#creepy spooky reader anyone?

[danger-bird]

"Obedience suits you, sparrow."

Ok,ok... listen....hear me out....... This story has been buzzing, festering in my hippocampus since yesteday, and now that I had time I slammed it out on a keyboard. It IS my OC-incert, so it's not technically an Ais x gn!reader, but I did avoid names in case a few crazy eyes, possession and a light sprinkle of amnesia is no biggie... Have fun, okie byee❤️ *scampers off , hides in their cave*

“Obedience suits you, Sparrow.”

Their small talk turned into a teasing banter quickly enough. They’ve been having a sneaking suspicion his worrying about them “almost dying again, running into a Soulless, or another roughneck”, is just him finding excuses to spend more time together. Not that they mind - even with his escorts, the walks always end too quickly.

They bark out a laugh as they turn a corner, slipping into the twisting backstreets behind the Wick. The night is cold, moonless - there are very few people outside, walking around the city.

“Since when? Either way, blind obedience is no fun - I thought you liked a challenge.”

It would be pitch black if not for the light seeping through the windows of the houses lining the narrow alleys. It’s dark – but not dark enough to miss the smirk stretching over his face.

“I do. Making it a challenge, then?”

“Do you want me to make it a challenge?” - they tease and peer up at his face, waiting for a reaction. His expression shifts somehow, but they can’t quite place in what way. He looks at them quietly, not saying anything, so they shift their gaze ahead and shake their head with an exhale, a light smile on their lips.

“Sparrows have been given wings to fly, Ais. I’ll never give you obedience like this.”

He gives a weak smile that drops immediately. His expression is unreadable. They hurry a few steps forward, trying to avoid his unnerving gaze.

He slows down, feeling his thoughts rippling at the edges, unfurling like a loose-knit cloth. His consciousness gradually sinks backwards as he quickly loses sensation in his skin, his hands, his face. The realization hits a moment too late.

Numbly, he can feel another presence emerging forward - a looming darkness casting an impenetrable shadow over his mind, wrapping its sticky tendrils around hazy thoughts, a horrible dread reaching forward…

In an instant, a sharp pain splits through his head, his awareness violently yanked forward like being pulled out of water. A low chime reverberates through his mind, overwhelming his senses… and keeping only his thoughts in focus, drowning out any other to barely a whisper.

“You can’t just take someone’s free will. You certainly can’t have mine. You can earn loyalty, my friendship… but that’s not the way to do it.”

They turn back to look at him, eyes radiating an unnatural shimmer: the color of blazing hot sunlight beaming off of molten gold. In the dim alleyway, their glow is bright enough to cast a light over their face, making their solemn expression that much more unsettling. Any other voices are now nothing more than a muffled babble. Their quiet, serene voice is stretching and twisting, almost splitting in two as it barely coalesces into an audible sound. Despite that, their words ring loud and crystal-clear in his head.

“A good heart means nothing without conviction… and a heart without conviction cannot be helped by anybody. Until your heart finds the conviction to seek out its own goodness, don’t come looking for mine.”

They turn around and take a few steps forward, stopping right before turning a corner and speaking quietly, still facing the street ahead.

“…Loyalty is not the same as obedience. It’ll do you good to learn the difference.”

They disappear behind the corner of a building without so much as looking back. The alley suddenly feels cold again, a drift whistling through the narrow streets between buildings and pouring onto the main street ahead. The dim light from a lone lamppost on the corner shivers before flickering out completely.

.

.

.

When they enter the Wet Wick, their head is swimming, unable to remember what happened after the alarming sense of unease washed over them back there. Mind still hazy, they drag themselves to the bar when Leander calls them over, Kuras keeping an eye on them as they approach.

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Mr. Crawling x gender!neutral!reader, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 800 words. I wrote this just now, I wasn't planning on writing for him so soon but I couldn't help myself. I hope those of you that know of him enjoy it. ♡

It all started at those stupid abandoned apartments. Your friends dared you to go in, and for some reason you did it. Sure it was spooky inside but there really wasn't any threat. Only when you got lost and wandered around the building for hours, trying to find an exit. 

While you were in the building you felt like someone was watching you. Occasionally spotting a shadow moving out of the corner of your eye, or hearing the sound of something shuffling on the floor. 

However, even after you left the building, you still felt like someone was watching you—every second of every day. This feeling was stronger while you were at home, but it would linger out in public, too. 

It was strongest though when you were trying to go to sleep. In your bedroom, with the lights off, and no sound but the night outside your window. You tried to ignore it, not let it get to you, but you'd be lying if you said it hadn't kept you awake most nights. Only falling asleep when your fatigue was too much to ignore. 

And tonight was no different. You lay in your bed desperately trying to get some rest but the feeling of someone else in your room keeps you awake. 

“You okay?” a strange voice calls to you from the darkness. You have no idea what it said but you're certain you couldn't have imagined the sound. 

You shoot up from your bed to see where the sound came from, but you don't see anyone. 

“H-Hello?” you mutter in a shaky voice.

Suddenly a head pops up from beside your bed, “Hello!” A high-pitched giggle emits from the creature's mouth, a sound that doesn't match its appearance. 

The head rises, and it grips the side of your bed with cold-looking hands. Pulling itself onto the bed with its arms instead of standing up and climbing on normally. 

You scream at the sight, instinctively backing away.

The creature frowns, “You scared?” it says as it retreats slightly, “Me sorry.” It has an apologetic tone in its voice, but it's speaking some kind of language you're unable to understand.

It doesn't come closer, staying at a distance so as to not startle you further. As the panic slowly subsides, you take a closer look at the creature. 

It looks like a man, but his hair is extremely long. Stark black and has a silky straight texture - hanging in front of his face and covering his eyes. Though you can see blood on his skin where it looks like his eyes should be. His skin is pale grey, and void of any warmth. And his clothes, though hard to see since he hasn't stood yet, appear to be a tattered black Yukata perhaps? 

He stares back at you with a wide grin. It's that smile that makes him look creepy and inhuman. Though not entirely unfriendly. 

“Wh-who are you?” you whimper, “What do you want?”

He tilts his head to the side like a curious puppy. It seems like he doesn't understand what you're saying. 

“Me not hurt you,” he smiles, reaching out his hand to pat your head. 

You flinch at his touch, not sure what he just said or what his intentions are. Though he doesn't seem malicious. He may look scary but he hasn't shown any hostility when he's certainly had the opportunity to. 

“Um,” you try to think of what to say to him, “Are you the one that's been watching me?”

“...?” he tilts his head again.

“N-Never mind,” you smile awkwardly, “Erm, I'm going to go to sleep, ok? You can sleep on the couch if you want to stay…”

You put your hands together and make a sleeping motion on your pillow, trying to tell him you want to sleep. 

“Rest?” he looks at the pillow then back to you, “Alright. We rest!”

With a smile he lays his head on the pillow next to yours, looking at you expectantly. 

“N-No! I mean - you can sleep on the couch, not in my bed!” 

He just smiles, your words going in one ear and out the other. 

“Ok, fine,” you sigh and lay down beside him, “You can sleep here I guess…”

You try to sleep, but you can feel him staring at you. And when you open your eyes to see that wide smile of his, it doesn't help. So you turn around, facing your back to him. “G-Goodnight,” you mutter. 

“You rest bed… Me rest bed,” he mumbles, “Me grateful.”

You don't know what he just said, but for some reason, you feel safer with him by your side. Who or what he is is still a mystery. For all you know, this could just be another dream.

But a part of you really hopes that it isn't…

[coffee-and-geto]

“WHO YOU GONNA CALL? CURSEHUNTER!”

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.” “What?!” “Unless you offer other methods of payment. I’m flexible by nature, though.”

pairing: curse hunter! toji fushiguro x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: for halloween, you and your group of friends — where your boyfriend has taken a break from your relationship — decide to spend the evening in an old mansion turned into a hotel. with a rather strange staff and weird things going on in the mansion, everything leads you to end up calling a specialist to the situation — toji, the curse hunter for your evening can do his job, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook so easily when you can’t afford him…

warnings: +18 ONLY, smut, nsfw, AU with curses, haunted house, (slight) angst, cheating because the reader has an (ex) boyfriend but he’s a cheater, utahime makes an appearance, sex (p in v), squirting, oral (f! receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, fingering (f! receiving), overstimulation, lot of teasing, doggy + missionary positions, size kink.

wc: 5,963

“Wow!”

“It’s a really scary décor!” comments one of your friends, covering her mouth as her jaw drops in surprise.

“Same for the staff,” you add with a frown, glancing around at the spooky theme that’s everywhere—the walls, the bedrooms, even the kitchen and living room. But you can’t ignore how strange the staff in the lobby were when you all checked in for your rooms.

“Don’t be silly, it’s all part of the ambiance.” Your boyfriend nudges you playfully with his elbow, flashing his usual smirk, but this time it doesn’t work. You’re so tired of him.

“And she’s right,” snaps Utahime, who links her arm with yours to pull you further away from the annoying duo made up of one of your friends and your boyfriend. “But of course, coming from you…” She scrunches her nose, looking annoyed.

You sigh. “It’s fine, Hime, I can handle it—”

“This jerk needs a scare big enough to make him crap his pants, believe me,” she interrupts, gently tugging you along as she takes the lead to find your bedroom. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You glance back toward the rooms of the others, including your boyfriend, then look forward with a disappointed pout. His attention should be on you, not anyone else—it should be shining like a star for you, not for some friend.

“Do you think the story about this manor is true?” you whisper when Utahime finally finds room 311-1.

She shakes her head but hurries to unlock the door, casting nervous glances at the dim hallway lights, which are anything but reassuring. “The point is to get us in the mood, obviously, but the staff went a bit too hard with the costumes…”

Finally, you both step into the room, where the soft, victorian decor makes your friend sigh with relief.

“At least the room itself isn’t weird,” she laughs, relaxing a little.

You smile faintly, taking in the shared bedroom. “Yeah, not too bad.”

In the next hour, the two of you have fun picking apart the manor’s ambiance, spinning wild theories about the place. Your mood lifts again, and since you already had dinner on the way here, at least you don’t have to worry about the creepy staff involving you in some haunted-house-style horror event.

Or worse, poisoning you.

But what a ridiculous idea, right?

There’s no reason for that. No one would do that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come.

~~~~

Why always you?

Of course. Your brain had to convince you, “No danger; they haven’t announced a Halloween night event yet!”

“You will be paired up in twos by random draw,” a staff member dressed as the Joker announces cheerfully, handing out small slips of paper with numbers and a map that looks much like a pirate’s treasure map, but is actually the hotel floor plan. “When you enter the first room — different for each pair — you’ll find an object and a riddle that will indicate which room is next.”

He bounces slightly in front of the reception desk, nearly giddy with excitement, which is unsettling given the blood-red lines around the corners of his mouth.

“This means that whoever finds the most hidden spots will win a prize at the end of the night,” he concludes, looking over your group one by one. “But be careful — this mansion has a spooky history, and some ghosts may come to visit!” He laughs, joined by a few others.

As you examine your number, you look around for your boyfriend, hoping to have drawn the same number so you can spend some time with him despite the break he recently put on your relationship. But no.

One of your friends — Nami, the one who’d commented on the decor — is already giggling beside him, paying no attention to you or the boundaries she’s crossing with her little “friendly” touches.

You inhale deeply, trying to ignore the sharp sting of jealousy. Just then, Utahime leans over your shoulder, checking your number. “Hey, looks like we’re together!”

You let a smile spread over your face and head with her to the first floor, where the first prize is hidden.

“I hope they didn’t hire any actors to scare us, or I might just hurt someone,” you mutter darkly, the dim lighting and ornate wallpaper in the hallways sending a chill down your spine.

“Same,” Utahime chuckles softly, pulling out a small flashlight. She switches it on and shines it ahead. “This should help, right? Check the map.”

You do, studying the hallway details on the paper to get your bearings. “Yeah, we’re close to room 456,” you say, looking up.

In a long walk that feels like it stretches out forever, Utahime and you move at the same steady pace, maintaining a comfortable distance, wrapped in silence as though no one else is on any floor.

“We’re here,” you announce as Utahime shines her light on the brass plaque for room 456.

You open the door carefully, flicking on the light, and catch a vague movement out of the corner of your eye near the edge of the sitting area. You snap your head in that direction, but there’s nothing.

“Did they set up special effects?” you wonder aloud.

“Probably,” Utahime reassures you, heading towards a bookshelf where a velvet-covered box with emerald and gold accents catches her eye. She grabs it, opening it to find a slip of parchment and a key.

You take a more careful look around the room, inspecting every corner, and almost miss what Utahime has found until she calls out to you.

“Next room, here we come!” she says happily.

~~~~

“Is it just me, or have we been walking for a while?” you remark after several minutes of silence, back in the hallway but on the second floor this time.

“Yeah, feels like it.” Utahime swings her flashlight around, lighting up the walls, curtains, and carpet in the dimly lit halls. It’s as if the already faint lights were growing even weaker.

BANG!

Both of you jump, turning in unison towards the unknown source of the noise.

“Fuck,” Utahime curses, “them and their damn effects.”

You exhale a shaky breath meant to calm your still-racing heart, but the cold breath on the back of your neck isn’t helping. “Utahime, is that you—” You turn to look at your friend, who’s cautiously moving closer to you, when a piercing female scream echoes throughout the hotel.

“Can we cancel this night?” Utahime doesn’t wait for your answer, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a frantic sprint down the corridors, where more and more doors seem to open and close on their own.

Then, suddenly, something grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the darkness.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re half-sprawled on the floor in partial darkness, with only the faint candlelight the hotel keeps in the eerie corridors as a precaution. You stand up immediately, pulling out your phone in an attempt to send a message to your friends’ group chat, but no one is active.

You then try to call reception, your eyes scanning an environment that no longer feels amusing in the slightest. This has to be part of the game.

Doesn’t it?

But after several rings, no one picks up.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter.

You resign yourself to finding a door, a room, or anything that could help you call the police or figure out a way to avoid getting caught by a real ghost in this creepy manor.

Your gaze scans the walls, your phone’s light barely illuminating the darkest corners due to its low battery. And the only thing that stands out is a notice pinned to the wall that has you scrambling to get your phone out again.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY DURING THE HALLOWEEN HUNT, IF THE RECEPTION DOESN’T RESPOND, CALL THIS NUMBER:

You dial it, barely caring who it might reach given the seriousness of your situation.

After the second ring, someone picks up, their tone filled with mocking amusement and a hint of nonchalance:

“Hello?”

