surround him in the joy-love-safe-warm-protected-happy- he felt from them.

Cold crisp air twirled through hair, carrying the delicate tones of children’s laughter and giggles, the deep baritones of adults chattering and a deep sense of being surrounded by joy. Through the trees lights flashed and sparkled, over top a fairs wheel spun slow. Feeling content and with a smile on his face, he moved towards the smell of buttered popcorn and cotton candy, mixed with the smell of animals outdoors. Walking closer through the trees, blue flyers of some sort danced in the wind, ‘Grayson’ being the only word he caught.

Anticipation curled around him and with a pep in his step he rushed towards the sound of fun and joy, of home, whose home, not my home, never more than a nightmare, almost running into circus goers. Laughter bubbled up and head on a swivel he looked for an old friend. Rushing past clowns, a shudder ran through them, blowing balloon animals he kept an ear out and heard her. A bellowing a triumphant bellow of an elephant from his left, changing direction and almost tripping over his own feet he rushed over.

Tears caught on eyelashes and his cheeks hurt from the beaming smile on his face as he pulled up in front of Zitka, How do I know her name, and he laughed as she reached for them with her trunk.

“Hey girl, I know it’s been a while,” He leaned into the hug, hiding his face against hers as the tears finally broke free, “but are you excited for the show tonight?" No please no, He pulled back and she gave an agreeing hum, before nudging them with her trunk towards the sound of two people chatting behind him. Mom, Dad. A picture of a small figure in a teal suit standing next to a towering behemoth in orange both holding weapons, and an all-encompassing feeling of dread and fear ran through them.

Turning around he sees two adults in matching green and yellow leotards laughing and smiling. The woman had dark brown curly hair hanging around mid-back, her warm brown eyes crinkling up in the corners as she turned towards him. The man’s cobalt blue lit up with sparkles and he crouched down with open arms as he saw him. Not wasting another second, he rushed and jumped into his arms laughing through his tears.

Warm arms circled around him settling on his back and pulling him into a warm chest, falling up and down with every breath his father, not my dad, took and the laughter turned to sobs as the tears kept coming. Burying their face in their dad’s, Not My Dad, shirt they heard their mom, not my mom, who are you, Who Are You, kneel next to them her hand rubbing slow circles on their back.

“Oh, my little Robin, what’s wrong dear?” Pulling his head away from his fathers’ chest, he turned to face his mother, wrong, Wrong, WRONG, and wiped away his tears.

-----------------------

So yeah, still working on this. didn't even get into when freakshow shows up or the nightmare really starts, but I'm getting there, really sorry for the long wait.

This is part of a prompt by @azulhood

[finniestoncrane]

🩷🍿 Finnie's 2k Follower Event 🍿💚

🩷💚🩷 EVENT NOW CLOSED 🩷💚🩷 hello and welcome to my silly little cinema 🩷💚🩷💚 this time around i've got options for moodboards, mini playlists, character pairings, and as always, ficlets and headcanons!! as always my little beloveds, read my rules, & send your requests in (and include reader's gender/pronoun/genital info where needed!) i don't know how many requests i'll do (edit: i'll be doing 50 requests for this event, there are still plenty of spaces!!) and i'll try to avoid similar prompts!! (normal requests are still open just now but i won't be writing them or posting them until after the event) along with the drabbles and headcanons, i'll also do a little giveaway of sorts with some commissions, so anyone who asks off anon will be included into a little draw for a free 500 word commission, and i'll pick some winners just to express how much love i have for you all ;-;💚 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2k (to follow or to block)

hi welcome to the cinema!! are you ready to purchase your tickets?

i'll let my date decide [tell me a bit about yourself for a character pairing!]

yes!! [please scroll for options and prompts!]

if you're not here for a date, please choose from the options below and let me know which character you want!! (pick literally any character from my "will write" list! 1 for x reader, 2 for ships)

no more requests for btaa!scarecrow or zero year!riddler, please! their egos will explode lmao

where would you like to be seated? (pick 1 option)

right in the middle [movie soundtrack - mini playlist based on the character]

aisle seat [movie poster - i'll make a little moodboard based on the character]

front rows [short fic/drabble - scroll for the next options!]

back rows [headcanons/short form - scroll for the next options!]

which genre of movie would you like to see? (pick 1)

science-fiction [smut/pwp]

horror [dead dove/something dark]

action [hurt/comfort - physical]

drama [hurt/comfort - emotional]

romantic comedy [tooth rotting fluff]

thriller [angst]

and what would you like in your snack box? (pick up to 3, also yeah whatever my theatre serves fries and burgers!!)

�� soda [praise kink]

🧋 bubble tea [posessiveness]

🧃 fruit juice [touch starved, tensing up when shown affection]

🍹 cocktail [acts of care]

🍷 wine [confessing feelings]

🍺 beer ["i didn't mean it... it was an accident"]

🍕 pizza slice [dry humping]

🍔 slider [begging]

🌭 hotdog ["they'd/you'd never feel that way about me"]

🌶️ nachos [comforting through a breakup while pining]

🍟 fries [pet play]

🥓 jerky [oral sex/rimming]

🍿 sweet popcorn [sex as a tension release]

🧂 salted popcorn [watching a movie together]

🧈 butter popcorn ["look at you, you're dripping all over yourself"]

🧀 cheese popcorn [rough sex]

🥨 pretzel [roleplaying]

🍩 donut ["i think i love you"]

🍪 chocolate cookie [biting/licking/sucking]