You’re saved.

~~~~

Back to square one — you’re anything but saved.

“This is the emergency response?” you spit out, feeling lost and baffled as you stand before a man approaching you about twenty minutes after a more-than-frustrating phone call.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with toned muscles and an arrogance that seeps from every pore of his skin.

“Toji Fushiguro, at your service, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, giving a slight bow, a smug smile stretching the scar across his mouth.

“And you are…?”

“A curse hunter — don’t ask too many questions, I’m used to it,” he cuts you off, striding past without a glance. “Just follow me.”

You stand there, speechless, frozen to see if he’ll react, but he just keeps whistling and walking.

You were in deep trouble.

Reluctantly, you catch up, glaring at him coldly as he gives you a quick glance. “Do you have the money?”

“That’s really all you care about?” you retort bitterly. “Isn’t the hotel supposed to cover emergencies like this? We’re all lost, and—”

“Careful!!” Toji pushes you against the wall, pulling out a unique sword with a red and gold hilt and slashing it sharply through the air.

Nothing seems to have been hit at the moment, but the distinct sound of the slice is unmistakable.

“So, it wasn’t a joke when they said there were ghosts?”

“Curses,” he corrects, sheathing his weapon. He surveys the rest of the hallway and looks up at the ceiling. “They’re on the floor above.”

Several minutes later, you’re there, with high-pitched screams filling the air; among them, you recognize Utahime’s and some of your other friends. You start to rush to her, but Toji grabs you by the waist.

“Hold up!” he tuts, looking a bit more serious. “The lady stays here.”

“But my friend is in there!” you protest, struggling to break free.

“What a little firebrand!” Toji grumbles, pinning you against the wall. His warm breath brushes your face, and you hold back the urge to kick him. When he breathes in to speak, your intoxicating scent fills his nose. “I’m the pro here, got it? I’ll save your friend, and then we’ll talk about the price.” He releases you when you hold his gaze firmly enough to make him trust you.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll make you eat every one of your damn curses, okay?”

He snorts before disappearing down the corridor.

In the next hour, all the curses are quickly neutralized — even if no one actually sees them, their heavy, lingering “presence” was enough to give away what was happening.

“Most people went back to their rooms,” Toji informs you, guiding you toward your floor.

“That was fast.”

“As usual,” he sighs, hands in his pockets.

“Why isn’t the staff responding?” you ask, feeling more reassured and open to conversation now.

“It’s a real haunted manor, so they know that when you play, you just risk being bugged by the curses, nothing more.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone to check the time, and you mentally slap yourself for noticing how his forearm muscles flex slightly. “Plus those fuckers are never there on time to pay me, even though they require my services.”

“Oh, right, your payment…” You avert your eyes, walking past your room without entering. Maybe it’s best to go look for the staff…right?

“I only take cash,” Toji says, putting his phone away. “And I charge by the half-hour.”

You blink, swallowing nervously because you know you lied earlier on the phone when he told you the amount he typically earns per job.

“…Yeah?”

He chuckles softly, stopping to face you, while you do the same. Up close, he’s breathtaking — his emerald-green eyes, sharply defined jaw, his whole form could have been sculpted from ice.

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.”

“What?!”

“Unless you’re offering alternative methods of payment. I’m flexible, by nature,” he adds ironically.

Your face falls, and you try to stay calm, knowing you’re in real trouble if he realizes you barely have enough for a can of soda.

“Great, so, I’m going to get paid by a pretty lady, huh?” he whispers, leaning in dangerously close until your back gently hits the wall.

“Can’t you lower the price?” you ask, slightly flustered, forcing a smile to hide the panic clutching at your insides. “Maybe my friends and I can work something out to pay you.”

“But it’s the one who calls who pays,” Toji coos softly, lifting a hand to play with a strand of your hair. “They didn’t ask for anything.”

“But they were saved,” you insist, feeling like a pleading child trying to avoid punishment.

Toji gently shakes his head, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Maybe he’ll take care of it, then.”

“Yes, but…” You feel a chill at the mention of your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of the evening, “we need to find him. He’s probably asleep.”

“Describe him to me, I’ll tell you if he’s around,” Toji murmurs, and his words feel like a subtle threat as you describe him. His brow furrows. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?” Suddenly, your heart starts pounding faster.

What’s with that reaction?

He doesn’t respond, darting off down the hallway without waiting for you to catch up — though you do, anyway. It’s as if each step drives a knife deeper into your chest.

Please, don’t tell me they—

You freeze, stopping in front of a room with a slightly open door, where your boyfriend is indeed present.

But he’s not alone.

Perched above him on a sofa is Nami, straddling him, passionately kissing him. The worst part is seeing them smile at each other without noticing you, your boyfriend’s hands gently stroking his “friend’s” hips.

“They have been here since I came.”

You flutter your eyes closed.

Toji stands silently beside you. “So, he’s cheating on you, or am I wrong?” he murmurs, perhaps also feeling uncomfortable at the sight.

You step back, your chest tight, biting your lip. You hold back tears of both anger and hurt. It stings a thousand times more seeing your partner betray you like this rather than just admitting he no longer loves you, doesn’t it?

You look up at Toji, your eyes likely already red and gleaming.

No, this is definitely anger. You just want to let some curse devour him whole.

“I don’t have the money, sorry,” you admit through clenched teeth, turning on your heel to leave. “Do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Hey.” He loosely grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You barely turn back. You’re hurt, yes, but also furious that you didn’t end things with your boyfriend yourself. What a shame, right? It should’ve been you hurting him, not him hurting—

“You know what I see?” Toji takes a few steps toward you, a mocking smile on his lips. He leans in to speak near your ear, his well-built chest brushing against yours. “I see someone filled with rage. You want revenge, don’t you?”

But you’re in no mood to laugh.

He sighs, realizing his attempt at humor fell flat. “Alright, alright. Listen.” He stands in front of you, hands still in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “I’m not the best at comforting people, but… how about a deal?”

You blink.

“We’re both in an… awkward situation, you see. I need to get paid, and you’re on the brink of committing murder.” A smile spreads across his lips.

You still don’t smile.

“So,” he looks down, a bit distracted and uncomfortable despite his smug expression, “I wasn’t totally joking when I said I’d accept other forms of payment. Plus, I think your lil’ guy here needs someone to teach him a less—”

But you cut him off instantly, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt with both hands and pulling him toward you to crush your lips against his.

Toji, surprised for a second, quickly recovers, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer, his lips following yours, attempting to soothe the fury they carry in anger.

He moves backward with you, eyes closed as he pushes open another slightly ajar door to a room, kicking it shut behind him. He pulls back, watching you intently.

Your gaze softens oddly as it meets his. He raises an eyebrow, almost repeating his question from a minute ago, and you nod. “I accept,” you murmur, and his face lights up.

Leaning toward you again, his lips capture yours in another heated kiss that ignites with raw desire. “Fuck. What kind of boyfriend he is, huh?” Toji growls between breathless kisses. “With a girlfriend with lips this sweet, hmm?”

Your feet tangle with his, each step unsure, trying to avoid falling anywhere other than the softness of the couch. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but everything about Toji makes breathing impossible. “Toji, you—”

“Bet he’s got a small one, doesn’t he?” The blush flooding your face makes him smirk, his scar brushing your jaw as his mouth descends to your pulse. “Knew it.” He nips at your shoulder, his tongue darting out to leave a mark that’ll remind you of him for a good while.

“Toji, please—” you sigh, wincing in pleasure as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving two hickeys in his wake. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sweet sounds spilling out — especially when he brings his knee up between your legs, rubbing it sloppily against your heated core.

“Let ’em out, doll,” he mutters, his hands roaming across your chest slowly before he yanks, popping the buttons off and exposing your bare skin to him. “I want him to hear just how good I make you feel, how loud I can make you scream my name.”

He doesn’t even give you time to protest; he’s already unclasping your bra and kneading your soft breasts, leaving you arching with pleasure from his teasing alone. And if his hands can do this... what about his cock?

He takes his time, pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. You moan for real this time, back arching, chest heaving with quickened breaths. “Ahh— Wan’ more,” you whine, the sound going straight to his strained, clothed arousal.

“Am I the one who’s supposed to be saying that?” Toji laughs, enjoying the sight of you squirming and pouting under his teasing, his tongue swirling and rolling over one breast while his fingers toy with the other.

“Toji.”

He lifts his head, pulling his mouth from your breast with a wet pop and tilting his head to the side, that devilish grin still on his lips. “What is it, doll?” He doesn’t even bother wiping away the thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your sensitive nipple.

You writhe beneath him, trying to shimmy off your pants, but the tight space between you two makes the task more challenging than expected.

He chuckles — a rough sound — and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, trapping you beneath him. “Getting needy, are we? Looks like you need a hand,” he coos, sliding his thick fingers down your bare chest before slipping the tip of his finger under your waistband.

The touch is electrifying. Both infuriating and warm, as Toji tests your patience.

With his finger still just inside your clothing, he trails it down to your hips before stopping. “Lift your hips for me.” You obey, his low “good girl” making your poor core clench around nothing. His finger is soon joined by the rest of his hand, and he easily slides it down to remove your pants in one smooth motion. “There you go…”

“When I said I wanted more, I meant here,” you mumble, glancing down at the small damp patch in the center of your panties, so exposed for him.

“Naughty, huh?” Toji releases your wrists, kneeling down between your thighs. He grips your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing firmly, leaving slight indents in your skin. “So pretty, so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, kissing and nibbling until you’re gasping.

“You— You’re teasing,” you pant, burying your fingers in his dark hair, tugging lightly when he brushes his nose against your puffy clit through the damp fabric.

“I am,” he admits, laying the flat of his tongue over the wet patch before inhaling. “Smells and tastes so good, doll.” And your cheeks go flush again as he quickly strips your panties off and tosses them onto the couch’s headrest.

“Sh-shut up!”

“You’re adorable when I get dirty with you, but you’re just as dirty, so don’t,” he says, wrapping his sculpted arms around your hips and pulling you against his face. “try to turn the tables,” he finishes, his voice muffled between your drenched folds. “Wonder why that jerk cheated on you,” he adds, lapping at your clit as you let out needy whimpers.

“Shit. Easy, I’m sensitive,” you babble, digging your nails into his shoulder as he starts devouring you with real intent.

“Love those sounds, by the way,” he murmurs, sucking on your sweet bundle of nerves, ignoring the persistent ache in his pants as his cock begs to be freed, desperate to plunge deep inside you.

Your eyelids flutter closed, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, trying to keep Toji’s name from spilling from your mouth as he tightens his grip on you, practically smashing your soaked core against his face but the way his lips close everytime around your clit with slowness is just unbearable.

Sounds of heavy breaths, licks, and wetness fill the room, turning the atmosphere almost sauna-like. Your pulse pounds in your temples, your heartbeat frantic.

“You’re still not loud enough.” And he remedies that quickly, pressing his nose against your clit as he slowly thrusts his tongue inside you, your walls clenching around it with lewd, wet sounds because of how slick you are for him. And now, he’s thrusting his tongue even deeper, humming in approval when you throw your head back, tugging harder on his dark locks.

“Shit! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” you cry out, toes curling as your nails dig into his skin before scratching it up.

“That’s it,” he purrs, helping you buck your hips against him as you mewl and moan thanks to his tongue. “Let him hear how good ya feel, yeah?” He brings a hand to your clit to rub it gently, then pinches it roughly. He bullies your snug cunt with each deep and precise thrust of his tongue, brushing your sweet spot every time, and you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t come right after.

And he probably knows it, because as if reading your mind, he withdraws his tongue from your twitching insides and licks his lips shamelessly — your glossy juices shining on them.

“Wanna hear how good you feel louder, doll, ’kay?” He brings a finger to your trembling entrance, pressing gently against the delicious barrier just waiting to be crossed. “You’re so close, baby,” he chuckles, eyes dilated with desire. “Hear me out, I’m gonna make you cum, and you’re gonna be a good girl. Understood?” He gently pats your thigh.

You nod, lips trembling from anticipation, eyes half-closed as he inserts his forefinger into you — and now you’re even tighter with his digit replacing his tongue. How would it feel with something bigger? The pad of his finger hits your sensitive g-spot right away.

“Ah!” you whine. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, ready to explode. “Toji, I’m almost cumming, please, just—”

He cuts you off, a low grunt escaping his lips as he crashes his mouth on your clit, treating it like a toy and bullying it over and over until you can’t stop your legs from shaking uncontrollably — as he finger-fucks you and sucks on your oversensitive clit.

“Fuck! Feels s’good, Toji, please,” you moan, your insides throbbing around his finger, while his second finger joins the first, finger-fucking you as you squirm on the couch, feeling the wet patch under your ass marking the mess you’re making.

“Cum, doll, now,” Toji orders, his voice strained, unable to ignore the throbbing in his own pants. His mouth is relentless on your clit, his fingers curling inside you just right, as if coaxing your body to surrender completely.

Right at the edge, you wrap your legs around his neck, sobbing out his name as you cum — hard. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, your body trembling as you release.

Your boyfriend never made you cum this hard, not even close.

You realize you actually squirted when you hear Toji swallowing, his eyes fluttering closed as he drinks every drop, even as your body keeps spasming after he finally pulls his fingers out of you.

When your breathing slows, Toji pulls back from your thighs, looking up to meet your gaze after the powerful orgasm he just brought you to.

“Tell me…” He licks the last traces of you off his chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that the first time you’ve squirted?” he asks, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your oversensitive clit.

You bite back a whimper, trying to steady your trembling legs. “Y-Yeah,” you confess, swallowing hard, noticing his black shirt dampened with your cum. “I didn’t mean to make that mess, I’m sorry—”

“Why’re you apologizing?” He kisses your inner thigh, soothing your shakiness with soft caresses. “The only one who should be begging for forgiveness is the jerk in the other room,” he mutters in a low, rough voice. The contrast between his tender kisses and harsh words about your boyfriend makes your heart skip a beat. “I bet he’s crying like a lil’ boy,” he chuckles.

You force a smile, though there’s still a slight sting from the betrayal. “He should be, yeah.”

His expression softens. “C’mon, doll, don’t give me that look,” he sighs, rising from his crouched position to remove his pants. “Just forget him, even if it’s hard, hmm?” He ignores the growing bulge in his boxers, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hum, kissing him back slowly, eyes closed. With each kiss, you feel a warmth, a tenderness there that surprises you. Why do his lips feel so gentle, so... caring? A feeling you can’t quite place?

Between kisses, you take soft breaths, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist, his tongue teasing along your soft, warm lips.

“Want to stop?” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly soft and low.

You flutter your eyes open and shake your head. “I’d like to continue, if you don’t wanna stop,” you mutter back.

His gaze softens more, seeing you beneath him, flushed and vulnerable. “Of course. I don’t think I could stop even if I tried… especially not with…” His gaze drops, his cheeks flushing slightly, “...this.”

You glance down at his painfully hard length pressing against his boxers, the small wet patch testifying to how badly he wants you.

“Mm, sorry,” he grumbles.

But you gently cup his face, pulling him into another kiss as you reach down to slip his boxers off. He helps you free him from his strained confines, and you both share a heated kiss. Toji leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your lips, cheeks, jaw, and down your neck.

The tender moment gradually heats up as impatience grows, your legs tangling with his. When something warm brushes your stomach, you shiver, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

His size… he’s big. His cock is thick and already straining, eager to be buried deep inside you.

“Can you fuck me?” you whisper, blinking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Toji chuckles, a low rumble shaking his chest.

He grabs you by the hips, laying you down on the couch to position you as he aligns himself at your entrance. Toji takes his cock in his hand and guides it to you, so big compared to your cute, petite pussy that’s about to take all of him in so well…

When the flushed tip of his cock brushes against your soaked folds, you hold your breath to keep from moaning even before he’s begun. But Toji can be a bastard in his own way — drawing slow, torturous circles around your puffy clit, then sliding down to gather your juices from between your folds, which he spreads apart to make room for him.

“As honest as you,” he scoffs, gently tapping your tight ring of resistance with the tip. He looks down at you, your form much smaller than his — Toji is big all over, from his muscles to his cock, and all he wants is to ruin your smallness.

And this bastard keeps eye contact, teasing the entrance with his slick tip, just to watch you break — your lips parted, eyes slightly squinted, hands weakly gripping him.

“Toji,” you moan weakly, squirming gently. “Please, just more, please.” And your voice is so soft, so velvety, he might have come right then.

Oh God, you’ll be the death of him.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you keep repeating his name in that same tone, making his urge to slip inside you unbearable.

“Fuck, doll, don’t moan my name like that or—” But you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling his tip to your dripping entrance so that it’s already inside, your gummy, warm walls tightening around him, drawing him in deeper.

“I wanna take it,” you whine softly, bucking your hips forward, your snug cunt swallowing half of him. “Oh—”

“Ah— Shit,” Toji hisses, leaning down to press your small body against his, burying his face in your neck. But the worst part is, he seems to lose control of his body, which thrusts deeper into you on its own, your clingy walls gripping him tightly from the start.

He stretches you too quickly, but it feels so good you wonder if you might be ovulating. “Ah— Oh— Fuck, s’deep, s’big,” you babble, low and cute mumbles, as you curl your toes and roll your eyes back from his size. “Too big, Toji, too big.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He pushes in even deeper until you’ve taken all of him and his tip brushes your womb.

Without even moving, he nearly came. But he has to hold back. To make you come on his cock, fuck you senseless, and let you scream his name so that the entire manor knows you’re his.

“Mine,” Toji groans, thrusting gently into you once you’ve adjusted, his hips meeting yours perfectly. “So wet f’me.” His breathing becomes ragged, his thoughts consumed by how impossibly tight you are. “And so fuckin’ tight.” He speeds up the pace a little, reveling in the sound of your mewls growing louder. “Gonna make you mine tonight, ’kay?”

In the room, only the squelching sounds and the slap of skin against skin fill the air. Your mind spins, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming that you can barely respond to what Toji says.

You’re reduced to a pile of whimpers, thinking only of TojiTojiTojiToji.

And he knows it, especially as you tighten around him and he lets out a guttural groan. His hips pound into you with more speed and roughness, but it’s still not enough. He wants you to fall apart for him when you cum, fucking your little pussy with his big, big cock.

Such a filthy size kink.

Then he pulls out, grabbing your hips to flip you over onto your stomach, making sure the plush cushions support you properly, and he slams back in, pounding rougher, deeper, and so much better than a second ago.

Now, you feel him at a depth you’ve never reached before, your sweet cunt clinging to him each time he pulls out only to push in just as deep. “Ah! So deep, so deep, Toji,” you sniffle, unable to keep your moans quiet any longer. “Wanna cum, gonna cum with you.” You bury your face between two cushions.

The heat between your two bodies is almost unbearable, small beads of sweat rolling down Toji’s toned chest as he chuckles, half-breathless, leaning over you to sink even deeper.

And you wonder how it’s even possible.

“You take it so well, doll,” he purrs, tightening his grip around your waist as your twitching insides pulse around his cock, right on the edge of making him spill his hot load inside you. But the rhythmic slap of his heavy balls against your clit is enough to keep him from the edge, for now. “You want to be filled up? Say it, baby. I don’t—  No, he can’t hear you,” he chuckles, kissing your neck as the depth makes you see stars through tears of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine louder, “wanna be full of your cum, please, Toji.” His thick, heavy balls are now the biggest turn-on, so big you just want to drain them to fill yourself up. “I’m close, so close,” you sob, pleading with him.

“Me too, doll, so let’s cum together, yeah?” he chortles, because, God, how small and cute you are. He admires, for a moment, the hickeys covering your skin and the scratches you left on his arms. He’s fucking you like a mad, possessed man.

You sniffle, nodding and writhing to take him fully, but you already have. Your wet, tight, warm cunt swallowing him up, desperate for every inch. He’ll fulfill his mission. Even if he wasn’t paid, he stopped caring about that long ago. Now he just wants youyouyou.

And as your synchronized hip movements, bringing the both of you to the edge, you cum hard again. Your sweet pussy clenches around his length, swallowing and milking him as your shaky legs can’t support you anymore. A cry of pleasure escapes you. Toji shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he empties himself inside you, filling your womb with his thick, sinful load.

Only stolen breaths, the overwhelming scent of sex, and small whimpers remain in the aftermath. Silence falls, all troubles vanish, and the night finally grows peaceful.

You wipe away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks and turn your head slightly to meet Toji’s calm gaze. “What about my shirt?”

“I’ve got a spare; want it?” he offers, not pulling out right away. You simply nod, and he adds with a smirk, “An’ if you’re free tonight, you’re up for a little getaway with me?”

“But Utahime and—”

“They’ll wake up like nothing happened, I promise,” Toji reassures you, and you grin.

“Deal.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, back in the room with Nami and your ex, a 4 grade curse — harmless but just annoying enough — flits around happily. Nami is fast asleep on the floor, but your ex has dark bags under his twitching eyes, having not slept a wink.

Between your cries of pleasure and everything else that went on, he understood that the mysterious man who had come to “rescue” them was thoroughly enjoying everything he’d been hoping to do with you for weeks, despite your refusals — the reason behind your “break” or rather, breakup. The curse, left by Toji on purpose, has a parrot effect: it repeats everything it hears in a loop, driving anyone nearby mad.

“Ah! Shit, Toji! Feels so good!” it shrieks in a piercing voice, buzzing around your ex’s head like a fly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

a/n: hey everyone :) so okay okay, this fic contains much more smut than i usually write (hope at least it’ll be worth it haha). i still feel bad about having missed kinkoctober but anyway, at least we’re here <3 i’ve struggled a bit with the start of the fic but the smut was (for once lol) quite easy to write. happy reading <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq

@sanemistar @monokaix

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Angel of Good Fortune | E.M x F!Reader

Eddie Munson x Female Reader | Eddie Munson x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: Eddie is very tired. Regardless, he plans a special DnD Halloween oneshot for the guys that includes a special surprise visitor. But when it comes time for the reveal, things don't exactly go to plan... For anyone involved.

Tags: Fluff, Joking, Banter, Pranks, DnD, Halloween, Halloween Tricks, Established Relationship, Small amount of Angst (bc of who I am as a person), SPOILERS for the story tags here pls don't read if you want to be surprised> Dad!Eddie, Mom!Reader, Newborn Baby, Post-Partum, Breastfeeding, Sleep-Deprivation.

Words: 9.3K

A/N: A little Halloween Treat for you guys 🧡🎃 There is a reference to Reader's body in this story but no actual body size is mentioned. Just “the same size you were before” implication that could mean literally any size because I don’t want to exclude anyone. Just mentioning it to cover my bases because I know some people have triggers about any mention of the body. ❤

~

“Wow.” Dustin whispered as he pushed open the heavy door to the AV Room of Hawkins High. The door itself was sparsely decorated with fake spider webs and some plastic creepy crawlies that had been stuck crudely around the edging.

He hadn’t been expecting much based on the exterior appearance of the room that housed all the Drama Club’s props as well as the small table that the Hellfire Club used to play DnD.

There were two entrances to the room but the other was hidden in the back just behind the large curtain on the wall and was barely used. Dustin couldn’t help but wonder absently if Eddie had put more effort into decorating the other door since he had not prepared for the effort put into the interior based on the outside.

He supposed that was why you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover.

Inside the room was dark and lit up only by the usual candles and lamps Eddie set out for ambiance during their campaigns. But this time there was black tulle draped from the ceiling in random patterns. The fake spiderwebs weaved between them. Realistic looking bats and spiders hung throughout and there were jack-o-lanterns of alternating sizes in nearly every place that was big enough to house one.

The candles were abundant. Many more than usual and placed around on the floor as well as on shelves and in holders. Some of the Drama Club’s props that were usually hidden behind the large curtain had been repurposed to give the room a spooky edge and some had even been downright altered to fit the theme.

There was a giant cardboard windmill that some of them recognized from the 1983 School play. Eddie had pulled it out and seemed to have downright destroyed it with splatters of what appeared to be blood and other mangled remains that hung from the blades.

“Are those sausages?” Lucas whispered to the other guys, pointing towards the ‘entrails’ hanging from one of the fins.

Eddie had really gone all out for this one shot campaign they were playing on Halloween night.

His throne was adorned in warm toned fairy lights that, while not very spooky, did give it a chilling edge that they were sure would make him look even more menacing when illuminated from behind.

There was a rusted 1880s style stroller sitting behind the throne near the windmill. A headless doll hanging from the handles and another with a head- or, maybe just the head of the other.. Tucked tight into a blanket that was covered in Halloween themed items.

“When did he even have time to do all this?” Lucas asked as the Club sans Eddie followed behind Dustin into the seemingly empty room.

“When he was supposed to be graduating.” Gareth answered from the corner of his mouth, making Jeff snicker.

The clearing of someone’s throat caught their attention. Blood running cold as Eddie stepped out from behind one of the props with a tired look on his painted pale face.

“Thunny.” He said, simply. Plastic glow in the dark vampire fangs impeding his speech. 

“Altho, rude.” He added, frowning at his words and taking the teeth out of his mouth. “That is not gonna’ work.” He mumbled to himself. Fishing around for the pocket in the red and black cape he was wearing and shoving them inside it.

“It looks amazing in here!” Mike enthused as Eddie held back a smile. The fake blood dripping from the corner of his mouth moving into his marionette lines as he kept his glee at bay.

Vampire Lord’s did not smile when they received a compliment.

He didn’t think.

He would need to check.

“Yeah.” Jeff agreed with a laugh. “I’ve gotta be honest I wasn’t even sure you’d show up tonight with how forgetful you’ve been.”

A murmur of agreement rolled through the boys in front of him as Eddie scoffed at the statement. He may have almost fallen asleep driving to school this morning but there was no way in hell he could forget a campaign. 

“Come on in and sit down.” He said as unnervingly as he could muster after the stab at his memory. 

He reminded the boys of the narrator at the beginning of a Haunted House carnival ride that dared them to try not to be scared.

The difference was that they probably actually should and would be scared of Eddie.

Sitting on the throne in front of the table often flicked a switch in his brain that turned him into an unhinged maniac.

They knew they were in for some sort of Halloween themed mischief tonight. They just hoped there were no tricks to ruin their treat.

The boys did as they were told. Taking their places around the table and setting up their belongings as Eddie sauntered towards his seat and flopped down on it. Waiting with fingers intertwined atop the table for them to be ready for him to begin.

The candles flickered in the quiet room, highlighting the dark circles under Eddie’s bleary eyes.  

Anyone that didn’t know him would think he had painted them there as part of the costume and not just an everyday occurrence of late.

Once everyone was settled and the club was staring up at him with eager faces, Eddie stood. Tired body creaking as he leaned behind his chair to press play on the tape player he had hidden there. Soft, spooky music filled the room. Not very loud as Eddie still wanted them to be able to hear him talk.

“Wait…” Lucas said after a long moment of silence so they could listen to the ambient sound. “In the background… Is that… Carnival music?” He asked, looking up at Eddie with a puzzled expression.

The older man raised his brows in acknowledgement. Smiling proudly this time as he bowed to them all. Again putting on his best, most unnerving voice as he said:

“Welcome, to the Haunted House.”

~~

Eddie’s campaign was based around the guys being stuck inside the Haunted House Carnival ride. A ride that came alive with actual ghosts, ghouls and skeletons that needed to be fought off as they worked out how to escape it.

It was essentially a mini escape room without physical props to keep track of. It was unlike any campaign they had ever played before and it was clear Eddie had put a lot of thought and work into how it would turn out.

He had planned it to be short. Only spanning the one session that lasted about three hours absolute max. That was if they made a dumb move or got stuck somewhere. Otherwise they could probably be out of there in one.

He had alluded early on to the presence of someone that could help them through the puzzles. They figured they just had to say the right words or stumble into the right room to find them.

In true Hellfire Club fashion, it hadn’t taken long for things to go from zero to one hundred. Mike had made a call that nearly killed Gareth and Jeff, who was usually pretty quiet and mild mannered, had turned on him.

Eddie watched in delight as the club bickered amongst themselves about how they should have gone about the obstacle Eddie had placed in front of them.

He of course knew exactly how they should go about it but he was keeping that little tidbit of information to himself unless someone rolled a 20.