🌈 rainbow cookie [clumsy first kisses]

🧁 cupcake [cnc/noncon/dubcon]

🍎 fruit cup ["you're going to ruin me"]

🍫 chocolate bar [voyeurism]

🍬 candy ["keep your eyes open, i want you to look at me"]

🍭 lollipop [choking]

🍧 frozen yoghurt [blushing in front of your crush, who finds it cute]

🍨 sundae [blind date]

🍦 vanilla ice cream ["that feels nice... it feels right"]

🍌 banana ice cream [sitting in their lap]

🍑 peach ice cream [spanking/impact play]

🍒 cherry ice cream [a kiss, then a slap, then a returned kiss]

🍓 strawberry ice cream ["your hands are so soft"]

🌰 trail mix [facefucking/face riding]

🥜 peanuts ["you're doing such a good job"]

🧅 grilled onions ["i want to smell myself on you"]

🥒 pickles [humiliation/degradation]

🥬 slaw [memorising the scars/marks on their body]

🔴 ketchup ["you said you'd never be caught dead doing something like this"]

🟡 mustard [piss]

🟢 ranch [feeling safe enough to fall asleep in each others' arms]

🥛 sour cream [cockwarming]

🥚 mayo ["let me show you"]

[rynnaissance]

ok so for future reference, if i ever do continue working on my fic, how do we think bell’s hells would be at driving cars in a modern au? i’ve got ideas, but i want to hear other people’s input.

here’s what i’ve got:

chetney: DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH CHETNEY WHATEVER YOU DO. that senior citizen is batshit insane and he WILL road rage. if someone cuts him off then wherever he was going is forgotten because he has to tailgate that person now while yelling at them to pull over so they can “talk.” i can’t decide if he would have a really nice car or a really shitty one because honestly both fit. maybe a fancy truck for hauling wood?

orym: he’s your safest bet out of the hells if you want to get somewhere on time without fearing for your life. bro is a law abiding citizen of the road. he never loses his cool (unlike chet) and his car is always clean and smells super nice. he mostly listens to meditation style music, but he’ll let the other person have the aux because he’s genuinely curious to hear what they listen to. shout out to orym.

laudna: okay back to the insanity. ALSO DO NOT GET IN A CAR WITH LAUDNA! girlie pop should not be on the road. she’s blasting the weirdest fucking genres of metal imaginable, she can hear nothing else. the music only somewhat drowns out the horrible keening noises her car makes, as if it’s begging to die. that thing hasn’t been to the shop in decades and omits the occasional plume of black smoke that smell like burnt hair and buttered popcorn for some reason? i saw someone else talk about how she’s a crazy driver with everyone except imogen who she drives very well for and never blasts music, and i like that idea a lot.

imogen: it was her dad’s truck before her’s, a farm vehicle meant for rural roads with four wheel drive. it’s pretty beat up, but it’s reliable. imogen hates driving though, as it can be super overwhelming in the city, and prefers to go with laudna. outside of the city, on rural roads where you won’t see another car for miles, she finds it almost as relaxing as horseback riding. she likes to cruise around with her widows down, shamelessly listening to country music. yeehaw.

ashton: should you get in a car with ashton? depends on the day, as they are kind of a wild card. one day, it might be a chill drive with you two causally exchanging stories, like sober “what the fuck is up with that?” other times you better hold onto your seat because you are getting to your location regardless of how traffic is flowing. ashton is the person who cuts chetney off. it may be on purpose, no one knows for certain, but he always seems to manage to find the old man and make his day a little more difficult. if they see someone they know, they’ll lay on horn and yell, “hey asshole!” with a wave and a grin. the car itself is covered in stickers and sharpie graffiti, interior and exterior. you’ll always know it’s him.

fearne: does she have a license? she would say yes. the truth is no. fearne was never taught how to drive, she just kinda figured it out as she went along. because of ashton, she used to think honking is a friendly thing, but had to be informed by fcg that those people are not just saying hi, but are actually mad at her. she didn’t like that very much. she doesn’t seem to be aware that there are any dangers to driving. she’s almost always getting into crashes, which she responds to with a giggle and a “whoops(:” it’s a marvel she hasn’t been arrested yet. there’s also an angry possum that’s sometimes found in the truck of her car, so it’s best not to open it.

fcg: much like orym, fcg is a very safe person to drive with. although maybe a little annoying, as he’ll let everyone go before him at a four way stop regardless of if it’s actually their turn. sometimes though, when they’re under a lot of stress, they resemble chetney more. they won’t tolerate any bullshit from other drivers and yell at pedestrians to get out of the way. he’s been getting better about this though, but still.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Ticket for One

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing, Only One I See, One Thing Leads To Another, One Message Waiting, One Day Closer to You, I’m the Only One, Plus One

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

The screening is busier than you expect. The event is set up in the auditorium, rows of chairs lined up and the smell of popcorn from the stand just outside wafting in. Jake leads you along the middle of the seats and stops.

“How about here, not too close, not too far,” he asks as he turns and examines the plastic chairs, not ideal for nearly a two hour movie.

“Sure,” you unzip your coat and put your purse on the seat in front of you, “I’m good right here.”

You take off your coat and hang it over the plastic back rest. You take a deep breath, basking in the buttery scent, “I can’t help myself, you want some popcorn?”

“My treat,” he insists.

“Nah, I got it. You got us the tickets, least I can do is pay for my extra butter,” you grin and grab your purse, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“I can come with you, I don’t think anyone would take our seats–”

“Really, it’s cool… I’m kinda wanting to scope out the candy,” you confess guiltily.