“Okay! Okay!” Dustin shouted suddenly, holding out both his hands in a ‘stop’ like motion as he tried to quell the argument between Mike, Jeff and Gareth. 

Lucas sat quietly on the sidelines ignoring the chaos as he wrote something down on his character sheet.

“It doesn’t matter! Okay?” Dustin shouted when all attention was on him. “Look it’s like a foot tall, What if we just step over–”

A shrill sound rang out from somewhere behind Eddie, cutting Dustin off mid-sentence.

The sudden sharp cry startled the group. They jumped in unison. Looking between one another and then to Eddie as they waited for the reveal. 

What trickery had he rigged up to breathe even more life into the campaign? 

“Oh! Eddie said excitedly, leaning back to stop the tape player from making the eerie sounds.  “Looks like our guest has arrived.” He explained cryptically, pushing away from the table. The feet of his throne scraping against the floor was barely heard above the repetitive sound growing louder and more frequent.

Eddie moved around behind his chair quickly standing in front of the rusted stroller and dipping his hands inside.

The guys watched in confusion. Waiting for Eddie to pull out another tape player or a walkie talkie and turn it off to stop the shrieking sound. But instead he ducked forwards pulling the pile of fuzzy halloween themed blankets to his chest and shushing it softly.

“Were we too loud?” He murmured to the blankets. Looking down at the pile in his arms with eyes that sparkled in the candlelight.

The whining cry from the baby in the blankets was calmed by the comfort of a firm chest. She cooed quietly as Eddie swayed on the spot and tapped her back with his palm. The soft thump of the repetitive motion reassuring her that she was safe as large brown eyes that matched his own fluttered closed again in his arms.

Eddie looked up at the group in front of him. Ready to apologize for the interruption and make his announcement about the game but he was taken aback by the shock on everyone’s faces. 

Furrowed brows, wide eyes and mouths hanging open around the table as they all stared at him with questions on their lips. Stunned into silence, no one moved until Jeff finally cracked.

“What…” He asked bluntly, pausing for emphasis. “Is that?”

He was pointing towards the blankets in Eddie’s arms. Being ever so gently rocked up and down by strong hands that were made for shredding on an electric guitar or rolling dice, not holding a doll.

“Who? Is that?” Dustin corrected when Eddie narrowed his eyes at the question.

“This…” Eddie said, also pausing for emphasis. “Is your way out of this ride!” He said as excitedly as he could. Somewhat affronted by the rude phrasing of the question. “It’s your lucky night. You’ve been visited by The Angel of Good Fortune.”

The silence in the room was loud as Eddie looked over them all with eagerness, waiting for someone to ask another question so he could introduce his surprise NPC in the way he had planned.

His face fell as no one made a move. The silence stretched almost to the point of being uncomfortable until Eddie spoke again.

“It’s Daisy.” He said bluntly. “She’s the angel.” He explained as if that answered anyone’s questions and didn’t raise at least six more. “Do you guys want to hear what she has to bestow on you or not?” He chuckled, shaking his head as he circled back around the throne and plonked himself down.

If it wasn’t for the humming of the stage lights above his head or the gentle crackle of the candles by his side, he swore he would be able to hear the crickets outside chirping.

“Okay…” He said simply. A sudden rush of foolishness knocking down his resolve when no one spoke. “Well I guess no one wants any fortune then.” He said bitterly.

This was not going at all how he had planned it. 

He shrugged weakly as he scooted forward to the edge of the seat and looked over his notes before speaking again.

They just continued on he supposed. He had been planning to give them all special abilities that helped them throughout the rest of the house. But if they were going to be dicks about him bringing the baby then they could get by without them.

He didn’t really want to be there anymore right that second anyway…

“Right so…” He sighed. “Dustin, you were about to try and step over the obstacle. You can’t do that by the way–”

“No.” Gareth said simply, holding his hand up in front of him as Dustin had done to him earlier.  Eddie’s head snapping up at the declaration. 

“No, we’re not doing this.” He laughed, pointing an accusatory finger at Eddie now. “Come on Man. Put the doll down.”

Eddie frowned at him as the rest of the group murmured in agreement. Nodding their heads and putting forth the same sentiments of Eddie’s Halloween prank being over now. He’d had them at first but going back to the game like nothing had happened with a random ‘baby’ in his arms and expecting them not to ask questions was too far.

“Not doing what?” Eddie snapped, frustrated at the insinuation that he was the problem when it was them and their weird reactions to his surprise.

The baby in his grasp stirred at the words. Loud and sharp not far from her little ears. She could feel his frustration and wanted to join in on the complaining.

Her eyes were open again now, bottom lip trembling as Eddie realized his mistake and quickly tried to shush her. But he’d already fucked up. New babies rarely went back to sleep a second time. Especially when they could feel that their parents were frazzled.

“Ah shi–” He behan. “Shoot.” He corrected,, looking down at her with a sad pout as she began to cry again. “You’re hungry aren’t you?” He asked rhetorically. 

Yeah, this was not going to plan in the slightest. It would be his luck that after the failure of his reveal, he couldn’t get her to calm down for him due to her being able to sense his agitated state.

She shouldn’t be hungry again so soon. If he just took a breath, he should be able to stop her getting too worked up.

He shuffled her into the tight grip of one arm as he fished in his cape pocket with his other hand. Producing a pink pacifier and holding it up in front of her. “May I interest you in a pacifier?” He asked politely, pressing it against her wailing lips and waiting with baited breath to see if she took it.

She did, briefly. Spitting the dummy quite literally as she took it from him for a quick second before hucking it out and sending it shooting across the table. The heads of all the players following its journey as it bounced once on the game board before rolling the rest of the way to land in front of Grant who stared at it as if it was diseased. 

“Nat 20.” Eddie laughed hollowly as the rest of the table slowly turned back to him at the same time and stared with matching horrified expressions.

“How did you do that?” Grant asked softly, barely heard over the baby's cries as Eddie pushed himself up again and began to pace back and forth in front of the throne in an effort to calm the little one.

“Do what?” He asked again over the cries, this time just exasperated at his lack of understanding their line of questioning.

“Throw the pacifier like that without moving your hands?” Gareth asked as if it was obvious. 

Eddie balked at the statement.

“Are you daft?” He asked after a moment of stunned silence that Daisy gladly filled. “She spat it out, you saw her.”

“She’s not real!” Gareth argued, slamming his hands down on the table and pushing himself to stand, the rest of the members following suit.

“Yes she is.” Eddie defended weakly, stopping in place and rearranging the blankets in his arms so the guys could see the baby's face. “See.” 

The six men in front of him took a step closer.

The baby in the blankets blinked at them all from her place in Dad’s arms. Her cries dying down as curiosity became her main focus. The growling in her little tummy became a background sensation for a long few seconds as she looked over at them all with wide eyes that matched Eddie’s.

She probably wasn’t actually looking at them. Baby’s couldn’t see very far in front of them when they were so young. But that was what made contrasting colors interesting. Eddie guessed she was gaping at the fuzzy bright orange spots she could see throughout in the darkness of the room. The candles he had lit to add to the ambiance, calming her as the lights flickered with all the movement in the room.

“What the fuck?” Mike asked candidly. Saying what they were all thinking as they watched the actual infant child Eddie was holding, look around the room and move her little arms around in a way that Eddie couldn’t fake even if he wanted to.

Eddie squinted at them all, eyes dark as the realization began to dawn on him that they all had no idea who Daisy was or what she was doing there with him.

“Do you guys like…” Eddie trailed off as he shook his head at them. Lips pressed together hard as he shrugged, baby moving up and down with the motion as he spoke again. “Listen, when I speak?” He asked slowly, tilting his head in a way that was probably meant to look condescending but really just made him look like a sad puppy.

The silence was enough of an answer for him. Not even Daisy daring to make a sound as her janky little movements had her staring back up at Eddie. The sound of Dad’s voice taking her away from her pretty lights and reminding her that she was hungry and he was not delivering.

Her little lips shook again as Eddie frowned at his friends. Her expression unknowingly mimicked his as she began to cry again and Eddie scowled at the six people in front of him. 

The best friends he had in the entire world.

That apparently didn’t know his daughter’s name or that she even existed despite him rambling about nothing else for the last two weeks straight.

It made him want to join Daisy in her howling.

“What the fuck?” Eddie asked suddenly, as brazen as Mike had a few seconds earlier. Looking between them all with a mixture of hurt and disgust on his face as they all stood quietly and mentally prepared themselves for the scolding of a lifetime. 

But instead Eddie’s voice was small. Barely heard over the wailing of the baby in his arms.

“I thought you were my friends.” He said simply, embarrassment welling in his chest at the way it had come out. The vulnerability he had shown with that one sentence that perfectly encapsulated how he felt about it all without having to actually say any of what he was feeling.

“Okay!” A voice rang out from somewhere in the corner of the room. Startling them all, including Daisy who went suspiciously quiet at the sound. Everyone turned at once, surprised to see…

You.

Having just jumped out of your hiding place behind the windmill. 

“I can’t do it anymore!” You shouted. Holding out your arms and making grabby hands towards Eddie. “Give her to me!” You instructed as Eddie stared at you as if you’d grown two heads, trying to figure out where you’d even come from or what you were doing there.

“What…” He asked weakly as you strode towards him and wrapped deft fingers around your little one. 

He let you take her. His arms falling limp by his side when they were empty.

“Where did you–” He began, cutting himself off. “How did you–” He started again. “WHY did you?” He decided on, tone changing from shocked to frustrated. “Were you spying on me?” He asked incredulously. Sounding a little more wounded than he intended as you turned away from all the prying eyes in the room and pulled down the neck of your shirt.

Intending to give Daisy what she needed to restore the beginnings of peace in the room.

“No!” You clarified, flicking your head towards him as you tried to get Daisy to latch and catching the hurt as if flashed through his eyes. “Well, not intentionally.” You added softly.

“You were!” Eddie gasped. “You don’t trust me?” He asked. Ignoring the rest of the people in the room as his one track mind got stuck on your appearance and he momentarily forgot he was in the middle of an argument with some of the worst friends in the world.

“No, that’s not it.” You argued back, not looking at him as you spoke while you were trying to encourage the baby to work with you.

“You don’t think I can take care of our daughter on my own?” He asked, not waiting for your answer before he continued. “You too?” He asked, nodding at you and then his friends as he remembered they were there.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What the hell is wrong with everyone tonight?” He shouted as your guilty eyes turned back to him.

“I just wanted to see you surprise them...” You explained softly. “But… It wasn’t going to plan…” You winced, baring your teeth in a cringe as you used Daisy’s blanket to cover your modesty.

Yeah, you were right. None of this was going to plan…

All of the guys had met you before. Most of them remembered you from your senior year. Even the Freshman had met you once or twice since joining Hellfire. Had hung out with you and Eddie together over the small holiday break between the first semesters of the year.

And look, okay… Maybe you weren’t around as often as you used to be and maybe Eddie didn’t talk about you as often as he wanted to. But you both knew it wasn’t for lack of wanting to brag about the fact that he was yours. 

It was his circumstances he didn’t want to think about. The fact that he had a girlfriend in College only served to remind him and everyone else of the fact that he had failed to graduate twice now and was on a fast track to his third failure. 

It reminded them all that he was College age and should be running around on campus with you instead of in the schoolyard with them. 

Except you weren’t at College now. You were at home or… Supposed to be. Tired, cranky and hormonal. Six weeks postpartum and ready to lose your mind when Eddie had said he was planning on going out on Halloween night.

Which meant you would spend your favorite holiday sitting at home alone with the baby.

Eddie had felt bad when you’d pointed that out and offered to take her with him. The guys hadn’t met her yet anyway and he figured the creepy old stroller in the AV Room was probably safe enough to let her sleep in until she woke up hungry and he could introduce her to everyone while he fed her dinner.

However he obviously hadn’t anticipated his friend’s not knowing what the hell he was talking about.

He had told them you were pregnant and how excited he was for Daisy’s arrival. He’d had a month off school when she was born. Only returning 2 weeks earlier and when asked about his time off he had babbled nonstop for an entire lunch break about how perfect his little one was, how happy she made him and how tired you both were. 

Because damn were you both tired. 

You weren’t sure where Eddie had pulled this campaign from or the energy he had used to decorate the place. You were worried most mornings that he would crash on the way to school. The way he was barely able to keep his eyes open, falling asleep at the kitchen counter and nearly drowning in his cereal.

You were pretty sure he hadn’t learnt a thing at school since he’d been back. He was so exhausted, he could barely hold a conversation. 

Not that you could talk. You were just as bad and right now, you weren’t even supposed to be there. You were supposed to be home, sleeping.

As far as Eddie was aware, you were. You had left the AV room over an hour earlier. Saying goodbye to him and your Bub.

You did intend to go home and sleep through all the trick-or-treating door knockers.

But it was the first time you had been away from Daisy since she had been born and you hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming feeling of guilt that had washed over you as you’d closed the door with her on the other side of it.

You would have gone back in immediately if Eddie wasn’t so insistent that 1. He let you rest and 2. He was going to introduce Daisy to the guys.

He had a plan on how to do it dramatically. You had chuckled at that. Because of course he did. 

He wasn’t just going to have them walk in and be sitting there on his throne, holding a baby. 

He had written her into the campaign. When they made it to the specific spot in the story where it would be perfect to introduce her or when she woke up. Whatever happened first was fine. He was going to present her to them as a surprise NPC that afforded them all special bonuses. 

It was a very cute idea but it hinged pretty heavily on the ‘spooky’ atmosphere with the doll hanging from the stroller being a red herring and the guys not noticing your actual baby sleeping in the bed of it.

If you were honest, you thought the guys would still see it coming from a mile away but you hadn’t said anything. Wanting to let the sleep deprived new Dad have his small amount of fun. Even if the guys clocked her immediately and didn’t end up being surprised. It would still be a nice little moment for him.

You’d felt yucky about leaving Daisy behind as you walked to the parking lot. You trusted Eddie with her whole-heartedly but ‘Mom guilt’ as the midwives had called it, was strong.

You had fed her to sleep just before you left and knew she would be fine for at least two hours even if she didn’t sleep the whole time. Eddie had promised that the campaign would only take around that long and if she woke up before then and desperately needed you, he would walkie and you could drive back over since you guys only lived a couple of minutes from the school.

He had a bottle of formula in the diaper bag just in case he needed it for her. But you weren’t sure if she would even take it for him. It wasn’t an issue for her to have it. You’d just never been away from her long enough before for someone else to need to feed her. 

Not even Eddie.

You had made it almost all the way to the car before you’d stopped in place and stared at the cracked bitumen under your feet for a long moment. Not sure you could actually go ahead with leaving her.

You’d sighed, deciding to head back inside. Intending to sit in on Hellfire if Eddie didn’t outright postpone the start time to drive you home and put you to bed.

You were about to turn around when you heard someone call your name. The Hellfire guys had arrived sometime during your contemplation and were running towards you excitedly. 

You hadn’t seen them in a really long time. Probably since you were in your first trimester of pregnancy.

You had found out you were expecting in the middle of your first year at College and you were determined to finish at least one year before the baby arrived. So trips home to see your love were rare. When you did make it back to Hawkins you were so exhausted from working overtime to get your coursework done that you just wanted to spend time at home with Eddie. Enjoying the last of your quality time together before you became a family of three.

It was nice to see the guys briefly in the parking lot of Hawkins High like old times. It cheered you up somewhat and you spent a long few minutes catching up with them.

However, it had become apparent pretty quickly into the interaction that they had no intention of congratulating you on the birth of your first child. A very strange interaction if you were honest but you kept up the friendly face as if nothing was amiss.

It wasn’t until Gareth had rolled his eyes and said:

“You know he’s telling everyone you just had a baby.”

The rest of the guys had chortled at the notion, making you frown as he continued somewhat candidly.

“So obviously that’s not true.” He said derisively, gesturing towards your body and making you bristle. You supposed the implication was that you were the same size you had been the last time they had seen you and there was no way your body could have grown and nourished a child over the last nine months and then gone back to looking the same as it did before within such a short span of time.

These assholes…

You’d thought to yourself, not replying as the men in front of you all nodded in agreement with Gareth’s statement. 

Did they expect you to suddenly shape shift into a different person just because you were a Mom now?

I guess they will be surprised.

You’d concluded, smirking to yourself as you bid them a terse goodnight and watched them walk inside the building with the belief that Eddie was lying about his personal life.

Well, you certainly couldn’t go home then. It seemed like Eddie was going to be able to put on quite the show and you wanted to see how it panned out. 

Afterall you figured you’d probably only just make it home before you were being called on the Walkie to come back.

You had snuck into the AV Room via the second entrance and hid behind the curtain at first. Moving closer and dipping down behind the windmill as you tried not to laugh at the sound of Eddie talking with fake fangs in his mouth.

You had slumped down on the ground and waited way longer than you had thought you would have to. Not proud of the fact that you had nodded off once or twice. Jolting awake after a particularly loud exclamation from someone at the table and hoping you hadn’t been snoring.

You guessed this was probably the typical newborn experience. Baby never sleeps more than an hour at a time except for when you, yourself could be sleeping but had chosen not to because you had been convinced she would need you again within minutes.

Just when you were starting to think you’d have to ruin Eddie’s surprise by standing up and checking that the baby was still breathing, she had begun to cry and you had done your best to shuffle out of view so Eddie didn’t see you when he moved towards the stroller to pick her up.

He was too distracted by her to notice you anyway. Thank goodness because you had not thought about the implication of hearing the baby cry and your body responding to it, ready to do its job. You had been distracted by your aching breasts and the milk leaking into your bra that Daisy could definitely smell from her place on Dad’s chest about three feet away.

There was no way he was getting her to settle now. Mistakes had been made and you knew then that it was only a matter of time until you had to reveal yourself to help Eddie out. It was just the matter of when exactly to do it so that you didn’t ruin the moment Eddie had been planning all week for.

Luckily for you, you supposed, the guys had ruined it for you. Being rude and not believing the baby was even real.

You felt bad for not correcting them in the parking lot. But you hadn’t done so on the premise that Eddie would get to have his fun reveal moment.

“Happy Halloween…”  You grimaced at the guys, turning to them and taking in the shocked expressions around the table. Each boy appeared to be in a different stage of grief as their eyes roamed from you to Eddie, to the baby in your arms, back to Eddie, back to you.

“But…” One of them began, trailing off as Eddie looked between you and the guys as well. Trying to figure out what he had missed. 

“Wait…” Someone else started, also trailing off as they tried to make sense of the situation.

“What the fuck is happening?” Eddie murmured under his breath, just as confused as everyone else. 

So you weren’t spying… But you didn’t go home? What did you mean Happy Halloween? Were you pranking them? Was that directed at him or the guys?

A thousand questions ran through his mind at once. He opened his mouth to ask some of them and was immediately cut off by Gareth.

“You don’t look pregnant!” He shouted, again gesturing at your body and making your eyes darken dangerously as Jeff elbowed him in the ribs.

“I’m not.” You replied curtly. “I was.” You clarified, one hand tapping against the baby’s bottom to make your point. “But I’m not anymore.”

“But you didn’t…” He gasped out, winded from being elbowed. “You didn’t say that–” He tried, voice strained.

Eddie turned to you with a questioning gaze. Brows raised as he waited for an explanation.

“Didn’t say?” He asked you, specifically. “When did you even see them?”

You sighed softly, deciding to explain to the whole room and answer Eddie’s question all at once.  

“Eddie wanted to surprise you.” You huffed to the group, as if that much was obvious. “I figured if I corrected you when I ran into you earlier that you would know straight away that Eddie had the baby because she wasn’t with me and the surprise would be ruined.” You said with a shrug, finally turning to Eddie. “I ran into them in the parking lot and it was obvious they didn’t realize you were telling the truth about Daisy so I let them run with it for the sake of the dramatics.” You said apologetically. “I just wanted to see how that played out before I went home.” You added, peeking down at Daisy under the blanket covering her and making sure she was alright. “But, it didn’t go as I expected.” You admitted.

“Oh.” Eddie replied quietly, following your eyes to the blanket and frowning to himself as the room fell silent once again.

He appreciated the sentiment but it hadn’t exactly helped him. Although he supposed, you were right and it probably wouldn’t have helped him keep his surprise if you’d corrected them either.

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

He had been so excited about his little Halloween oneshot. But none of it had worked out anywhere near how he thought it would.

He was feeling defeated.

“I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding.” You continued loudly, interrupting his thoughts as your eyes bored into each of the men in front of you in turn. Desperately trying to get them to say something that corroborated your ‘theory’. “Because they are your friends and they do listen to you.” You added through gritted teeth when no one spoke up.

“Yeah!” Grant defended quickly, catching your drift and jumping into action. 

“We are.” Gareth agreed.

“And we do!” Jeff piled on.

The freshman nodded along as well. Big smiles on their faces as Eddie scowled at them all, looking a little too sad for someone that was dressed as a vampire.

“It’s just that like…” Jeff began, looking to Gareth and Grant for back up.

“You fuck with us a lot.” Gareth finished, a murmur of agreement making its way around the table as Eddie scoffed at them derisively. 

“I do not!” He argued meekly. Shrinking under the collective tired stare of the group and also your knowing gaze from by his side.

“What about when you said your Dad hatched an elaborate plan to steal drugs from his former partners and sell them to Rick for a quick buck?” Jeff asked, arms crossed over his chest.

“That happened!” Eddie justified, throwing his shoulders up as the guys all exchanged sneers. 

That did happen. 

You hadn’t been dating at the time but you knew about it from your place on the sidelines. You opened your mouth to defend him but didn’t get it out before another example was being thrown around.

“Well, what about when you told us that some assistant to a big music producer.” Gareth paused, waving his hands around to emphasize how silly it sounded. “Came to The Hideout and scouted Corroded Coffin before I joined and tried to take you to L.A to become a rockstar?” He laughed, turning to the guys for support and frowning at Jeff’s grimace.

“That did actually happen, I was there for that.” He interjected, one finger pointing towards the ceiling.

“See!” Eddie gestured towards him with his whole hand.

“Okay well guys come on…” Gareth continued. “He also said that Chrissy Cunningham tried to buy drugs from him the night she died.”

“She did!” Eddie exclaimed, voice higher than usual.

“And don’t forget that he’s apparently friends with Steve Harrington now.” Grant laughed heartily, the older guys erupting into laughter as the Freshman exchanged anxious looks with one another. 

“That’s also true!” Eddie argued incredulously before Dustin piped up:

“Yeah, that one is actually true too.” He said, hissing through his teeth.

“It’s all true!” Eddie shouted, desperation in his tone. 

“Look, the point is Eddie you lie like, all the time.” Gareth justified weakly, gesturing around the room as if any of them had actually managed to come up with a solid lie Eddie had told that hadn’t been corroborated by other person in the room. “So…” He said, dragging out the word.

“But I’m not lying!” Eddie argued, bordering on whiny. “All of those things happened to me! Including this!” He added, thrusting his hand towards you and the baby.

Silence fell on the room once more. The slap of Eddie’s hand falling back against his thigh seemed to echo in the small space as he shook his head at them all. Turning to you with pleading eyes as if to ask you to convince them he was telling the truth.

You felt bad for him, smiling apologetically as you slowly slipped down to sit in his throne. Your tired legs giving out as you waited for someone else to say something. You weren’t sure why they still seemed to look unconvinced or what you could even say to persuade them. 

You were literally holding the baby in front of them. All the evidence they should need to understand.

A sniff caught your attention and you looked back up to Eddie quickly, horrified at the thought that he had potentially begun to cry. But to your surprise he was now looking back at the guys, a puzzled expression on his face as the sound happened again.

Your own head turned to look them over, watching in confusion as everyone stayed so defiantly staunch that the quiver of Dustin’s lips and the small change in his breathing was as obvious as if he had just burst out into laughter immediately.

Mike’s elbow connected with his side gently. A motion that was meant to be discreet but again in the stillness of the room seemed as blatant as if he had just tackled the other boy to the ground.

“I can’t keep it in…” Dustin ground out, his eyes wide as the other guys all began to huff and sigh. The barely contained laughter of the kid that was decidedly, Eddie’s best friend, was infectious. Lucas sniffed as well and snowballed Grant into a snort that triggered Jeff.

Slowly one by one the group began to laugh. Soft murmurs of mirth at first that quickly turned into the hearty sound of chortling as they all nodded at one another knowingly, as if making a silent decision before Dustin turned to the head of the table.

“Trick or treat!” He shouted, throwing his hands up and leading the rest of the club into doing the same.

“Trick or Treat!” They mimicked. Shouting in synchrony and throwing their hands up in unison as if welcoming the guest of honor into a surprise party.

Eddie balked at the exclamation, not expecting it and certainly not understanding it at all.

Was he the guest of honor?

“What?” He asked tiredly, shaking his head and slumping his shoulders. He had no idea what was going on. Exhausted with the shifting emotions in the room as the guys all seemed to delight in the notion that he still didn’t understand.

“The ultimate trick!” Gareth clarified, pointing at the DM with a brave finger as Jeff and Gareth clapped each other on the back. 

“You fell for it.” Mike laughed, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Damn, I guess having a baby really does mess with your brain.” Dustin theorized as you and Eddie shared a look of bewilderment.

“Wait…” It was Eddie’s turn to trail off. “What?” He asked again, mirroring the way the guys had asked it earlier. “What’s going on? I’m so confused.” He complained, rubbing at his forehead with one hand as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Oh damn.” Jeff laughed, wincing. “I feel kind of bad.” He mumbled as Eddie scowled at him.

“Dude…” Grant said loudly, commanding Eddie’s attention. “We were pranking you Man.” He laughed, gesturing towards you and the baby. “For Halloween?” He said slowly, dragging out the words as if Eddie was too simple to understand them. 

“Of course we know who Daisy is.” Jeff laughed awkwardly. “How could we not?”

“Yeah you haven’t exactly shut up about her since you’ve been back.” Mike added, groaning as Dustin got him back for the elbow earlier.

“Yeah I didn’t think you’d fall for it.” Jeff admitted uneasily. “Honestly I thought Mama Bear over there was gonna’ murder Gareth for the comment he made outside.” He said scandalously as Gareth had the decorum to shoot you an apologetic look.

“You look amazing by the way.” He said quickly as both sets of eyes turned on him and Eddie had to stop himself from asking what the comment was unless he wanted this to become an actual haunted room.

Although he wasn’t too worried about Gareth’s ghost disrupting his sessions anymore than alive Gareth already did.

“Wait so…” Eddie said again, closing his eyes and making the group groan collectively as he desperately tried to make sense of the situation. 

“Okay, this has kind of spiraled from fun into mean.” Mike interjected, looking around at the other guys and all of them nodding in agreement. “We knew you guys were tired but we didn’t realize you were that tired.” He said with a grimace.

“Yeah…” Dustin agreed as both you and Eddie stared at them all blankly, trying to wrap sleep deprived brains around the situation. “It was meant to be a really simple prank. Like opposite day or some shit.” He laughed uncomfortably. “We didn’t think you’d take us seriously, I mean we’ve seen a picture of her for Christ’s sake.” 

Eddie had momentarily forgotten about the polaroid he’d taken of Daisy not long after she was born. Currently residing in his wallet after having been passed around the lunch table six times over until he finally decided she’d been given enough compliments and took it back.

“Oh.” Eddie hummed, ruminating on his first week at school and remembering, vaguely, the interaction.

He didn’t remember too much of the last six weeks in general if he was honest.

“That was mean guys.” You murmured with a frown. Trying not to be too hard on them since you were honestly just glad that they hadn’t truly believed Eddie was lying about his personal life.

You looked to Eddie. Waiting for him to say something but instead you were faced with the blank stare of a man that you were pretty sure still didn’t truly understand what was going on.

Dustin took it upon himself to take a step forward.

“We knew you were going to do something insane tonight. It wouldn’t be Halloween without you trying to pull the wool over our eyes somehow and we kind of thought you had been setting us up for a big prank for the last month so... We all agreed to just roll with whatever it was, no matter how insane we looked and prank you back.” He explained, waving open palms over his face in big exaggerated movements to show the scale of their operation.. “But now it’s sad.” He said with a nod, lips pressed together and brows raised in concern as Eddie narrowed his eyes at the other man. 

The kid ignored it, placing a grounding hand on Eddie’s bicep. 

“Congratulations man.” He said definitively, watching as Eddie’s brows shot up in surprise. “You’re a lucky man.” He said, nodding at you and the baby.

Eddie took in a sharp breath, turning himself away, unexpectedly overcome with emotion at the statement.

It was really all he wanted from them in the first place.

An acknowledgment of his new life and how lucky he was to be living it.