“Ah, you a milk duds girl or maybe… licorice? Red vines?”

“Actually, I’m a Twizzlers girl,” you counter.

“Ugh, ew, Twizzlers!?”

“Shhh,” you hit his arm, “right, I’ll get the snacks and you save our seats. I mean it, any pretty girls come up tryna barter mine off you, just keep your eyes forward.”

“Pretty girls? I only got eyes for one.” Your cheeks burn as he looks away bashfully, his own glowing as if he can’t believe what he said, “I mean, yes, ma’am, I will be here,” he sits, “waiting for you.”

You can’t help but giggle before you spin on your heel. It’s definitely a date. Inez is going to tease the fuck out of you. Especially when she finds out you ditched her to watch some old 1970s horror comedy with the biggest nerd she knows. Well, that’s not true, you’re the biggest nerd she knows.

You go back out into the hall and join the zigzagging queue for the popcorn stand manned by the movie buffs who run the film club. You keep your purse hooked over your elbow as you take out your phone and scroll mindlessly as you move with the line before you. As you get closer, you’re jostled slightly and you turn around to see what’s going on as another coed pushes through as he escapes with his bucket of kernels.

“Oh, hey,” Steve startles you as he steals your attention from the aimless student, “I wasn’t sure that was you, you had your face in your phone.”

“Oh, hi, Professor,” you peek around, “I… I didn’t think faculty came to these sorts of things.”

“Well, you know, I got a buddy, he helps out with the film club,” he checks his watch, “you know him, Professor Barnes. Well, he’s late.”

“Ah, makes sense,” you turn back and follow the slow progress to the counter.

“And you? You’re here with Inez?”

“Um, no, she’s working on a paper,” you say evasively, eyeing the single bag of Twizzlers left in the case.

“So you’re here alone?”

“No, I’m… I’m with a friend,” you squint, tearing your attention from your growling stomach.

“Hm,” he grumbles, “have you seen the movie before? It’s a classic.”

“Oh, yeah, one of my faves,” you assure him, “Gene Wilder’s hilarious.”

“I figured, you’re a Shelley fan,” he smiles but it falls quickly as he shifts and reaches into his pocket. He takes out his phone and tuts, “well, looks like I’m going stag tonight…” he stares at the screen, “buddy’s got something going on with his… girlfriend. She’s got, um, she’s got some issues– she’s nice though but, uh, yeah.”

“That’s too bad,” you frown, “but hey, you won’t even notice once the movie starts.”

“Sure, you’re right,” he says, “you know, I was just looking forward to… not being by myself. This time of year, I tend to lock myself up in my office like a hermit.”

You nod and give a sympathetic hum. You can’t imagine how busy it is for professors. You never really thought of it before but you suppose they have just as much work as the panicking students.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you twist around, “oh, my turn.” You step away and nearly squeal as you see the licorice still in place, “ooh, can I get those Twizzlers,” you chime, and two popcorns, and, uh, oh shoot, um, two cokes.”

As the girl behind the counter gets your order, you take out your card and wait patiently. You sense Steve not far behind you, a twinge of pity as you see him step up a few feet away to get some popcorn. You pay and balance your haul in your arms, hugging the popcorn and Twizzlers to your sides as you hold the cups.

You hear Steve thank the server as you step away. You pause and look back, his eyes on you, a reluctance. Dammit, you feel bad. He looks even more pathetic with his single popcorn and bottle of water.

“Hey, you wanna sit with me and my friend?” You wait for him just along the edge of the queue, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t?” He asks doubtfully.

“Yeah, yeah, it should be cool, the more the merrier right?”

“As long as I’m not imposing,” he says hesitantly, “thanks.”

“Well, it’s too bad Professor Barnes couldn’t make it,” you tilt your head.

You turn back and continue on with the flow of students into the auditorium. You peer around and find Jensen among the rabble. You lead Steve down the center aisle and sidle your way towards your date. Or friend. You kind ruined it.

“Hey,” you say as he stands and takes one of the drinks from you, “I hope you don’t mind, I ran into Professor Rogers.”

“Uh, no,” Jensen says, “that’s cool.” He takes a popcorn and you barely keep the licorice from falling, “hi,” he nods at Steve, “I’m Jensen.”

“Rogers,” he counters, “she just said that, sorry.”

You sit in unison, stiffly as an awkward silence forms a bubble around you in the din of the auditorium. You put your popcorn between your legs and sip your drink before hiding it behind the foot of the chair. You tear open the licorice greedily.

“Dessert first? I didn’t take you for the rebellious type,” Jensen kids.

“Oh and what type do you take me for?” You snicker.

“The Twizzlers type, I guess,” he chides, “I’m still… surprised by that one. I thought you had better taste.”

“Well, I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

You laugh and he joins in. You feel a shift at your other shoulder, “damn, you’re the one who got the last package,” Steve says, “I love Twizzlers.”

“Oh? You want one?” You offer, turning back and holding out the open bag.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, I won’t be able to eat it all and this bozo is a Red Vines guy.”

“You mean I have class,” Jensen snips.

“Sure, Jens, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

Steve slides out a Twizzler as he gives an awkward smile. You feel bad. He must feel so out of place with the two of you. You feel worse for Jake, he probably thinks you’re using the professor as a buffer. It’s all a bit confusing, if not a little disappointing.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Halloween Movie Night

Halloween isn't over until I say so. Or until Mariah Carrie comes out of the woodwork with a chainsaw like some sort of Christmas slasher film.