“Yep. Thanks.” He said quickly, refusing to look at them. “You know you’re supposed to let me choose if I want a trick or a treat right?” He asked, his sentence clipped with the terse edge of someone that was trying not to cry. “You can’t just yell trick or treat after tricking someone.”

“You tricked us first!” Gareth argued at the statement. Jeff’s hand landed heavy on his shoulder as Eddie whirled back around to face them suddenly. Emotions forgotten or maybe just consolidated into anger as he took offence at the blatant lie.

“It wasn’t a trick!” He gasped, scandalized. “It was a surprise!” He panted. “With treats!” He added, throwing his arm out towards the unfinished game in front of them. “The Angel of Good Fortune had gifts for you all!” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly at all of them at once as he stared incredulously at the ungrateful group before him. “No wonder the poor thing was inconsolable, you ingrates wouldn’t accept her presents.” He said pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest as you stifled a laugh at the statement.

Yes, that was why. It had nothing to do with Mommy hiding a few feet away and leaking dinner into her bra.

You didn’t say anything, letting Eddie have the win as you looked down at your little angel and realized she was finished eating already.

You shook your head at her. 

The audacity to make all that fuss and only feed for a few minutes. 

She obviously wasn’t hungry and should have taken the pacifier but all the yelling from the club had startled her into wanting Mom when she knew she was nearby.

Or maybe Eddie was right. You conceded privately. She was just upset that the guys didn’t accept her gifts.

You smiled at the thought of Daisy growing up to DM just like her Daddy.

No doubt she would be just as dramatic.

You shifted her in your arms as the boys argued. Covering yourself up again and removing the blanket so she could breathe easy now that she was content to lay still in your arms.

She blinked up at you with milk-drunk eyes, lids falling closed slowly as she began to drift off again. Her little lips sucked at the air and made you smile.

“And another fucking thing!” Eddie began, startled by you tugging on his cloak and jerking your head towards the baby in your arms.

“Language!” You chastised gently. As if the poor thing hadn’t been listening in on some of the most intense arguing you’d ever witnessed for the first hour of the session. 

“Oh, sorry.” Eddie said quickly, turning back to the guys. “And another… Thing!” He repeated, omitting the swear, this time stage whispering as he pointed at them. “Your ass- Uh, butts, are still stuck behind that obstacle!” He whisper-shouted. “Good luck getting through them without the Good Fortune she would have afforded you.” He snipped, waving his hand towards the baby.

Silence descended on them all once again as all eyes in the room turned to look at Daisy.

“Why can’t we just step over—“ Dustin began to ask, being cut off by Gareth.

“Can’t she just give us our fortune now?” He asked with a shrug, looking between the baby in your arms and your boyfriend who looked as though he was ten seconds away from a conniption.

“No!” He snapped, exasperated. “You lost that privilege when you decided to pretend she wasn’t real.”

“Oh come on Eddie, please!” Mike pleaded, turning to you instead when his pleas fell on deaf ears. “You were as much at fault as we were!” He defended weakly. “Can’t you convince him?”

Eddie’s attention snapped to you quickly, a warning in his dark eyes as he wordlessly told you that no, you could not.

“Well…” You began, Eddie’s eye twitching at the word. “I think maybe you should let Daisy decide if she wants to give you her good fortune.” You said casually, making the teen scoff. 

“But she’s a baby?” He said in a weird way that was halfway between a question and a definitive statement.

Eddie gasped suddenly, turning back to the guys with glee in his eyes as he smiled at them with the unhinged grin they had come to both love and fear.

“Yes.” He said breathlessly. “Yes, let Daisy decide!” He said a little too excitedly. “You’ll probably have to beg.” He added, unable to keep the mirth from his tone as he leaned down to you and gestured for you to move closer to the edge of the chair.

You did so, scooching forward and holding the baby a little further from your body as you angled her towards the guys,

“She won’t stay settled like this.” You warned Eddie. “Better make it fast.”

“That’s the plan.” He murmured so only you could hear.

You sniffed out a laugh. 

Of course it was. 

Anything to make the club suffer a little harder after they’d pulled one over on the DM.

You figured you’d probably be taking Daisy home now anyway. May as well let Eddie have his fun watching the guys beg as penance for their sins and then deny them their fortune that would help them get out of the haunted house ride before midnight.

They were going to have a hell of a time with all the disadvantages Eddie gave them after Daisy cracked it from her uncomfortable position and he could claim that not only did she refuse to give them her fortune but that she had handed them some misfortune as recompense.

“Alright, who’s begging?” Dustin asked jovially. Hands on his hips as he turned to the group, ready for a manly discussion only to find that all eyes were on him. “Oh come on!” He shouted, throwing up his arms in exasperation. “Fine!” He sighed, a little too quickly, taking a breath and turning to you with conviction.

He knew he wasn’t winning that argument and he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible.

“Please!” He exclaimed suddenly, dropping to his knees in front of the throne and pressing his hands together in prayer. He bowed towards Daisy. Trying his best to ignore the unhinged smile forming on her Father’s face and the disappointed look on yours. “Please oh Goddess of Good Fortune–”

“Angel.” Eddie interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Oh Angel of Good Fortune.” Dustin corrected, “Please choose to still mpart us with your wisdom–”

“Gifts!” Eddie said sharply.

“Gifts!” The kid corrected again, looking up at Eddie with narrowed eyes before turning back to the baby. “Please impart us with your generous gifts and help us through this obstacle we are stuck behind and are not allowed to just step over.” He said derisively, making the group behind him chuckle.

“What do you think Baby?” Eddie asked Daisy directly, bending down and resting his hands on his knees as he stared at his newest love with doe eyes. “Should we still give them your gifts?” He asked, voice gentle and softer than they’d ever heard before as he cooed at her.

Daisy blinked up at him. Paying no mind to you or any of the other people in the room, least of all Dustin as she shifted uncomfortably. Little lip beginning to tremble.

“Well.” Eddie laughed, pushing his palms off his thighs and standing straight again. “I think that-” Eddie began, looking at Dustin smugly.

“Oh my God!” You gasped suddenly, cutting Eddie off and making his head snap back down towards his daughter. He watched, mouth agape as she moved her little head up and down. Seemingly nodding in response to his question.

“What the fuck…” He whispered hastily, recoiling.

“Language!” You chastised again, tone wavering as you also stared in shock at your newborn that had apparently understood her Dad’s complex question.

Now that was spooky.

“How did you do that?” Eddie asked Dustin quickly, reminiscent of the way they had asked him when Daisy had spat the pacifier across the table.

Dustin shrugged, looking just as bewildered from his place on the floor. His hands that had previously been outstretched as if in prayer were now withdrawn to his chest as he leaned away from the baby.

Wary of her.

He turned back to the group slowly. All of them standing there in shock as they watched the interaction between their teammate and what appeared to be a completely conscious baby.

“Well, it’s settled then.” Gareth said quickly, everyone turning to him slowly as he shrugged and gestured towards the table with one hand. “The Godd- Uh, Angel, has spoken.” He smiled, looking around at the other guys and jerking his head towards the game. “Shall we?” He asked, pulling out his chair and sitting down in front of his character sheet.

No one else moved for a long moment. Not even you as you stared down at your little one and tried to figure out if she could understand you or not.

“Uh… Sure.” Eddie replied when no one else made a move. He turned to you with worried eyes. “Did you want to…” He trailed off as you snapped back to yourself, realizing Daisy was probably still uncomfortable as she wriggled around in your arms. You repositioned her, nodded at Eddie’s question with an equally concerned expression.

Yes, you definitely wanted to go home and yes you would take the baby so the guys could finally finish their ill fated journey through the haunted mansion. 

Even though you were honestly a little scared of her right now and wished Eddie would come with you.

Maybe you’d go and visit Wayne instead…

“I’m sure Eddie can speak for The Angel.” You chuckled awkwardly. “She needs to go home and get some proper rest in a quiet room.” You explained, leaning towards the diaper bag Eddie had stashed under the table and stopping half way as he dove for it instead to save your back. 

“I will speak for The Angel…” Eddie began, frowning as he helped you get up from his throne. “Even though I am starting to wonder if she can speak for herself…” He added quietly, sounding skeptical. “But first I’m gonna walk these guys to the car.” Eddie said apologetically, placing a hand on your back and turning towards the main entry of the room as you bid goodnight to the club.

“Oh!” You said, stopping by the door. “The pacifier?” You asked Eddie. Watching as he pointed a finger in the air and turned back towards the guys.

“It’s right he-” He paused, sidling up between Dustin and Mike and staring at the blank spot on the game mat where it had landed earlier.

“Here!” Gareth interjected, finishing Eddie’s sentence as he held up the pink paci and made a motion like he was going to throw it. 

Eddie held out his hands in response.

“Thanks man.” He said, as he caught it between his palms. Returning to you and leaving the club in stunned silence as you both left the room and headed towards the parking lot.

“Really?” Dustin asked, sounding exhausted but impressed none-the-less. “Using the pacifier to make the baby nod?” He asked as Gareth grinned from ear to ear and each of the other members of the club began to catch on to what transpired earlier. “You realize they’re scared of their baby now?” He asked. “That’s diabolical.”

“Not as diabolical as you pretending we all planned a prank and totally knew what the fuck was going on earlier.” The other teen shot back immediately, looking around after he spoke in fear that Eddie had somehow returned without them noticing.

“I’m just surprised you all caught on to be honest.” Dustin said earnestly as they all argued back about the statement.

“Seriously though…” Grant began when the shouting died down. “Did any of you think that baby was real for a second?” He asked quietly, eyes flicking towards the door as an affirmative murmur moved around the table.

“God no.”

“Not a chance.”

“Nope.”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Good.” Grant nodded. “I stared to think I was the only one that thought Eddie was full of shit.” He admitted, falling silent as the sound of Eddie’s footsteps coming back up the hallway forced them into a huddle to discuss how they were going to move through the obstacle they were stuck behind if Eddie decided they really didn’t deserve Daisy’s gifts.  

“Sorry about that guys.” Eddie sighed as he slumped down in his throne once more. He leaned back in his chair, ready to press play on the tape player and resume the ambient sounds. His fingers sliding over the buttons and furrowing his brows as he picked it up instead so he could look at it. “Ah shit.” He laughed, holding it in his lap.

“What?” Dustin asked, looking between the DM and the device.

“I thought I stopped it, but I guess I hit record instead.” He sighed. “Oh well, I guess it’s a good thing.” He shrugged. “Daisy will get a kick out of your prank one day.”

~

A/N: I hope you guys like this little Halloween Treat. Please let me know if you did. I don't really write x reader fics anymore so would appreciate the encouragement. xx

[solxamber]

do you do skully graves and reader (platonic)? If u do can like a qiqi!reader or huohuo!reader who helps him with stuff whilst either talking to ghosts are just being a forgetful zombie , thanks

Skully J. Graves x Huohuo! Reader

hi! I tried my best to adapt his personality to the new parts of event story, you can let me know if you wanted something different!

The fog clung to the streets, curling like ghostly fingers around every corner of the village. The eerie ambiance would have sent shivers down most people’s spines, but not Skully J. Graves. No, he basked in it, breathing in the cold, misty air with a grin so wide it would have made Jack Skellington proud. He adjusted his coat, looking proudly over the plans for his ideal Halloween.

“No lights,” he muttered, scribbling frantically on a scrap of parchment. “No candy. And absolute, complete darkness.” His grin widened, almost maniacal. “Perfect.”

“Skully, uh… why would anyone want a Halloween with no candy?” A soft voice broke his concentration, and he glanced up to see you, the strange friend who always seemed to be muttering to thin air. Except, in your case, it wasn’t thin air.

Around you, unseen to everyone else, lingered several translucent spirits, floating lazily like they didn’t have a care in the world. One of them—a particularly cheeky ghost with a mischievous smirk—whispered in your ear.

“No candy, no fun,” you echoed what the ghost said, looking between Skully and the air with slight anxiety. “I think he might be right, Skully… What if people just want to, you know, enjoy themselves?”

Skully rolled his eyes, barely hiding a grin. “Candy is for the weak. Jack Skellington never handed out candy. He—wait, what do you mean he might be right?” His eyes narrowed, staring directly where one of the ghosts hovered. “You talking to them again?”

You shrugged, giving a sheepish smile. “They’ve got opinions too, you know.”

Before Skully could respond, you were back to murmuring to another ghost. “No, no, no, I’m not ignoring you… Okay, okay, I’ll tell him.” You turned back to Skully. “Uh… the ghost by the market says you should maybe reconsider the ‘no lights’ thing. Might freak out the little ones.”

Skully crossed his arms, huffing. “Freaking out is the point, my dear! A true Halloween isn’t about fun and games. It’s about terror, darkness, and—beating up ghosts, obviously.”

One of the spirits around you let out a melodramatic wail, clearly offended. You winced, giving Skully a helpless look. “You really hurt their feelings…”

Skully sighed dramatically, waving his hand dismissively. “They’ll get over it. I’m just saying—Jack would agree with me.”

“He’s still mad you didn’t give him that apple the other day,” you added as if that were part of the conversation.

Skully paused, blinking at you. “Wait… what?”

“Not important!” you quickly blurted, pushing past the topic, eyes darting to the spirits floating around you. “But, hey, how about we add a few spooky lights, you know? Like those lanterns with creepy faces carved into them? It’d keep the kids from getting totally lost and still fit your dark aesthetic.”

Skully stared at you for a long moment, his intense eyes seeming to bore into your soul—or maybe into the spirits’ souls. You couldn’t really tell. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his temple. “Fine. Some lights. But only the spookiest kind.”

One of the spirits around you cheered silently, and you grinned. “See, compromise works!”

As you helped Skully finalize his Halloween of nightmares, you couldn’t help but think about how strange this dynamic was. You, a soft-hearted (if slightly anxious) spirit-communicator, and Skully, a Halloween-obsessed enigma who idolized Jack Skellington. And yet, somehow, you made the perfect team.

Then came the moment where you had to address the elephant in the room—or rather, the ghosts in the air. As you adjusted some spooky decorations, one of the ghosts began wailing about something from the past. You sighed, turning to Skully with a rare moment of seriousness.

“Skully, can we pause for a second?”

He glanced up from his pile of cobwebs and fake skeletons, raising an eyebrow. “What now? Another ghost’s feelings hurt?”

“No… it’s just…” You bit your lip. “I know I act a little… goofy sometimes. But I do take what I do seriously, you know? Helping these ghosts—it’s important to me.”

For the first time, Skully looked a little taken aback. He slowly straightened up, gazing at you with something close to admiration. “I know. You’re weird, but you’re good at what you do.” He hesitated before giving you a rare, almost tender smile. “Thanks for… you know… always being here.”

You grinned, a warmth spreading in your chest at the compliment. “Hey, someone’s gotta make sure your Halloween doesn’t turn into complete chaos.”

“Chaos is the goal!” Skully insisted, but there was a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

And as you two continued working on what was sure to be the weirdest, most ghost-infested Halloween in history, you couldn’t help but feel like—just maybe—this peculiar friendship (and the random ghosts) were exactly where you were meant to be.

Masterlist

[writhingg]

heard you, saw you / need you, love you

Slender body angled in your direction, he leans against a rumbling car, a thick haze of cigarette smoke surrounding him. You quickly take stock of him—tall and tattooed, shaggy hair and black jeans ripped at the knee—and though you can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you know he’s looking at you. More smoke pours slowly from his lips, and with a wide, wicked grin, he points his cigarette at you and calls out, “Gonna get you, baby!”

Eddie wants you, and he won't stop until he has you.

Word count: 4,857

Tags/warnings: 18+/minors dni, Flayed!Eddie Munson x fem reader, Eddie Munson & Billy Hargrove (Billy is more of a side character), college-aged reader, post-season 4, no use of y/n, Eddie and Billy live (sort of...), Eddie hints at SA-ing reader (nothing physical, but he does talk about it), horror, suspense, dread, blood and gore, coercion, emotional manipulation, swearing, creepy older men, the Upside Down, background Shadow Monster/Mind Flayer, literary references and allusions, this is not romance.

A/N: I posted this on ao3 back in April, but since we're about a day away from October (spooky season!!!), I figured it would be the perfect piece to debut on here. This was heavily inspired by "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?" by Joyce Carol Oates and Ptolemaea by Ethel Cain. Reblogs are the best! Likes and comments are appreciated as well! Thanks for reading!

sweet, mourning lamb  there’s nothing you can do  it’s already been done

Your life is perfect.

You have a father who gives you money whenever you ask for it and a mother who dotes on you even though she secretly covets your youth and your beauty. When she looks at you, you can see the wistful look in her eyes, gaze lingering on the smooth skin between your manicured brows, the barely-there smile lines from late nights of laughter around a bonfire at Lover’s Lake, surrounded by your best friends and girls who pretend to be your friend and boys who want to be more than your friend.

At Hawkins High, everyone knows your name, always calling after you or grinning your way, trying to get a seat at the lunch table where you and all your friends gossip about the latest rumor—“Did you hear that Tracy Anderson got knocked up?” “Is she the next Virgin Mary or something? ‘Cause no away anyone’s touching her.”—while sipping on cans of Diet Coke.

It fills you with a triumphant sense of joy to get whatever you want; all you have to do is flutter your lashes or flash a coy smile and people are like putty in your hands, bending and twisting in whatever way you wish.

When you tell your parents you’re going out and don’t know what time you’ll be home, your dad grumbles a response, not bothering to look up from the TV dinner he’s shoving into his mouth while your mom asks if you really need to show that much skin, her uneasy grin falling into a grimace as you strut through the front door without a single glance back.

Crystal, your third-favorite best friend, is waiting for you at the end of your driveway. She’s perched in the driver’s seat of her dad’s new car, a sporty red convertible with leather seats and a top that goes all the way down. She greets you with a kiss on your cheek, and after the two of you complain about the humidity and gush over each other’s outfits—“God, that top is to die for!” “Baby blue is so your color!”—she tears off down the road, the both of you hollering the entire way.

A girl on the cusp of womanhood, you’re no stranger to stares that follow your every move.

Boys are always looking at you, but men want more than a small piece. Men want to swallow you whole.

You notice the way they watch you, with leering eyes and bottom lips tucked between teeth stained yellow from tobacco dip. You simper and wiggle your fingers in their direction, you and your friends giggling behind your hands when they stumble over themselves in their attempt to approach you. And when you see them up close—the crow’s feet, the nose hair, the greying mustaches—you no longer hide your laughter, doubling over with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“As if!” you always shout, unfazed as they grunt out stupid little bitch and fuckin’ tease. The words hang in the air as the men give you one last acidic look, scampering away with bowed heads and clenched jaws.

When you and Crystal pull up to the drive-in theater, it’s a familiar scenario. She finds a spot in the middle of the packed lot, and before the two of you even slip out of your seatbelts, the cars on either side of you are loud with boys you know from school and boys you’ve never seen before, all of them asking for your names and if you want to go for a drive to somewhere secret. The two of you share a smirk, Crystal busying herself with tuning the radio while you watch the intermission ad on the screen. You giggle at the dancing bars of ice cream, a jaunty tune crackling from the speakers as she finally finds the theater’s station.

They’re like hungry wolves, you observe, snarling and salivating at the sight of you reapplying your lipstick. When you climb out of the car, Crystal handing you a few bucks for her funnel cake and root beer, you pretend not to hear their desperate howls. It feels good to ignore them, just like it feels good to ignore the men who whistle at you on your way to the snack bar. Their idiocy amuses you, deluded enough to believe that cries of “Over here, honey!” will have you bounding over to them like a lost puppy.

You keep your head held high, eyes forward and hips swaying as you follow the oily scent of fried dough. You walk no further than a foot or two before the revving of an engine breaks your stride. Startled, your head whips to your left, and that’s when you notice him.

Slender body angled in your direction, he leans against a rumbling car, a thick haze of cigarette smoke surrounding him. You quickly take stock of him—tall and tattooed, shaggy hair and black jeans ripped at the knee—and though you can’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you know he’s looking at you.

More smoke pours slowly from his lips, and with a wide, wicked grin, he points his cigarette at you and calls out, “Gonna get you, baby!”

You roll your eyes in response, thinking only of how stupid it is that he’s wearing sunglasses at night before flitting your gaze back to the growing snack bar line.

Later, after Crystal’s food and your corn dog are paid for by Robbie, a sweet-talking sophomore over at Purdue, you’re settled in the backseat of the convertible watching an old movie about a baby and some lady named Rosemary. You let Robbie put his arm around you, but when it’s clear that his insistent lips won’t be met with an eager, open mouth, he climbs out of the car in a clumsy hurry, huffing insults under his breath you’ve heard time and time again.

You sport a smirk as you help yourself to the pretzel he’s left behind, and in the distance, in the dark, you don’t see the man with the sunglasses watching you.

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

You heave a dramatic sigh up at your mom, muttering, “Yes, I’m sure,” for what feels like the thousandth time that morning.

Attending a barbecue at your great-uncle’s house—where you’ll be surrounded by your sticky cousins and all of your catty aunts who will make snide comments about your “hooker makeup”—is not your idea of fun. With the end of summer looming over you like a dark cloud, the promise of college and responsibilities and having to fend for yourself edging dangerously close, you plan to enjoy your last days of freedom by lazing about instead, sprawling out on a thin blanket in the backyard while the sweltering sun beams down on you.

“Alright,” your mom finally concedes. “Your father and I will see you later then. There’s some money on the fridge so you can order yourself a pizza. Call if you need anything, okay?”

You give a barely-audible hum in return, listening to the slap of her sandals as she shuffles to the awaiting station wagon. When you hear it disappear down the street, you exhale a relieved breath. After your whirlwind of a week—the drive-in, a shoplifting spree with your second-favorite best friend Amy, and a two-day rager at an abandoned lake house that once belonged to some guy named Reefer Rick—you’re in desperate need of solitude.

Situated on the grass, you switch on the radio, flipping through a few stations until you hear a song you don’t completely hate. Though the air is muggy, you find yourself lulled into a quiet comfort. Eyes soon slipping closed, your mind fills with shiny daydreams of white-sand beaches, roiling blue waves, and sweaty, muscled surfers. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until the incessant buzzing of a fly near your nose brings you back to reality. When you rise from your blanket with a yawn and a joint-popping stretch, you feel a hot, simmering ache across your face and chest.

“Shit!” you shout, scrambling toward the side door of your house. You take the stairs two at a time, out of breath as you rush past your frilly bedroom and into the bathroom. Twisting the faucet on, you splash your face with cold water, your warm skin immediately soothed by the icy temperature. A sunburn was so not on your agenda. Now you’ll have to spend the rest of the afternoon slathering yourself in one of your mom’s expensive moisturizers, which means you’ll have only a short window of time to primp yourself for tonight’s party over in Loch Nora.

You swear again, frowning as you gaze into the mirror and catch sight of your frizzy hair. With a scowl, you reach for your flat iron, a second away from plugging it in and dialing up the heat to the highest setting when you hear the loud blaring of a car horn.

“No way,” you mutter in disbelief, stunned as the horn beeps again only a few seconds later.

You cannot believe your parents are already home! They’d only been gone for an hour or two and weren’t supposed to be back until tonight! When you hear the horn a third time, though, a tell-tale signal of your dad’s impatience, you grit your teeth. You already told them you weren’t going to that stupid barbeque! What makes them think that you would change your mind, that you would want to hang out with all those gross kids and old people always going on about life a hundred years ago?

The horn sounds again, prompting you to forcefully stomp your foot against the tiled floor. Your parents are not going to ruin your plans. They’ll have to drag you out of the house kicking and screaming.

You barrel down the stairs and into the kitchen, bolting towards the side door once more. Your hands are on the screen, ready to push it open and unleash your frustration, but you stop at the last second.

It’s not your parents in the driveway.

The car is blue, sharp, and loud, with a set of words on the hood in an intricate, looping cursive. You can hardly read it, squinting as you try to decipher the sentence—“abandon all hope, ye who enter here”—before your face contorts into a disapproving frown. You think the car would look much better without all that mess written on the front of it. 

Someone clears their throat, and your gaze then travels to the lone figure leaning up against the driver-side door. Your frown deepens when you see a man with a head of shaggy hair and sunglasses perched atop his nose.

“I was starting to worry you were ignoring me,” he says.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know me, honey. It hurts my feelings.”

He smiles at you, wide and toothy, and a look of recognition flashes across your face when you realize that he’s the same man from the drive-in.

“See? You know me.”

“No, I don’t,” you tell him, your voice sharp.

“You’ll get to me know me.”

He’s still smiling at you, a small dimple peeking through, and it occurs to you that he thinks he’s being cute. You study him, noting that he’s more of a boy than a man. You eye the black polish on his nails and his slightly cropped t-shirt, the sinewy muscle of his tattooed arms and his self-assured stance. He’s not your type, and you definitely don’t think he’s kind of cute.

“What do you want?” you ask him, arms crossing over your chest.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

You roll your eyes at the playful pout he gives you, and when he shifts to the side a little, you see through the window that there’s a second person in the car. Another boy, muscular with blond hair styled into a curly mullet. He sits behind the wheel and jams a tape into the cassette deck, the car filling with pounding drums and heavy guitars. Like the boy standing before you, he’s also wearing sunglasses.

“Hey,” the shaggy-haired guy says, snapping your attention back to him. “You’re pretty.”

“What?”

“You’re pretty. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You ignore the rush of warmth that blooms in your cheeks, gazing at him through a glare that takes more effort than usual to maintain. “I don’t even know you.”

“Eddie Munson,” he tells you. He jerks a thumb behind him. “And this is Billy Hargrove. Doesn’t say much, though. He’s shy.”

For whatever reason, in the furthest part of your mind, the names unlock a small inkling of familiarity. You brush away the thought, though, your glare fixed and sharp.

“Well, Eddie, it’s nice to meet you or whatever, but I think—”

“You should come outside and take a look at the Camaro. Decent stereo and it goes fast.” He leans forward, hands gripping the window frame behind him. “You like it when cars go fast, don’t you?”

There’s something in his words that makes you flustered again. You busy yourself by tugging at the frayed hem of your denim shorts, eyes darting away from him. He’s too forward and too inviting and too much trouble.

“So? What do you think?”

“What do I think about what?”

He chuckles, amused at your attempt to sound nonchalant. “Going for a ride. You know you want to.”

You exhale an exasperated huff, both hands on your hips now. Boys are always thinking that they can boss you around, that you’ll obey like some mindless servant. You don’t care that your stomach flutters a little at his words – it’s both insulting and annoying.

“No, I don’t.”

“You can sit in the front,” he continues. “Billy doesn’t mind moving to the back. We’ll turn on the radio and listen to some music. I bet I know what your favorite song is.” Then he does the most peculiar thing...he starts singing the song you dozed off to earlier. It’s an odd coincidence, especially when his voice starts to sound like the voice on the radio, gravelly and kind of breathy at the same time.

“That’s not my favorite song,” you interrupt him.

Again, all he does is laugh. “Fine, we don’t have to listen to music. We can do something else.”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. We could get pizza, go to the arcade.” One corner of his lips curves into a sly grin, as if he's privy to a secret only he knows. “We could even go to the beach.”

Another strange coincidence, you think, one that makes your heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. “There aren’t any beaches around here.”

“I’ll take you to one.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve got plans.”

“Plans?” he questions, both eyebrows raising in what looks like feigned surprise. He places a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric as if you’ve dealt him a fatal wound. “How could you have plans when you’re supposed to spend the day with me?”

You roll your eyes at him, having already grown sick of whatever game this is. You take a breath, ready to tell him to crawl back into whatever hole he dug himself out of, but then he says your name, and you flinch as if you’ve been slapped.

You never told him your name.

“How did you know that?” you ask him, a mix of suspicion and fear swelling inside of you.

“How did I know what?” he replies, mimicking your earlier line of questioning.

“My name...I didn’t tell you what my name was.”

“You didn’t have to,” he shrugs, quiet for a moment as he plays with a silver ring on his middle finger. Then, an insidious smirk spreads across his face. “I know everything about you.”

It feels like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on you, the air knocked from your lungs while your limbs lock in place. He seems close, too close now, and with a clarity that makes your heart thrash painfully, you realize that the only barrier between the two of you is a flimsy screen. With trembling fingers, you touch the lock on the side door, ensuring that it’s hooked in place.

“You d-don’t know me,” you stammer, trying your hardest to keep a straight face.

“‘Course, I do, baby. I know you and I know Amy and Crystal. I know sweet-talking Robbie and all those high school boys always running after you. I know those men and what they wish they could do to you.” He pauses, then his voice gets lower, taunting. “And I know your parents aren’t home right now, that they’re at your Great-Uncle Walter’s house for a barbecue. I know they won’t be home till later tonight.”

Your eyes are wide, your skin feeling too warm and too tight. You try to respond, but all that comes out is a shuddering breath.