Speaking of which, I had a lot of fun with this one! It's pretty much just silliness, with a brief allusion to the fic I posted yesterday, Halloween Hunting.

This one features Zayne x my MC, Kiri. Xavier also makes a brief appearance, and Andromeda, my OC who's romancing him, is mentioned.

It's fun.

If you enjoyed this, please feel free to like or reblog! It lets me know people like what I'm doing, and encourages me to write more.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Halloween.

The time when children and adults alike dressed up in costumes, gathering candy and playing pranks on one another.

The time when the veil was the thinnest.

Otherwise known as the worst day of the year for Hunters.

Kiri sighed as she dialed Zayne's number, ignoring the distant sound of screeching Wanderers. Xavier could hold them off for a moment.

She had been so confident that she'd be able to get off early tonight, with metaflux readings being the lowest they'd been in nearly a decade.

Apparently, the Wanderers didn't get the message.

“This is Doctor Zayne,” came the curt voice from the other end.

She chuckled. It looked like he was still in work mode.

“Oh doctor,” Kiri said playfully. “I think there's something wrong with my heart. It seems to have made its way into your hands.”

In the distance, Xavier flew back and hit a tree, landing hard on his feet.

Kiri tilted her head at him. He gave her the thumbs up, and bolted off again. Something gave a dying scream.

Zayne chuckled. “I see. It sounds like it heard that there was danger and came running to me. Perhaps I should keep it safe for you until your return?”

“That sounds lovely,” she replied with a smile. “Unfortunately, you may have to hold onto it for quite a bit before I can pick it up.”

“Oh?” Zayne didn't sound surprised. “I take it Killer Rabbit 3: The Revengeing will have to wait? What a shame.”

Kiri snorted, stepping out of the way as Xavier's sword flew past. It speared a flying Wanderer, killing it instantly. “Don't knock it till you try it, darling. Killer Rabbit: Turbo Murder and Killer Rabbit 2: Dawn of Blood were both excellent films. Although the second one was a bit fanservice-y. They should have made Chad wear a bit more armor.”

“I feel like my ears are bleeding,” Zayne said dryly. “I agreed to watch it with you for Halloween, didn't I? We'll just do a raincheck.”

Kiri pouted. “But Halloween only comes once a year-”

A voice on the other end of the line cut her off. “Doctor Zayne, it's that patient, L-” the rest was muffled, presumably Zayne covering his phone mic to preserve the patient’s confidentiality.

Kiri glanced over at Xavier. He was sweating and focused, his uniform smeared in all sorts of viscera. She reached into her pack and tossed him her canteen.

Grateful, Xavier raised it in a ‘cheers’ before downing the whole thing.

Zayne returned. “I have to go. Be safe. Love you.” The call clicked off abruptly.

Sighing, Kiri texted him a “love you too, good luck” before putting her phone away. When Zayne lost his manners, it was usually because there was an emergency.

It looked like neither one of them would be available tonight.

“Everything good?” Xavier asked, taking the bottom of his uniform top and wiping his brow. His stomach was exposed for a moment, revealing a wealth of love marks.

She snorted. “Not as good as you, apparently. Congrats on finally sleeping with Andromeda.”

Xavier rolled his eyes, gracing her with a tiny smile. “Thanks. Shall we get back to it?”

“Sure thing. Thanks for covering for me.” She cocked her gun as the beating of wings sounded overhead, and prepared herself for a long night.

-

Kiri awoke to the smell of buttered popcorn.

She'd gotten home about an hour ago, stripping herself of her gear and struggling through a shower.

As soon as her head had hit the pillow, she had fallen asleep.

Now, she blinked blearily. A soft glow suddenly flickered on from the hallway, causing her to sit up and slip a robe on.

“Zayne?” She called out groggily.

“In here,” came the soft reply.

Padding out into the living room, it took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing.

White sheets draped across the majority of their space, threaded through with lights. Blankets and pillows were neatly assembled into a bed of sorts, with little plastic pumpkins scattered around.

Zayne stood amongst it all, a popcorn bowl and a tray full of snacks in his hands. “Surprise.”

Kiri’s mouth hung open. “Z-Zayne, what? I thought you were busy! It's-” she glanced at a clock. “It's three in the morning!”

“Well, my appointment for tomorrow decided to be tonight,” he said wryly. “So the rest of my schedule got cleared.”

Setting the snacks down, he grabbed two glasses of cider - one alcoholic and the other not - handing one to her. “Halloween only happens once a year, after all.”

She took the glass, her nose stinging as the telltale prick of tears hit the corners of her eyes. “Zayne…this is so sweet.”

“Come on.” He pulled her to the blanket pile, draping a particularly soft one over her lap. It was still warm, as if it had come fresh out of the dryer. “Let's watch that movie.”

Kiri cuddled up with him, sipping her cider. She made a face. “Mm. Swap with me. This one is yours.”

He chuckled, murmuring an apology as he clicked ‘play’ on the remote.

Soon, the comforting sounds of over-exaggerated screams filled the air. Zayne’s eyes began to drift shut, and before she knew it, his head was leaning on her shoulder. His breaths came slow and even.

Kiri kissed the top of his head. “Happy Halloween,” she murmured. “Thank you for the treat.”

Bonus:

“So, what did you think of the movie?”

“For what I was awake for? Surprisingly accurate in terms of wound placement and their subsequent consequences. The arterial spray was impressively done. Someone did their research. Did you like it?”

“Mmh. Honestly, the CGI rabbits made it a bit underwhelming. I understand, though. After the live rabbit killed someone on set in the production of the second movie, they couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.”

“...What?!”

[shelbgrey]

Next to me(Emmett Cullen)

Chapter 2: laughter is the best medicine

Table of contents

The smell of buttered popcorn filled the area and the only sounds to be heard was the clicking and patterning of the rain hitting the roof and the unsettling music and screams that echoed from the flat screen as the siblings watched Halloween.

Owen and Y/n silently sit on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn between them. There were no words exchanged except for the occasional laugh if something cheesy or gorry came on. Owen would occasionally look out of the soaked window and silently waited for their cousin's arrival.

Owen didn’t know how to feel. He barely remembered Balla for the past seven months; it had just been him, Charlie, and y/n together. He sure as hell didn’t know how y/n felt about Bella, she barely talked about her or the move. But he can vaguely remember the arguments Bella and Y/n would have.

“Are you excited about Bella?” Owen asked, breaking the silence. y/n didn’t take her eyes off the screen as she simply shrugged. “I guess I am…we’re not that close”

“It should be fine right?” Owen asked. Y/n smiled and nodded. “Of course , everything will be great”

She didn’t know who she was trying to reassure, herself or owen. All she knew was Bella was moving in and they were starting school. She dreaded going to the damn school. She was smart for her age and a good student but she didn’t want all the pitty and sad stairs.

Her thoughts were cut off as her phone buzzed her a notification. She looked down and saw it was her other cousin sam. She smiled immediately, it was like an invasion she didn’t realize she needed till now. She realized she needed a reason other than school or bella to get out of the house.

--------( ....... )-------- --------( ....... )--------

“Game night at Emily’s, you and Owen in?” - sam

“Sure, be over in a few” - y/n

--------( ....... )-------- --------( ....... )--------

Owen looked at her as he slowly chewed on some popcorn. “Who’s that?”

“Sam, we’re going ove for game night” she said getting up. Owen mentally jumped for joy at the thought of leaving the same four walls he spent so much time in.

“You mean we’re finally getting out of the house!? Yes!” he said fist pumping in the air but immediately stopped when something slightly important crossed his mind. “Wait..what about Bella and Charlie?”

y/n shrugged as she pulled her leather jacket on. “We’ll leave a note.. And Bella doesn't need a welcoming committee, she probably doesn't even want to come”

Owen nodded as he set the now empty bowl and grabbed his own coat and his(y/n) video camera.

The siblings entered her forgotten impala as they climbed in and y/n started the engine her heart started moving faster than a weed eater as the engine rumbled and Elvis presley’s “all shook up” played. She stopped for a moment and gripped the steering wheel as she spaced out.

“n/n?” Owen said softly but he didn’t receive an answer.

“y/n '' he nudged her, knocking her back to reality. She hummed a response and looked over at her little brother. “You okay? We can ask one of the boys to pick us up if you don't want to drive”

She quickly shook her head and put the car in reverse. “Im fine, let's roll” she said as the siblings set off on their adventure.

--------( ....... )--------

“y/n!” Paul shouted as he happily raced out the door and engoled y/n into a hug the second she left her impala. She giggled and hung onto him as he spun her around. “Damn, i missed you”

She smiled as he set her down. “I missed you too pauley” Owen got out of the car and fist-bumped Paul. “How's it goin’ kid?”

y/n raised an eyebrow and awkwardly chuckled. “You're in a good mood '' Paul smiled and wrapped his arm around her. “Can i just be happy to see my bestest friend” she laughed and playfully hit him in the chest as they entered Emily’s rustic home.

She smiled as she smelled fried chicken and cinnamon rolls in the air. She looked around the familiar home as boyish laughter filled the air.

“Look who's back!” Jared beamed.

“Finally coming out of hibernation?” Embry asked which got him a smack upside the head by Sam. as insensitive as the question was given the circumstances it didn’t bother y/n one bit, she was just glad to be around her old friends.

“Hay, sammy” y/n smiled as she hugged her cousin. Sam and y/n are related through her mother. She was a Uley and the little sister of Sam’s absent father. The two were close and alway had each other's backs. He was there when the grieving was heavy which resulted in phasing into the pure white wolf she is now. She was always there to tell him he wasn’t the monster he thought he was.

Sam ruffled Owen’s hair as he led them into the kitchen where Emily had prepared a buffet of finger food for game night.

“Hey sweety” she smiled and hugged me. “I missed you so much”

After the rest of the guest arrived, jacob and the clearwater kids the group ate all of Emily’s good food.

The night was full of laughter and that was saying a lot considering y/n hasn't laughed this hard in a while. The night consisted of different board games and card games. Uno was unfortunately cut short after Jared tackled Jacob to the ground for giving him three +4 cards but then the group agreed to play monopoly but that also turned into a friendly argument.

It was around midnight when y/n and Owen got a call telling them it was time to come home. Paul offered to drive them home as y/n was still nervous to drive in the darker times of the night.

“So..school starts tomorrow right?” Paul whispered so he didn’t wake up Owen who was asleep in the back seat. y/n nodded with a frown. “Yeah…fun, fun”

“Too bad you're not going to school on the reservation…at least you’d know someone” Paul said.

“I'll be okay, I have Bella and an old friend of mine…it's Owen I'm worried about” she said mumbling the last part as she looked over her shoulder at the back seat.