Eddie isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s staring up at the sky, as if he’s trying to see past the sunshine and clouds. “Your dad...he’s sipping on a beer and tearing into a slab of ribs. And your mom is chatting away with your Aunt Belinda. She’s got a drink in her hand, something tart and sweet and mixed with vodka. Yeah...with the buzz the two of them are working on, they definitely won’t be home for a while.”

“How could you...you don’t know that!” you shout at him, breaking your composure. “You don’t know anything!”

He angles his head toward you again, still smiling, but there’s no longer any mirth. It’s what you see on all those other men, sharp and threatening.

Like he wants to consume you.

“You’re my girl. It’d be a shame if I knew nothing about you.”

“I’m not your girl!”

“Oh, but you are. You were made for me, honey, and I was made for you. And you can try, but you can’t run me off. I told you I’d be here, and I’m not leaving until you come with me.”

“Want me to grab her?”

Billy’s words petrify you, just as it petrifies you to see the shift in Eddie’s temperament. When he rounds on Billy, gone is the playful lilt of his voice. His skin flushes red, knuckles turning white as his hands curl into fists. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Hargrove? Huh? No, I don’t want you to grab her! She’ll come out here on her own, alright? Stay the fuck out of it.”

Eddie whirls around to face you again, a hand pushing back the hairs sticking to his forehead. He grins, and there’s not a single trace of his previous anger. “Sorry about that. Billy’s a little crazy, that’s all. Don’t pay him any mind. It’s just you and me, yeah? You and me.”

You nod because you don’t know how else to respond. Your fingers are still glued to the screen door’s lock, the metal latch warm and damp from your touch. Eddie cocks his head to the side, studying you.

“You’re scared of me.”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being correct, but you have no rebuttal, no scathing comeback. You stare at him, blinking back tears, trying not to crumble. You are scared of him.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he says, his voice soft and warm. “I promise I’ll be gentle with you the first time. I’ll hold you in my arms real tight and I’ll kiss you and I’ll touch you better than any of those scumbags ever could. You’ll cry my name so sweetly, and you’ll be wet and aching and you’ll beg me, you’ll beg me to keep going. You won’t ever want to leave me.”

A wave of nausea mixes with your fear, your stomach churning violently when his tongue swipes slowly along his bottom lip. “You – you’re sick! You’re disgusting! Go away or I’ll – I’ll call the police!”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter. The police can’t keep me from you, just like that door between us, and that lock you haven’t let go of. They’re just barriers, and barriers can be torn down. Nothing can keep us apart.”

“Shut up! Just shut up! You’re insane!”

“Baby, listen,” he says, flashing you a placating grin. “As long as you come out here, I won’t go in there, but if you touch that phone, if you call the cops or your parents or anyone else, deal’s off and I can step foot in that house. I’ll hurt anyone who tries to stop me, and I can tell you this much...you won’t like it if I have to come after you.”

“Just let me grab her,” Billy says flatly. “I’ll make it quick.”

Eddie’s jaw seems tight enough to crack his teeth as he whips around again. “Are you fucking stupid, Hargrove? Are you deaf? You got a few bolts knocked loose? Your daddy shove you around too hard? Your mommy drop you on your head too many times? She’s mine! She’s mine and I don’t need your slimy fingers all over her. She’s mine and she’s gonna come out here because she loves me and I love her, got it? Mind your business and shut the fuck up!”

You want to run. You want to hide beneath the covers of your bed and fold yourself up and wish and hope and pray that you’ll wake up from whatever awful nightmare this is, but you catch something in your peripheral vision, something that keeps you anchored to your spot.

In the chaos of his outburst, the sun had changed its position in the sky, his shadow slanting tall and wide along the concrete driveway. It shouldn’t be something you notice, just as insignificant as the blowing of the wind, but you stare anyway, eyes wide with horror when you see a non-human figure sprouting from his body. Broad shouldered, the shadow’s wings are outstretched, with pointed horns curling from its head and long, sharp claws where the fingers should be.

It’s only the light playing tricks on you. It’s not real, okay? It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not—

A shrill cry tears its way out of you as you watch the shadow mirror each of Eddie’s movements.

He turns around, no longer shouting at Billy. His mouth is pulled into a knowing smile as he reaches up to remove his sunglasses, and when you see his eyes, you let out a blood-curdling scream. There’s no iris, no pupil, no white. Both eyes are dark, fully encompassed in an abyss of black.

Your body moves of its own accord, drifting backward and falling onto the stairs leading up to the kitchen. Eddie moves with you, a hand over his forehead as he peers hungrily through the screen. He calls your name again and again and again.

“You with me, sweetheart? You’re not gonna touch that phone, right?”

“Why are you doing this?” you whimper.

“Because I want you.”

“Why – why me?”

“I saw you at the drive-in and knew I had to have you. Such a pretty little thing, I thought, needs someone like me to take care of her, to her protect from all those creeps. They’re rotten, all of them. They only want to hurt you. They wouldn’t love you like I love you.”

“Stop!” you shriek, nearly out of breath. “Just stop!”

“Don’t you realize we belong together? All this time, you’ve been saving yourself for me. Don’t you know that?”

Billy is standing beside him now, watching you with the same bottomless eyes. Like a blackhole, their gazes suck you in, pulling and stretching and tearing you to pieces. 

And suddenly, seeing the two of them side by side stirs another rush of buried recognition.

You recall fuzzy, childhood memories, images blurred around the edges of news reports on the Starcourt Mall fire. You remember sitting on the couch, a teddy bear in your lap as dozens of names and faces are plastered across the screen, your mom in the background murmuring something to your dad about Susan and her poor stepson.

You remember your dad and a few angry neighbors huddled around the dining room table, all of them whispering about something called “cults” and “sacrifices” and “you think Wayne’s nephew actually did it?” while you colored in a picture of butterflies.

You remember the earthquake, the ground splitting open, strange, grey snowflakes falling from the darkening sky as your parents packed up the car and rushed you out of town.

You remember coming home after almost two years of sheltering out west, flyers of missing persons still hung up around Hawkins.

And when you think hard enough, when you think long enough, you finally realize why Eddie and Billy look familiar to you.

“No,” you shake your head too quickly. “No, no, no, no. It’s not—you can’t—”

“Use your words,” Eddie coaxes gently.

“You can’t. You can’t because…because you’re supposed to be…”

“Say it.”

Heart pounding, blood rushing, stomach whirling, the word falls quietly from your lips. “Dead.”

“See? Didn’t I tell you she was smart, Hargrove? Not like the last one. What was her name again?”

“Jessica, right?” Billy drawls out. “Or Jamie? Or was it Jacqueline?”

Eddie snaps his fingers excitedly. “Wait! I got it. It was Julie. Julie Thompson.”

Your face is buried in your quivering hands, but when you hear the name, everything becomes still and silent.

Julie Thompson. She’d gone missing last year, assumed by police and her parents to have run away with one of the many college boys she was sneaking around with. No one believed you when you said she wouldn’t just run off. And she was your best friend. Your first-favorite best friend.

You lift your head, reluctantly meeting Eddie’s pitch-black eyes. “What did you do? Where’s Julie?”

“Get in the car and I’ll tell you.”

“No!” you shriek, despair and hot anger coursing through you. “No! Fuck you! You – you’re fucking dead and you’re nothing and you can’t be here! You just – you can’t!”

“But I am here,” Eddie replies, all traces of his softness gone.

He sees every part of you—the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe too hard and too fast; the trembling of your shoulders as you hold back an anguished sob; the delicious throbbing of the pulse in your neck—like a predator tracking every movement of its prey.

A predator that has won the hunt.

“I’m here because this town owes me and I’ve come to collect what’s mine. And you, sweetheart, belong to me.”

You’re screaming again, your head whipping back and forth so rapidly that your world starts to tilt. You clamp your eyes shut, but your mind offers no solace, because behind your lids, there is only red – a red sky, red lightning, a red pool of something thick and warm and murky that your feet are quickly sinking beneath. And out of the pool comes slippery, snaking vines that wrap around your ankles and up your calves, tightening and binding as they rise higher and higher. And something is diving toward you, the beat of its wings growing louder as it swoops beneath the red clouds. And you feel the ground rumbling, shaking, falling apart as lightening cracks and illuminates a monster in the distance. Massive and spider-like, its roar cuts into you so deeply that you feel it in your bones.

It's coming after you.

You struggle and cry until your throat is raw and aching, and you beg for your parents, for someone, anyone, to hear you, to save you, but there is no one, there is nothing except red and screams and fear and blood. You can’t breathe and you can’t move and you sink further into the depths of this hell, and you swear and you plead that you’ll do anything, you’ll do anything, so please please pleasepleaseplease—

The distorted chimes of a grandfather clock reverberate across the cold, blazing landscape, and then someone laughs, cruel and deep and echoing. It grows louder, and it stretches on forever and ever, and you can't do anything because you are decaying flesh, you are crumbled bone, you are dust.

You are nothing.

After an eternity of depravity and suffering, of drowning beneath the weight of wailing souls and fetid corpses, your eyes are open again.

You claw at the lock on the screen door with shaking hands and push yourself over the threshold. And when you tumble outside, desperately gulping in lungfuls of fresh air, your face streaked with snot and warm tears, the world is bright and burning again.

Eddie stands before you, his mouth twisted into a malicious smile, his arms wide and open.

“I told you, honey. I told you I was gonna get you.”

[noxturnalnymph]

The Hunted

SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader (8.2k)

DARKAU! POV will switch between Joel and Reader. This is dark compared to anything I’ve ever written before. I am a spooky girlie at heart and I wanted to give this idea some legs. If it’s not your thing, that’s okay. Spooky Halloween everyone!

Summary: This Ken is a Ski Instructor. This Ken is a Veterinarian. Well, this Joel is a Serial Killer. The canon Joel is actually kind of a serial killer too, if you think about it. But this version is No-Outbreak, 56-years old, and a Violent, Deranged, Serial Killing Loner. When a new victim practically falls in his lap, he doesn’t take the time to see that she could be his undoing.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. This is a little dark (for me). Murder, Dead Bodies, Sex, Kidnapping, Bondage, DubCon (they want it but they’re tied to a chair), creampie, blood, violence, semen, crime scenes.

A/N: This is: creepy plot with porn at the end. It’s my first posted tumblr story. Spooky Season is upon us!! Please be nice 💜

He’s been enjoying the silence of the cabin in the woods all afternoon. The only sounds surrounding him have been the soft bird songs and din of cicadas drifting through the open window from the outside, and the rustling of his own body moving about the small rooms inside. 

The sound catches him so off guard, that at first he looks around the inside of the cabin, trying to figure out where the hum could be emanating from. The cabin is not hooked up to electric, so what could be making that sound? Then he realizes it's coming from outside. He looks out the windows and sees a figure hunched in the bushes, a stone’s throw away from his front door. 

He steps to the front door and quietly opens it, watching her at the wood’s edge. It’s definitely a woman, he can tell by the double braids winding down the back of her head, ending in pigtails. She is wearing dark wash blue jeans, a green jacket, and has on a rust-colored backpack. He can hear her humming even clearer now, the melody traversing the short distance to his ears.

He watches as she stays hunched over, reaching into the bushes and rustling the leaves. Nearly a minute passes before she finally stands, wiping her hands off on her thighs. He notices a small wooden bowl at her feet, stuffed full with berries. She is sucking on her fingertips, stained a light purple, when she turns and meets his eyes.

“Oh!,” she says, startled by his presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in this ol’ thing.”

She gestures towards the cabin. She has a point. Even at first glance, the woods surrounding the cabin appear to be putting forth their best effort to reclaim it. The roof is covered in fallen leaves, moss and lichen cling to every surface, and the front steps - made of flattop logs - are sinking down, seeming to retreat back into the forest floor. And what he knows that she doesn't - yet? - is that the musty smell of the forest has permeated every square inch of the old log cabin’s interior, and everything inside of it. 

He puts on his warmest smile, softening the way his eyes are squinted, and blinks slowly. “Yeah, she’s not much but she keeps me honest,” he says, and he notices the way her body relaxes at his gentle, comforting tone.

“I’m guessin’ I’ve wandered too far. Sorry, I didn’t notice any signs posted.” The gentle lilt of her southern accent hits his ears like a sweet melody. 

“Yeah, state land ends at the treeline at the bottom ‘a that hill,” he gestures to the distance, her gaze following where he points. “But I don’t shoot or bite or nothin’, so don’t worry about steppin’ on my property,” he chuckles. He can see her continuing to relax under his welcoming reception. 

“I appreciate that. I’ve got one ‘a those little vans in the clearing down there, ‘n I expected more people to be around if I’m being honest.”

He notices she’s said I, not we.

“It’s gettin’ the end of camping season, so there’s fewer ‘n fewer out here, I think,” he waves his hand, hoping to convey how little he even notices the campers on the adjacent land.

“Well I’m sorry about stealin’ your berries. You want ‘em?” and she takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, holding the small bowl in her outstretched arms. 

The pigtails make her look young. So does the innocence in her eyes, which are partially hidden behind her thick-framed glasses. She stops short of the steps, still about six feet away now, still holding out the bowl. 

“No, ‘course not,” he gives her a sideways grin. “Those were gonna get eaten by birds before they got eaten by me. You enjoy ‘em little bird.” His guts twist at the smile that breaks out on her face. The way she looks down, almost bashful.

She turns to walk away and then stops, turning back to look at him. He watches her as she gives the outside of the deteriorating cabin another once-over, and then looks him up and down. “Can I ask you somethin’?” and before he can even respond, she continues. “Is it safe around here?”

His stomach clenches. He gently furrows his brows, “yeah, sure it is, why?”

“I’ve heard a couple things recently about people going missin’. Hikers and campers near here,” she gestures in a circular motion with her finger. “You heard anything about that?”

She is worried. He can tell because she looks worried. God, every emotion she has is playing across her face right now. He can read her like a book. She is so vulnerable. She’s a young woman camping all alone in the woods and she is worried. She should be.

“I haven’t heard anything myself, no. But that happens every year. People underestimate it.”

“Underestimate what?” she interjects, her doe eyes scanning his face.

“Nature,” he replies, and now he gestures around with his finger.

He gives her another soft smile and blinks his eyes slowly. She lets a genuine grin break through her worried features and she nods, taking in his response.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, there’s no one out here to cause ya trouble,” he offers, hoping she notes that he is clearly not a danger. “Besides, if anything happens, you can come back here.”

This time her smile falters a bit. He’s pushed too far. She’s worried. She’s alone. She’s not looking to seek refuge in a stranger’s cabin. He backtracks.

“I’m sure the worst thing that’s gonna happen is ya find a spider in your van,” he continues, “But please don’t come back here for that!” 

He gives a low chuckle and is glad to see she does the same, good humor returning to her now relaxing face. She gestures to the bowl of berries and flashes a toothy-smile as a thanks, before turning to retreat down the hill. He hears her call out a goodbye after she turns and he calls one back in response. 

He goes back inside and finishes watching her leave until the trees hide her departing figure. He has about seven more hours until dark fully takes hold. Seven more hours until he can seek her out in the clearing with the safe knowledge of remaining undetected. Plenty of time for him to finish prepping the cabin and get himself some dinner.

*****

He thinks he might be getting too old for this. His lower back is aching, his thighs are on fire, and he’s had a stabbing pain in his neck for the last twenty minutes; all due to the fact that he has been hunched against this tree for over an hour. Usually he wouldn’t still be here. He’d have made some observations, taken some mental notes, and planned for additional reconnaissance later on.

But he doesn’t know how long you’re going to be here. You haven’t unpacked anything - not even a folding chair - to indicate that your campsite setup will be anything more than a one-night stay. If you’re gone tomorrow and he has missed his opportunity, he’ll regret leaving now. He has spent the last eight hours thinking about nothing but you. 

He’s thought about the way your delicate lips wrapped around your fingertips and the gentle melody you hummed before you knew he was there. He has thought about the kind way you offered him the berries you picked and the way your jeans hugged your ass as you sauntered away. What would your eyes look like if he took your glasses off, if he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, if he wrapped his big hands around your delicate throat?

No, he has to do it tonight. He can’t wait any longer. 

Your van is all black. Besides the windshield, there are windows only at the two front seats and the rear double doors. However, you have all the windows covered with blackout panels. Smart. You’re a young woman camping alone, keeping your privacy is a smart thing to do. And keeping peeping eyes out of your space is probably important to you.

You’ve been playing music inside the entire time, though he doesn’t recognize any of the songs. Sometimes he thinks he can hear you humming along. He imagines you’re eating the berries you picked from the bushes outside his cabin. Maybe you’ve changed into more comfortable clothing, maybe you’re sitting on your bed, maybe you’re reading a book. Maybe you’re even thinking about him. He tried not to make an impression earlier but part of him hopes he did.

He really can’t wait any longer.

He moves slowly, not just because his body is quite literally creaking, but because he has to keep his head on a swivel and continue to make sure there are no eyes watching him. He makes his way towards the van, choosing his steps carefully. His head moves back and forth, checking in front of and behind him, watching for any movement. The night is so quiet all he hears is the gentle wind rustling the tall grass and the constant cricket song.

He finally reaches the side door of the van. The music inside is louder from here but he still doesn’t recognize the song. He pats his pockets, obsessively triple-checking he has the supplies he’ll need. He pulls a small tool out of his shirt pocket and sticks it in the door lock. He feels rather than hears the soft click that he knows means he now has full access to you. 

He puts his hand on the door handle and inhales a breath, holding it with full lungs. He closes his eyes and imagines what he’ll see when he opens the door, warm light spilling onto him from the inside. What will you be wearing? Will you look excited to see him? Frightened? Will you scream?

“Hey there little bird,” he says quietly as he throws the door open. Confusion falls across his face. He looks down onto the floor of the van, where a single bluetooth speaker sits, still playing music. The single overhead light from the van’s interior barely illuminates the inside, but it doesn’t matter, since there isn’t anything to see. 

The inside of the van isn’t a camper. It’s an empty utility van. There are no seats and no wall panels. In fact, the entire inside of the van is covered in thick plastic sheeting, which vibrates a strange buzz from the reverberation of the bluetooth speaker.

He has barely taken it all in when he feels a pinch in his neck. He grabs at it with his hand but there is nothing there and before he can react further, everything goes black.

*****

You hear a couple deep breaths and then some grunting. Maybe this means he’s finally waking up. You walk around in front of where he sits bound naked to a chair, and bend over, hands on your knees, face close to his, cooing gently for him to wake up sleepyhead. 

Standing up straight, you watch as he slowly opens his eyes, bit by bit, working to focus. He is blinking long, slow blinks, and his eyes raise to your face. His pupils start going big and then small, his eyes start rapidly blinking as his swirling thoughts begin to come back to him. 

Then you see it - recognition.

He crinkles his brows, the crease between them going so deep. His mouth begins to form a question but only a short, dry croak comes out. You can’t help yourself, you laugh at him. A quiet, melodic chuckle.

“Sorry, I think I gave you too much back there,” with two fingers you brush some hair off his forehead that has fallen forward. “I thought you were fatter under all these clothes, but you’re doing alright for yerself there.”

His eyes fall to your shirt - well, his shirt - and then to his own lap. He’s just realizing he’s naked. Then his eyes trail back up your body as he takes in the fact that you’re wearing all of the clothes you stripped off him.

His mouth opens again but you don’t let him even try to speak this time. You grab his face and his eyes snap to meet yours. “Remember when I asked if you knew anything about those campers and hikers goin’ missing?” You drop your hand from his face and step to the side to reveal a folding table set up behind you. Along the table you have laid an array of different souvenirs he had plucked from his victims. 

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” you continue, as you watch his eyes grow larger as they rake across the table, taking in the items he had hidden away in his cabin. “But honey, I think you know a lot more than you said you did.”

His eyes slowly come back to yours and you can’t hide the smile you now have plastered across your face. “I don’t-” he starts. You quickly shove your finger overtop his mouth in a shush motion.

“Don’t even try that honey, we’re way past denial now. I already found all yer little trophies.” 

Now he flexes in the chair. Your finger drags down his neck and across his shoulder as you walk around the chair, circling him. You watch him continue to strain, testing the ropes, checking to see for himself if you knew what you were doing when you tied him to the chair. You did.

“So what is this?” he mutters, “One a’ them yer friend? Your brother or sister or somethin’?” He continues to push against the unforgiving ropes. “This some kinda revenge plot you got brewin’?” 

You can’t help it, you laugh again. “Oh honey, is that what you think?” You place your finger at the top of his forehead and slowly run it down his face, “You think you’ve hurt me?” over his nose, “Think I’m your victim?” over his lips, stopping on his chin. You lean in and ghost your lips right over his. “I’m not your victim honey,” you whisper against his lips, “you’re mine,” pressing into him with a kiss.

You stand up and take a step back. “I know what you are. I know exactly what you are because I’m the same. Well, almost the same,” and you laugh again, breaking eye contact. “When I was young, my adoptive father recognized it in me n’ taught me how to direct it. He called it my dark passenger and I-”

“Y-yer what?” he interrupts.

“What?” You’re back to looking him in his eyes.

“Did you say your dark passenger?” He looks past the folding table strewn with his trophies and sees the ‘camper van’ parked with the side door still wide open, inside still covered with plastic sheeting. “Dark passen- isn’t that from that fuckin’ TV show? Dexter?”

“What the fu-,” you slap your arms against your thighs in frustration. “Don’t tell me you get fuckin’ Showtime in that piece a shit cabin. There wasn’t even a fuckin’ TV in that shithole.”

“Well I don’t fuckin’ live there sweetheart that’s just where I-” he stops short but just rolls his eyes at you. Then he gives you a look like he’s embarrassed for you. 

“Oh well excuse me for wantin’ to add a little flair to this situation!” you yell out to the ceiling. “I guess we can’t have any fuckin’ fun around here.”

“So what’re you gonna do now Dex, chop me up and take me out to the ocean?” a cocky fucking grin settles on his face.. 

“Jesus Christ what’d you watch the whole fuckin’ series?” You look down at his smug face. He thinks he has the upper hand again. This motherfucker. Naked. Tied to a chair. Still thinks he’s smarter than you. 

“You know how much fuckin’ work it’d be to chop your fat ass up?” and you watch his grin get wiped off his face. “Think I’m gonna take the time to dismember you? You? I could leave you just like this in a shallow ditch ‘n not one person would even miss you honey.”

“Then whatcha’ fuckin’ waitin’ for, huh?” He snarls, his smugness gone. “Get it over with, let’s go.”

You walk behind him and grab a second chair, dragging it noisily across the floor until it’s parallel to his own chair but facing the other way. You plop down in the chair and lean closer to him.

“I really don’t know how you’re still not gettin’ it,” you say quietly. You drag your finger along the ropes across the front of his chest as he lowers his chin to watch you. “But you are not in charge here.” He lifts his head and his hard eyes meet yours.

“Now… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re gonna answer me honestly.”

“And why would I fuckin’ do that?” he says calmly, quietly.

“Cuz otherwise I’m gonna call 9-1-1 right now. When they get here they’ll see I’ve done all their work for ‘em.” you hitch your thumb back to point it towards the table behind you. He sighs a deep breath and - growls? - under his breath.

You point to the table again and ask, “How do you choose your victims?” He shakes his head, tries to shift in his chair but the ropes are tied too tight to allow for much movement. You really do know what you’re doing. He still doesn’t seem to believe it, flexing his arms and chest against the ropes yet again.

“I don’t.” You give him a beat to add more to the sentence but he just stares at you with black eyes, mouth closed and tight-lipped.

“You’re gonna have to do a little better n’ that honey,” you gently coo. He suppresses another growl. You can tell that your little nickname for him is finally starting to grate on his nerves. 

“That’s my answer,” he grumbles, refusing to elaborate, staring ahead at the folding table.

“Okay hun, no problem,” you reply as you lean forward and pull a cell phone out of your back pocket. You punch in the lock code and begin to dial. You type in 9 and you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. You quickly type in the 1 and then hover your finger over the button, ready to repeat the motion. You pause and look up, meeting his eyes.

“You wanna call my bluff or you wanna start talkin’?” and then you smile as you hear jesus fuckin’ christ muttered under his breath and watch him spend some more time straining against the ropes. “Get it over with, let’s go,” you repeat his words back to him in a bad impression of his gruff voice. His scowl deepens.

“I don’t,” he repeats. “I don’t choose ‘em.” He sighs, and you open your mouth to protest that he’s still holding back but before you can speak he continues, “I just take what’s there.”

“You don’t have a type?” 

“You seem to know everythin’, look at ‘em,” he nods towards the table where you have placed cut out photos from the missing posters next to the trinkets you found in his cabin. “Does it look like I have a type?” You remember the photos of men and women from all backgrounds on that table.

“So you just take whatever… whoever you can get?”

“Easier that way. Don’t have to go findin’ something specific.” He’s not making eye contact anymore, even though you have leaned in so far your faces are just inches apart. “Less suspicious that way too. Looks less like one person is pickin’ ‘em all off.” He shrugs, then quiets.

You lean back in your chair now, thinking over what he’s said. He’s been doing this for years. You could connect some of his souvenirs to known missing people but he had more items stuffed in his floorboards than you had pictures. So who knows how high his number really is.

“Is that all of ‘em?” nodding your head back towards the table again. His head is still down, seemingly very interested in a freckle on his left thigh. But you see a smile tug at one side of his mouth. He tries to hide it before you can see but it’s too late.

“Yeah,” he lies, unconvincingly. He doesn’t see you roll your eyes. God he’s shit at lying. 

You raise the phone up and wave it in front of his face, showing the 9-1 still dialed in. “Is that your final answer, honey?” He lets out a big sigh, like you’ve spoiled his fun. That’s right, we can’t have any fun around here, can we?

“Not exactly,” he grumbles. “Camping season is short ‘round here. Winter comes on quick. I have somewhere else I go sometimes,” he vaguely adds. He doesn’t elaborate further.

“Do you have sex with ‘em before or after you kill ‘em?” you ask, not even taking time to absorb his previous answer. His head snaps up to yours, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Do you have se-”

“I don’t fuckin’ do that,” he spits, face contorted in disgust.

“Yeahhhh. But that’s what they all say. And, spoiler alert,” your voice goes high and teasing, “they ALL do it.” His face is still tight, mouth curled into a frown. 

“Well I fuckin’ don’t,” he looks back down at the freckle on his thigh, continuing to curse under his breath how disgusting you are for asking. “Killin’ doesn’t get me hard,” he snarls.

“Oh honey, I don’t know why you’re goin’ all shy on me now,” you coo, he’s still looking down, shaking his head now. “I’ve been in your little hidey-hole, ya know. It smells like fuckin’ loam ‘n body odor. I took a black light. That place is truly fuckin’ disgusting.” You adjust your glasses on your nose and continue, “I didn’t find a single cleaning product in the whole place. And now you’re gonna act like you’re not in there sprayin’ blood and cum all over the walls?” He doesn’t raise his head but his eyes meet yours under his eyebrows to scowl at you. You lean in till your noses almost touch. “A black light,” you repeat.

“That’s a huntin’ cabin sweetheart, and it wasn’t always mine. So I can’t tell you what yer little black light saw but it wasn’t me doin’ - that - with any ‘a them,” he nods to the table. 

Now you consider what he’s said and decide if you believe him or not. He’s a terrible liar, right? Maybe. Or maybe he’s just been playing you this entire time. You don’t give a shit that he’s a murderer. Anyone would murder under the right circumstances. But sexual assault? That’s a line you’d never cross. In fact, most of the men you’ve killed have been guilty of it themselves. Pigs, all of them, who’d stick their dicks anywhere for a moment of pleasure. They deserved what they got. Is this guy one of them?

“Well like I said, that’s what they all say, n-”

He interrupts, muttering jesus fuckin’ christ again, and more curses follow in whispers. “Is there fuckin’ evidence that I did any ‘a that? Any… sexual assault?” he spits the last two words out with particular venom, speaking the term for the first time.

“You’re askin’ if there’s any evidence on the months-old decomposing body parts found half-eaten in the woods?” You poke the freckle on his thigh he’s been seemingly obsessed with. “Surprisingly, no, there was not any evidence of sexual assault found.”

“Well then, there ya go,” he grunts out, as if that settles it. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. You can’t tell if it’s from shame, discomfort, or disgust. He’s doing a good job pretending it’s disgust. Is he pretending?

You try to ask another question but he is done talking. He won’t look up from his lap now. You even hold up the cell phone again but he doesn’t flinch. He knows by now you’re not going to dial the police. He’s shut down. So you get up and pull your chair away, disappearing behind him for a moment. 

When you come back in front of him you sit on his lap, facing him, straddling his legs with yours. He looks up at you with cautious eyes and opens his mouth to say something - but say what you’re not sure. When he feels the sharp poke just under his ribs he stops short. He looks down and sees the 5” knife you have pressed into the soft spot where his sternum ends.

“I guess it’s time then, honey,” you hum. The hand not holding the knife traces the side of his face. He looks almost sad for one singular moment before his eyes turn hard and all the muscles in his face pull tight.

“If ya expect me to beg, you’re wastin’ yer time.” His pupils are blown wide. “Just do it.”

“How about you stop bein’ so bossy on our first date?” You lean in and kiss him on the nose, then the right cheek, then the left cheek. “Well…..  Our last date,” and you kiss him on the mouth.