“Everything should be fine,” Y/n said, forcing a smile.

“I hope so,” Paul added.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Snow Globes and Forgiveness

Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 3194

Warnings: wincest, cursing, m/m kissing, frottage, my attempt at flangst

For: @thepromiscuousduck @spnfanficpond Secret Santa exchange 2023

A/N: set after 15.19 & in this AU 15.20 doesn’t happen

A/N II: Apologies to all other participants for taking so long. Between a last minute switch, couldn’t rewrite until after new year & had a rebound of a bad respiratory virus that’s keep me mostly offline last few weeks.

A/N III: once again, brevity doesn’t exist in my vocabulary

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @firefly-graphics

*gif credit to creator

Sam Winchester has never been big on the holidays.

Let’s start with a specific Halloween party and his disastrous bobbing for apples incident involving a girl he liked. Then there was that one Thanksgiving he’d been invited to by another girl who turned out to have hands like an octopus and spent the whole dinner, as his brother so eloquently put it, playing footsie with brace-face, not three feet from her dad.

Not to mention, others celebrated, or not, Winchester style; his dad either missed it entirely or showed up with a bucket of extra crispy from the colonel and passed out on a couch. The best was that one Christmas before Dean went to hell a few months later.

But this year was going to be different.

They’d been adjusting to normality reasonably well. Okay, so Dean is the one adjusting better in some respects and said since it’s the brothers' first non-Chuck Christmas, they had to make it extra special. Sam knows this was Dean’s way of trying to make up for all the shitty holidays during their childhood. And knowing his brother, he’s envisioning emulating Mrs. Butters, the wood nymph they accidentally released in the bunker, Jam Packed holiday extravaganza she’d done those few weeks before leaving.

While Dean was getting the tree (Sam would’ve bet more likely grabbing the first one he saw before hitting the liquor store), he sent Sam to pick out ornaments. Sam was trying to make an effort and found himself standing in the middle of a smaller retail chain store's Christmas section, overwhelmed by the sheer number of choices and feeling like a freak for not knowing what to get outside lights and colorful balls.

“First Christmas together?”

Sam’s head swiveled around, “Umm, I’m sorry?” The person who spoke said, “You’ve got that whole I’ve got no freaking idea what I’m doing look, so I took a guess it’s your first Christmas with your girlfriend…wife?”

“Uh, no, no girlfriend or wife.”

“Ahh, boyfriend.” Sam was about to correct their assumption when they continued, “That can be trickery,” and gave him the once over. “I’m guessing he’s not into frills and bows. You should head to the Christmas Market two blocks south of here. There are always booths selling unique or vintage items for the Holiday. Probably find something more appealing than this mass-produced crap.”

After one more glance, Sam thanked them and texted Dean where to meet up with him later, then headed out of the storefront and strolled down the street. He soon hears jolly holiday music and smells enticing scents wafting before entering the colorfully illuminated European style Market and is hit with the sense he’d been here before.

Sam shook his head, feeling ridiculous. Of course, he’d never been here before, but something about this place kept nagging at his memories of familiarity when the irresistible scent of hot, minty chocolate beckoned. After indulging in a creamy, decadent drink decorated with a soft peppermint stick, he walked around, taking in the wares for sale.

At one booth, he found strands of original bubble lights and instantly knew they’d appeal to Dean and his oft-denied inner child; another yielded hand-strung garlands and got popcorn and cranberry ones with instructions on storing them for future use. Sometime later, Sam is laden with so many packages and bags that even his long arms are having trouble juggling them when he sees an elderly woman seated by a table with a simple stand of lights.

The hunter in him was always looking for anything unusual which fit the bill. Smiling politely at the woman when approaching, Sam studied the few antique-looking items and decided they seemed innocuous and relaxed. He spotted an old snow globe, picked it up, and sardonically smiled at how it looked diminutive in his large hand and began examining it.

Sam took time to appreciate its craftsmanship. Its base was silver with hand-worked engravings and an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Giving it a shake, Sam watched the artificial snow gently drift over a scene of a log cabin snugly ensconced among evergreens and bare-limbed trees. He got that feeling again. Impulsively, he asked how much he was surprised not to have to haggle over the price.

Carefully taking the globe in her gnarled hands, the woman told Sam that it was crafted in the country of her birth but didn’t specify where. She carefully inserted it into an equally old wooden box, telling him it was explicitly constructed to house the globe to keep it safe during its travels. Sam hears rumbling and glances around, spotting an old pickup parking not far off, and turns back to find the woman has disappeared.

Frowning, he placed the box in a bag, gathered up the rest of his purchases, walked to the waiting vehicle, deposited the items in the crowded truck bed, and then climbed in noticed Dean peering through the cab's back window, “Couldn’t find any more stuff, Sam?” “Couldn’t find a bigger tree, Dean?” His brother says nothing while backing the truck up, “Good thing I got all that to decorate it with then.”

Dean grunted as he set his end into the tree stand and, catching his breath, huffed out, “This would’ve been the time to use some of those witchy tricks, Sam.”

“Or maybe a good time to start working out more and cut back on the burgers and pie?” Sam shot back. “Wadda you talking about?” Dean snapped defensively, “I’m in great shape!” Sam gives him bitchface and says, “Keep telling yourself that Dean.“

Squatting down to affix the supports to the tree, Sam continues. ”You got winded just carrying this down the stairs. We have to face it: neither of us is getting any younger. We had this conversation not long after dealing with Chuck. Yes, we’ll enjoy the everyday things we couldn’t before. But if we’re doing something or on a hunt and get seriously injured, Cas isn’t here to help. And you know Jack is hands-off, so we’ve ….”