You press your lips hard into his and wait. When he doesn’t relent you take your free hand and squeeze his cheeks, hard, forcing his mouth open. Risking him biting your tongue, you push it into his mouth. Your gamble pays off when he doesn’t bite but instead pushes his tongue back and forth along the length of yours.

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, bracing yourself and grinding your body down into his naked lap. You press your chest into his as your hand moves to the back of his head and fists in his wild curls. You continue kissing him, tongues wrapping around each other, lips moving sloppily across each other’s mouths. 

You move your wet kisses down his jaw, mouthing at the patches in his graying, scruffy beard. You grab a handful of his hair and squeeze your fist, tugging gently at the roots. He grits his teeth and groans, attempting to buck his hips up. 

Of course he can’t move against the restraints, but you grind down again, and you can finally feel that he’s gotten hard through the baggy jeans you’re still wearing. You let a low chuckle slip out.

“I thought killin’ didn’t get you hard,” you smile against his mouth.

“Who am I killin’?” he mutters, still simmering with anger at the topic.

Oh yeah, you giggle, your breath ghosting across his neck. “I guess I’m the one who it’s gettin’ hard,” you whisper. 

You can’t help it. The anticipation of the kill is thrumming through your veins. It’s always like this, the energy, the electricity. Killing makes you feel more alive. You usually aren’t making out with them though. Never, in fact. This time feels different. You’re not sure why.

You lick a stripe up his neck, rolling your hips over his hardened length, and now he bites, nipping gently at your jaw. You squirm and the knife pokes harder into his abdomen. He inhales a sharp breath through his nose at the contact. You silence any additional protest by kissing him hard on the mouth again.

You pull back, face flushed and panting. He is looking at you with wild eyes and puffy lips, his hair pulled at strange angles from your hands running through it. Do you want to fuck this guy? You just brought him here to kill him but now you think you want to fuck him. This is a morally gray area. He’s bound to a chair and you have a knife at his ribs. Can he consent?

“Why’d ya stop?” he huffs out, bringing your attention back to him. “Are we doin’ this or what?”

“It feels kinda fucked up,” you say meekly, the first time he’s seeing any hesitation from you. You look down, twirling the knife against the rope crossing his chest. “It’s not gonna change my mind ‘bout what happens here ya know.”

“I didn’t say it would,” he says quietly, and you look back into his eyes. His eyes are dark, like fresh brewed coffee. They’d be kinda nice if they weren’t about to be on a dead guy.

“You…. you want this?”

“Why not?” he immediately answers.

“Because I’m gonna kill you after,” and even though you’re sure he doesn’t need the reminder, you poke him lightly in the ribs with the knife again, leaving a little red dot from the tip. He doesn’t react this time. He just lets a small smile ghost across his face and his eyes soften as they land on yours.

“What a way to go.”

It’s all you need to hear. You get up and uncinch the belt that is the only thing holding his pants up around your waist. As soon as it’s loosened, the pants fall to the floor, the belt buckle tinkling as it hits the concrete. You’re not wearing any underwear but the view of your cunt is obstructed by the long flannel shirt draped over you.

You take the knife and stick it in the edge of the shirt about breast-high, just above where you have the first button done up. You slowly drag the knife down the placket, cutting each button off easily with the very sharp blade. The buttons clatter to the floor one by one and when you’ve reached the last one, the shirt opens up a bit.

It’s just enough to see the valley between your breasts, a line of your soft stomach, the patch of hair on your mound, and your pink folds peeking out between your legs. You watch him looking you up and down, devouring the sight of you. His brown eyes now black with hunger. Now you can finally take the time to admire his body. 

Yes you had stripped him naked and then tied him to the chair. The whole process had taken nearly thirty minutes. Your hands had been all over him, this grown man you had to maneuver while he was unconscious. But that wasn’t about sex. That was just a body. And you’ve had your hands on plenty of bodies. It’s not sexual. 

But now…. now you can really admire him. He has a long and muscular neck, a broad chest, and freckle-dotted shoulders with strong muscles that continue down his thick arms. He isn’t very hairy but he does have soft arm hair, a little chest hair, and a trail of hair that starts beneath his belly button and continues down to a large patch around his cock.

His cock. Now you can appreciate what you were feeling on his lap. Why does it look so good? Cocks shouldn’t look this good. It’s fully hard, leaking precum and leaning against his stomach, his balls pulled tight at the bottom. You’re surprised to notice his pubic hair isn’t growing wild, it looks as if it was trimmed but has grown out a bit. His cock is both a little larger and a little thicker than what you know to be average. It’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen but that’s alright. In this context you aren’t looking for something that’s going to destroy you. You need to be able to walk later, you’ll have a body to dispose of.

You look back at his face and his eyes are meeting yours. You wonder if he can see the same hunger in your eyes that you saw in his. He’s smiling again but this time it’s not the same cocky grin as before, this one is genuine and filled with excitement. Your heart is pounding. You feel intoxicated. Is this the thrill of the kill or the sex?

Double ropes make an X across his chest, fastening his torso tight to the back of the chair. His arms and wrists are also bound to the back of the chair, causing his arms to be extended stiff at his sides, hands dangling towards the ground. Another X of the double rope crosses his thighs, attaching him to the seat of the chair, and his ankles are tied to the chair’s front legs.

You consider for one brief moment if untying any part of him would increase your enjoyment but quickly decide that’s not a good idea. Even if you might want his hands on your body, if you find them on your throat, it could all get very messy very quickly.

You give your shoulders a slight shrug and his flannel begins to fall off your shoulders, brushing down your arms as it falls to the ground. Now you stand before him completely bare. You don’t miss the fuuuck he silently mouths. Jesus christ what is this guy doing to you? You swear you just felt your clit twitch. 

It is now obvious more than ever the effect he’s having on you, as your unobstructed cunt is so wet that the cool air hitting your thighs makes you realize you are a fucking sopping mess down there. Not wanting to wait any longer, you straddle his thighs again. This time you don’t put your legs on either side but rather rest your legs on top of his. Your feet rest inside of his thighs right under his balls and your ankles and shins lay on top of his thighs. This position is you going give you the best leverage to raise and lower yourself, since you know he can’t help with driving his cock into you.

You can see his arms straining against the ropes. By now he should have learned that they’re too tight for him to move but you think this might just be out of habit. He wants to touch your body, you can tell by the way he moves his head forward - the only thing he can freely move forward - and laps his tongue anywhere he can reach.

You grab his face with one hand and crash your mouth onto his, a mess of teeth and lips and tongues. With your other hand, which is still holding the knife, you carefully use two fingers to tilt his cockhead directly under you and you slowly sink down on it.

You both let out wanton moans into each other’s mouths at the sensation. You continue to press down until he’s seated all the way inside you, and then you pause to let your body adjust. He feels bigger than he looked. Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone but this feels borderline painful. You don’t move up and down but rock forward and backwards ever so slightly, giving yourself some more time. He groans a little bit, maybe impatient but you don’t care, and you just smile against his mouth.

You feel your own wetness dripping out of you, down around him, and you feel like you’re ready to go. Pulling your face back from his, you look in each other’s eyes, almost tenderly. You put both hands on top of his shoulders, careful to have a good grip on the knife but not have it too close to his skin. You don’t want to be the one to do anything prematurely in this situation. 

You start slowly at first, ignoring the quiet groans coming from him. He’s not whining but he doesn’t sound or look pleased with the pace you’ve set if the pained look on his face is any indication. You continue moving but grab his face to ask you good? The pained look immediately disappears from his face as his eyes snap open. He grunts and mutters a quiet it’s been awhile before he closes his eyes again, trying to focus.

“Don’t you end this early on me,” you warn. It’s a little funny to you when you realize that his punishment for doing that would be death. It shouldn’t be funny but it is. Probably because you’re fucked in the head. He barely reacts and just mutters I won’t between clenched teeth.

Your pace starts to pick up and you alternate between quite literally bouncing up and down on his cock, and grinding forwards and backwards on it. Each time you switch movements he lets out a strangled groan, clenching his eyes tighter. You can feel your orgasm start to build as a little ball of energy deep in your torso.

You picture what it would be like if he could put his hands on you. You take your own hands off his shoulders and run them up and down your thighs, careful to not let the blade hit either of your bodies. You run them across your stomach and up your ribcage, grabbing your breasts, the cold blade of the knife pressed against one of them. You cry out at the sensation and notice he has opened his eyes now and is watching you intently.

You throw your head back, squeezing your breasts, and bring two fingers to pinch each nipple until they’re over-sensitive and stinging. You look back down and watch his face, inches from your breasts, mesmerized. Without warning you shove one of them right into his mouth and he greedily accepts it, tonguing and biting your nipple. 

You continue to move on his lap, driving his cock in and out, up and down, filling you up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Your bodies are sliding against each other, lubricated by the sheen of sweat covering them. The sounds of your skin slapping echoes off the walls. The slurping noises of his mouth are turning you on even more. You can feel your orgasm now just below the surface. You know you’re close. 

“I’m gonna come honey,” you moan. Jesus fuckin’ christ you hear him grunt beneath you, mouth still full of your breast.

You push yourself closer to him, pressed up against his chest, his mouth popping off your nipple. You wrap both arms around his neck and pull him tight, rutting hard and deep on his lap. It’s just there, so close. Then he latches his mouth onto your neck just below your jaw, and he sucks. 

A white-hot release immediately hits your body, spreading from the core out. It hits you so hard that you actually scream. Your movements stutter and slow as you work through your orgasm, feeling your pussy contracting on his cock.

Seconds later you hear him against your neck, a long and drawn-out moan, as you feel him releasing repeatedly inside of you. You continue gentle rocking motions against him until you feel his cock still. His mouth is still against your neck, breathing heavy breaths in between curses of jesus fuckin’ christ, and holy shit.

You push yourself up off him using the leverage from your shins on his thighs just enough for him to slip out of you, your combined release dripping out onto his lap. You lay your head down on one of his shoulders, gently kissing his neck. At the other shoulder, your arm rests with the knife dragging up and down along where his carotid artery lies.

You sit like that for a while, both of you catching your breaths, getting your bearings back. You are vaguely aware of the mess on his lap you’ll have to clean up later. It’ll have to wait. You think that orgasm made you dizzy. You’re pretty sure your legs will be jell-o for a bit. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. Fucked out and cockdrunk.

He is the first to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says tentatively, “before ya….  ya know.”

“You have a question for me?” you scoff, “I’m flattered,” which is true, even considering what you’ve just done.

“Were ya serious about doin’ this before? The killin’ part?”

“Well yeah, what makes ya think I wasn’t serious?” you lift your head to look him in the eyes just in time to see him roll his.

“Probably the part where ya pretended to be Dexter-” he starts.

“Oh my god I can’t wait till you stop breathin’ so I don’t have to hear about that again. I was just trying to- ya know what? Nevermind,” and you push the blade forward into his neck a little. It’s hard enough to pierce the skin. It draws a couple drops of blood but you’re mostly just teasing him, since you have no desire to clean five liters of blood off the floor of this rented garage. But you can’t help the thrill that shoots into your stomach at the way he clenches in fear.

His body relaxes after a few seconds when he realizes you haven’t pushed the knife in any further. He had clenched his eyes shut, not letting you see the panic in them. Now they flutter open and meet yours, barely able to focus, your faces are so close together.

“My question was somethin’ else,” he mutters, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat whooshing in your ears. You say nothing, just continue to stare at him wide-eyed, unblinking. “My question was… why. Why do ya do it?”

You are taken aback. Literally and figuratively. You physically pull back from him, resting on your heels back where his knees are. Your hands remain on his shoulders, one still clutching the knife against his neck. Someone is looking for the answer, you think to yourself. It’s almost sweet that he thinks you have it.

“I do it for the same reason you do it.” You scan his face, searching for that smug smile, waiting for deception to play across it, for something. For anything. It doesn’t come. He genuinely doesn’t know. “I do it because it fucking feels good, honey.”

He just keeps your gaze, nodding his head slowly as he takes in your answer. He doesn’t ask anything else or add to your answer. He’s just considering it. You get up off his lap and fold up the knife in your hand, dropping it on the floor on top of the discarded flannel. You walk behind him again and grab the pre-filled syringe you set up. This is the way you like to do things. Clean. Efficient. No stains or smells to deal with later.

You walk up behind him, standing so you are pressed to the back of the chair, his head resting against your bare stomach. You put your hands down on top of his shoulders, the syringe in your dominant hand tapping against his skin. He looks down at it and then tilts his head back to look up at you.

“Why me?” he asks. Not whiny, like most people are. Just a curiosity. Why him? Why did you pick him? Out of everyone in the world, why is it him? It’s almost romantic.

“I thought it’d be fun. I mean, it’s always fun. But I thought it’d be more fun than usual, huntin’ someone like me. Well, almost like me. I’m better at it,” and you tap the syringe against his clavicle a few times, “obviously.”

“Well you weren’t exactly playin’ fair, were ya sweetheart?” he says in an accusing tone.

“How do ya mean?” you ask, your eyes going wide, insulted by the implication. “You knew people would be lookin’ around and askin’ questions, maybe even the police.”

“Yeahhh,” he concedes, “but the police‘re idiots.” He keeps his eyes on you, watching you nod your head in agreement. “I didn’t think I was up against someone like you.” He pauses and then flashes you a cocky grin. “Someone smart.”

“Oh stop, now you’re just tryin’ to flatter me,” and you swat the syringe on his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says, still smiling.

“Kinda seems like you are, ya ol’ flirt.” and you wink down at him.

“No, what I’m tryin’ ta say is…” and he finally looks away, staring straight ahead before he delivers the next sentence. “I bet you couldn’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” You continue to look down at him but he’s still looking straight forward, not meeting your eyes.

“Catch me.”

Now you’re annoyed. “Honey it really wasn’t that fuckin’ hard the first time. I highly doubt th-”

“But,” he interrupts, “I bet you couldn’t do it again.” His cocky smile is back, head thrown back staring up at you again. “You couldn’t do it now that I know you’re lookin’ fer me. 

You push off his shoulders and walk around the front of him. Bending over, you pull his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans laid on the floor. You’re gonna wipe that smug grin off his face once and for all. “Well Joel Miller,” and you read off his home address in Texas, “I really do think I could find you again.”

“Then do it.” His smile is gone. His face is expressionless. He’s just staring at you. “Find me again,” he taunts.

You drop the wallet back to the ground and sit down on his lap, almost considering what he’s saying. You run your hand on the side of his stupid smug little face, syringe still in the other hand. You lean your face to his and gently pepper his face with kisses.  

“Honey, I don’t want you sufferin’,” you coo between smooches. “Yer gonna miss me too much if I let you go.”

“How long you think I’d have to suffer?” he counters, “Hmm? How long you think it’d take you?”

“It took me less than a week this time honey. So probably not long,” you continue the kisses down his neck.

“Then come find me,” he growls, stilling your motions. “End my sufferin’.”

You pull back from him. Fuck. The thought of it made you undeniably excited. You were practically vibrating with anticipation and you weren’t even thinking about killing him anymore. This was about a chase. An honest-to-god chase with someone that might be something close to a challenge.

He had a point. You didn’t want to admit that to him, but he didn’t know you were looking for him. He had no idea there was someone like him in the area, whereas you had begun to suspect last summer, and had spent the last year putting pieces together and planning your trip this way. 

It did take you less than a week of moving around to different areas of the state land with your van, finding different places to camp, until you ran into him and his filthy little cabin. But you had spent much longer than that reviewing his victims, studying his patterns, and getting yourself into his mindset as best you could. 

He has confirmed your suspicions that he moved on after the summer to hunt somewhere else. But where else? Where he lives in Texas? Another off-the-grid cabin? It could be anywhere. It doesn’t matter. You’ll figure it out. 

The phone you’ve been threatening him to dial 9-1-1 with is actually his phone. You'd used his fingerprint to gain access while he was out cold and then changed the passcode to something that only you know. You can gather a lot of information on him from his cellphone. That will help and he doesn’t even yet realize you have it. 

You already have an upper hand on his little proposition. You’re already outsmarting him.

You press your lips to his one last time and stick the syringe’s small needle into his neck, pressing the plunger halfway down. With open eyes kissing him you see his eyes go wide and then shut. His entire body goes limp under yours, including his lips. His plush lips. You feel his heart still beating strong under your hand so you take the time to indulge, holding his head up and stealing a few more kisses before you have to start cleaning up.

*****

Joel wakes a while later, how long he’s not sure, but the room he’s in looks very different. The van is gone, as is the folding table covered in trophies and photos of his victims, as are you. In fact, very few things remain in the room. 

His clothes are folded in a stack on the floor in front of him. Next to them are his wallet and truck keys. Finally, there is a folded note stuck to his leg. It’s pinned to him with your five inch pocket knife having been driven into his thigh.

The restraints around his wrists have been cut so that he can reach forward to take the knife out of his leg. When he does, the note drifts to the floor a few feet away. He ignores the searing pain and blood now streaming from the wound on his leg and manages to work himself free of the rest of the ropes. 

He moves to stand up out of the chair and immediately his legs give out, collapsing him unceremoniously onto the floor. He is free of the chair for the first time in - judging by the physical state of him - what has probably been half a day. With shaky hands he reaches out and picks up the paper where it had fallen, unfolding it.

In pretty, looping handwriting it reads: ‘Catch ya later!   xoxo’ 

*****

READ THE NEXT PART HERE (THE CHASE - PART 1)

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Blood Moon Rising 🌙🐺

okay so I’ve seen and read pretty much all the vampire fics of Eddie but hardly anyone really dives in and makes a werewolf Eddie fic. So I’m thinking kinda like how in the show Wednesday when ennid can’t fully turn until a blood red moon. Maybe Eddie has the same problem and when he goes through his first full transformation to protect reader from some bullies or another monster, she then in turn helps him out when he transforms back into his human form since the transformation is so painful to werewolves. 🐺🐺 thanks you love.

Request by @mirkwoodshewolf ❤️

This is my first time writing werewolf Eddie so I hope this is okay! ❤️

Mentions of blood, wolf Eddie, protective Eddie. You're Eddie's mate but you don't know that yet. 18+ blog so mdni.

If you have any spooky requests for spooky season then let me know 🎃👻✨

❤️

Eddie had a little problem... Okay, scratch that. He had a major problem and it all traced back to when he was bitten by a rabid wolf two years ago.

Since those were quite a rarity, he had only turned a handful of times but the wolf was always inside him, ready to play and it just so happens that tonight was a blood moon.

Ever since then he had changed into a creature of the moon; well if he was being specific a creature of the blood moon.

The only person he could be around was Uncle Wayne who knew what he was and recently...you.

Mostly he kept the wolfy side of himself under control. Sure he got a little grumpier when it was near the full moon, the lunar cycle played havoc with his emotions and he found it best to be by himself on those days.

Well he would have done but those thoughts soon leave his mind completely as an overwhelming sense of fears invades his senses. Fuck. It knocks him off balance, it's not his own emotions... the fear is coming from you.

He was well aware that you were his mate, could feel the pull to you growing stronger and stronger every day, he knew you felt it too but the thought of telling you about his wolf side was terrifying, what if it scared you off for good?

The rare days when he could change was a day full of unpredictable moods and a longing to be in the forest, to run free as his wolf self.

He was ready to take himself off into the woods and wait until the moon was at its highest in the sky, giving himself over to the wolf.

What could have made you so scared? He's gripped with fear that a wolf or some other supernatural being has found you; there were a few unexplained monsters in Hawkins.

Without thinking he rushes out of the trailer, he has increased speed due to his wolfy side and incredible smell. He's hoping he will be able to scent you, find out where you were.

Before it was too late.

❤️

Hawkins at night was creepy. You were well aware of the stories about things that go bump in the night. The mysterious disappearances that plagued the town, unexplained deaths and increased wolves in the forests.

You weren't keen on walking home in the dark but practice had overrun and you were kept late at school.

There's a rustling in the trees when you cross the road to get nearer your home. Usually during daylight hours you would take a shortcut through the woods but that was not happening today.

Unfortunately even though you were trying to keep as safe as possible trouble still managed to find you. You hear a strange chittering sound from the trees and you freeze. What the hell was that?

What you really should be doing is getting your ass out of there but fear roots you to the spot and in the next second something appears that seems to be ripped from your nightmares.

This thing was tall, long with long sharp claws that looked like they could tear you in two with one swipe and its head... Its head or it's face was the strangest thing you had ever seen, the thing had no features at all.

Before you can even get a good look at it the things face begins to open up and when it fully opens it's like a flower... surrounding a large gaping mouth, full of sharp teeth.

You scream when the thing screeches and swipes one of its claws in your direction but before you can even think of running there's a blur of movement beside you.

Eddie is suddenly in front of you and knocks the monster out of the way. "Eddie don't!" you scream and you're worried that he's hurt as he drops to the ground and cries in pain. Did he get caught by one of those claws? You inch towards him then freeze when he begins to yell.

A horrendous sound fills the air, bones cracking and Eddie's screams grow louder as thick fur sprouts over his body, his fingers turn into long thick claws and more fur spreads over his body as he drops onto all fours.

In seconds Eddie is gone and in place is a wolf and it lunges at the monster in a blur of fangs and teeth.

They tumble into the trees and into the darkness of the woods, you hear nothing but growls, screeching and then the sound of tearing... and then silence.

After a moment you begin to grow nervous and step closer to the forest, you can't bear the thought that Eddie is hurt and you want to find him.

Then the wolf appears, blood coats its mouth and it's limping just a little bit. "Eddie?" you whisper and cautiously raise your hand towards the wolf, he moves closer and his snout presses into your palm

"It's okay" you soothe the wolf who whimpers and nudges your hand again which helps to calm your racing heart and you gently run your hand through the wolf's thick fur, hardly daring to believe that this was Eddie.

If you hadn't seen him transform in front of your very eyes you might not have been able to recognise Eddie as the wolf if it has just appeared out of nowhere.

However there was one thing that would have helped you recognise Eddie and the reason was the wolf's eyes; they were so intelligent, so human. Big, brown and beautiful, you'd know Eddie's eyes anywhere.

"It's okay. You're my Eddie and I trust you" you assure him and you know in your heart that you're safe with him.

When he's able to get up, he pads along beside you as you head to his trailer. The monster from before is nowhere in sight and you have a funny feeling it may be dead or at least injured enough to leave you and Eddie alone.

Eddie bounds to his room and curls up on the bed, that fight must have taken a lot out of him so you decide to settle beside him to make sure he's okay.

Up close you can see the soft brown strands that mix with Eddie's otherwise all black fur, his eyes are closed and he's amazingly docile as he sleeps beside you. You have a funny feeling he's only docile when there isn't danger present.

There's a million thoughts and questions in your mind. How did Eddie know how to find you? How long has he been a wolf?

You decide they can all wait until the morning and then the two of you would really have a few things to talk about...

Wolf Eddie jerks awake and begins to whine, low pained whines that grow in volume as he begins to spasm and you hear that horrid sound of bones cracking again. You quickly realise that he's transitioning back.

It doesn't last as long as his last transformation but it seems twice as painful and the cries of agony he makes brings tears to your eyes as he slowly turns human again, you soothe him as best as you can and it seems like your touch helps alleviate some of the pain as he turns back into his human form.

His human form which is also very naked. Flustered you avert your eyes and quickly finds some comfy slacks for Eddie to wear which he accepts gratefully, you turn around while he changes.

"So now you know huh?" he's cautious as he asks you this and you realise that he's nervous of your reaction. Well you won't pretend that you're not freaking out but it doesn't change anything...it doesn't change how you feel about him.

"I'm kinda freaking out but it doesn't change the way I feel about you Eddie" you turn back around and cup his cheek softly, then you lean over and plant a very gentle and chaste kiss against his lips.

It barely lasts for a few seconds but the powerful feeling of euphoria that washes over you at the way Eddie's lips felt against yours lingers with you. Eddie's previously pained expression changes to an awed, dopey look which is very cute.

"There's a lot we need to discuss Eddie but you look exhausted so sleep first and then we talk. Deal?" he bites back a grin and nods. "Yes milady...can you stay please?" He asks pleading and almost shy, it melts your heart.

"I'm not going anywhere Eddie" you settle back down on the bed and cuddle closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Everything you needed to discuss could wait until morning. For now you would just lie here with Eddie and let the soft thuds of the rain against the windows, lull you both to sleep.

🌙 🐺

[frankenkyle19]

Graveyard Adventures

🎃Kinktober fic 1- Peter x Fem!reader🎃

Description: Peter and reader go explore a graveyard trying to hunt for ghosts but end up having sex in the car instead.

Word count: 3k

Wanted to get this posted tonight even though it’s a day early because I have to work all day tomorrow. Enjoy!! Also I am unsure how many of the other fics I am going to be able to publish this month.. My life has… Drastically taken a turn downhill at the moment :/

“Why exactly are we here again?” You asked, turning towards Peter who had just gotten out of the car. Glancing around the dark graveyard laid out before the two of you, only illuminated by the car's headlights you let out a soft sigh, until you took the keys out and turned off the car.

The air was chilly, a breeze blowing through as you wrapped your jacket closer around yourself to try and block out some of the cold. It didn’t do much, but you liked the weather enough for it not to really matter either way.

Peter turned on his flashlight, the first few feet in front of him now lit with a yellow-ish glow as he scanned the entrance of the graveyard. The old rusted iron gate that was just slightly propped open and the gravel trail that led inside. There were a few visible tombstones in the path of light from the flashlight, the rest swallowed up by waves of darkness.

“Because we’re ghost hunting, silly.” Peter scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course the two of you had snuck out of the school against the professor’s wishes to go ghost hunting on a chilly evening in October. Where else would you be?

“Ghosts aren’t real.”

“Oh? Just like mutants with superhuman abilities aren’t either?” Peter shot back. He had a good point there so you just rolled your eyes and turned on your own flashlight, shoving the car keys into your bag before zipping it up. The combined light from both of your flashlights allowed the two of you to see a bit further into the graveyard. It looked spooky but as long as Peter stayed by your side, you weren’t worried.

“What would we even do if we found a ghost?” You asked as Peter began to step towards the gate, silver shoes crunching gravel underfoot with a harsh sound in the otherwise silence.

“Communicate with it. Obvi.” Peter slipped through the opening in the fence, an eerie creaking sound following from the old iron bars being moved slightly. It looked like it’d been a while since anyone had visited this place and for a moment you felt a bit sad about all the forgotten lives that were laid to rest there.

You followed after him, the both of you now inside the graveyard. The air seemed still, something about the place was frozen in time. There was not a single sound besides the sound of yours and Peter’s footsteps. It was as spooky as it was amazing.

Graveyards had never been inherently creepy to you. If anything you found them beautiful. A final resting place for so many souls that were once living and loved. A place for people to visit and remember people that had passed. They’d always been portrayed as terrifying when in all reality it was one of the most peaceful places you could ever be. That aside, visiting at night was a bit different and immediately put you on edge.

Peter didn’t seem to react the same, much too eager to check things out. He walked in front of you, shining his flashlight over the graves to read their names and dates, seeing if there was anything interesting. After a few more moments of silence he turned back to look at you, grinning. If he wasn’t so adorable it would almost be threatening.

“What?” You asked, pausing. What was it now?

“Oh, nothing. Just- was kinda getting bored.”

“Peter we just started not even five minutes ago-“ You raised a brow, shining your flashlight near him, making sure you didn’t get it in his eyes and momentarily blind him.

“I know but I don’t think there’s any ghosts here…” He pouted. What had he expected? Even if there were ghosts here, which you seriously doubted, you were sure they wouldn’t just show themselves to two random people exploring the graveyard at night. It didn’t work like it did in the movies.

“Then let’s go back, I’m sure we could watch a movie or something- eat some popcorn..” You had glanced away from Peter for half a moment to read another headstone and when you looked back, he was gone.

You turned around in a full circle, your flashlight gripped tightly in your hand as you tried to make out Peter’s outline. Where the hell had he gone?

“Peter? Peter, this isn’t funny!” You called out into the darkness, waiting for a reply. None came. At least not verbally. A twig snapped towards the tree line on the edge of the graveyard to your left and you froze, a chill crawling its way up your spine.

You took a few steps backwards, towards the direction of the car, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. If Peter was messing with you it wasn’t funny at all, but you didn’t really want to imagine what else could be going on.

“Peter!” You shouted again, voice echoing in the crisp night air. Still no reply.

You felt your heartbeat quickening as you took a few more steps blindly backwards, trying to close the distance between you and the car. At least you’d be safe(er) inside.

There was another snap of a twig, this time closer before a low sounding growl came from the darkness. That was it, you dropped your flashlight and ran towards the car in total darkness, which wasn’t a great idea but you weren’t thinking that far ahead. You just barely saw the iron gates in front of you before you slipped through them, your shirt getting caught on one sticking out. The harsh sound of ripping fabric was amplified in the otherwise silence as you tore yourself free and scrambled inside the car.

You were just about to reach for the car keys in your purse when none other than Peter opened the passenger’s door, doubled over while laughing his ass off.

It took your adrenaline filled brain a few moments to catch up before you reached over the console and clocked Peter right in the jaw, sending him flying backwards out of the car.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You shouted, getting out of the car and coming around the side, ready to hit him again.

Peter had stopped laughing but he still had a little shit eating grin on his lips as he held his jaw where you’d hit him.

“That- was hilarious.” He said breathlessly, looking like he was about to burst out laughing again.

“No it wasn’t!!” You shouted, pausing a few feet from him

“Well it was to me. You were so scared! Running back to the car- Peter! Peter!!” He mimicked your voice, sounding much too high pitched. He was… Making fun of you.

“You’re lucky I don’t hit you again Peter Maximoff because I swear you’d deserve it-“ you glared at him, barely keeping your anger under control. What an asshole! You knew he liked to play tricks but this was cruel.

Peter just shook his head, stepping towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “Okay I’m sorry baby, I won’t do it again.

“Damn right you won’t.”

“But there is something else I’d like to do instead.” Peter grinned as he pulled you into a soft kiss, letting his lips envelop yours. He closed his eyes, thumbs tracing circles into your hips gently.

As mad as you were, you couldn’t resist kissing him, so after not even a full second you kissed back, eyes closed as you let him hold you and kiss you. His little apology.

Kissing was one of Peter’s favorite pastimes besides pac-man and eating twinkies so really it was no surprise when he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slide into your mouth as he let a playful huff leave his lips. You let him, tongue meeting his as your hands rested on his shoulders.

The two of you began to get a little more heated. Pushy. Before you really knew what was happening Peter was backing you up towards the car, his lips falling from yours as he went on to kiss and leave bites on the soft, exposed skin of your neck. He loved marking you up, showing everyone just who you belonged to.

“Peter!” You practically squealed, eyes wide as you tried to pull away from him for a moment, managing to open the door behind you before sliding into the backseat, quickly followed by the silver haired speedster.

You leaned forward, placing calculated kisses to Peter’s jaw which had him melting, a pleasured sigh making its way from up his throat.

“This better than ghost hunting?” You asked against his skin, hands coming up under his shirt to run over his muscled waist.

“Y-yeah, much better.” Peter mumbled, cheeks already burning up and red as a tomato as he ever so slightly tilted his head to the side to give you better access.

You had him right where you wanted him now. Like putty in your hands.

You helped him shrug off his jacket and pull his shirt over his head before you were back on him, sucking on his skin like some sort of leech. Peter let out a throaty moan, leaning back against the window, his hands firmly grabbing your hips.

Peter got increasingly whiney in no time at all, hips trying to subtly grind against any part of you he could reach without making it too obvious. But you knew him better than anyone so you weren’t sure what he was trying to accomplish by being sneaking. It never got him anywhere.

“Peter?”

“What? Yeah- I mean, hmm?” He asked, blinking at you in a daze. It was crazy how just some kissing could turn him into a mess who didn’t even know his right from his left.

Your hands crept up his thighs to the front of his jeans, letting one rest over the warm bulge under the now excruciatingly tight fabric.

Peter swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he glanced down to where you’d placed your hand.

“Oh- I- please? Can you just- please can you touch me? Just a little? I promise I’ll be good-“ he was already begging, arching into your touch like a desperate whore.

“Oh? I’m not sure, Peter… You were really rude with that little trick you pulled on me, what makes you think I should just give you whatever you want? Bad boys don’t deserve that now do they?”

Peter mewled, bottom lip quivering. He really really hoped you wouldn’t go too hard on him. He wasn’t going to be able to take it.

“I’m sorry- it was mean, I’m so sorry please you’ve gotta give me something- I don’t even need- I just need your hand that’s it I swear just your hand is okay please need it wrapped around me. I’m so hard it aches, baby please.”

Seeing him like this was always absolutely amazing. How you truly had him in the palm of your hand. Could play him like a puppet really.

You squeezed him firmly, causing another moan to jump from his lips, his hips stuttering against your touch.

“Please- please please just- I need something baby. It won't take much, I promise it really won’t- just a few strokes..” He tried to bargain for his pleasure which was rather adorable because either way you were going to do what you wanted to do.

Lucky enough for him, you didn’t want to torture him tonight. You were just as desperate as him and needed something soon before you exploded.

Your hands expertly undid his button and pulled the zipper down before you were reaching into his boxers and taking hold of his rock hard cock.

He twitched in your hand, instantly thrusting into your touch as you gave him a gentle squeeze.

Peter shut his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to steel himself. Have some sort of self control. Something he majorly lacked, especially in this regard.

You let him fuck into your hand a few times, the tip catching on your fingertip, leaking pre-cum across your hand as he let out a shaky sigh.

With one hand busy stroking him, you used the other to begin to pull off your pants and underwear, letting it rest on your ankles. There was no reason to take it all off right now. You were sure this wasn’t going to last long with the way your bodies ached for each other and it would just be difficult to try and put it all back on again in such a cramped space.

Once Peter saw that you’d undressed your lower half, his fingers were instantly toying with your cunt, flicking over your clit gently before he plunged two fingers into your awaiting heat.

You let out a gasp, the air getting knocked from your lungs at the unexpected intrusion.

“Peter- Fuck..” You breathed out, barely able to make out his face in the darkness as the two of you played with each other.

He began to vibrate his fingers inside of you, thumb pressed against your clit and you had to shove his hand away before you came.

“Get your pants down- sit back.” You panted out, trying to move into a better position so that Peter could get where he needed to be.

His brain cells must have been fried from the pleasure because he had no idea what you wanted from him.

“Hmm?” He asked, to which you just shoved him down onto the seat, climbing over him a second later as you positioned his length at your sopping wet entrance.

You slid yourself across his tip, letting him feel how wet you were for him but not plunging his cock into you just yet.

“Fuck!” Peter gasped, trying to thrust up into you but you held his hips firmly in place, to which he whined out something about this not being fair at all.

Finally after a few more moments of teasing you slowly lowered yourself down onto him until he was full inside of you.

You sat on his lap, breaths mingling between you as you both adjusted to the feeling. Peter was always so sensitive that you needed to give him a minute to adjust to being inside of you before you started to move.

Slowly you began to come back up off of his length but Peter held your hips and plunged you back down, eyes wide.

“N-not yet- I can’t, not yet. I’ll cum.” He whispered shakily, body practically shaking against yours with the restraint it took to hold himself together.

Nodding in understanding you wrapped your arms around his neck, touching your nose to his, sharing his breaths. You placed a few gentle kisses to his panting lips which he quickly chased after, hands tracing over your back.

It was so tender now, a whole 180 from what it had been moments before.

“You feel so good baby..” Peter whispered against your lips. He was always vocal with his pleasure and always wanted to make it known how good you were to him.

“Can I move yet, sweetheart?” You asked to which he gave a little nod.

“Slow, please. Not too fast.” It was a funny request coming from him but you nodded, palms resting on his shoulders as you slowly lifted yourself up before lowering back down again.

Peter let out another little whimper, looking up at you with teary eyes from how overwhelmed he felt.

“Shh, that’s it my sweet boy. I know it feels good. Making me feel so good too.” You whispered and he buried his face into the crook of your neck with a little cry, his hips bucking up to meet your thrusts.

You made sure not to go too fast, taking your time as you bounced up and down on him before grinding down into his pelvis which perfectly applied pressure to your clit, making you arch your back.

Peter placed sloppy kisses to your skin, nearly drooling on you as he got lost in the pleasure, really beginning to fuck up into you.

You could tell he was close by the way his hips began to lose control and the speed in which he was fucking you. Each thrust upwards had you gasping as he impaled you on his long cock, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Peter! Just like that- oh f-fuck. I know you’re so close, baby, let go for me. Been so good.” You encouraged. He always came ten times harder as well as faster when you praised him. He loved knowing that he was doing a good job.

Peter let out a guttural cry as he clutched onto you, pulling you down roughly onto him one last time before he came, hard, biting down on your shoulder to stifle some of his sounds.

You followed not long after, grinding down against him as you squeezed his cock tightly inside your walls, milking every last drop of cum from him until he was a whining mess, begging you to stop moving.

You collapsed against his chest, Peter wrapped his arms tightly around you, laying his head on top of yours as the two of you caught your breaths. It took Peter minimal time to recover whereas it took you a bit longer. You weren’t graced with whatever recovery time he had because of his powers.

“That was so good..” He whispered against your sweat slicked skin. His warm breath against your skin was addictive and you hoped you’d always be able to have him this close.

Finally managing to catch your breath you pulled back from him, moving off of his lap to try and pull your clothes back up for the drive back to the school. You were both a sweaty mess, covered in each other's scent and it was agreed upon that when the two of you got back you’d shower together, ultimately leading to another round where Peter would no doubt pound into you against the cold tile of the shower.

You pulled up your clothes as Peter did the same, crawling back into your designated seats. You drove back, not really speaking. Peter hummed along to whatever song he was listening to as you kept your eyes on the dark road ahead.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.”

[postmodernbeliever]

stalker - fox mulder x female reader

at the fbi, your job is to watch who you're asked to. but on your own time, you watch fox mulder... and little do you know, he's watching you, too.

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my ao3 | word count: 3,518

content tags: sneaking around, embarrassment, stalking, longing, fox mulder is watching you, you are watching fox mulder, fox is a freak like you, fox likes weirdos, obsessive behavior, suggestive themes, you and fox just kinda eyefuck and nothing happens but god should it, cross-posted on ao3

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they all call him spooky mulder. what a nickname, spooky- even in its mainstream use, it has not lost its effect. there was always something off about him, something unsettling, which piqued your interest. you liked it so much that you paid special attention. it was your nature to keep tabs; you watched him come and go from his basement office, all the while pretending to be down in the gutter of the j. edgar hoover building for any other suspicious reason than taking mental notes on him. 

sure, it may sound creepy, but this is your job- this is why the fbi has you on the payroll. you’re what they call “the eyes and ears”, and in a sense, you don’t really have a job. your cover is to work in the filing department, faceless and nameless, and keep things organized as they go off to different sectors. you are the one sending weapons to evidence (or elsewhere) and case files to agents (or not) at the heart of the organization, where you just become the signing-off signature. but that office, where you blend in, is how they use you best. orders directly from the top tell you who to watch and when to come forward with information. but they never assigned you to special agent fox mulder. as was his infamous passion project dubbed the X files, this was your unassigned interest within the bureau- he was your freakish fixation.

you followed his case files as they came to inconclusive endings. you noticed when his hair grew too long. you knew he liked the coffee from the break room by a.d. skinner’s office, but he liked the creamer they kept on the first floor, so he traveled cross-complex to make the cup taste just right. you’d read every report and drowned in his philosophical, metaphysical droning, admiring the prose so overdosed on sleep deprivation and the ramblings of a transcending mind. it was like twisted poetry, how he explained what each case had imparted upon him. the way he viewed sociology, the way he viewed intervention both divine and damned, the manner in which he proposed the forces at play work and how they are ever-changing and insurmountable… god, he really is a genius. everyone may think he’s insane, or that his work is a waste of valuable resources, but fox mulder’s mind was one to be entertained, one to be challenged. to let his power go misrepresented or his purpose go any less than unabated would be a crime (if anyone asked you.)

see, this is why it could be considered weird. you revered him like a deity, unapologetically idolatrous of his brainpower- and from a more internal, girlish yearning, you loved his face. god, that face. you had examined his personal files many times in the safety of your office, tracing invisible lines over the photographs of him; caressing the scrapes and bruises documented from altercations with suspects, drooling over his academy polaroids stashed away from old physical exams. he still looked as young and charming as he did in his old school photos. a young oxford man, beautiful, traumatized, in need of proof. his work demanded his darkest instincts and most disgusting thoughts, and you loved him for it, or at least the idea of what it turned him into. and as far as word travels, fox mulder bars no personality incontinuities. after all the stories of the blood he’s tasted at crime scenes and the horrific pictures of murders and monsters plastered on the walls of his murky office, he was more than just spooky. he was freakish, and uncomfortable, and alluring.

now, fox is no idiot. in fact, to even think your interest was going unnoticed was a major misjudgment of his perceptive abilities; the man is the best analyst in the crime division, for god’s sake. he's never missed a clue. yet somehow, in the midst of your innocent stalking, you’d imagined he never saw you standing in his basement hallway, or mingling in the first-floor break room by the irish cream. naivety never crossed into your work, but it clouded your visions when it came to him. he’d seen you every time, shifty eyes fidgeting with blatant secrecy. when the man who didn’t believe in random events saw you more than once, he began following your lead. 

fox mulder kept copies of your personal files on his desk and sifted through them often, trying to get any information on you to substantiate why you paid so much attention to him. aside from his widespread suspicion, he also had a sense for intent, and he felt you were of no harm. even lurking in the shadows, there was a comfort to your presence. that might be his creepy personality being used to unsettling beings, but he didn’t mind. he liked catching you looking. he liked the way your suit jacket never matched your pants, but always somehow coordinated even in clashing patterns. he liked how your hair curled like french fries at the bottom, wide and loose. he liked how your manicured nails were always dark and sharp, and blatantly against bureau policy. fox knew you were as new to the fbi as he, so not new at all, but a child to seasoned agents; he learned of your ridiculous retention of information, and that you read twice the clocked words per minute of the average american. he knew of your graduation from yale and your speedy completion of the academy, as well as your elevated skill for firearms, which immunized you from a majority of field training. he knows about your secret connection, yet not who it’s with, and that it’s ushered you into a disguised deep-level position. in less legal ways of determining, the agent discovered you were the president of your high school’s history club, as well as the chief editor of the newsletter, and your family had a summer cabin on the oregon coast. you were smart, valuable, integral, even- and your talents were being wasted under cover of the monotonous filing department. he knew more than you realized. but even with his disturbing understanding of you, fox couldn’t figure out why it was him you watched- you had no connection to him, no link to his work or anyone who aimed to sabotage it. of all your secrets, he seemed to be the biggest.

you’d never expected anything to come of your little infatuation, but fox mulder didn’t like to let things linger. so when you just so happened to be venturing into the basement for something in the archived evidence room, he went into pursuit. you swiped your key card in the automatic door, and he followed you inside and made sure to close it nice and loud behind you. the lock clicked, causing you to jump out of your skin, and he laughed.

“not a fan of followers, huh?” the man teased.

“you just locked us in here, sir!” you nearly choked. you’d never seen him up close and personal. his shirt was a wrinkled mess, but it looked so nice rolled up on his fair-skinned arms, and his hair was a lot darker in person than it looked in the pictures. so were his eyes. 

“sir? no, nobody calls me sir.”

“what should i call you, then?” you groaned.

“agent mulder. spooky mulder. basement boy. whatever floats your boat!”

“well, then, agent mulder,” you elected, “you just locked us in here!”

“is that what you’re worried about? don’t worry, i'm sure agent scully will come down soon enough. or maybe not. maybe you’re stuck in here with me.”

you pivoted and began walking down the first aisle of archives, trying to come up with something to grab to avoid blowing your cover. fox kept at your heels, poking his head playfully into your eyeline.

“looking for something… you?” he inquired.

“that’s agent to you.”

“no name? ooo… spooky,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you suppressed the fluttering in your stomach. you thought in frustration, how dare he make wordplay hot?

“says you.” you negated.

“so you do know me!”

“everyone knows you, agent mulder.”

“oh, sure… but you’ve been watching me, haven’t you?”

you stopped between the alphabetized boxes marked by Hs and Js, biting your tongue. you watched as fox sauntered around to the front of you, leaning nonchalantly against the filing shelf and smirking. his hand raised to wipe his mouth, and you analyzed the rough calluses and ink splotches carving uniqueness into his knuckles. a deep cut rested along his thumbnail down to his wrist. you recognized it as a healed-over wound from an inconclusive case months ago- something he claimed to have involved lizard men.

“i- i’m not sure what you mean.”

“you’ve been following me around, taking note of what i do. i see you every day. sometimes in the break room, sometimes in the bullpen by the car desk, sometimes shooting guns down at the range room on saturdays like i usually am. you’re always… floating around.'' fox mused, running a hand through his thick hair. a few pieces curled agonizingly over the frame of his face, and you felt like dying.

“must be coincidences.”

“you know well as me that there are no such things as coincidences,” fox stated, “there are simply events that occur, and more often than not, they occur causally, or in my case, through spurious correlation, but nobody can ever seem to pinpoint the third invisible factor that links one event to another, except for me.”

“speak english, agent mulder, would you?”

“you’ve been following me, which caused me to notice you, which caused you to pretend you haven’t been, and so forth,” he sighed, “but you know what i’m saying, don’t lie. you’re a yale alumni, graduated summa cum laude with a double major in psychology and international affairs. you’re one of the smartest women in the building. so why are you acting dumb?”

your stomach flipped as he stepped closer to you, leaning down in all his six-foot glory to meet your gaze. swallowing thickly, you shoved your hand in a box labeled CONFISCATED Ka-Kz and fished out the first object you grasped: a bloodied kazoo. wincing in embarrassment, you waved it in his face and grimaced.

“i'm just down here for this.”

“for a murder kazoo.” he deadpanned.

“…yes.”

you turned away and began heading for the door, but a strong palm wrapped around your wrist, halting your stride. fox tugged you back, and you tried to keep your drooling gaze to a minimum at how handsome he looked when he was searching for answers.

“if you tell me what you want from me, i'll let you go.”

“i don't want anything.”

“bullshit,” the agent rolled his eyes, “everyone wants something, agent, even you. you’re a bad liar, you know that? that’s why you’re not under deep cover.”

how little you know, you thought with a smirk. “well, not everyone is made for danger.”

“no. you’re just made for stalking.”

you seized up, “i am not stalking you!”

fox grinned, liking how worked up you were becoming. “then why are you always in the corner of my eye, agent?”

you huffed in desperation, weighing your options. you could,

a) keep lying.

b) tell fox the truth.

c) bang on the locked door and scream until someone saves you from spooky mulder.

none of your options were appealing, but you weren’t getting out of here if you didn’t choose. option A would drag it out, and option C would get him fired, so you only had one path if you wanted to control casualties and your level of embarrassment in one shot.

as he stood patiently waiting, tie so horrendously knotted that it took all your willpower not to tug him down by it, you gave in. 

“well, agent mulder, you… you’re interesting.”

“am i?”

“y-yes. you do amazing work. you catch killers. and you… write beautifully.”

fox chuckled softly, “you like my writing? what, are you the one who files my field reports or something?”

now may not be a good time to admit you tweaked the computer system to always assign you files submitted by agents between L and P in the alphabet just to be the sole individual who received fox’s files, so you withheld the truth a bit. it will come back to bite you in the ass when he looks into the signatures on his official paperwork, but oh, well.

“every so often,” is what you settled on. “you have something to say, and you say it like you’ve been contemplating the proper phrasing forever. it’s always so eloquent and intelligent and… fascinating.” you stopped praising him, feeling shame wash over you like a bad shot of vodka.

“well, aren’t you a regular fan?” fox rested his head against the filing shelf, eyes raising to the ceiling. his neck stretched open far enough that you could watch his adam's apple bob as he spoke. “glad to know my conclusions aren’t just the ramblings of a lunatic.”

“quite the opposite, agent mulder.” you blushed.

fox looked back down to you, and his puppy dog eyes bore holes into your cheeks. “i know a lot about you, you know. i know where you went to high school. i know you also use the irish cream for your cup of joe every day. i know you drive that baby blue car out in the garage, with the stupid “honk if you love labs” bumper sticker. but what i don't know, agent, or rather what i can’t figure out, is why you’re working in the filing department when you should be on an analyst team, or why you’re so insistent on following me around work. so, can you enlighten me with the truth?”

the truth. even when encountering you, his true colors show. you would be frustrated if it wasn’t so attractive how he interrogated you.

with a shaky breath as support, you said, “i want to know you.”

“is that all? you just… want to know me?”

“we don't work together. you’re too off-limits. my orders require me to stick to the mundane and watch from afar. but you, agent mulder, you are never mundane. you sit down here every day and crane over horrific cases, imagining the unimaginable, and all in the stuffy confines of a basement office that people would rather die than visit you in. y-you’re terrifying, you’re… fresh air.”

fox would never admit to it, but his entire body experienced pins and needles at the sound of your voice. in the least creepy way possible, you reminded him of the school librarian from his childhood- thin glasses, a loose blouse, and a voice thick and sweet, just how he liked his coffee.

“well, as the resident spooky one around here, i'd say you’re more freakish than me. you’re quite the stalker.”

“that's my business.”

you put the kazoo back in the box, frustrated you even attempted to jeopardize the secrecy of your nature for being down in the basement. fox’s hazel eyes followed your lethal nails as they replaced the object, and he wondered if they hurt when they grazed skin. a part of him really wanted to find out.

the man huffed, “so that’s it? no plans to kill me, or turn me in to the boss for my beliefs?”

“nope. just… watching from a distance.”

“you could watch up close if you wanted to. i could really benefit from someone so smart as you are, and someone who has such a knack for detail,” he teased. “you seem to have a way with words yourself, agent.”

“well, i appreciate the offer, but my hands are full as it is, agent mulder.”

“call me fox.”

in a flustered blackout, you blurted, “but no one calls you fox!” and the agent’s pupils blew wide.

somehow, deep inside, the idea of you knowing his secrets without ever speaking to him turned him on. you were a watcher, and as a profiler he’d even go so far as to call you a creep- a girl with a case of muldermania following his every move and sniffing the air when he walked past. he saw it in how your hands shook before him, how you craned your neck back in submission, how your eyes darted between his eyes and lips with fervor; how you swallowed nothing every five seconds in what he couldn’t discern between fear and anticipation. you had slightly sick motivations, so driven by the feeling his writing gave you and the idea of what it must be like to be inside his mind. and he liked it. he liked being studied, and understood, and having no say in it being done by a pretty girl like you. the man took another step closer this time, and you didn’t budge. this was one of his personal space invasions he’s so famous for- the kind people complain about when they’re put on the job with him. also the kind you’d dreamt of since you learned of his existence beneath the bureau.

“but you do when you think of me, don’t you?” he crooned, knowing how to play you from one freak to another. “when you think of watching me when you’re alone, and how we might interact. you call me fox in that pretty little head of yours, right? so say it.”

“w-well…”

“come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

you licked your lips as the heat of his breath danced across your face, and you flushed. “a-as much as i'd love to stay and talk, i have my obligations. not everyone is at your whim, fox.”

in a hormonal lapse, fox let out a soft, “mmm,” and flashed his adorable grin for you to fuss over. “that's too bad, then.”

“but,” you interrupted, “if you ever need, um, proofreading… or help, i can- you can, uh, maybe leave me a note? or something?”

“on your desk? in the filing department, right? in that office with the blue walls and the photograph of you and your chocolate lab, the one who inspired your bumper sticker, agent?” fox revealed, showing his intellectual hand.

with a dry mouth, you mustered a meek, “yeah, that’s the one.”

“good. maybe i'll spray it with my cologne, so you can savor the moment.”

“excuse me?” you squeaked.

“come on, agent,” fox winked, “just a joke. unless you’d like that, y’know, i won’t judge.”

and of course you would. he smelled like dust and paper, with a little sugar left from the coffee he drinks, and a little smoke from the candles he lights when they turn the lights off on him overnight in that dark hole of an office.

“you live up to your name, spooky mulder,” you bit your lip.

“so do you,” fox agreed, “what would we do without our eyes and ears?”

“… what did you just say?” you could barely muster a voice.

“you heard me.” 

fox slipped a hand in his suit pant pocket and revealed your business card- not the filing office one, but for your cover. you have no idea how he’d gotten one, because the only place you keep them is in the locked safe beneath your desk. you were in bold, with your full name, position, boss, and reserved extension line. you thought of fox breaking into your office at night- while you were at home having dreams you’d never admit to- and sifting through your belongings, touching all that was yours, cracking open your secrets. you shuddered as he placed the card gently in your hand, his fingers trailing against the veins at the center of your wrist, where he could feel your pulse hammering.

the man slid past you in a split second, heading for the evidence room door and jiggling the handle upwards. when it unlocked, he shot a premeditated glance towards your mortified face and said, “somebody ought to get this fixed. see you around, agent.”

just about shaking, you stood in the aisle, dizzy from the sound of his departure and how every word fell from his lips with such intention. after a moment of weakness in which you let yourself lean against the filing shelf and catch your breath, you straightened out your blazer and made for the door. when you came into the hallway, you saw spooky mulder standing in his doorframe, thumbing through a file with his silver-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. you turned quickly towards the stairs and left him to his devices, those being the file that was full of pictures of you.

all this time admiring from afar made you feel like a fool. now you were stuck with a lingering conversation and the overwhelming urge to visit the archives again, because someone downstairs had his eye on you. he knew you by way of his own eyes and ears, and there are a few things that aren’t in your files he’d like to learn. 

and to think you were the stalker!

[songforeddiemunson]

Haunting in Blackwood Hollow

An Eddie Munson x F!Reader Miniseries

Series Summary: It’s the year 1991. Eddie and reader check into a rented house in the Appalachian woods, joined by Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin. Unfortunately for our gang, things in Blackwood Hollow are never as they appear.

Tropes: established relationship, Jonathan x Nancy, no mention of the events from ST, smut, comedy, fluff, scares, bit of whump (but nothing too crazy)

Series Warnings: Swearing, drinking and weed use, sexual and scary situations, minors please DNI.

Chapter One: Steve's Big Mistake

Chapter warnings: naughty language, mentions of drinking, weed use. This is largely setting the scene babes. Author's Note: Submission for @stcreators Event 5: Dynamics Submission for @somnambulic-thing, @allthingsjoeq, and @bettyfrommars event: strangerprompts (#14) {Okay so I took a bit of liberty with the prompt, but that's just how my brain wanted to do it! You know how that goes. ;) }

Word Count: ~2K

You swore under your breath as the taxi pulled away, leaving you staring at the monstrosity you were meant to be staying in for the weekend.

“This is the last time I leave that jackass in charge of anything,” you muttered, prompting a snort from Eddie, who stood beside you.

You liked Steve. Loved him even, in the way that friends that have known each other for years did, who’d seen each other at their worst, thick as thieves, none of that ‘will they or won’t they’ shit, especially after you started seeing Eddie. But in that moment, you could strangle him.

Most of your group of friends had scattered to the four corners of the country, so when you all received your invitations to Joyce Byers’ and Jim Hopper’s wedding in the Smoky Mountains, you decided to rent a whole house instead of getting hotel rooms. Correction: Steve came up with the idea to rent a house, and admittedly it was a good plan. It would likely be cheaper to pool your resources, and you could all hang out in the common areas and catch up.

And then you saw the house.

It was a stereotype in peeling paint and dilapidated wood. The porch was creaky and appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Gnarled old vines and weeds encroached from every direction; you thought maybe it had been landscaped last sometime in the 1960s. A broken old fountain sat on the front lawn, with a scummy green puddle of rainwater gathered at the bottom, and there was a broken gate that hung loose on its hinges near the drive.