“Whatever, Sam.” Dean interrupted, unsuccessfully tamping down his that hurt but not gonna acknowledge it look. “I’m going to take my out-of-shape self and get the rest of the stuff from the car. Unless you’re worried I might, I don’t know, fall and break a hip.”

“Dean, that’s not what I,” but his brother just left, and Sam sighed, knowing he’d put his foot in it again, trying not to express his true feelings. Since they got their freedom from the manipulations of heaven, hell, and all the other things that went bump in the night, the feelings he’d buried and thought were over had come back.

Before he said yes to Lucifer, Dean acknowledged Sam was an adult, and he needed to stop being overprotective. But there is a part, deep down, in both Winchesters that is psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent. That part in Sam is one hundred percent positive that if Dean found out, he’d be so disgusted by what a perverted freak he indeed was forcing Dean would cut him out of his life forever.

The bunker's door banged shut, and at the bottom of the stairs, Sam paused on the last tread, watching the scene playing out before him in the war room.

“Oh, come on,” Dean grumbles at an ornament, refusing to stay on a branch of the mostly decorated tree. He lets it go, and it begins coming off again. “That’s it, I’m getting my gun.”

Sam couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “Maybe I should’ve gotten some floaters and air fresheners instead?” He can see Dean mulling over that memory, “They were great.” Peering over at his brother, he asks, “Where did you disappear to? Thought you were going to help.”

Sam held up a grocery bag, “A peace offering? I know you aren’t going to change your habits, but I'm hoping we can compromise, at least when we’re not hunting. It’s 90% lean beef, and the pie,” Dean's whole face lit up, “Is made with almond flour and natural sourced sugar.”

Trading the wayward ornament for the bag, Dean states, “You deal with this,” Sam shakes his head when he hears, “Meatman coming to town” and sets about finishing the tree.

After cleaning up, the brothers sit in the library, drinking beer and watching an old Christmas movie playing on a laptop, when Dean casually inquires, “So what’s with the box?” Sam frowned before realizing he meant and remembered leaving the item sitting by the displayed swords. “It’s ahh, well,” Sam stammers as he retrieves the box, sets it on the table, and lifts the wooden lid. Dean raised an eyebrow at the contents, “Something you need to tell me, Samantha?” he snarks, removing the snow globe.

“I’m not sure why, but I'm drawn to it.” Dean frowned at his brothers' words and took a closer look. “What’s the saying?” He asked, pointing to an inscription on the base. “Not sure. I think it's a form of an older Germanic dialect. I was going to translate it later.”

Since nothing is screaming cursed object, Dean shakes it, making the snow swirl before setting it on the table, picking up his beer, and resuming watching the movie. He could feel Sam suspiciously eyeballing him asks, “What, Sam?” But Sam simply sighed, knowing his brother wouldn’t let it go. And sure enough…

“Did Santa ask if you were a good boy this year?”

Sam glances around trying to figure out where he’s at since a moment ago he was in the laundry and now starting at his decades younger self reclining against a headboard reading he hears his, their, name and watches himself huff in displeasure and getting up proceeds to trip over his own feet.

Following himself down a wood-paneled hallway, they enter a shabbily furnished living room, and spots his brother watching his younger self standing by a wood-burning kitchen stove. “Dean?” Turning, green eyes boggle, seeing Sam standing next to his own younger visage.

“What the hell you’d do, Sam?” Dean’s gravelly voice snapped and got Sam’s back up. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?!” Dean looks at their younger doppelgängers arguing about something when young Sam stomps to a rickety kitchen table, plopping down on an equally rickety chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at its sacred top.

“Man, I forgot how bad your emoing could get,” Dean offhandedly commented, returning his attention to his brother, eyes hooded. “You were working in the library, so it's not hard to deduce you deciphered some curse cause now,” chucking his thumb toward the window, “We’re in the damn snow globe!”

Sam shot off bitchface #37, “It’s not a curse! I determined the words are an idiom. Слова не воробьи, как только они улетели, их уже не поймать.”

“Can you put that in English for those who don’t speak geek?”

“Words are not sparrows; once they have flown they cannot be recaptured.”

Dean got his running it over in my brain expression, “Yeah, I got nothing.” Sam concurred, “It didn’t make sense to me at first. But then I found a maker's mark hidden in the engravings. The records said they were a tradesman and spiritual alchemist.”

“What do idiot words have to do with Nicolas Flamel?” Sam's lips pursed, “Idiom Dean. And you know who Nicholas Flamel was?”

“Yeah, college boy, he created the philosopher's stone, turning metal into gold and some immortality elixir.” Sam waited. “He was in that Harry Potter movie, alright? What does that have to do with why we were here?”

“Okay, hear me out. Spiritual alchemy believers follow various paths to achieve the same goal, believing that, like metal, one’s soul can be transformed through stages of purification.” Sam began explaining the stages, and by the third, Dean heard enough.

“You're saying all the crap we’ve dealt with from heaven to hell has done some kinda colonic on our souls.” Sam began to speak, “Shut up, I’m on a role here. And if we take that idiom literally, one or both of us said something wrong and the idiom-alchy-snow globe Ghost of Christmas Past us to complete this whatever stage with an apology?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Great! Let’s figure out where here is, get to apologizing and the hell outta this glass ball.” Spying a discarded newspaper Dean tries picking up found he isn’t corporal. “Seriously?” Tipping his head sideways, he says, “Okay, December 22, 1999. We’re in Michigan..or Wisconsin?”