Eddie tilted his head in a manner reminiscent of a terrier as he surveyed the old structure. “I think it looks kinda cool, like that house in IT. The house on Neibolt Street, remember?”

You blinked at your paramour. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend the weekend in a house like that. It’s one thing to read about it in a spooky story, it’s another thing to actually sleep there.” He had the good grace to laugh at that sentiment.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

Of all the houses in Asheville, Tennessee, THIS is the one he chooses? You thought bitterly as you made your way up the walkway toward the porch, stepping carefully on the worn wood and looking for nails that could be lying in wait to impale your foot.

You had no idea if anyone else had already arrived, and whether you were supposed to knock or just walk in. You had decided to try the former, but your knuckles hadn’t had a chance to make contact with the wood before the door was whipped open, revealing a clearly exasperated Robin.

“Omigosh you’re here!” she cried joyfully as she threw her arms around you. You let your weekend bag drop to the porch as you reciprocated the hug.

“Robin! I’m so glad to see you!” you cooed as you gave her a good squeeze then released her. “But what the hell is this house?”

“Right?! I feel like it’s right out of a Scoobie Doo episode or something. Talk about creepy. Eddie! Hi!”

“I’ve seen worse,” a deeper voice intoned from out of eyesight, shortly before Steve stepped into the foyer.

“Steve! It’s lovely to see you, but what the fuck?” you scolded.

Steve’s expression was so sheepish that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I know, I know,” he moaned, before putting his face in his hands.

“Come here and hug me, loser. I haven’t seen you in almost two years and you’re gonna make me sleep in the house from Amityville Horror?”

“Hey now,” Robin countered, “The Amityville Horror house was waaay nicer than this.”

“True. Eddie said it looked like the house from IT.”

“Oooh yes! That fits,” Robin said.

“What’s that? It?” Steve asked, never one to embrace pop culture.

You hugged Steve despite wanting to hurt him a little bit. “Nevermind. So what were you thinking with this house?”

“Okay so in my defense the pictures were much nicer in the Want Ad, and in black and white. I didn’t realize it was going to be so…”

“Shabby?” you offered while Robin said “terrifying” at the same time.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie chuckled as he hugged his friends by way of greeting.  “Alright well, as long as the bed is clean, I don't really care,” he said. “This one is scared of spiders,” he said, gesturing toward you. 

“I am not, you are!” you yelled.

“I am NOT afraid of spiders,” Eddie replied defensively. “It’s those fucking centipede things with all the legs. I hate those things.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure there are plenty of things in this house to trigger all our phobias.”

The interior was a little less gloomy than its exterior, but that wasn’t saying much. The common room in which you were standing was decorated in 50 year-old wallpaper that was peeling and yellowing. The floors were hard wood but hadn’t been refinished since the wallpaper was installed, and the dusty old upholstery was flat and worn around the edges. 

“Where are we sleeping, anyway?”

“There’s three bedrooms, one with a queen and two with a pair of singles. I figured we could draw straws or someth–”

“Dibs on the queen!” Eddie shouted.

“Eddie, we have to–” you began.

“Nah babe. We’re a couple, and we got here first. You snooze, you lose.”

“I think that’s fair,” Robin said with a shrug.

“Nancy and Jonathan won’t love that,” Steve said. “But you can fight it out amongst yourselves. I’m staying out of it. Looks like you’re bunking with me, Robin.”

“I don’t care, as long as you don’t snore.”

Nancy and Jonathan arrived about an hour later, and while they weren’t thrilled to be relegated to a pair of twin beds, they conceded that Eddie did in fact call dibs.

“I feel like we’re eighteen again,” Nancy laughed as she explored the kitchen for a clean glass for water. “Calling dibs and bunking up together. Feels like old times.”

“It does,” you agreed from where you were leaning against the counter. “I don’t know if I would use any of the dishes in this house though.”

“I might just make a store run, get some solo cups and paper plates,” she said as she put one grimy glass back in the cupboard with a look of distaste. “Any requests?”

“Oooh, cheez-its, snapple peach tea, pizza pretzel combos…”

“PBR,” Eddie contributed as he sidled up next to you and bent to give you a quick peck on the lips.

“Well of course,” Nancy said with a smile. “Can’t forget the beer.”

Robin poked her head into the room. “Grab a couple of pizzas! I’ll give you cash.”

You all pitched in for the snacks and sent Nancy on her way as the sun began its descent behind the trees. The rest of you gathered in the living room to figure out what to do for the night.

“Care for a toke?” Eddie asked, as he held up a joint he pulled from his jacket and set it alight.

“Yessss,” Jonathan replied with enthusiasm, leaning forward to pinch the little joint between his fingers.

“That didn’t take long,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes.

“Lighten up, Harrington,” Jonathan said in a fragrant plume of exhalation, stifling a cough. “You could probably use this more than the rest of us. You’re too wound up.” 

“It’s true Steve, why are you always so stressed out?” you asked, taking a pull from the joint.

“I don’t know, I just feel like I’m the responsible one–” he began, but was cut off by a chorus of jeers and naysaying.

“You think you’re the responsible one, but everyone knows it’s Nancy,” Robin said, laughing.

“Yeah man, like…the King Steve days are over, you can stop trying so hard,” Eddie added with a grin.

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Steve said, accepting his ribbing with a modicum of grace. His voice trailed off, however, as his attention was pulled in another direction. “Hey what’s that?”

“What?” you and Jonathan asked at the same time, following his gaze. 

“It’s on top of that bookshelf…” he began, already getting up and walking toward it. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach it, and pulled it down, unleashing a cloud of dust and grime.

“What is it?” Eddie asked.

Steve brushed the dust off the cover before looking up at you with wide eyes. 

“It’s a ouija board,” he said.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said, laughing. "You can't be serious."

“What! No, no thank you!” Robin yelled.

“I dunno man, you might want to put that back and pretend you never saw it,” Jonathan added with a smirk.

“What, nah, that stuff isn’t real,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Steve agreed. “It’s just a silly game.”

“If it’s just a silly game,” Eddie taunted, "why don’t we take it for a spin?”

“Oh man, no, don’t give him any ideas,” Robin piped in with her trademarked ‘mile-a-minute’ cadence. “Did you see the movie Witchboard? Well I did, and I didn’t sleep for a week afterward. Too scary for me. And it’s kinda weird that that thing just shows up in the spookiest house I’ve ever seen, and we’re in the middle of nowhere and…”

“What’s Witchboard?” Steve asked.

“Dude, watch a movie…” Eddie moaned while Jonathan doubled-over laughing.

Steve laid the box down on the coffee table. “Well, just because there was a movie about these things doesn’t make them real. The Princess Bride isn’t exactly real either.”

Eddie gasped with mock incredulity. “It’s NOT?”

“Have fun NOT storming the castle I guess,” Jonathan tried to say without laughing, which came out as a choked squeal.

“Inconceivable!” you yelled, making the entire room erupt in hearty laughter and dispelling some of the unease that had grown since the discovery of the ouija board.

“Jesus guys, are you that stoned already?” Steve asked with a smile.

“Eddie only buys the good stuff,” you said.

“Zero to zooted within three hits, or your money back,” Eddie said before taking another pull from the joint.

“Good to know,” Steve said sarcastically. “So are you guys gonna play with this thing or not?”

“Fine fine,” you said. “Eddie, let’s do this.”

He agreed, and you sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table. You opened the box, took out its contents, and each placed the index finger of your right hand gently on the planchette. You sat silent for a moment, not doing or saying anything, unsure of where to begin.

“Uhhhh,” Eddie said before dissolving into giggles.

“Ask it something!” Robin whispered, leaning forward in her excitement.

“Okay, uh…” you began, pausing to think. “Is there anybody here with us right now?”

It seemed like the entire room held its breath with anticipation.

“Is there anyone here in this house?” you repeated.

The silence ticked onward.

“Well this is thrilling,” Jonathan said with a snort.

“Give it a minute,” Steve said.

“Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff, Stevarino,” Eddie teased.

“I don’t, but–”

You thought you felt the planchette move ever so slightly. 

“Wait!” you gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“No, wait. Maybe?” Eddie whispered.

You sat motionless for a beat, but nothing happened. You began to think that it was your imagination when…

….suddenly the front door banged open with a loud smash, and every single person in the room screamed like a banshee.

“Jesus, guys!” Nancy said as she struggled to hold several brown paper grocery bags. “A little help here?”

“Oh fuck, sorry babe,” Jonathan said, and the rest of you sheepishly got up to help, leaving the ouija board on the table. You bustled into the kitchen to put things away and pop open cans of beer, laughing about the silly jump scare you’d all just shared.

What none of you saw, however, was the planchette on the ouija board slide over to ‘hello.’

To Be Continued...

Sorry this one is short, but I needed to get it out. More is coming! As always, comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of every fic writer!

PART TWO MASTERLIST

[wisteriaw0rld]

-ˋˏ ༻taisho secret༺ ˎˊ-

✰synopsis: random headcanons of what you and Hashira’s do during halloween. Modern Au!

✰additional tags: gn! reader, fluff, not proof read! modern au

✰character order: giyuu, rengoku, uzui, obanai, sanemi, gyomei, muichiro, shinobu, mitsuri. (platonic headcanons!)

!spooky season, part one!

˚ʚtomioka giyuuɞ˚

On halloween, the two of you just sit inside while watching movies. Specifically horror. You both make sure to turn off the lights and close the blinds so trick or treaters will assume that nobody’s home. When trick or treaters come anyways, he just hands them a singular starburst before closing the door on them.

˚ʚkyojuro rengokuɞ˚

The two of you are the ones that get kids excited for Halloween. The two of you go shopping together for new decorations every year. He definitely gets all the scary ones. Not only do you two go overboard on decorations together, but you also make sure to buy the best candy. Needless to say, the two of you don’t get a break since every second, a new truck or treated is ringing the doorbell.

˚ʚtengen uzuiɞ˚

You both go around scaring kids. That’s it. He buys costumes for you and him. His wives are completely against but the two you just sneak out of the house with scary costumes on, running around the neighborhood while yelling at kids and chasing them. One time one of the kids ended up crying. The child’s parents called the cops which ended in you and Uzui hiding for the rest of the night. Not the best Halloween you two have had.

˚ʚiguro obanaiɞ˚

He just judges people with you. Especially targeting little kids. The two of you just sit on a bench while staring at little kids and judging them and their costumes. When that gets boring, he straight up tells the kids rude things. 

˚ʚshinazugawa sanemiɞ˚

Tells ghost stories to little kids with you. Makes sure that they leave crying or absolutely traumatized. While you’re telling the stories, he’s playing eerie noises while jump scaring whatever dumb kids decided to come and listen to the creepy ghost story. He always makes sure that by the end of the story, you tell the kids that it’s all true. Even if there is no way in hell the story could possibly be true.

˚ʚhimejima gyomeiɞ˚

Makes full on goody bags for trick or treaters. And forces you to help him. Will literally walk around the neighborhood with goody bags full of candy and different snacks while dragging you along with him.

˚ʚtokito muichiroɞ˚

Steals candy. Whenever you go trick or treating with him, it ends up with the two of you stealing a little kids basket of candy and running away. He’s also the type of person to take the whole bowl of candy when a sign says ‘only take one.’ In his defense, he forgets what the sign says. He also loves exploring haunted houses with you. They don’t really scare him. But he enjoys walking through them with you.

˚ʚkocho shinobuɞ˚

Definitely the type to want to go to an amusement park with you on Halloween. She loves going out instead of staying in. Loves looking at Halloween decorations at parks with you. 

˚ʚkanroji mitsuriɞ˚

Doesn’t care what anyone says, she doesn’t believe anyone is too old to be trick or treating. Will probably just drag you along to where the other hashira’s live and just trick or treat with you there. She’s definitely going to feel tempted to take your candy. And how could you refuse? She also loves watching Corpse Bride with you every Halloween at night. 

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Corn Maze

Joel Miller x Wife fem reader

Summary: Joel and his wife Y/N visit a haunted corn maze with friends. They get separated,it’s up to them to find their way out.

Joel Miller and his wife Y/N had always loved Halloween, and this year they decided to embrace the spooky spirit by visiting a haunted corn maze. The maze was notorious for its elaborate scares and intricate pathways, making it the perfect place for a thrilling adventure. They went with a group of friends, including Tommy, Maria, and a few others, all eager for a night of fun and fright.

The night was crisp and cool, with a full moon casting an eerie glow over the fields. The entrance to the maze was decorated with flickering jack-o'-lanterns and creepy scarecrows, setting the mood for what lay ahead. As they entered, the group laughed and joked, trying to mask their nervous excitement.

The maze quickly lived up to its reputation. Shadows darted between the cornstalks, and eerie noises echoed through the pathways. Joel kept a protective arm around Y/N, who clung to him with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

“Stay close,” Joel whispered in her ear, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not letting go,” Y/N replied with a nervous laugh.

About halfway through the maze, the group encountered a man in a grotesque costume wielding a fake chainsaw. With a loud roar, he lunged toward them, sending everyone scattering in different directions. Y/N’s hand slipped from Joel’s grasp in the chaos, and before he knew it, they were separated.

“Y/N!” Joel called out, his voice filled with urgency. He could hear the distant shouts of his friends but couldn’t see anyone through the thick corn.

“Joel!” Y/N’s voice echoed back, sounding distant and scared. She tried to retrace her steps but found herself disoriented in the maze's labyrinthine paths. Her heart pounded as she navigated the narrow corridors, calling out for Joel with every turn.

Joel moved quickly, his senses on high alert. He pushed through the tall cornstalks, ignoring the staged scares and creepy figures that popped up along

the way. All he cared about was finding Y/N. “Y/N, where are you?”

“I’m here! Joel, I’m here!” Her voice was closer now, and Joel quickened his pace, desperation giving him a sense of direction.

Y/N stumbled through the maze, trying to keep calm. She knew Joel would find her, but the eerie environment was getting to her. Every rustle in the corn made her jump, and she kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting the costumed figure to reappear.

“Why did I agree to this?” Y/N muttered under her breath, trying to navigate the maze’s twists and turns. Suddenly, a ghoul leaped out from the corn, emitting a blood-curdling scream. Y/N screamed and bolted, her heart racing. She managed to find a narrow path and ran, hoping it would lead her back to Joel.

Joel was having his own share of scares. As he pushed through the maze, a group of zombies emerged from the corn, groaning and reaching out for him. He jumped back, genuinely startled, and let out a yell before quickly composing himself. “Alright, you got me,” he muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel finally heard Y/N’s voice just around the next corner. He turned the corner and saw her standing there, looking relieved and anxious. “Y/N!”

“Joel!” She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes.

“Yeah, just a bit shaken,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I hate getting lost in these things.”

“Me too,” Joel agreed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they neared the exit, the maze had one final scare in store. A figure jumped out from behind the last corner, grabbing onto Y/N's arm with a ghastly scream. Instinctively, Y/N reacted, her fear transforming into a burst of adrenaline. She swung her free hand and punched the actor square in the face, sending him stumbling back.

The actor, stunned and holding his face, managed a weak, “Hey, it's just part of the scare!” But Y/N, breathing heavily, was already pulling Joel towards the exit.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "That’s my woman," he said proudly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they finally exited the maze.

The rest of the group, who had been waiting at the exit, looked on in surprise. Tommy burst out laughing, “Y/N, remind me never to startle you again!”

Maria smirked, “Well, I guess you showed them not to mess with you!”

Y/N, still a bit shaken but now feeling more confident, managed a smile. “I guess I did.”

As they walked back to the parking lot, Joel kept a protective arm around Y/N, occasionally chuckling and shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Hey, they shouldn't grab people like that,” Y/N said, feeling a bit more relaxed now that they were out of the maze.

“You’re right,” Joel agreed, kissing her temple. “But still, that was impressive.”

They drove home with the group, sharing stories of the night’s scares and laughing at the unexpected turn of events. As they pulled into their driveway, Joel helped Y/N out of the car, and they walked hand in hand into their home.

Later that night, after they had gotten ready for bed, Y/N lay beside Joel, feeling the day's excitement still coursing through her. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt a deep sense of security and love, knowing Joel was there to protect her.

Hours later, in the dead of night, Y/N's sleep was abruptly shattered by a terrifying dream. She found herself back in the maze, the eerie rustling of the corn and the ghastly figure chasing her. The fear was palpable, and she could hear herself screaming, “Joel! Help!”

She bolted upright, gasping for breath, her heart racing. Joel was instantly awake, his arms around her in an instant. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe, Y/N. It was just a dream.”

Y/N clung to him, trembling. “It felt so real, Joel. I was back in the maze, and someone was chasing me.”

Joel held her tighter, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “It’s alright, love. You’re here with me, and no one’s going to hurt you.”

As she calmed down, Y/N couldn’t shake the lingering fear. “It was just a dream... right?”

Joel kissed her forehead and smiled softly. “Just a dream. And I’ll always be here to make sure it stays that way.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the comfort of Joel’s presence. But as she lay back down, she couldn’t help but glance towards the window, half-expecting to see a figure lurking in the shadows. Joel pulled her close, his warmth enveloping her.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

With Joel's steady heartbeat under her ear and his protective arms around her, Y/N finally drifted back to sleep, her fears fading into the night. Yet, a small part of her couldn’t shake the feeling that the line between dream and reality had blurred, leaving her with an unsettling sense of lingering dread.

The next morning, Joel woke up to find Y/N already up, making breakfast in the kitchen. The smell of bacon and pancakes filled the air, and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Morning, beautiful.”

She leaned back into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “Morning. I thought I’d make us a nice breakfast to start the day.”

He kissed her cheek, the warmth of their home washing away the night’s fears. “Sounds perfect.”

As they sat down to eat, Joel couldn’t help but tease, “So, are we doing another haunted maze next year?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Fuck no”

Joel busted out laughing and shook his head.

[familyvideostevie]

october eighth

day eight: remus lupin you and remus fool around on a spooky path at night | 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex | 1.9k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, semi-public sex (risk of being discovered, doesn't happen), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, little bit of dirty talk, little bit of praising, remus is a tiny tiny tiny bit mean, creampie

“Are you trying to torture me?” you ask. A cold gust blows down the forest path and you shiver, pressing harder into Remus’s side.

“Me?” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice. “Never.” His arm is warm and heavy around your shoulders. You’d walk faster if you were less glued to him but you’re not about to pull away. The path is scary.

“Why are we doing this, again?” You look over at him. Remus looks lovely every second of every damn day but in tonight’s light from the full moon he’s practically glowing. The scars on his face stand out and you want to trace them.

“Because I have something to show you.” The harvest festival you’ve left behind is a dull road back down the path. You haven’t seen another person in almost ten minutes, even though you’re still technically on the fair grounds.

“You better not have something scary planned.”

Remus smirks at you and presses his lips to your temple. “Have faith, love,” he says. “I’m not going to terrorize you.”

You roll your eyes. The path is well traveled though deserted. The trees around you are tall, the color of their leaves still visible in the moonlight. It’s not quite a proper fall night but it’s pretty close.

“Why isn’t anyone out here? Whatever you want to show me can’t be that great if no one else wants to see it.” You’re teasing and Remus can tell. He tugs on your earlobe.

“We used to come out here in the summer, actually,” he says. “Not so much this time of year. Bit nippy.”

“Yeah, and creepy.” You’re speaking in a hush for no reason.

“Well, we came to see who would be brave enough to sneak into that.” He points in front of you and as you see a massive house rising out of the shadows at the end of the woods.

“Remus!” you gasp. “Fuck, that is scary!”

He laughs. He laughs at you. Unbelievable. He tugs you close, arms around you.

“Rumor says it’s haunted.” You believe it. The house itself looms in a way that cannot be natural. The siding is chipped and rotting, the windows nothing but broken glass with torn curtains flapping in the wind. It looks like the perfect place to get murdered.

“We are not going in there.”

“No,” he agrees, “we are not.” His hand rubs up and down your spine, warming you through your coat.

“Did you ever go in?”

“A few times, with James and Sirius,” he says. “Most everyone else who came down here was only interested in the house.”

You frown. “Is there something else more terrifying and more interesting that you idiots hung around for?”

Remus smirks and you know he’s up to something. Your buttoned up, calm, collected boyfriend has a devious side that still manages to surprise you.

He leans down and presses his lips to your ear. “This is where we’d come to snog girls,” he whispers.

Your breath stutters in your chest and you swallow and embarrassing noise at his closeness. “Oh?”

“Among other things,” he adds. He turns you in his hold and walks you backwards until you’re back in the trees, off the path a little bit. Your back hits the bark of a trunk.

“Other things?” you swallow. You see where this is going but you’re not sure how far he’ll take it. Already you feel hot under your layers.

He steps back into your space, pressing you against the tree, and drags his nose down your throat, nipping at your skin as he goes. “Would you let me do other things to you, darling?”

“Remus,” you gasp. “Remus, really? In the woods? Here?” Anyone could walk by. And yet…your legs clench at the idea.

“No one will see us,” he says, pulling away to look at you full on. “We’re off the path enough, I swear.” He rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. “If you don’t want to I will happily take you home and fuck you in bed instead —”

“I want to,” you rush out. It’s the truth. Your sex life is healthy and fun and you like trying new things with him, but this is…something different. This is hot in a way you didn’t think fooling around outside would be. You like it.

“I thought I was the only one who went a bit wild under the full moon,” he teases. Smug bastard. You slide your hand down his chest and palm him through his pants. He’s half hard already.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. He grins wolfishly.

“Going to be quiet?” he says, whispering. The woods aren’t silent, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat and Remus’s breaths. You nod. “Good girl.”

You surge forward to kiss him. It’s teeth and tongues, sloppy but hot. Remus manages to undo his belt before leaving the button and zipper to you as he goes for your own pants, mouth never leaving yours until you pull away to spit in you palm.

He hisses when you get under his briefs to grasp his cock. It’s warm in your cold hand and you jerk him as best you can with his pants still on. “Fuck,” he gasps.

“What was that about being quiet?” you mutter. He kisses you again, tonguing into your mouth as he pops the button on your jeans. His long fingers find their way underneath your underwear and into your cunt and you moan against his mouth.

“Hush,” Remus chides. You pant into his neck, your grip on his cock haphazard as he circles your clit. “You’re soaked, darling,” he says. “You like this? Being out in the open like this? Where anyone could see how wet you are?”

You grasp his bicep with the hand not in his pants so you don’t fall over. “Oh my god,” you gasp. Who knew you were so into this?

“Not quite,” he teases. He slips two fingers into you and you bite down on his collar. “I’m going to fuck you right here against this tree,” he says, voice deeper than usual in your ear. “And then we’re going to go home and you’re going to ride me after I lap at your cunt until you scream.”

“Busy — ah — night.” Remus sucks on your pulse point and you clench around his fingers. He thrusts into your hand and then his touch is gone and you whine.

“Can’t have you wrecking my plan with those hands,” he says. “Step out of your jeans?”

You look around and see no one in the darkness. Remus pulls his boxers down a little further so he can free his entire cock and his balls. If you weren’t so desperate for him to fuck you right now you’d get on your knees, but instead you shimmy your pants down and step out of one leg. It’s not like you’ll be able to pull them up if someone comes by but not being totally bare makes you feel better.

“Now what?” The cool air makes your cunt clench and you can see that Remus’s pupils are totally blown. He crowds you against the tree so your back is against it once more and hooks one hand around your thigh to lift your leg. The mechanics of fucking like this worry you a little but you’re perfectly content to let Remus arrange you how he likes.

“Now I fuck you,” he says. He strokes himself a few times then lines up near your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing your clit for a few breaths.

You moan low in your throat. “C’mon,” you whine. Remus doesn’t wait any longer. He slide inside you in one movement, stealing the air from your lungs. He wraps one leg around his hip and taps the other. Between his firm hold and the tree, you’re fairly secure with both legs around his waist.

“So tight,” he says in your ear. “I’ve been inside you hundreds of times and you’re still so tight.”

You’re about to retort when some twigs snap in the darkness. You freeze and Remus stays where he is, face in your neck and arms steady, palms on your bare ass.

The trail is almost certainly out of sight but not far enough that you can’t hear a group of guys walking down it. “It’s not that scary, dude,” one of them says.

“Be quiet,” Remus reminds you and then he starts moving his hips. You swallow your moans as he drags his cock out and then in again, torturously slow.

“People used to fuck in these woods when we were younger,” another guy says. Their voices are already fading but it feels like they’re right next to you.

“If only they knew,” Remus continues. His lips are pressed to your ear, tongue darting out between every sentence. “I can’t believe they aren’t hearing how wet you are.”

You might explode. You might bite through your tongue. The group keeps talking but you can’t be bothered to listen anymore. There is laughter and under the cover of the sound Remus snaps his hips hard and you swallow a scream.

“Good girl,” he tells you. You clench around him. “They’re gone.” You can’t hear anything anymore except your blood pounding in your ears. Remus finally picks up the pace. The sounds must be obvious — your slick, his balls smacking into your ass, your panting. But you don’t care. The angle he’s getting is so good and it’s so hot that anyone could walk by and see you taking him and —

“How close are you?” Remus grinds out.

“Close,” you manage. “Close, Remus, keep going —”

“Me too,” he says after he licks a stripe up your neck. “Dirty girl, letting me fuck you against a tree, I’m not going to last long —

“Inside,” you blurt out. “Please, inside me, Remus.”

Your eyes are closed but he shifts his hold on you and uses one hand to grab your jaw so you’ll look at him. His pupils are totally blown and his eyes are wide.

“You want to — fuck — walk out of here with my cum inside you?”

You nod frantically and he grabs your ass again, picking up his pace.

“Anything, Remus,” you moan. “Anything, just — ah — don’t stop, I’m —”

His cock hits that spot inside you once, twice, three times, and you’re gone. Over the edge, head thrown back far enough that you thump it against the tree as you clench around him. He says your name like a prayer and his hips still as he spurts inside you.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You’re both panting and he gently guides your legs back to the ground even though you’re weak in the knees. Your jeans have almost come off the remaining leg entirely but you don’t care. Remus pulls out of you and without tucking himself back into his briefs he leans down to pull your panties back up your legs and around your hips, your jeans following. “Can’t lose any,” he says.

You laugh. “That’s filthy,” you say, breath still returning to normal. You can’t believe you just fucked in the woods.

He shrugs and puts his cock, shiny with you, away and fastens his belt.

“C’mere, Remus.” He obeys and cups your face with one hand. You kiss him gently, chastely compared to what you were doing before. “Let’s go home,” you say. “So I can blow you because I’m not kneeling on this nasty forest floor.”

He laughs loudly, so loudly you know that anyone walking by will hear. Good thing you’re not fucking anymore.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[bunnysnuff]

Nick Nelson with a girlfriend who works in a haunted house headcannons:

Pairing; Nick Nelson x F!reader.

Trigger warning: just scary.

Request.

Supportive but Terrified: Nick would be super supportive of your haunted house job, but he’s secretly kind of scared of horror stuff. He tries to hide it when he comes to visit you, but the jump scares always get him.

Constant Visits: Even though he’s nervous, Nick makes an effort to visit you at work as often as he can. He’ll bring you snacks, check in on your breaks, and maybe even watch you from afar in your element, secretly impressed by how confident and fierce you are in the creepy atmosphere.

Tries to Play It Cool: The first time he visits while you’re in full costume and makeup, he pretends he’s not startled, but you can totally see the brief moment of panic in his eyes. He’ll laugh it off afterward, teasing himself about how easily he scares.

Post-Shift Cuddles: After a long night of scaring people, Nick would be waiting for you outside, ready to wrap you in his arms. He’ll drive you home, listening to you excitedly talk about the night’s highlights, and he’s just in awe of how brave and fun you are.

Attempts to Scare You: Nick would try to get you back by planning his own scare, maybe hiding somewhere when you least expect it, but he’s so bad at it that you catch him before he even gets close.

Proud Boyfriend Moments: He can’t help but boast to his friends that his girlfriend works in one of the scariest haunted houses around. It’s a mix of pride and awe because he knows he couldn’t handle doing what you do.

Halloween Couple Goals: You would help Nick come up with the best Halloween costume ideas. He’d go for something fun and a little spooky to match your vibe, and the two of you would be the perfect Halloween couple at every party.

Comfort After the Fear: Nick knows that even though you love your haunted house job, it can sometimes get a little intense. He’s always there with hot chocolate and a blanket when you come home, ready to provide comfort after a night of scares.

Secretly Protective: Even though Nick knows it’s all fake, he sometimes worries about you being in such an intense environment. He might subtly ask if any of the guests were too rowdy or if you’re okay, just to make sure you’re safe.

Wants to Join In: Nick might joke about wanting to try working a shift with you, though he’s probably way too soft to actually scare anyone. You can picture him in costume, flashing his sweet smile at guests and ruining the scary vibe.