“Dean, what if it's something so bad there’s no way we can ask for forgiveness?”

That response made Dean's eyes narrow. “Sam, you need to tell me something?” His brother shook his head, but every warning signal in Dean was blaring like the bunker klaxon. He’d bet his entire collection of Busty Asian Beauties that Sam knew why that damn snow globe sent them here, but he was keeping it to himself for reasons.

Dean decided to hold his cards and play ignorant for a while longer. “Dude, what haven’t we done and forgiven each other for?”

Turning his attention to their younger selves made Dean feel a sense of nostalgia, missing how less complicated their lives seemed, even with the daily dose of Sam Winchester teen angst, which he always made up for.

Like now, offering to buy hot chocolate and giant pretzels triggered a memory, and the next moment, Dean was among a crowd wandering through the lighted tunnel entrance, following the loop by the salute to the armed forces towards the live reindeer exhibit.

“I remember this!” Dean exclaimed, “Dad left us in Somerset, Wisconsin, and were you all pissy ‘cause I kept giving you crap about this place’s name- Sam’s Christmas Village.”

“What else do you remember, Dean?”

They make a pit stop at the concessions, and while Sam is paying, Dean pulls out his flask, adding a double dollop to Sam’s. The kid needed to loosen up, then exchanged the cup for a pretzel with a smirk.

“This was the first time we got drunk together. Man, you were hilarious! Kept bugging me to go sledding,” Deans said, “And you fell off halfway down and laid there trying to catch snowflakes on your tongue.” Surrounded by softly falling snow tinted in hues of blues, greens, and reds, the brothers experience a memory trace of what happened that night.

Laughter fills the air as Dean staggers over, flopping on his back next to Sam, smiling at him when Sam’s expression changes and Sam leans over, his eyes' kaleidoscope colors disappearing into thin rings around dilated dark pupils as his fingertips caress the smooth, cinnamon-freckled skin and plush lips he was aching for when Dean pulled him tightly against him, noticing an unmistakable hard bulge pressing into his upper thigh as Sam instinctively started rocking his hips, seeking friction for his growing hard-on.

Dean feels his cock straining inside his jeans, slides one arm around Sam’s waist, another reaching behind him to cradle the back of his skull, angles his mouth up so he can drive his tongue into Sam’s mouth, feeling him suck on it with a sharp pull that shoots straight to his cock when wolf whistles from sledders passing by startled them caused Dean to bolt upright and dump Sam onto his butt.

Abruptly getting up, Dean grabbed the ropes of both sleds and dragged them downhill, leaving his brother perplexed. Scrambling to his feet, Sam rushes after, inquiring what happened, but Dean only responds that they need to head out before the roads ice over too much. The silent intensity of the drive back is broken only by music playing through the Impala’s speakers. Sam initially thinks Dean is concentrating on the road due to his intoxication. But Dean’s chewing his bottom lip signals he’s upset, and the knot in Sam’s stomach tells him to stay quiet.

Shutting the cabin door, Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean beats him to it, saying he overstepped boundaries that shouldn’t have been and won’t let it happen again. In a panic, Sam blurts out how his strange feelings for years were crystal clear.

“I love you, Dean, and want us to be together…like together together.” Dean shakes his head, “It’s the whiskey making you talk nonsense.” Sam’s stubborn streak surfaces, infuriating Dean, who shoves him back against the door and shouts in his face.

“Stop acting like a freak and go sleep it off!”

Sam feels like an ice pick is entering the base of his skull, and his stomach twists, knowing he’s the reason the person he cares most about in the entire world; he cares about more than himself is reacting like this, watching Dean disappear down the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut. He fucked up royally, and suddenly his life was a mess when it seemed all was about to align an hour ago, making Sam wants to scream, to throw up.

Moving on autopilot, Sam shuts his room door, grabs his duffel, and haphazardly throws his belongings into it. Then, opening the window, he slips out and trudges back to town, heading for the bus station. By the time he arrives, his feet are so numb he shuffles across the linoleum flooring to the counter, setting most of his hoarded money down asked for the furthest distinction it’ll take him.

A short time later, the bus pulls out onto the main highway heading west as Sam leans against his window, wondering how everything outside seems so normal when his world has imploded. Dean turns his attention from the younger visage before him to the mature man beside him.

“This is why you ran away to Flagstaff.”

“You were right about me being a freak all along.”

Dean shakes his head, “No, Sam, it was my fault. I tried so hard to keep what I felt hidden, but that night..,” Sam's burst of laughter made Dean bark, “You think that’s funny?”

Eyes that never settled their color, hardened by the decades of horrors they’d lived through, were now gazing at him with unworldliness a thirteen-year-old Dean, after confirming everything in their dad’s journal was true, helplessly watched flame out like dying embers.

“No, Dean. The snow globe brought us back for the dissolution stage, dissolving false beliefs. We’ve been at cross purposes all these years for the same reason, each of us thinking we are the problem and the only way out is to no longer deny our feelings.”

Lifting his hand, Sam hesitated to let his fingertips explore the older, but still, so much loved, freckled skin again when Dean shifted, reaching his still-strong hand to cradle the back of his brother’s skull, angling his mouth up and breathed out against his lips.

“Sammy, we’re good.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl