#he finds a halloween skeleton and he's like. holy shit. it's all coming together now

[somewhatidealname]

i feel like based on his only environment (the fazbear frights attraction), springtrap would just 'think' someone placed horror/halloween decorations in him when he saw himself without his mask/head. like the only place he knows is decorated to hell, he cant remember anything about his person (or that he was/is one) or past, all he knows is that this is his place, there's tacky horror decor everywhere and he's somehow part of it- he knows nothing more, so the only dots he could potentially connect are these. bro thinks he is party city.

oh my fucking god you're a genius

[remywrites5]

15 with Jegulus?

Hi nonny! Since I got two of the same prompt for Jegulus I decided to do #14 instead. Hope that’s ok! 

***********

     Regulus wasn’t exactly big on Halloween. He’d outgrown his go to a party and get drunk on Halloween phase. He didn’t have any children so trick or treating wasn’t exactly a thing for him. He hardly bothered to decorate his house for the Holiday – just putting out a Jack O’lantern he’d gotten pre-carved and a spooky skeleton that held a dish of candy so kids wouldn’t knock on his door. Sometimes he felt like the Scrooge of Halloween but it wasn’t like he had anyone to share it with. Halloween was just a night where he was reminded of how little he had in his life and was accosted by oddly dressed sprogs begging for sweets.

           He was flipping through Netflix, looking for something that fit the occasion, maybe something that would get him into the Holiday spirit. He put on the original Ghostbusters and started flipping through Facebook. There were a million pictures of his nephew, Teddy. He had no idea what Teddy was supposed to be, but if he had to guess it was something to do with Minecraft, as that was Teddy’s current obsession.

           Unlike Regulus, his brother Sirius was very into Halloween. Every year, Siirus would decorate their house and be so completely extra about it. The flashing lights timed to “This is Halloween” from the Nightmare before Christmas, the ghosts on sticks holding hands and dancing around a fire, and Sirius himself hiding in the bushes waiting to scare unsuspecting children.

           Regulus liked a few of the pictures and put his phone down. Love for Halloween used to be a common trait between Sirius and Regulus. It was the one night their strict parents would let them go out and be kids. Now that he had his own family with Remus and Teddy, Sirius had kept that love alive. It was harder for Regulus to get invested when he had no one. He could have gone over to Sirius’ and joined in on their Halloween. He knew he would be more than welcome, but for whatever reason he just couldn’t make himself go. He already felt like a burden around Christmas, ruining their lovely family hols, he didn’t want to intrude more than necessary.

           The doorbell rang and Regulus groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Just a minute,” he shouted, hoisting himself up off the sofa and going to the front door. He was more than a little annoyed when he opened it to find not children but an adult man standing before him.

           “You’re out of candy,” the man said, gesturing towards the skeleton bowl, which had indeed been cleaned out. Regulus eyed the man up and down and fuck this guy was good-looking. Maybe it was his six-month dry spell playing tricks on him but he was pretty sure this guy was just really fucking hot. He had on a black cape and some terrible fake vampire teeth, clearly having put very little effort into his costume. Regulus was pretty sure he could put together a better costume from the shit in his closet.

           “So?” Regulus asked with a shrug, trying his best to remain nonchalant. “That’s all the candy I had. Besides, aren’t you a little old for trick or treating?”

           The man shifted uncomfortably. “My son is in the car,” he explained, gesturing to a black SUV parked on the street. Regulus felt his shoulders sag at the news. Of course a guy like that wouldn’t be single. Wishful thinking on his part. “He fell asleep after what I can only call an epic sugar rush. I might have let him snack a bit too much on the candy while he drove from house to house.”

           Regulus cocked his head to the side. “I’m still failing to see how any of this is my concern,” he said honestly, finding that he had lost a bit of his patience for this hot stranger now that he knew he was a dad.

           “Well you have to give me a treat or else I’ll be forced to trick you,” the guy said with a shrug. “Those are the rules.” The stranger grinned and shook his candy bag pointedly.

           Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m almost tempted to tell you to do your worst but I’m not exactly in the mood to get my house covered in toilet roll. Let me see what I’ve got that might be edible. Come in, I suppose.”

           Regulus left the door open as he padded into the kitchen. The stranger hesitated for a moment and then Regulus heard the front door shut. “Wow,” the stranger said, whistling. “I purposefully came to the rich neighborhoods to get the best candy but this is next level.”

           Reappearing into the front hallway, Regulus held up the two items he’d managed to find in his pantry. He wasn’t exactly one for cooking so his kitchen was more or less bare. “I’ve got a can of chicken noodle soup and a packet of digestives.”

           “I’ll take the biscuits,” the stranger said, opening the bag so Regulus could put them in. “Thank you.”

           Regulus sighed and carded his fingers through his hair. “Happy Halloween, I suppose.”

           “Are you watching Ghostbusters?” the guy asked, walking past Regulus and into the living room where the telly was. “Classic!”

           Regulus frowned, wondering just why this guy refused to leave his house. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your son?” he asked pointedly, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie.

           “Oh right, yeah,” the stranger said, blushing prettily. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

           Regulus escorted the stranger back to the front door - because the son of Walburga Black had been raised with manners if nothing else. “Well this was absolutely bizarre. Thanks for dropping in, I guess.”

           “I’m James Potter, by the way.”

           “I didn’t ask,” Regulus responded, opening the door for him.

           James chuckled as if unoffended by Regulus’ comment. “I like you,” he said, standing in Reg’s doorway as if refusing to leave. “You’ve got spunk.”

           “Moxie,” Reg corrected. “What I’ve got is called moxie. And you’ve got a son waiting in the car.”

           James only grinned wider. The man was maddening. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

           Regulus huffed in annoyance. “Is there a reason why you refuse to leave my house?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you even have a son in the car or is it just an excuse to get free candy without looking like a creep?”

           “You think I’m making up a son to get candy?”

           Reg shrugged.

           “Well I would go get him from the car just to prove you wrong but if I wake him up now he’ll never get back to sleep,” James informed him, glancing out towards the car. “And since it would be your fault that he was awake it would only be right that you be the one to get him back to sleep.”

           This James person was absolutely unbelievable! “Since when is your son my responsibility?”

           James laughed good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll leave him be. But I do have a son!”

           Regulus’ brow furrowed as he stared at the most gorgeous and most confusing man he thought he’d ever met. “No offense mate, but I really don’t care either way.”

           “You wound me,” James said, clutching his heart dramatically.

           “You’ll get over it,” Regulus assured him, giving James a small shove out the door and shutting it behind him. He’d had quite enough of that. Halloween indeed!

                                                           ***

           It had been two days since Halloween and Reg was still reeling a little bit from the hot stranger. Hot strangers were always welcome at his house but not ones that were probably married and definitely had children. Regulus had no interest in that shit storm.

           Which is why it was very odd indeed when James ended up back on his doorstep with a tiny human with him. “See?” James said, grinning smugly and gesturing to the child. “I told you I had a son.”

           “Hi!” the child said with a wave.

           “Go on in, Harry,” James instructed his son, releasing his hand so Harry to sneak on in. Regulus stared in shock – his mouth opening and closing like a fish – as the retreating back of James’ son went into his living room and turned on the telly. He was even more gobsmacked when James walked inside and shut the door for him.

           “It can’t be Halloween again already,” Regulus said, feeling a little bit hysterical because there was a man and his child in his house uninvited.

           James laughed. “Nope,” he said, clapping his hand on Reg’s shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. “We just thought we’d stop by.”

           “Why?” Regulus asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t even know me.”

           ‘”Oh, I know you, Regulus Black,” James said with a self-satisfied grin.

           “Been stalking me?”

           James rolled his eyes and removed his hand from Reg’s shoulder. Reg missed the warmth of the touch, just a little bit. “Harry’s primary school teacher is Remus Lupin,” he stated matter-of-factly while looking oh so smug about it. “He and Teddy are mates. We go over there for play-dates all the time.”

           “Then why aren’t you over there right now?” Reg asked in exasperation. “Why are you here?”

           “Because…” James said, stepping in closer to Regulus. “The last time I was here I forgot to ask you out.”

           Regulus stared at James, his brow knitting together in confusion. “And…Harry’s mother wouldn’t have a problem with this?”

           James playful expression grew sad and Regulus hated himself for causing it. James took his glasses off and cleaned them, clearly stalling for time, and placed them back on his nose. “Harry’s mum is no longer with us,” James said, swallowing thickly. “Complications with the birth.”

           “I’m so sorry,” Regulus said quietly. Not quite sure what to do, Regulus pulled James into a hug. It seemed the most appropriate reaction to that kind of information.

           “Mmm,” James hummed happily, hugging Reg back. “If that’s what I knew it would take for you to touch me I would have played the dead wife card sooner.”

           Regulus shoved James away. “God, I – what is wrong with you? Is your wife even dead?”

           “Oh ye of little faith,” James said, running his fingers through his messy hair and holy shit was that not playing fair. “Sometimes I make jokes about things that make me uncomfortable. Lily’s death is top of the list so sometimes I can seem a little…”

           “Prickish?” Regulus supplied.

           “Insensitive,” James finished with a shrug. “And I’m just starting to get to the point where I’m not miserable about it all the time. Not feeling incredibly guilty when I find someone fit or attractive as if I’m disgracing the memory of my dead wife. Then I knocked on your door and you’re incredibly handsome and funny and I didn’t want to leave because it felt so good just to flirt with you. I came back today because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and then I was looking on Facebook and it said “Regulus Black also liked this photo”’ and I thought oh right Sirius mentioned having a brother and I clicked on the picture and it was you. It felt important, you know? I know I’m a packaged deal and maybe that’s not very sexy but I like you and I’d really like to take you out sometime.”

           Regulus took a moment to process James’ speech as it was a lot of information being thrown at him all at once. If he chose to do this, it wouldn’t just be committing to James, but a little boy as well. He wouldn’t be able to end things without hurting both of them if things went sour. He glanced up at James who was staring at him with a hopeful expression that nearly broke Reg’s heart. Maybe, just maybe, James Potter was too good to pass up.

Making a decision, Reg stepped forward and kissed James softly on the lips in a way that he hoped communicated his decision. When he pulled away James was grinning like an idiot. He supposed the message was received.

           “So…” Reg said, biting his bottom lip nervously. “I suppose you better introduce me properly to your son then.”

           “I’d love to!” James said, taking Reg’s hand and leading him into the living room where Harry was waiting.

[kaiju-z]

Today’s summary is of a One-Shot DM’d by the lovely @langstymclangstface​. Go visit their page and give them some love, for they are a talented writer and we had a hellaciously fun time playing this one shot together!

Seon Adventures Episode 20.5:  “Crumbling Wax”, a Seon Adventures Halloween One-Shot

(Aka Nelatha’s Coochie Quest. The sequel title no one asked for :eyesemoji:)

It has been. A short while since our heroes have been in the city of Crystalgate, Capitol of the country of Aetorumia.

A costume festival is being held, bright and shining lights illuminating the night time sky above the wandering citizens as they pass by booths and tables of contents, finding entertainment for themselves and their loved ones.

Each and every one has made it their goal to wear a costume as ostentatious as the next, a sort of challenge between each other to see who can be the most in the spirit of the event.

High spirits are in the air, in spite of a problem that has arisen for everyone. Or most of everyone. A sickness has hit a substantial part of the populace and thus, people are using this evening as a gateaway from the bad vibes of their relatives being down for the count.

Some call it the end of the world, but they’re honestly being overdramatic dramatic.

Amongst the walkers of this town, there are four of the five members of the party “The Cultbusters”. Sadly, Belli is at home (I headcanon that Mournimar left Morgan with her, as we didn’t get a description of Morgan’s costume. So the good direwolf is there to be her comfort animal, along with familiar, Orion.) and she is siiiiiick. And thus, she is locked off at home, as are all that have been hit by this flu.

The rest of the party are lucky.

And the rest of the party are dressed up to their heart’s content!

Amelia wears the proud costume of a sea corsair. A daring, romanticized fersion of a pirate, with Archie as her fat little shoulder griffin, a pair of wings strapped to the chunky, hunky kitty’s back, a little beak on his face. He’s living his best life and loves his catmom.

Walking beside her, Nelatha Shadowspire’s joined the group yet again. Accompanying her lady friend Genasi, she is wearing a sexed up version of a Cleric’s uniform. Particularly, that of a Honos cleric. (She is basically a fantasy sexy nurse) And she is confident as hell in that outfit. She makes it work and she knows it.

Flanking them is Mournimar, who, while initially planning some other attire, has opted for the costume of a favored character of his from a classical play. He wears the rags of the infamous drug dealer, tomb raider, bard and poet, the Graverobber. And he is blue screening real bad on account of not being used to such festivities. With Belli on the sick bed, he is but inchest away from touching shoulders with his fellow tiefling.

He, of double disguises. Who, along with the elf baby have dressed up as the characters of Fangface and Fangpuss respectively. They are goofy outfits, but Luctan is having a ball with it, enjoying the cartoonishness of it all and the hilarity that he, someone already in disguise, is wearing a third skin now. And the baby is baby. He don’t care none.

Last, but far, far from least, Malak walks with his new traveling companions, wearing a skeleton costume. A onesie, his face painted up to appear skullish.

Together the five, plus the baby and cat, walk amongst the people as streamers fly overhead. People dance and play and drink to their heart’s content. In a various level of dress.

What catches their attention is that amongst the chaos there’s a man selling candles. A sign upon his booth states the title “The Candle Man”, as their noses are attracted by multitude of scents from these particular ones.

The closer they walk, the musical tunes of The Living Tombstone’s “Spooky Scary Skeletons” hail in repetition, much to the frustration and disguist of Nel, who’s bardic pride feels poked at with the ridicilousness of that tune.

Along the way to the Candle Man’s booth, Malak’s eye stops at a nice old fashioned game of bobbing for apples. His curiosity overtaking him, the human man gives it a go and dunks his head in the water, trying to be as dexterous as he can with his chompers.

He tries his best. Swinging his head left, right, center. Up and down, trying his damnedest to nab one of the apples. But alas, he fails at the task. From the outside perspective, someone has to walk on over to him and pull him out and back, as the Death Cleric looked like he was drowning.

Trying to give it a go himself, Mournimar enters the “battlefield” of fruit and preps to dive headfirst (as you do). Malak is the ever helpful man he is and places a hand on Mournimar’s shoulder for encouragement, casting Guidance on him.

Through a combination of the ranger’s skill in handling items and the Cleric’s holy magic, the tiefling nabs an apple. But not just your regular Granny Smith’s apple! This one is of a golden color.

“Congratulations, you won the grand prise!”

He is the victor of the game and earns himself a bag of candies from the vendor, a kind lady speaking in her best Applecore accent.

“Excellent!” exclaims Mournimar and offers the bag around. But be it because of a distate in sweets or a lack of hunger, he is left to feast on the candies himself. All the more for himself!

As they continue on, they pass by a number of establishments. From new age bars, to meat houses.  Bakeries and the like, all theming their foods after the holiday that has been bestowed upon the masses, with skulls and pumpkins and bats and all sorts of crawlies.

Luctan asks around about the sickness. Most people suggest it’s a cold time of year, so it’s normal. There are a couple of people out of town, panicking a bit regarding a pandemic. Performers say they’ve lost a hood half of their act, because of this. Lost their voices and shit.

Mourni’s type of Orc walking around, basically looks him up and down, shakes his head and says they tried, but shit didn’t work

A fire genasi performs a juggling act with flaming knives nearby. Luctan, being the boy, who loves his pointy things that he is, goes for a closer watch of the show. The Genasi man waves at Luctan, between throws and tosses and twirls and spins of the burning blades.

Impressed with the performance, Luctan gives a gold piece and a bunch more Fire Genasi come out, juggling. Despite that they are very excited to perform for him and stuff, they haven’t said a single thing. To Luctan, it appears that they are just very dedicated to their craft. And he appreciates that.

(He loves a man, who can handle a blade. Somewhere Ficus has himbs a sneeze, probably.)

Nel is not amused. Why? Aside from the juggling, her resting witch face is earned from seeing Amelia approach a pet store, where they have cats dressed in little costumes.

And you can pet said cats.

Set up as advertisements and stuff. You can buy treats themed for each cat.

She picks up the quiet mewing of kittens from the back of the room, where people pay to have kittens crawl and paw over them.

While Malak enjoys a variety of Pumpkin Spice Lattés (And there are so MANY Pumpkin Spice Lattés) Amelia goes to the cats. There’s a nice lady holding two fat cats. And she gets to pet some cats. Lennard and Harry. They were married and had a ceremony last week and the kittens are in the back.

Amelia is tearing up. This is the best day of her life.

Good work is being done for these cats. She is warned about a certain cat boi who jumps on people and demands cuddles.  Amelia seems to be prepared for this. Heavy is the ribcage that must contain so much love for felines.

Out of nowhere  areally fat Scottish fold jumps and descends on her, which causes Nel to scream a loud screm.

In response,  The cat looks at Nel and bleps.

This is the happiest day in Amelia’s life.

Cats are available for adoption.

With the cat on her head and the two in her arms, as well as Archie on her shoulders, she is virtually in cat heavan. If this is a dream, don’t let her wake up.

All the while, Malak gets free gingerbread with every latté. (Nel feels like the world’ll collapse around her over all the coffee.)

Eventually, with cats in tow, the party find themselves at the Candle Man’s store.

One very bored teenager fiddling with a candle. He looks like he can’t be bothered. As they get closer to inspect them, each one looks like a person. They seem to be made expertly, made in order of famous people, but they don’t recognize any of them.

Except for one.

Luctan vaguely recognizes one of the figures as the dancer!Zitra! But something seems off about it, like it was done in a hurry. Almost like someone wasn’t used to this, as opposed to the expert.

The young one explains that  the candlemaker’s sick, so the kid had to rush ‘em.  Luctan buys one of the Lady Zitra and an unknown dude.  Then hands the young salesperson a pamphlet and encouraging words. He believes that they can do better!

Curious, Malak wants a candle made of him. But gets the strange explanation that a personal hairstrand is required for the wick. And backs off immediatelly.

Luctan and Mournimar have no idea what this is about. To Nel there seems to be more than he’s letting on. Sinister vibe coming off of him.

She’s noticed he hasn’t’blinked once since they met him, but a few minutes prior.

He’s very cagey about what his general job is, as opposed to the summer job.

It’s mostly, you know, ehm, bar keeping and cleaning.

At the Busty Wench. The one in town.

Nel doesn’t remember a franchise opening here.

On these revelations, the shadyness of the character, if Malak hadn’t changed his mind before, he most certainly had now.

Malak casts Zone of Truth.

The moment he casts the spell, something odd happens. No. Something horrid happens. The ground begins to melt.

All around them? Everyone starts melting as blobs of flesh and clothes and then they realize they’re surrounded by wax, which starts to pull and move towards the stand, which is slowly changing form until they start in front of a vague humanoid figure twice of Mournimar’s height.

Yeah...

The sign is very litteral.

Much to Amelia’s horror, all cats, but Archie, begin to melt. Gordon and Harry and the one on her head crumble and fuse and melt off and down to the ground below. Even the cats were fake.

The wax man has a big as smile. Whatever he is. the party had never heard of it before.

As he says that, he rises into the air and drops down and suddenly everything is melting into wax, white and overpowering scent of burning candle and the floor is disappearing beneath everyone’s feet.

BOGUS!”, to say the least.

Thinking fast,  Nel uses Polymorph and changes into a giant eagle and grabs Amelia and Archie to move them to safety. Once in the air, she looks out into the horizon and in a perfect circle? She sees that the city is surrounded by a desert. And slowly-an-and- and melting?!

Malak is noticing that the fire jugglers, who but moments prior were catching and throwing burning blades, were now sleeping and drowning in wax.

He tries to save them, but isn’t strong enough to do a thng about all this.

From what the lot of the ‘busters can gather, apparently the sick people are the real ones. And they are sinking.

Wasting no further time, the rest of the party start climbing.

Arriving at the top, they see that the area they started from? There’s this vast and expanding black hole, going outwards. Up top, Luctan has a vague feeling that something isnt’real here, but there’s so much magic surrounding him, he cant’pinpoint what the illusion is.

All the while Mournimar strategizes with the polymorphed Nelatha.

Malak takes a notice that the hair sticking out of the wax candles is still there and he realizes that the figurines at the stall are left completely in tact.

Luck realizes that some of the people he tried pulling out had wax figurines.

The ones he was shown were selected so he wouldn’t recognize them. It is by mere chance that they had met the Lady herself. And thus, he acts upon a gut feeling.  He removes the hairstring and the figurine cracks, before beginning a climb down to the candle booth. To repeat that on a grander level. And Mournimar follows, in spite of Luctan’s protests.

Nel is tasked with carrying the others away.

(And here we have a bit of a 2-3 minute break, because Cat’s mic was off for a good while. Because her kitten, the Little Man/Little Bastard as she calls him had turned it off. It was the funniest thing ever.)

As they part ways, Amelia casts Levitate on Luctan. Yell heah!

As Luck flies, he remembers he left Belli asleep in the Shadowspire Manor, which from his perspective, begins to melt. Cursing under his breath, he takes the figurines with a box and removes the hairs on the way to Belli’s as Mournimar sprints after him.

As they move, Mourni notices Luctan’s in tiefling form. And has a tail?!

The levitation drops eventually and Luctan falls on the ground. As he turns around, he sees he’s been chased by a fellow tiefling, but it’s not someone he recognizes.

Nel turns in her normal form forcibly as they travel and they are surrounded by strangers. Making her 3 point landing, Amelia notices a bird turning into a humanoid form and sadly doesn’t recognize Nel.

Everyone’s... surrounded by strangers.

A figure about Amelia’s height rises from the wax and says “Hello there, don’t be frightened. You’ve been saved.”

Luck see this form as well, but it’s smaller and childlike and feels an eerie sense of calm.

Mournimar, unfortunately, fails on a wisdom save and “ knows everything’ll be alright”.

As he realizes this, his features starts melting off, until Mourni is gone, replaced with a lump of wax.

Seeing all this madness happening around him, Malak casts Protection of Good and Evil and protects himself.

Luck feels Danger as he sees that someone start melting, which causes him to have... the freaks out. It’s this reason why he probably only too late notices he has his tail back?!

Feeling threatened by this wax fhild,  Luctan casts Sacred Flame, which burns a hole through the child’s chest. Not falling for whatever niceties the child propheces, the red tiefling burst into a dash towards Belli’s location.

Mournimar is ordered to attack Luctan. And he does so, chasing after him, unsheathing the swords from his hips and attacking.  All the while this big lump of wax follows along as the floor seems to start to swallow him.

Luctan gets attacked and the seering pain feels like fire. Looking at the wound inflicted by the possessed Mournimar, he realizes he’s made of wax. Out of anxiety and rage and frustration and pain, he goes on to react with a Hellish Punishment at his attacker and melts Mournimar?!

(BEGONE, TIEF!)

Malak makes an attack, casting Litch Slap on the monstrous child. He hadn’t prepared any combat spells, but at the very least he had this.

Chunks fly and hit Amelia and Nel and reveal wax underneath.

Nel bounces. Not recognizing anyone, she has no reason to be here.

The thing goes after Malak.

Amelia bounces as well.

She takes two steps, before  a hand reaches out from the ground and grabs her, squeezing and burning.

With a strength, unmatched and one powerful crushing motion, Amelia’s head pops off. And she poofs out of existence.

Malak attacks with his axe and that has no effect. As Nel runs, tendrils are grabbing at her feet. “Nope-nope-nope-nope-nope.”

One successful tendril  grabs and pulls her down.

Nel feels herself being pulled down into the wax and it pours down into the ground. She suffocates and no longer is within this realm of existence.

The tendrils go after Luctan, shifting into vicious spikes, but melt behind him, due to him perpetually casting Prestidigitation, applying sparks in the viscinity aorund him.

.He carries on like this, until the sensation of emptyness under him catches his attention.

And he starts falling.

And falling.

And. While still dressed in the Fangface costume, he tries to concentrate on hsi wings. Figuring he could create them at this point, he does so. Wax versions of his wings shape from his shoulderblades. And for a short moment, he manages to fly up.

Until the wings break apart.

And he starts falling yet again.

As spikes portrude from around him and impale him, taking him out as well.

And then there’s Malak.

“ I’m the last survivor, you guys.”

The kid begins to clap with a wicked smile and congratulates him.

Then we all open our eyes. Peppery Pete stands over us as we wake up.

Basically. What it comes down to, as we catch our bearings and get up, is that Pete explains Belli hired Pete to drug us with some strange drug.

It was whack.

The party are not amused. Nel is confused.

They just stand there. Being menacing.

Malak takes a knee and rests a hand on Pete’s shoulder.

“Look, mistakes happen.”

“ But if you ever do this to us or anyone again, I will personally sever your soul from your body.”

Pete is. To say the least. Terrified from the death glare.

And Amelia basically realizes that Pete is bullshitting them and Belli had nothing to do with this. It was meant to be a team building exercise.

“Yeah, but why am I here, though?!” - Nel’s still confused.

FIN!

Previous episode / Next episode

[masterofmunson]

the pretty white dress

Cop!Bucky x Criminal Profiler!Reader AU

Summary: Masquerade! Paper faces on parade. Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you.  

Or: A Halloween Masquerade Ball seems like the perfect time to stop a serial killer from killing their 15th victim. That, and you have an excuse to wear the white dress again.

Word Count: 10.2k (I would say that I’m sorry, but then I would be lying.)

Warnings: VIOLENCE, a serial killer running ramped through the streets of NYC, gun violence, blood, drug use, mutilating limbs, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT, necrophilia is mentioned (this serial killer is a sociopath, okay?), angst, hospital visit, VAGUE smut--y’all, I tried, fluff, language, stalking, murder, brief kidnapping, alcohol, trauma, panic attacks, I’m pretty sure that covers everything, if I left something out, please tell me. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HAPPY HALLOWEEN MY SPOOKY SKELETONS! This took me two whole weeks to write and edit, holy shit lol. This is my longest one shot to date and I’m so excited to share this with you guys. Also, please don’t hurt me when you find out who the serial killer is… if the shoe fits… and it does so…. Please don’t send hate lol. This one is a little darker than what I’ve written before (pretty sure I haven’t written anything dark before, but still), so please be careful when you read this! Please tell me what you think! Have a safe and happy Halloween!

Entering the precinct in a hurry, you quickly step inside the elevator and press level two before the doors slide shut. You swallow hard. Bucky, your NYPD informant, called you in a hurry nearly 20 minutes ago. He sounded nervous and on edge—two things you rarely ever hear from him. 

You swallow hard when the doors ding open. Your legs shake as you step out of the elevator and greet Rhodey with a small, nervous smile before hurrying past his desk towards Bucky’s. You set your bag on his desk before slowly approaching him, Steve, and Natasha near one of the conference rooms standing in front of a large, double-sided whiteboard. You gently place a hand on his shoulder. He spins around. You smile softly at him and his shoulders immediately relax. He lets out a nervous breath and his hands twitch at his sides anxiously. You know he wants to pull you into his arms, but he doesn’t. “Hey, Bucky,” you greet him, squeezing his arm twice, your way of tell him that you’re here and safe with him, that you love him. “What’s up?” He watches you with soft eyes and he relaxes momentarily. Now that you’re here with him, he feels so much better. Your eyes glance at the board in front of you. Various pictures and files are stuck to the whiteboard with notes in the remaining spots on the board. At the top of the board, the words sent chills down your spine. The words The Blind Date Serial Killer were written in big, bold letters. You hate that you still can’t help Bucky and the rest of the precinct close the case. Nearly a year and a half into the killings and murders of 14 innocent young women, you still can’t find the person responsible. The most you know about the killer is that it is a male in his mid 30’s and that he always went to smaller restaurants that don’t have security cameras before hand until he went on the actual date. He uses the blind dating app Take a Chance to lure his victims. He never looks the same and the app is entirely anonymous, only matching pairs based on their interests alone. Only, on the date do they see each other. The precinct has gotten numerous warrants to obtain the information and somehow, whenever they get the information that could reveal the murderer, another murder occurs. Your eyes glare at the photo of the the creator of the app and CEO of the company, Loki Laufeyson as a possible person of interest. Every time you’ve spoken to him, he seems so smug and charming, as if he’s proud to know that a serial killer is using his app to murder and mutilate innocent women. You know he doesn’t care. He’s still making money, even with a serial killer on the loose. You hate it. “We just received this from the mailroom,” Bucky states, avoiding your question entirely. He hands you a slip of paper addressed to the precinct and to you. It sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow hard as you read it. Greetings, 77th Precinct and Ms. Y/n Y/l/n, the supposed criminal profiler extraordinaire. By the time you receive this letter, it will be two days after I have laid out my plans for my second annual Halloween victim, but this time, it’s special, and I want you there for the show. I want you to be there when I kill my 15th victim. I want to watch you fail again. I want to see what desperate attempts you’ve made to make sure that no one will get hurt, even though you know someone will. This fantastic spectacle will occur at the perfect place for such theatrical events to occur. Don’t forget to wear your masks. May this prove as your only opportunity to succeed, or prove to me that I can do this again, again, and again. You know what to do. -TBDSK “Have you sent this off to cartography?” you ask, glancing at Bucky as he watches you nervously. He nods. “They’re analyzing it now.” You swallow hard. “Based on the verbiage, he wants to get caught. He wants his 15th victim to be special, have meaning. If we don’t catch him, he’ll most likely disappear. We won’t be able to find him because he won’t want to be found. We have to take extra caution. Have you figured out where this is going to take place?” Natasha hands you a slip of paper, the words Loki Laufeyson’s Halloween Masquerade Ball are in gorgeous print and it makes your heart stop. Of course. He wants to do where he knows it’ll matter, where it will leave a mark. Loki Laufeyson has been allowing these murders continue without giving you and the precinct the information you’ve demanded from him. All he wants is to make money. “Shit,” you curse. “Is there a way for us to get inside?” “Already a step ahead of you, Y/n,” Steve replies, handing you an envelope inclosed with two tickets to the ball. “Nat, Sam, and I will provide backup while you and Bucky remain on the lookout. We will all be wired and we will make sure to watch your every move. Wanda has our outfits covered as well as other gear needed.” You nod. “Sounds good. Bucky and I will arrive separately, of course, but we will remain in contact.” They nod. “Your primary goal is to find who the killer is, isolate him, and make sure no one gets hurt or killed. We must stop him before his list gets to 15,” Natasha states, looking at you. You nod. Bucky shakes his head. “She shouldn’t be taking most of the responsibility. She’s not a cop. I can do that too,” he argues, standing in front of you protectively. You grasp his hand gently and pull him to stand beside you. “I won’t risk her getting hurt.” “Bucky, it’s okay. You’ll be there to protect me if I need it. I’ll have my gun under my dress. I will be just fine,” you state firmly, letting your hand slide out of his hand. His eyes meet yours as he desperately tries to get through to you without saying anything. He knows you. He knows you better than anyone. He knows how stubborn and reckless you are. He knows that you’ll do anything to prove yourself worthy of the task you’ve been given. He’s known that since the two of you have been in college together. He just doesn’t want to lose you. He never does. Your eyes soften and Bucky sighs. He knows you’ll talk about this later when the two of you are alone together. “You’ll arrive close to when the party starts. We can’t risk him killing right when he arrives with or without a woman. We have no idea what he’s planning, just that this is special to him. We have to be incredibly careful,” Steve states. You nod in understanding and Steve hands Bucky a file before dismissing the two of you. You gather your things together at his desk while you wait for Bucky to finish up a conversation with Captain Stark and some last minute paperwork for another case he’s been working on before heading upstairs to grab your things from Wanda. He grabs his jacket and walks beside you to the elevator. He presses the button and the elevator dings as the doors slide open. You step inside and Bucky joins you as you press the button for floor three. The doors close and you glance at Bucky. You reach for his hand. His gaze moves from the floor to your face. His fingers lace with yours and he squeezes tightly. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust your ability to do your job because I know you can,” Bucky tells you, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles softly. “I just hate the idea of using you as bait. I can’t lose you.” You smile softly at him and squeeze his hand tightly. You return the kiss to his knuckles and the doors ding before sliding open. You let go of his hand and step out beside him. “I know, Buck. I know you’re scared that something will happen to me, but I trust your ability to keep me safe. You always have. You won’t lose me,” you reply, approaching Wanda’s desk. She leans on the counter and smirks at you and Bucky. “Good afternoon, love birds. Have you come to claim your items?” Wanda asks, biting her lip. Even after all this time, the comment still makes your heart stutter. You nod. “Great! Y/n, you’re first.” You follow her into the room and down numerous aisles of clothing and gear until you can no longer see Bucky. Wanda peeks her head down one of the aisles before spinning around to face you. “Okay, so, Steve might’ve told an itty bitty lie for you to come up and see me,” Wanda states, biting her lip nervously. You raise your eyebrow at her questionably. “What do you mean? Do you not have a dress for me?” you ask her, crossing your arms over your chest. “No, not exactly, but I do have a mask for you,” Wanda answers, handing you a gorgeous, gold and white masquerade mask. The lace patterns woven into the fabric are gorgeous twirls and waves of gold and pink. She gingerly hands it over to you. “Wanda,” you sighed, shaking your head at her, “I don’t have a dress to go with this.” She smirks at you. “You do, actually. You just haven’t worn it in a handful of years. It goes perfectly with the mask.” Your eyes widen at her suggestion. The dress she’s implying that you should wear is five years old, and you’ve only worn it once. The last time you wore it, you were 24 and you landed your first criminal profiler job and Bucky was promoted to a detective after just six months as a police technician. There’s no way that the dress still fits you. You shake your head at her. “That dress is five years old, Wanda. There’s no way that I can still fit into it,” you tell her. She raises a brow at you, not buying your shitty excuse. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t here that come out of your mouth,” she states. “You’re in better shape now than you were five years ago. Even then, you were in great shape. You’re going to fit in that dress.” You glare at her, rolling your eyes. “I’m suppose to blend in, not stand out. Wearing a wedding dress will make me stand out.” “No it won’t. The dresses are suppose to be elaborate and extravagant. You’ll fit in just fine. People won’t know that it’s a wedding dress unless you tell them or if they come up to you and ask if it is. Stop being a baby,” Wanda states, shoving your shoulder. “Bucky will!” you argue weakly, pouting at her. It’s stupid to mention, you know this, but it’s the best excuse you have. You know he will know where the dress is from. It’s from the most important day of his life. She scoffs, rolling her eyes at you. “Of course he will, he’s your husband, you dingus. What’s the fun of going undercover when you’re not suppose to know who your husband is when you can easily show him who you are with what you wear? The vision of you walking down the aisle stays with him forever.” Your heart melts at her response and warmth floods your cheeks, but you know you can say the same for you. Walking down the aisle to marry him was the most important moment of your life. He wore a handsome black suit and tie that framed his body perfectly. His hair was pushed back and he shaved his scruff because you asked him to, even though you love his facial hair. “So what you’re saying is that if I wear something he immediately recognizes, he can protect me better?” you ask her. She grins at you, clapping her hands and tapping her finger to her nose. “Ding, ding, ding! Plus, you’re absolutely stunning in that dress! Bucky won’t be able to take his eyes off you which is even better!” You roll your eyes at her and scoff, hiding the growing smile you feel. Shaking your head at Wanda, you can’t help but feel giddy on the inside. Your heart races and your palms are clammy. It reminds you of how you felt five years earlier, nervous and excited to start a new chapter in your life with the man of your dreams. This time though, it’s different and the thought of it sends chills down your spine. The only thing you’re excited about is to wear your wedding dress again. You’re riddled with anxiety. You have no idea what to expect. You’re not certain if you’re going to live to tomorrow, and you’re still not sure what exactly your game plan is to gain the attention of the man who is responsible for killing 14 innocent young women. You take a deep breath and glance at the ground before meeting Wanda’s gaze one more. You swallow hard, feeling the tears well up in the corners of your eyes. Wanda reaches for your hand, squeezing it tightly before pulling you in for a hug. “I’m terrified,” you whisper, feeling the crack in your voice as you spoke. Your arms wrap around Wanda and you squeeze tightly. “Before the serial killer stuff started to happen, we were going to start trying for a baby, but then the killings started up and we weren’t exactly sure who exactly did he like to kill. We shouldn’t have stopped trying, but we did. He just doesn’t want to lose me on the job, and I get that he fears that, but we should still be living a normal life. I’m tired of living in fear. I want this to be over.” Wanda sighs sympathetically as she rubs your back. “You should tell him. I think it’s best if you do—“ “Everything okay back there?!” Bucky shouts from the front, interrupting Wanda’s thought. “Yeah! I’m almost done, babe,” you shout back, pulling away from Wanda and wiping the stray tears off your cheeks. She squeezes your forearm and hands you a small box with your communication devices inside. You thank her with a soft smile before joining him in the front again. He gingerly takes your hand in between his. His rough calloused palm meeting yours helps you breathe a little easier. He’s here with you. He’s present. He is home. He raises a brow at you as he looks at the mask in your hand. “Cute mask, but where’s your dress, sweetheart?” Bucky asks you, pulling you into his chest as you look at him. You blank momentarily. You forgot that Wanda lied to get you up here just to give you the mask and the box. “It was a bit of a misunderstanding,” you answer. “There wasn’t anything up here for me except the mask and the box. I’ll figure something else out to wear. I’m not concerned. I’ll be okay.” He hums and glances at Wanda. “Do you need me, Wanda?” She shakes her head with a growing smirk, and hands him a gorgeous black mask. “Wear that blue suit she loves. She won’t be able to keep her hands away from you,” she answers, winking at you. It makes you roll your eyes at her. She’s such a meddler. He laughs, the sound rings through your ears and makes your heart flutter as he takes the mask. He nods and thanks Wanda before taking your hand and returning to the elevator. The door opens and you both step inside. Pressing the ground floor button, you lean into your husband. He hums and you look at him. He grins at you mischievously. You raise a brow at him suspiciously. “What are you thinking, troublemaker?” you ask teasingly. “We should recreate that elevator scene from that one movie you watched with Becca while I was out with Steve. What was it called? Fifty Shades of Grey?” he asks with a sly smirk.   You gasp in both shock and in embarrassment. Jesus. Bucky is such a little shit. “Bucky!” you exclaimed as you pushed at his chest. He laughs and traps your fingers with his hand against his chest. “You’re crazy.” He grins at your bashfulness and nudges your nose with his. “You’ve been with me for what, an hour today? I have yet to cash in on a kiss with my gorgeous wife,” he murmurs, breathing you in. Your breath stutters inside your throat and your fingers grasp at the fabric of his work suit. “Well, what are you waiting for, Sergeant?” you murmur as you lean closer to him. He grins, gently tilting his head as his mouth presses against yours. You both grin as your lips meet and he gently holds your face between his hands as he presses kisses onto your lips. “I—” kiss, “love—” kiss, “you,” kiss. It makes your cheeks squeeze against his hands as you smile against his lips and laugh in between. “You’re so romantic,” you laugh against his mouth as he continued his relentless attack on your lips. You let your eyes close as he let his mouth rest on yours in a slow kiss. The doors to the elevator ding and you pull away from your husband’s embrace. He reaches for your hand as you walk out of the building towards the police parking garage where Bucky kept his car. He unlocks the car door for you and you grin at him before kissing the corner of his mouth and sliding into the car. Your eyes follow him as he opens the driver’s side door and settles behind the wheel. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles before resting both your hands on the center counsel. He smiles, squeezing your hand and drives off.

Sighing as you enter your home, you glance at the digital clock on the stove. It’s almost 3:30, which means you have more than enough time to get ready for the party. It doesn’t start until eight, and it goes until three in the morning. You have enough time to rest up, shower, look at the files again, and get ready.

Pulling out your phone, you text Peggy, Steve’s wife, asking her to stop by so she can do your hair and help you into your wedding dress. You want the element of surprise against Bucky. She texts back almost immediately, giving you an enthusiastic yes.

Dropping your keys and your bag on the counter, you tug out the files, the masquerade masks, and the box with the ear pieces from your bag. You hear Bucky lock the door behind you and hear the sound of his footsteps against the aging hardwood floor. He presses a gentle kiss to the side of your neck, taking off your coat and hanging it up in the closet. You murmur a quiet thank you as you take off your badge from your belt loop and your gun holster before setting them on the counter.

Kicking off your shoes, you set them inside the closet before joining Bucky on the couch. You curl into him instantly and your fingers slowly unbutton his shirt. He sighs in content before shrugging off the shirt. You throw it onto the loveseat and lean back into him. His lips press against your shoulder. His fingers pull away the fabric covering your skin and he hums when he feels your warm skin beneath his lips. His lips travel up your shoulder, to your collarbone, and they rest against your neck.

“You know,” he states against your skin as he leaves his mouth planted on your neck, “just because we don’t necessarily treat each other as husband and wife at work, doesn’t mean that I still won’t go out of my way to make sure you’re safe. I made a promise to love and protect you until the day I die.”

You hum, nodding and closing your eyes. A soft smile finds its way onto your face. You grab onto his hand, resting your hand on top of his and letting it rest on your stomach. “I know, Bucky. Thank you,” you mumble sleepily.

He smirks against your warm skin. “Did I tell you you looked beautiful today?”

You hum, attempting to shrug your shoulders, “Probably. I don’t remember. You always do.”

“Well you looked beautiful today,” he states, kissing the corner of your jaw. You whine, attempting to tug away from his relentless kiss attacks on your skin.

“Stop kissing me,” you grumble with a pout. “I’m tired. Let’s nap.”

He laughs and the sound of his laugh warms your insides. You smile softly, turning around in his arms and resting your head on his chest, listening to the constant beat of his heart.

“Let’s get you upstairs, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, mumbling in your ear. You hum and he sits up. He stands up, sliding out of your warm embrace and he takes you into his arms. You cling to him as he walks up the stairs to your bedroom and he gently sets you down. “Let’s get these clothes off of you,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt off your body. His warms hands wrap around your back as he unclasped your bra, leaving your upper body entirely bare to him.

Bucky turns around, grabbing one of his shirts and he presses a soft kiss to your diaphragm before helping you into his shirt. You shimmy out of your pants and Bucky does the same, as well as discarding his undershirt.

You climb into bed together and face each other. He lets his hand rest on your hip. Your eyes flutter as you stare at him and he presses a kiss to your cheek bone. You noticeably relax and he kisses you again and again. It’s the perfect time to tell him that you want to start trying for a baby again.

“James?” you utter gently as your eyes meet. You gently place a hand on his cheek, scratching his growing stubble. He hums as he looks at you. “I want us to start trying for a baby again.” He stares at you and his grip on your hip tightens.

“Really?” Bucky mumbles with a hopeful smile.

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want this serial killer to dictate our lives. We shouldn’t be living in fear. Besides, I can still do desk work and help out while I’m pregnant. I’ll be okay.”

He grins, rolling over so you’re pinned beneath him. His fingers push up the t-shirt that adorns your body and he leans down to press kisses to your tummy. It makes you laugh and you thread your fingers through his hair.

“We should start practicing right now,” he smirks against your skin and he pushes the shirt closer to your bare chest as he leaned down to kiss you. Your smile grows against his mouth as he drags the shirt off over your head.

“Somebody’s eager,” you tease breathlessly as he kisses along your neck. He grunts against your skin.

“It’s been four days since I’ve intimately touched your body. I’ve missed you,” he grumbles against the shell of your ear.

You fake a gasp and giggle, running your hands down his spine. “You poor baby,” you coo. “Four days is such a long time.”

He nips his teeth into your collarbone. Your fingers squeeze his hair. “Should you be teasing your husband when you’re at his mercy?” he cooed in response. “I know you’re more than eager for me to get the show started, but I don’t know if I should.”

“Hey,” you chastised him, pouting your lips at him as he looked up you, “don’t be a sour puss. I’ll push your dry spell to a week if you don’t take off my nice, pink, silky undergarments with one of your fingers or with your teeth within the next ten seconds.”

He smirks at you as he lingers down your body. He presses a kiss to your abdomen. Your heart stutters right as he lets his head rest between your thighs.

“Like this?” he whispers, dragging his teeth over your underwear and pulling it down your legs. You sigh, letting your eyes flutter close. He smirks on the inside of your thigh, pressing a kiss to your skin. “Oh, so definitely like this.”

It makes you giggle and warmth spreads through your cheeks. Bucky can never fail to make you laugh, even while you’re having sex. You love it. The connection you have between your bodies is always present, but your actions and words have always been your strong suit.

He gently squeezes the inside of your thighs before pushing them apart. You sigh in anticipation as you feel his breath linger on the inside of your legs. His eyes flicker back to you and he grins. Your eyes follow his every move. He blows his warm breath up your body just to tease you and you whine as he settles his face in the crock of your neck.

His lips kiss the side of your neck slowly and you can’t help but thread your fingers through his wild, brown hair. The feeling of his scruff against your skin drives you wild. You feel his hips roll with yours.

“Bucky—fuck,” you whine, reaching your hands behind his back as your fingers tug his boxers off his hips, “please, please, please, for the love of all things holy, do something to please your very impatient wife.”

You know without looking that his smile widens tenfold at the sound of your desperation. Cocky bastard.

He leans down, letting his lips move around your chest. “You would think after having married me and being with me for eight years would make you realize that I like to draw things out to get the full experience. We’re trying for a baby here, pumpkin,” he grins, “this must be experienced.”

“If I didn’t love you as much as I do and want to bare your children, I would kill you because of that bullshit statement. You’re killing me here, Barnes,” you whine.

He laughs, and pulls his boxers down his legs and off the bed. He reaches for your torso and helps you sit up. Your legs cling to his waist and you wrap your arms around him.

He kisses you slowly and you sigh against his mouth as his hips meet yours. Every part of your body tingles and you kiss his shoulder, letting you lips touch the scarred flesh from his first encounter with a criminal that was armed with a knife. His hands run up and down your back slowly until they settle on your hips. He squeezes them tightly and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he hums, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. Goosebumps run down your spine.

“Yes,” you answer, humming in relief.

He grins, letting his hands fall from your hips to the inside of your thighs. You fall back against the pillows and his fingers tease your skin. You whine, letting out a desperate moan.

His fingers move in perfect tandem with his hips and it makes all the difference. You whimper his name, letting your fingers thread through his hair. He grunts into your neck and settles between your legs.

A few long moments pass and he rolls over to his side of the bed. His arms pull you close. He kisses you slowly.

“Do you think that one was the one?” he grinned at you.

You laugh loudly and it’s music to his ears.

After making up the four day dry spell that your husband had so religiously complained about, you both fall asleep. His arms are loosely wrapped around your waist as you slept together and his hands gently rub at your bare tummy. A content sigh escapes your lips as you sleep and dream of an itty bitty Bucky growing inside of you.

An hour or so later, you wake up to the blaring noise of the alarm you set on your phone. You groan into your pillow and Bucky kisses your bare shoulder. You roll over to face him and his smiles at you sleepily.

“Hi,” he mumbles in his thick morning voice. He reaches to kiss your cheek.

“Hi,” you reply back, letting your eyes close briefly before forcing yourself to sit up. “Sleep well?”

He hums. “Good. You?

“Me too. I’m going to take a fast shower before Peggy gets here,” you yawn.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’ll make dinner and look over the files.”

You hum, pressing kisses all over his face before sitting up in bed and pulling the covers off of you. Your feet settle on the floor and you walk into the bathroom, blowing Bucky a kiss before shutting the door.

Turning the shower on, you turn towards the bathroom counter and set your wedding ring down until you wait a handful of seconds until the water turns warm to step inside. You sigh as the warm water rushes down your back in warm waves as it soaks your skin and your hair.

After you shampoo and condition your hair, you lather your legs with soap before shaving. Standing underneath the shower head, you wash away the soap covering your body before turning the shower off.

Drying off, you slip into a pair of sweats and tug on an old fleece jacket before blow drying your hair and sliding your ring back on your finger.

After, you tug on a pair of cabin socks before walking downstairs to join Bucky in the kitchen. The smell of whatever he’s cooking wafts through the front room and you find him sitting at the kitchen table with the files spread around the table. He’s rubbing at his temple and reads through the files. He looks up when he hears the floorboards creak under your weight. He smiles softly and you grin at him before approaching him.

He leans back in the chair and you settle in his lap. His arm cradles your back and his fingers move circles around your hips. You press a kiss to his temple.

“What’ve you been looking at?” you murmur quietly, threading a hand through his hair. He sighs, relaxing against your touch. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Just looking over your file,” he mumbles.

You hum glancing at the pile of papers in front of him. “What does it say?”

“Your name is Caroline Stevens, you’re a photographer for the event. Your media pass is right there,” he points to the bright blue badge on the table. “You’re goal is to take as many pictures of the people there. We’re going to catch him.”

You nod, “What’s your role?”

“To make sure you’re safe. I’m only meant to watch and observe you and anything that might be dangerous.”

Your fingers scratch his cheek gently and he looks at you. His shoulders are tense and his eyes are full of worry. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he states firmly, “I promise.”

You nod, “I know,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips.

The stove beeps and you pull away from him, standing up. Bucky follows suit as you grab two dinner plates from one of the cabinets and you hand them over to your husband. You grab the napkins and turn to face him.

“Forks, spoons, knives?” you ask.

“Forks and knives,” he answers. You grab two sets of silverware and set them on the kitchen table.

You gently gather up the loose pieces of the documents into neat piles and place them back into the correct files. You set the files on the kitchen counter and move your badges and the earpieces for communication off the table.

“Whiskey, water, or wine, babe?” you ask him.

“Whiskey. We’re going to need it,” he answers, placing the dishes on the table. You laugh and pull two glasses out of the china cabinet. You grab the glass bottle of whiskey from inside the pantry and pour it into the glasses.

You set Bucky’s glass in front of him before joining him at the table. You hum as you dig into your plate, a grilled chicken breast with alfredo sauce and noodles.

After dinner and cleaning up the kitchen, Bucky heads up stairs to shower and get ready when Peggy arrived. He kissed her cheek and headed up stairs. She grins at you and hugs you tightly before you shut the door behind you. She walks into the kitchen and sets her bag down.

“I’m so glad you called me, Y/n,” she grins as you sit down in the kitchen chair again. “I haven’t pampered you in ages!” You laugh as she plays with your hair. “What are we going for today?”

“Something that screams that I want all the men to look at me,” you answer with a smirk.

Peggy giggles. “I can most certainly do that.”

Once Peggy finishes your hair, Bucky walks downstairs and you turn your head to look down the hallway. You’re speechless.

He’s wearing the navy blue tux from Steve’s and Peggy’s wedding and he looks incredibly handsome. It’s your favorite suit on him. You stand up from your spot in the chair at the kitchen table and place your hands on his chest.

“You look so handsome, Buck,” you murmur, gently caressing his cheek. He leans into your touch and presses a kiss to your lips.

He pulls away and grins. He plays with a strand of your hair. Your hair is in a beautiful braid around the back of your head that moves into one gorgeous braid down your back. Your hair frames your face perfectly. You look ethereal.

“I love your hair, sweetheart,” he grins, kissing your cheek. “I can’t wait to see what you’re wearing.”

You grin at him and he walks to the kitchen counter, opening the box with the ear pieces inside. He places the ear piece inside his ear and you nervously play with your wedding ring. You let out a nervous breath and slide the ring off your finger. You reach for his hand and place the ring in the palm of his hand.

“Keep this safe for me, would you?” you murmur, closing his hand around the ring.

He nods wordlessly, and places the ring in his pocket for safe keeping. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you close. His nose brushes against yours and you press your mouth firmly against his. He caresses your cheek and breathes you in. He pulls away and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers so only you can hear. “I will see you soon.”

You nod, “I love you too,” you reply as you watch him grab his wallet, badge, gun holster, mask, and his ticket before heading out the door.

You sigh, feeling a 50 pound weight rest on your chest. You wipe a stray tear. At least he’ll be with Sam, Steve, and Natasha now. You can’t say the same. You’re going to be all alone in an attempt to lure the serial killer. Now you’ve become a potential victim. Single, young, and you have a successful (fake) career. You glance at the clock on the oven. You have another hour until you have to be at the Loki’s Halloween party.

You glance at Peggy and smile at her. “Would you mind helping me into my wedding dress?” you ask her. She screams in excitement and claps her hands together. It makes you laugh and you walk up the stairs to your bedroom closet.

Turning on the light, you head into the back of the closet, grabbing your precious wedding dress from its hanger and handing it over to Peggy. You strip out of your sweats and jacket, letting Peggy see all the marks on your hips and thighs. Warmth covers your cheeks and she raises a brow at you.

“Bloody hell, love,” Peggy breathed through a laugh, “these are fresh, aren’t they?” You don’t answer her question and her mouth drops. “You had sex before I came over, didn’t you?”

You swallow hard. “Technically we had dinner after we napped after we had sex,” you answer, hiding your growing smile.

She scoffs at you, rolling her eyes playfully as she helps you step into the dress. She pulls the sleeves up your body and stares at you through the bathroom mirror. “You know I’m not judging you, Y/n. I think I speak for Steve and I when I say that I am happy to hear that your sex life is thriving. We are antsy to become aunt and uncle, you know. I think Steve is getting tired of hearing that Bucky is the Fun Uncle when he doesn’t have a niece or nephew to spoil rotten,” she teases.

You giggle embarrassingly and hide your face from your best friend. “Peggy, stop it! This is a weird conversation,” you laugh as she zips up your dress.

“No, it’s not. I’m your best friend. I’ve known you since we were 18. I know everything there is to know about you. I am just saying that if you happen to find out that you’re pregnant two or three months from now, Steve and I will be very excited,” she grinned.

You laugh. “Okay, okay, I understand, Peg.”

She smiles at you through the mirror, admiring how beautiful you look in your wedding dress. The dress fits your frame perfectly. It’s an off the shoulder dress with sheer, white fabric covered in flowers. The fabric flows perfectly down your waist and it makes your heart flutter. You love your wedding dress. You’re so glad that it still fits.

“Do you remember when you walked down the aisle and when Bucky saw you, he started to cry?” Peggy asks you with a fond smile.

“Yes!” you exclaim with a laugh. “And then I started to cry!” Peggy laughs and forces you to sit on the toilet seat so she can do your makeup.

After Peggy does your makeup, you thank her and promise that she can pamper you again some other time when she leaves. Shutting the door behind you, you step into a pair of gorgeous, white pumps with flowers designed on the heels. Grabbing a clutch purse from the closet, you toss it onto the table before grabbing your gun and strapping it to your thigh holster underneath your dress. You fix your masquerade mask on your face and grab all the required ID’s for you to get inside. You fix the earpiece into your ear and toss your ticket, press pass, and phone into the purse.

Walking into your home office, you grab your camera and head back out to the kitchen when someone rings the doorbell.

Walking to the front door you unlock it and open the door. Standing on the porch is Jarvis, one of the other detectives at the precinct. You greet him with a soft smile and let him inside before grabbing your purse, camera, and coat from the kitchen table. Jarvis opens the door for you and you thank him before locking it behind you.

Helping you into the limo that the precinct has for undercover operations, he shuts the door and climbs into the driver’s seat before driving off.

Another 20 minutes pass until the limo stops in front of the Laufeyson property. Camera’s flash and there’s security everywhere. Jarvis turns around and looks at you. “Good luck, Y/n. I’ll notify the team that you’ve arrived,” he tells you. You thank him and climb out.

Walking through the property up the steps towards the house, you flash the media badge that was given to you and you walk inside without a hitch. You pin the badge to the sleeve of your dress and drop your purse and your coat off at the bag checking area. You press your finger to the ear piece.

“I’m here,” you state, glancing around to see if you can spot your husband or his team.

Your eyes gaze around the vast room. A gorgeous staircase is at the center and people in their costumes are in every part of the house. In the hallways, on the stairs, looking on from the rails on the second floor, they’re everywhere. You have no idea how you’re going to catch the killer.

You notice the stage behind the staircase and the bar area beside it. It’s all too much. The music is loud, too loud, and there’s smoke and drugs everywhere. It makes you want to vomit. There is no way that you alone can find him.

“Where are you?” Steve is the first to reply.

“Just in front of the staircase. I’m in white.”

Natasha whistles in the comms. “Damn, is Bucky lucky,” she laughs.

“I can’t believe you’re wearing your wedding dress,” Bucky utters in disbelief.

You spin around in an attempt to try and find him. “Do I look okay?” you ask nervously.

“Stop trying to find me, sweetheart. You look perfect.”

You let out a nervous breath, fighting back frustrated tears. “How am I suppose to find him when there’s this many people?”

“He’s suppose to find you,” Natasha answers.

You sigh, bringing your camera up to your eyes as you start taking pictures. People instantly gather around you when they notice that you’re taking pictures for the event. They smile and shout and sing. They dance, they kiss, they drink.

Men flirt with you relentlessly and you try your best to figure out if any of them are the one you’re looking for. They compliment your dress. They compliment your legs. They compliment your eyes, but not one of them praise you for your photography. You know then that the men yearning for your attention aren’t the one man you are looking for.

You move around the home. You take pictures at the bar. You take pictures on the dance floor. You take pictures on the stairs and in the hallways on the second floor.

You’re on the lookout for Loki. You still haven’t seen him and you know he likes to make a scene. He’s a total narcissist.

“May I dance with you?” some asks behind you as you stand in the center of the dance floor. You turn around and your eyes meet Loki’s. There’s no mistaking his stunning green eyes.

He’s in a gorgeous dark green suit with a matching mask.

You swallow hard, letting the camera strap tug on the back of your neck. “Can I get a picture first?” you ask him. He laughs, nodding at your request.

You bring the camera up to your face and focus in on his face. He grins at the camera lens as you capture the picture. The camera flashes and you let it rest against your stomach.

He takes your hand in his and lets his free hand rest on your hip. He pulls you close and leads you in the dance.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Loki asks, expecting you to tell him your name.

“Caroline, and yes,” you answer, “you throw quite the parties, Mr. Laufeyson.” He hums, nodding and laughing quietly at your response. “Although I did expect your entrance into your own party to be more extravagant.”

He laughs, “I can certainly see why you expect that.”

He twirls you around before dipping you so you have to grasp his shoulder tightly to keep your feet on the ground.

Your heart starts to race as he inches closer to you and you swallow hard. Your eyes move past him towards one of the men watching you and inching closer. A man walks up behind Loki and gently presses a hand to his shoulder. You have to hold your breath to stop yourself from panicking.

He whispers something into his ear and Loki nods, gently pulling his hands away from you. “Well, Caroline, it was lovely to meet you and dance with you. I must leave to take care of some business. Enjoy yourself,” he tells you before disappearing.

You let out a nervous breath of air and watch Loki disappear. You clutch your chest and swallow hard before moving off the dance floor. You step over to the bar and order a drink before sitting down. You take a long sip.

“You okay, sweetheart?” A voice whispers beside you. You turn your head to look right at your husband. He’s nursing a drink in his hands and staring at you.

You nod. “Yeah. I just danced with Loki, freaked me out a bit,” you answer, sipping your drink.

“Take a deep breath, you got this.”

You let out a nervous breath and you itch to touch him, but you don’t. Instead, you down the rest of your drink before walking up the stairs.

Leaning against the railing, you look down at those on the dance floor and at the bar. They’re kissing and drinking and sneaking off into the bathrooms with each other. It makes you sigh. You just want to be with Bucky. You look across to the other side of the house. Bucky’s staring right at you nursing another drink. You roll your eyes. At least he’s doing his job.

“Do you not like taking photographs at events like these?” someone asks, approaching you and leaning on the railing next to you. You tense and try your best to ignore Bucky inside your ear. You turn your head, looking at the man in question. He’s handsome. His curly brown hair frames his face perfectly and he has stunning green eyes. His mask rests on his forehead when he looks at you.

You shrug. “I just didn’t expect this many people, that’s all,” you answer, swallowing hard.

He nods, sticking his hand out for you to take. “I’m Ethan,” he introduces himself.

You smile at him and nod, avoiding his hand, “Caroline.”

He laughs, nodding his head and dropping his hand to his side. You stare down at the dance floor when the lights go off. People scream and you grasp the railing tightly. You can hear Bucky shouting your name into your ear, but it’s all background noise. You feel a sharp prick in your arm. It makes you scream and the lights turn back on. You turn to face him.

Your vision is blurry and your tongue feels swollen. Your head starts to hurt. You squint to face him. “What did you do to me?” your words are slurred as you feel him grab your arm, tugging you down one of the empty hallways on the second floor.

He shrugs. “It’s a fast acting drug to copy the effects of someone who is wasted,” he answers. “Loki uses it on all of the girls.”

“It’s Loki. It’s Loki. It’s Loki,” you chant, pressing your finger against your ear. “It’s Loki. It’s Loki. It’s Loki.”

“Y/n!” Bucky shouts in your ear. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you!”

You groan as Ethan pulls you through an unmarked door up another flight of stairs. A door creaks open and through your blurred vision, you see a figure in a dark green suit at a table with a candle.

Ethan pulls out a chair and forces you to sit down. You blink fast in an attempt to keep your eyes open. You squint, knowing that sitting before you is Loki, the man responsible for killing 14 innocent young women.

“Why?” you slur in an attempt from falling asleep. You have to stay awake. You have to stay awake. You have to stay awake. “Why did you kill all those women? Why create an app to lure them when whatever you put in me is just as useful?”

“Because, Y/n,” he states, leaning against the table to get a good look at you now that you’re entirely vulnerable in front of him without hiding behind a fake name. “Women lie. They are deceitful creatures, especially on dating sites. I just did what needed to be done to punish them.”

“Why kill me, then? I’m not on dating sites. I don’t fit in with the women you’ve killed.”

He smirks at you and it sends a shiver down your spine. He knows something. Loki knows something and it scares you. You hate it. He grabs something from behind his chair and pushes it onto the table. You have to squint to see it. Your heart drops into your stomach. You feel like throwing up. Loki has pictures of you and Bucky on your wedding day. “On the contrary, Y/n, you are. Did you not give me a fake name when I asked for it? You did lie, but that’s not why I’m going to kill you. I did some digging on you because I liked you, I still like you, and I wanted you. You’re strong, powerful, independent, someone I could see myself with. Every time I saw you in the lobby of my building, every time you spoke to me, I wanted you, but when I found out that you were married to one of the many cops that is trying to thwart my killings, I was furious. You tricked me with your charm and your wit to think that I could have you. He doesn't deserve you.”

Your heart starts to race. “What are you going to do to me?”

He smirks, reaching for your hand. His fingers lace with yours and your weak attempts to pull from his touch are useless. You’re too drugged up to do anything.

“Like I do with all my victims. We’re going to eat together, and then I’m going to drug you again, and then I’m going to have my way with you. Usually, I have my way after they are dead, but you, Y/n, are special. I cannot let such a warm, beautiful body, in such a beautiful dress go to waste. This is your wedding dress, is it not? I’m going to thoroughly enjoy having you to myself, knowing that your husband can’t do anything to save you. After, like all my other victims, I’m going to kill you piece by piece,” he answers.

You scream as loud as you can, hoping by some miracle that Bucky and the others are tearing the house apart looking for you. Loki just laughs, pressing his mouth to your skin. His lips trail up your arm and it makes you want to puke.

“They cannot hear you. These walls are soundproof,” he grins. He forces a bite of steak into your mouth, forcing his hand on your jaw, forcing you to chew and swallow the meat. Tears cover your cheeks.

“Please,” you beg, “please don’t do this.”

You take your free hand under the table beneath your dress. You slowly take your gun from its holster, dragging it up your body and into your lap. Loki just smiles at you.

“Why not? You’re in this gorgeous dress, I’m in this handsome suit, why don’t we see what’s underneath?” Loki questions, standing up from his spot at the table, moving closer to you. You swallow hard, gripping the gun as hard as you can, as much as your drugged up body will allow. You silently switch the safety off and aim it at his knee caps. You glance up at him.

“Your lackey should’ve checked if I was armed,” you sneer, pulling the trigger.

Loki screams in pure agony and you shoot his other knee so he falls to the floor. You fall off the chair and you can hear Ethan running up the staircase. You aim for the opening and don’t hesitate to fire when you see him step into the room. He crumbles down the stairs.

You press your finger to your ear. “Bucky,” you sob. “I’m in a hidden room on the second floor. I can’t—I can’t move. He drugged me but I shot him. I shot Loki. He’s the serial killer.”

“We’re coming, baby! I’m coming!” Bucky shouts.

You start to panic and you watch Loki writhe in utter pain on the other side of the chair. He’s covered in blood and it stains a portion of your dress. He snarls at you.

“I’m going to kill you,” he snears, crawling his way towards you. You scream. You still can’t move your legs. You’re lucky you were even able to shoot your gun in the first place.

You hear something break just beyond the staircase and you drag yourself on your forearms away from Loki. He pulls himself forward with his arms.

The stairs creak behind you and you hear shouting behind you.

“Y/n!” Bucky shouts behind you. Natasha and Steve run in front of you, dragging Loki away from you. Steve handcuffs him and Nat reads him his Miranda rights. Bucky gently pulls you up to your feet.

“I can’t feel my legs, Buck. I can’t—I can’t,” you slur.

“What did you give her?!” Natasha snarls into Loki’s ear. He smirks smugly, staring into Bucky’s eyes.

“I use it on my victims so that they’re too weak to fight back. It makes them feel slow, loopy, wasted. It’s easy to do whatever I want with them when they’re in such a state,” Loki answers with a smirk as Steve and Natasha drag him down the stairs. Other policemen canvas the area and start taking pictures and gathering evidence. Others take care of Ethan’s body.

“I’m going to get you an ambulance, baby. The doctors are going to help you,” Bucky states, fighting back his own tears.

He picks you up in his arms as he carefully walks down the stairs. Your arms are dead weight, hanging down your husband’s back as he takes you outside to one of the many awaiting ambulances.

Paramedics take you immediately and lay you on a gurney. They place an oxygen mask over your nose and you start to panic.

“Ma’am, you need to take deep breaths. You are okay. You’re safe. We’re going to the hospital,” one of the paramedics tells you, gently grabbing your arm.

“My husband,” you cry, “where is my husband? I need my husband.”

The paramedics glance at one another before one of them climbs out and walks over to where Bucky stood at the front of the vehicle.

“Sir, do you know where her husband might be? She’s in hysterics.”

Bucky’s broken from his raging thoughts and kicks his foot off the ambulance. “I’m her husband,” he states, hurrying to the back of the vehicle and climbing inside so he can be with you.

“Bucky,” you cry, your voice muffled behind the oxygen mask. Tears dampen your hair as you continue to cry.

“I’m here, baby, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. They’re taking us to the hospital so doctors can take care of you. You’re safe. It’s okay,” Bucky murmurs, gently threading his fingers through your hair as the paramedics do a number of tests before shutting the doors and taking off to the nearest hospital. You fall asleep to the beat of your heart and the feeling of Bucky’s fingers through your hair.

Some time later, you wake up and you gasp in a panic. You don’t know where you are. You don’t remember what happened. The heart rate monitor starts beeping in a wild rage. It causes Bucky to stir from his restless slumber in the chair beside you with his hand in his. You’re gasping for air.

Bucky climbs out of his seat, hurrying over to your side. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Breathe, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you anymore. I’m here. You’re okay,” he tells you, threading his fingers through your hair.

You blink at him through your tears when you notice that he’s still in his handsome navy blue tux. You burst into tears and cover your face shamefully.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he had others to collect his victims to give to him. I didn’t do my job. I’m sorry.”

Tears find their way to Bucky’s cheeks and his heart breaks. He prys your hands away from your tear stained cheeks. He kisses your knuckles and squeezes your hands.

“Don’t apologize, Y/n,” he sniffs through his tears. “You did do your job. You caught him. You stopped him from murdering even more innocent women. You did it, baby. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know. It’s over now.”

He gingerly climbs into the small hospital bed and cradles you in his arms. He kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do my job. I was suppose to protect you and I didn’t. I let him take you. I failed you, I’m sorry,” he cries, hugging you close.

You shake your head. “No. No. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you. This is not on you. Neither of us knew what would happen. We took a risk knowing that something could happen because that’s our job. This is not your fault, James,” you state firmly, sinking into his touch as silence falls between you. Your fingers move gently against his chest. “I thought I was going to die without telling you that I loved you one last time,” you confess, closing your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

He kisses your forehead firmly. A tear touches his cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you. I was so scared, but you? You were so brave, so fearless. It’s one of the many things I love about you, sweetheart. You’re so strong.”

You snuggle into his side and kiss his shoulder. He takes your left hand in his, pulling out your wedding ring from the safety of his pocket. He slides it back onto your finger and kisses your knuckle gently. He wipes away your stray tears damping his shirt. You sigh. “So what did the doctors say?”

“Whatever they injected you with was some variation of a roofie. They flushed it out of your system and ran a few tests, but you’re okay. You can still walk. You’re going to be okay,” Bucky answers.

You press a kiss to his jaw. “Thank you for saving me,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I’ll do it again and again if I have to,” he murmurs.

You rest your head on his chest, letting your eyes close. This time, you’re not in a panic to fall asleep. You’re in the arms of the man you love most. He’s your protector. He’s your life. He is the biggest part of you.

His arms wrap around you safely. He kisses your shoulder and lets his hands rest on your tummy. You hum, opening your eyes so you can look at him properly before falling asleep again.

“When we get home, we’re going to have to start baby proofing the house,” he states with a growing smirk.

You sit up and stare at him with a raised brow. “What? Pregnancy doesn’t work that fast,” you tell him, laughing at him.

He smirks at you, brushing his fingers around your tummy. “After 11 weeks go by, it probably does,” he answers. You blink at him in shock. Tears of joy fill your eyes.

“Eleven weeks?” you choke out. “I’m 11 weeks pregnant?”

He grins at you, squeezing your hand. “Yes, baby, you are. They had to run a lot more tests just to make sure that the baby was okay with all the stuff that was in your system,” he informs you.

“We’re going to be parents,” you utter in awe. “I’m going to be a mom. You’re going to be a dad. We’re having a baby!”

He laughs, kissing you slowly. You gently caress his face and grasp onto his hair. “Once they make sure you’re okay to leave, we have eight weeks of paid leave to prep for Baby Barnes,” he states.

“Eight weeks? Isn’t two months a lot?”

“Tony insisted. He wants to make sure that we both get the services we need before returning to work after what happened. We’re going to be okay,” he answers.

You sigh, pressing your lips to his tummy, you let your hands rest on top of his that were on your own stomach. You sigh.

“I have a baby in me,” you mutter in disbelief. “A baby, our baby.”

He brushes his lips against the top of your head as you drift off to sleep in his arms as he held you. His grip on you tightens. Buck will do anything for you. He would’ve probably killed Loki if he had the chance. He’s willing to risk everything if it means that you’re safe and protected. Now, it’s not just for you, it’s for your baby, too.

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

An All Hallows’ Haunting

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Reader take on a case featuring one of America’s oldest ghost legends: the Headless Horseman...who rides on Halloween. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 6,745....holy shit, how did that happen? Warnings: A few pieces of language, a bit of suspense...nothing really. Author’s Note: I tried to make this extremely canon-style in characterization, plot, everything. This is a late contribution to my dear friend @plaidstiel-wormstache‘s Halloween celebration (thanks for the prompt, patience, and proof-reading!). I actually met her last Halloween when she asked me to beta a The Nightmare Before Christmas x SPN fic , so when she hosted, I had to get a TNBC prompt for this fic: “She’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum”. Look for it along with some familiar characters from Burton’s animated holiday classic. Feedback is always appreciated!

“Seriously, you guys don’t do anything for Halloween?”

You had found the Winchesters on a hunt back in January, and you and Dean had officially gotten together in April… this was your first fall with them and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. The younger one smiled wryly, “let’s just say it carries its own brand of nightmares.”

“Yeah, once you’ve dodged Samhain himself, the whole idea of celebrating the season kind of loses its shine…plus, you know, we’ve been kind of busy.”

You nodded, understanding. In the past few months you had been there as Dean darkened under the curse of the Mark and had helped the brothers patch it up after Sam had gone behind both of your backs to get it removed by Rowena. You understood why he had done it… and you couldn’t feel bad about it, no matter what happened with Amara.

You were thankful to have Dean back. You weren’t ashamed of that.

You tried to get them back to the lighter topics—a role you were used to filling with the Winchesters. “Come on! Costumes, candy, trick or treating, pumpkins… pie?” Dean chuckled, and you smiled, “fall has its plusses. Halloween’s only a few days away, and we haven’t made any plans!”

“Don’t get me wrong, Y/N, if you’re planning to dress up, I’m all in for that.” Dean quit wagging his eyebrows long enough to dodge the French fry his brother tossed at his head.

“Sorry you two—your dress up activities are going to have to be postponed. It looks like we might have a case.”

Dean sat up, and so did you, ready to be a bit more serious. Sam was scanning the computer screen in front of him.

“Charlie” Sam struggled with her name and all three of you flinched, “flagged this when she uploaded the men of letters files and a bunch of the hunter’s journals that we pulled out of Bobby’s storage—a reoccurring haunting. Dean, you remember the Morton house with the janitor guy who showed up every leap year?” Dean nodded, and you shrugged.

“Kinda like that. Except the pattern on this one is much more spaced out, which is probably why no other hunter has ever caught it. Apparently, every 24 years there’s a rash of beheadings on Halloween near a place called Tarrytown, New York, about a half hour north of Manhattan. The residents link it to a local legend and get this—the spirit of a headless horseman.” Sam scoffed the last words and Dean shot a quizzical look at you.

“You mean the dude with the pumpkin chasing the goofy looking guy in the cartoon?”

“You’re talking about the short story by… Irving, I think?” You thought back to your community college English class— “’The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’. You’re telling me it’s real?”

Sam nodded, closing his computer. “According to Bobby, which is good enough for me. Looks like the horseman’s due to ride this year, so I’ll see you in the garage in ten?”

You slid back your chair, standing up at the same time Dean did. As Sam stalked off down the hallway, you pulled Dean close for a quick kiss.

“I’m taking a rain check on that dress up challenge, Winchester.”  

He settled his hands at the nape of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair.  “Oh, really? Have you got a French maid costume lying around somewhere?”

You kissed him again, then leaned back as your hands slid down his back to land on his narrow hips.

“Maybe. But now that you’ve put the idea in my head, I’m not gonna rest until I see this ass,” you squeezed his cheeks, and he settled his hips closer into yours, “in cowboy chaps.”

He was already leaning in for another kiss when he processed what you said, and leaned back to laugh—one of those good belly deep laughs that crinkled the corners of his eyes and brought an involuntary smile to your face. With everything going on, it was good that you were still able to make him let loose like that.

“Now come on, Cowboy. Let’s go take care of this horseman.”

He gave you a good ol’ boy wink and drawled, “yes ma’am.”

Trailing the Impala through the northern part of the country on your motorcycle had been a visual treat. You’d always enjoyed a long ride, the music in your one earbud the modern kind that Dean hated, and you could never get enough of, and the fall colors in the trees were just incredibly gorgeous.

They’d stopped a little way past Chicago for the night, and despite the good food, Sam and Dean had been in an irritable mood. Dean hated traffic and Sam had been trying to do research on the case, and had found that separating the fact from the fiction when it came to this famous ghost was a bit of a headache.

“It’s like researching Bloody Mary all over again,” he grumbled as they set off in the car again the next morning. You were relieved to get back to the drive—the brothers were less likely to be whiny when they actually got to the job.

You were surprised when you saw Dean flash his blinker, signaling a turn when the sign you just passed said Tarrytown was straight ahead. When he slowed at the next stop sign you pulled up beside driver’s door as he lowered the window, putting one foot on the ground as your bike idled.

“Sam’s found a current address to a contact from Bobby’s journal—a guy named Jack Bones. He lives kinda off the beaten track, but since we’ve only got two days till Halloween, we figured we’d stop there, see if he could fill in any blanks.”

You nodded your agreement, and Dean pulled out on the road again with you following.

It wasn’t a full ten minutes later when you reached the end of a rough driveway and found a huge garden, overflowing with pumpkins, complete with a sign detailing prices. You smiled, looking around to find the rustic house and it’s wrap-a-round porch. You decided immediately that you liked it, and whomever had decorated the porch with fall mums.

You had parked closer than the boys and you were already leaning down to smell the bright flowers when you heard the door slam on the Impala.

“Hello, there. Are you here to buy a pumpkin from the Pumpkin King?”

You looked up to see the skinniest man you’d ever laid eyes on—his eyes were sunken in, and for a moment, he seemed more like a walking skeleton than a human being. Then he stepped out into the sunlight, and you could see his bald head and wide welcoming smile.

You returned his smile, “no, sorry.  I’m looking for a Jack Bones, not a Jack-o-lantern.”

You saw Dean and Sam out of the corner of your eye as they walked up behind you and you stood up.

“That’d be me—call me Jack. Doll?” He called back through the screen door into the house, “were we expecting company?”

“Not to my knowledge.” The feminine voice was followed by striking older lady with shoulder length auburn hair wearing a colorful sundress despite the chilly October air.

Sam took a step forward, smiling disarmingly. “Hi, my name is Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, and this is Y/N. We heard your name through Bobby—”

“Singer. Yeah he mentioned you two boys as well.” The smile was gone from the old man’s face and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is he? I’ve been expecting him for days.”

Sam and Dean exchanged looks and you saw a hint of pain flash across their faces. You took Dean’s hand on instinct, squeezing it in support. You saw Mrs. Bones walk closer behind her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Jack, but Bobby died almost three years ago.” You kept your voice gentle, sad to give the news. You’d never met the man who had helped raise the Winchesters, but you knew he had been a great man.

Jack nodded, his smile tightening to a thin line. “I thought that might be the case. It sure is going to make this thing harder though.”

The silence then was thick and awkward until Mrs. Bones stepped in front of her husband, “I’m sorry for your loss. My name is Sally. Would you like to come in? I’ve got an apple pie cooling off—and I’ve always found that hard news and hard times are made lighter with good food.”

Jack seemed to shake off his melancholy and turned to look down at the woman beside him, smiling. “Thanks, Sally.”

He turned to face us, “I always listen to her--she’s the only one who makes any sense in this insane asylum of a town. You folks come on in and we’ll talk about what Bobby left you to do.”

Sam stepped up on the porch and Dean followed, your hand still folded inside his.

“Local tales differ on who the Hessian is—it gets tangled up with the Sleepy Hollow legend that made the town famous, but Irving didn’t write that story until 1819, after the Horseman had already ridden once twenty years before that.

“The real story gets mixed up with that quite a lot.”

Jack was leaned back, having swallowed his slice of pie in about four bites, and seemed ready to tell a story. Dean had scored two slices with a compliment to Sally’s cooking, and she looked on him fondly as he obviously relished every bite. You and Sam were more interested in what Jack had to say than the pie, but you were both taking small bites to be polite.

“I noticed—trying to separate fact from fiction online was difficult. If it hadn’t been for Bobby’s notes, I wouldn’t have believed there was really anything supernatural here.”

Sally laughed at that, “oh, there’s definitely something supernatural here. The Hessian’s ghost gets hyped up for the tourists, but we grew up here—we know the truth. The Hessian is the boogeyman that parents frighten their kids with…until the 24-year mark get close, then the newest generation gets told the truth.”

You put your fork down, sliding what was left of your pie towards Dean. “That was delicious, Sally, thank you. Can you two tell us what you actually know for sure about this ghost?” Sally nodded, then gestured to Jack to do the talking.

“Well, what is generally known by everyone who grows up here and who is willing to believe is fairly straightforward. The horseman, we call him the Hessian, was 24 years old when he was executed by beheading. The man was a murdering coward in life: he killed his superior officer to advance in the ranks of the British army, but when the battles started to get heavy with the Continental Army, he deserted his men. Most of his battalion died. He was captured, tried, and found guilty before being executed on Halloween in 1775.

“Except he comes back every 24 years—this will be his tenth visit. It always starts on the full moon in October when the Hessian rides away from where the battle was fought and into the woods. He rides again every night after that, retracing his desertion. And on October 31st, at least one person in the surrounding area loses his head, quite literally. Then the Hessian vanishes for another 24 years.”

Jack gathered up the empty pie plates after Dean scraped the last of yours clean. He moved to the sink to wash them off and Sally picked up the narrative with the smoothness of a couple who has been together for a long time.

“It’s not the full story, but it’s enough detail to convince most kids to stay out of the way of the Hessian. Not that it does much good. The victims of the horseman are found along his ride, but most of them go missing from their homes, and sometimes they are tourists.”

Dean spoke up for the first time since the pie appeared: “there’s got to be something connecting them.”

Jack turned around, wiping his hands on a towel as he smiled, “yeah, Bobby said the same thing. I didn’t believe in the Hessian at all when I was a kid, but that ended when I saw him myself.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Unlucky.”

Sally muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Mr. Stubborn maybe.”

Jack came back to his chair, either not hearing or not acknowledging his wife’s comment. “I’ve been around for three visits from the Hessian so far. The first time, I was barely a toddler, so that one probably shouldn’t count…but growing up hearing the stories, I always assumed they were complete crap. So, when the next visit was due when I was 26, I decided to find out the truth for myself.”

“And I told you not to. ‘It’s a mistake, Jack!’ I believe were my exact words.” Sally’s voice was scolding, and you couldn’t help smiling at Dean. They were honestly shaping up to be relationship goals.

Jack still pretended not to hear her and soldiered on.

“That year, ’67—the same year as that car of yours, I think—the full moon was early in the month, more than ten days before Halloween. After hearing so much about it my whole life, and then watching the whole town close up early superstitiously for six days in a row and the bars filled with gossip and whispers, I went out to see for myself what was going on.”

He went silent again and his eyes took on that look that older people always have when they look back on the past.

“We’ll leave it at the fact that I saw him that night. If you three are going after the Hessian, you’ll see him for yourself, and you’ll understand why I don’t try to describe him now.

“In 1991, the town prepared to weather the Hessian’s rides and kills again the best way they knew how—spread the truth to the next generation, close up the town early, laugh it off to the tourists… the usual.” Jack shook his head, his face grim.

“Three people died that year. I knew the Hessian was real, that he was coming, and I did nothing, we all did nothing. And three people died. When Bobby Singer showed up a few days into November and started asking around, it didn’t take him long to find me.

“He sat where you are right now,” he gestured to Dean’s chair, “and the two of us talked about the Hessian and ghosts and the supernatural until he convinced me that the victims had to have something in common.

“So, we started digging. And we didn’t stop until we figured it out. Bobby promised he’d be back this year, or he’d send you boys to finish the job. The horseman’s been riding the past two nights, and the night after next, anyone who has ever ducked a responsibility that resulted in the death of someone else is going to end up as headless as the Hessian.”

You and Sam looked at each other wide-eyed. You hoped you heard wrong, “you mean the horseman goes after cowards?”

Jack made a face like he didn’t know how to word something. Sally stepped into the silence, “not really. The horseman’s victims all have something in common—they had willingly chosen to do something, then failed, and their failure resulted in at least one death. One woman who was beheaded last time was a foster mom and the child accidently drowned when she wasn’t paying attention, another was a safety inspector who signed off on a building that was structurally unsound and collapsed on three people a year later.

“We think he’s not just reliving his failure when he rides away from the battle every night after the full moon. We think he’s also administering the same judgment he received against anyone who committed his crime, since so many died because he abandoned his post.”

The tenseness of Dean’s shoulders wasn’t something you’d seen since the Darkness had been released…which was probably part of the problem. His mind was at the same place yours and Sam’s had gone—Dean, having lost the Mark and released the Darkness on the world, was exactly the type of victim the horseman would go after.

“Are you three okay?” Jack was quick.

Dean stood up from his chair, nodding to Jack and Sally, “thanks for the pie and the help.”

Then he turned and walked out. You shot another look at Sam, gesturing to the older couple, hoping he would come up with some kind of explanation, then you followed Dean outside.

He was leaning against Baby, his eyes on the trees across the road, but much further away.

“Dean, you okay?”

Dean’s eyes didn’t even attempt to meet yours. “Oh, I’m awesome. It’s just been a long two days on the road, and apparently, we’ve got to find a way to kill a ghost when we don’t have a body to salt and burn. And, oh yeah, my neck’s on the chopping block, or Sam’s might be, depending on who this horseman decides to blame for Amara.”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, waiting for him to look at you. “Even if that’s all true, we’ve faced lots worse and come out on top. We’ll get through this too.”

You heard the door shut and Sam was walking out to you. Dean shifted slightly, and you backed up, giving him his space.

“I made our goodbyes and got directions to the place where the horseman rides. I also got Jack’s number in case we run into any trouble, or so we can tell him when the job’s done.”

Dean nodded, opening the car door and sliding in. “Let’s go find a hotel and make some kind of plan then.”

He slammed the door shut in a way that telegraphed that his head was still up his ass, so you walked towards your bike. You shrugged at Sam’s raised eyebrow, knowing he’d probably get an earful on the way into town.

As much as you loved the man, sometimes Dean spent too much time and effort dwelling on guilt and things he couldn’t control.

It had been a tense night. It had started as a somewhat reasonable discussion of possible solutions and past cases—everything from a woman in white, to a racist truck, to apparently even a ghost ship that hunted down people who killed family members… the Winchesters really did have quite a resume on spooks.

Soon it had devolved into sullen silences as Dean’s mood continued to worsen as he dwelled on the Amara situation and the guilt he and Sam shared for releasing her. You felt a part of the guilt, but not as much as the boys—it always seemed to you like, ever since they saved the world the first time, they could never get that weight of responsibility off their shoulders.

You had a different outlook. You did what you could, while you could, and let the rest take care of itself.

In the end, it was a grim group that headed out after sunset. According to Jack’s information, we could count on the Hessian to ride tonight, and he only ever appeared along the same path, but not always at the same spots along that path—apparently, he would vanish and reappear as he went.

Sam had gotten a map, and the plan was for the three of you to spread out along the line Sally had drawn, since the ghost wasn’t attacking anyone tonight or tomorrow, and try to spot him. You’d meet up after midnight when the ride was over and compare notes, and, hopefully, figure out a way to gank the bastard tomorrow night.

On the television, Janice Huff had predicted 56° F temperatures tonight, so you had dressed accordingly as the boys suited up in their flannels. Dean was staying with Baby, you took your bike, and Sam was dropped off in between the two of you. He was the fastest runner of the three of you, so it was the most logical way to go, but you could tell it only worsened Dean’s mood.

Something else for the man to worry over.

You were brooding over Dean—his weird connection with Amara, the guilt and pain inside him, his stubbornness—when you realized that a mist had crept over the ground.

That had not been a part of Huff’s weather forecast.

You gripped your salt-shotgun tightly in one hand and opened the video group call you’d set up between you and Winchesters with the other.

“Guys, you seeing this?”

Static.

“Dean? Sam?”

Nothing.

Awesome.

You tucked the phone away and straddled your bike. The mist was getting thicker and the temperature seemed to have dropped at least five degrees in the last few minutes.

You started the motorcycle, and instead of reflecting the light from your headlamp, the mist seemed unaffected by the bright light, but the darkness above the mist was pierced, letting you see nearly 20 yards away—just in time.

He was taller than you expected.

The horse was more shadow and mist than real, but the horseman on his back was much more substantial… or as substantial as a spirit ever seemed to be.

The shoulders seemed far too broad without a neck or head on top. His uniform was mostly navy blue, but covered in mud and scratches. The sound of hooves was thundering, drowning out the growl of the bike between your legs and the pounding of your pulse in your ears.

You raised your shotgun to your shoulder, the hair standing up on your neck as he drew closer seeming to aim straight at you, even though you knew you were several yards to the side of his path. You calmed yourself with the knowledge that the Hessian was only going to ride straight by. He was going to keep going. He was not going to attack you. He was—

He was right on top of you.

And he knew you were there.

It was an unnerving sensation—he had no eyes, no reaction, he didn’t once break stride, but he was aware of you. And his awareness was cold, cunning, and powerful.

You pulled the trigger without any conscious decision to do so.

The shot seemed deafeningly loud to you, as if everything else in the world had been muted. Your aim was dead on, and the ghost vanished immediately following your shot, leaving you alone on your bike.

Alone except for the lingering malevolent feeling of being watched and the slowly dissipating mist.

It took a lot to shake you up, but you were officially dreading this hunt. Despite your attempts to make light of your encounter with the Hessian, the boys, who hadn’t seen him last night, had picked up on the fact that something was off.

It might have had something to do with the new screaming nightmare you had added to your collection. It was part of the job, but, somehow, this hunt was different.

Sam was trying to be logical and supportive—asking details, treating you like a witness or a victim on a case in an attempt to gather information and help you get past it.

Dean was playing the part of angry-protective lover.

“If he’s intelligent, and capable of deviating from his pattern, that might be a good thing. It means we can distract him from his pattern, agitate him. We’ll get him to chase us across running water or onto hallowed ground—either one should be the same as salting and burning the bones.”

“Good. This son-of-a-bitch has got to go. But no more splitting up.” Dean had nearly had a heart-attack after hearing your shot last night and not being able to get a call through to you.

You were glad he had gotten over his brooding spell, but this suffocating over-protectiveness wasn’t really an improvement.

“We’ll get the job done, Dean, whatever it takes. I definitely got the feeling he’ll remember me after last night, and we all know that you two will make tempting targets for him considering his preferred victims. I agree that drawing him in shouldn’t be too difficult.” You fought back an internal shudder at the thought of being in that presence again, then scolded yourself internally.

You’d faced so much worse than this ghost.

You realized that you had been pacing the small area between the beds and the door in this crappy motel when you saw the worried glance the brothers traded.

“Guys, I promise, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. I’m just…antsy.”

“Maybe you should stay behind, Y/N—”

“Dean—” Sam tried to warn his brother off… rather pointlessly. Dean was nothing if not stubbornly protective.

“If this thing has singled you out, maybe it’s not such a good idea.”

You stopped your pacing with your back towards Dean, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as you focused on the thought, he means well, he means well, he means well.

“And when you thought you or Sam might be the natural target? Did you think about tucking tail and running? Were you willing to take the coward’s way out and risk other people’s lives because of a possibility that you might be in danger? Be like the Hessian, you mean?”

You turned around to see him shifting uncomfortably on the bed and avoiding eye contact with you, because he knew that he would never have backed down from a hunt for that reason. Sam was pointedly looking at his computer and pretending he couldn’t feel the tension in the room.

Tonight was the last night the Hessian would ride without killing someone, at least traditionally. You had a feeling that your attack on him last night might have changed the status quo, but you didn’t have time to cajole Dean with reason.

Sometimes, the man needed to just be told what was what.

“I was on the job before we ever met, Dean. We all know the risks.” You gentled your voice, feeling guilty; you knew his reaction was instinctual and not intentionally insulting, “besides, we know the Hessian isn’t actually limited to his path—his victims get taken from their homes and hotels and left along the way. Staying away wouldn’t keep me any safer, and it certainly wouldn’t help gank this bastard.”

You went and sat next to him, and he finally made eye contact with you.

“So, let’s work together and figure out why he felt so much stronger than any other ghost I’ve ever tangled with. Sam? Any ideas on that?” You turned to face the younger Winchester as you threaded your fingers with Dean’s squeezing in confirmation that the two of you were okay.

He squeezed back.

“Well, there’s his age. Very few ghosts we’ve ever met have been haunting for 240 years. Then there’s the fact that he only seems to manifest for a week or two every ten years, which means he’s not really struggling with the pull of the veil and the mortal world the way most vengeful spirits do, so that might explain why he still seems methodical and not…” Sam trailed off, trying to think of a way to describe the average vengeful spirt you hunted.

“A rabid dog? On ghostly steroids?” Dean offered, and the three of you chucked, the tension finally easing a bit in the room.

Sam nodded, “exactly.”

You thought it out a bit, “and then there’s the fact that he seems to be linked with Halloween. If the legends are right, he was killed on the day, which is all kinds of supernaturally significant: crossing into the spirit world on the night when spirits have the easiest time crossing into the mortal world? And the full moon seems to have a role in this haunting and lore from all over the world links the lunar cycle with supernatural events. It’s no wonder he seems so much more than most ghosts.”

Dean squeezed your hand again, and you realized some of your inner dread had seeped into your voice while you spoke.

You forced yourself to sound more gung ho as you pulled your hand loose and clapped them together, “alright then! Let’s find us some old school holy ground or special running water to get rid of this thing once and for all.”

Dean studied you for a moment, and you knew he could see right through your false bravado. He let it go though, pulling out your computer bags from beside the bed so that you could join Sam in researching.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

It had taken a few hours, but you had found a suitable plot of holy land: the site of a colonial church. Dean had taken a certain amount of sadistic pleasure in the idea of forcing a redcoat onto that land to kill him, which you had laughed at, telling him that the ghost’s uniform had actually been blue.

It had been the last moment of frivolity of the evening as you headed out to set up the trap.

Dean had wanted to have Sam on your bike and the two of you in Baby for the taunt and chase scene. You had told him that was stupid, and you weren’t letting Moose ride your girl. You had both backed off when Sam pointed out that the best method would be to keep everyone in one place, since the Hessian might have the ability to separate individuals anyway.

No need to make it easier on him.

You took the backseat since Sam had such a hard time fitting back there without laying out like he was going to take a nap. You had decided to start off where you had seen the horseman last night, and you waited with the car off, all of your eyes peeled for any sight of the ghost or of the strange mist that had preceded him before.

It didn’t take long for the anticipation to burn away to the boredom of any other stakeout.

“Here’s what I don’t get. Why did he go to you in the first place?”

Sam seemed almost disappointed, though whether that was a weird type of jealousy for a missed opportunity or just that he was stumped over a thought he’d apparently been chewing on for a while, it wasn’t clear.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean turned to look at you, confused at your tone.

You kept your eyes out the window, even though the dark country view and the deserted lane wasn’t what you were really seeing.

“It’s another part of the job. We all accept responsibility when we take on a case. We promise ourselves that we’ll save everyone. We promise we’ll keep our loved ones safe.

“But we’re human. We hesitate. We make mistakes. And in this life, that means people die. It’s always been that way.”

You turned to look at Dean, hoping he would really listen to you. He needed to hear this even more than you needed to say it.

“So, when we lose people—family, like your parents, like Bobby; friends, like Kevin and Charlie, strangers like the ones that draw us to the cases we take on… we feel guilty about it. Even though we do all we can, we still feel like it’s all our fault, like we’ve failed in our responsibilities and someone else paid the price.

“And as long as we’re hunters, it will be that way, until we pay the price ourselves.”

There was a moment of silence in the car, then you continued in a low voice full of certainty. You understood your role in the world, and you understood this ghost.

“That’s why he’ll come after us. Not Amara or the Mark…it’s because we spend our lives taking on impossible fights, and we don’t back down even when we lose.” You looked back out the window, noting what might be the first wisps of mist. 

“This guy ran before the fight and died because of it. Even if we weren’t actively hunting him, he’d probably be coming after us because we’re everything he should have been and didn’t have the strength to be.”

A silence descended in the car again that lasted much longer than seemed necessary.

“Damn, Y/N. Deep much?”

You shot a smile at Dean, then pointed towards the thickening mist creeping over the ground. “Looks like we’re about to get this party started, so the philosophical discussions are going to have to be put on hold, boys.”

A moment later the sound of hooves began to vibrate the frame of the vehicle and the mist parted enough to see the insubstantial shadow horse and the much more intimidating headless rider cantering towards them.

“Go, Dean, now!”

Dean cranked up the Impala and hit the gas, shooting down the road. Despite the growl of the 550 horses under Baby’s hood, the supernatural soldier still seemed to be gaining.

“Dean, he’s gaining, go!”

“We’re almost at the church site, how far off is he?”

“50 yards…45 yards… C’mon Dean… 30 yards… 20…”

Dean’s wheels squealed as he turned almost 180° to stare back at the Hessian. The three of you piled out of the car quickly, Sam passing out the salt guns just in case.

Your heart was hammering, watching the horseman come barreling towards you and feeling that awful intent bearing down on you, calling you.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch, c’mon…”

Dean’s mutter grounded you, kept you from panicking as your pulse matched the pounding of the ghostly hooves—and when the sound cut off, so did your heart.

He was gone.

Barely five yards from the boundary line, the Hessian vanished from the lane.

But you could still feel the eyes, the malevolent power in the air, mixing with the mist and raising every hair on your skin.

“Where is he? Can you guys see him?” Sam and Dean didn’t respond, and you looked around frantically.

You were alone.

You pulled your salt-shotgun up to your shoulder and fought back the fear.

“Dean! Where are you?!”

The mostly full moon cut through the ghostly mist as if it wasn’t there and you turned and twisted, wishing you had your back to something, wishing the Winchesters were here.

Then you saw him, looming out of the mist in front of you.

The Hessian, unhorsed, beheaded, and wielding a one-handed sword and standing stock still. It was impossible to say that he was looking at you since he had no eyes, but every muscle and instinct in your body tensed for the fight you could practically taste in the air around you.

You braced and fired, pumped the gun to reload and fired again, all in seconds, sinking two rounds of rock salt center mass in the spirit in front of you.

“Y/N!” Dean was coming.

The Hessian vanished, but the presence was still there. But now, so was Dean, with Sam right behind.

“Are you okay? He snatched you somehow. The church grounds are about 10 yards that way.”

“He’s here somewhere. I got him with rock salt, but he’s not gone. I can tell.”

“There!” Sam pointed at the stalking figure of the headless man and all three of you aimed, but only Sam and Dean got a shot off this time. The ghost vanished, but the anger in the air seemed to increase, the mist having risen from ankle to waist high.

“Guys, we have to get him closer to the border line, force him over somehow.” You started backing towards the direction they came from and you fell into a familiar formation, you leading the way, Sam watching the retreat and Dean between the two of you, alternating from side to side to cover as many angles as possible.

“He was supposed to chase us over the line. How the hell do we get him across now?”

You could see the car ahead and knew you were close to the boundary line, but Dean had pointed out the main problem now.

“I’ve got an idea. Can you two buy me a few minutes? Keep him distracted.” Sam passed you, heading for the Impala while you and Dean went back to back to narrow the angles.

“C’mon you British asshat! Aren’t you sick of running away like a little bitch?”

You loved the man, but Dean was never good with subtlety.

The Hessian formed right in front of him, sword swinging at neck height for the decapitating blow. “Y/N, duck!” You dropped and rolled, coming up on one knee with your gun up. Dean was blocking the sword strokes with his shotgun, but each hit drove him back a step, the power of each swing enough that Dean was quickly losing ground, the sound of metal on metal clanging through the air.

You couldn’t get a clear shot off, so you got up and ran closer, not knowing what you were going to do, but knowing you had to do something.

“Y/N, take this!”

Sam was there, knocking your gun away and shoving something cold, heavy, and metallic into your hands.

“Clothesline him!” He pointed to one side of Dean who, you now realized, was deliberately losing ground to draw the Hessian closer to the border line.

You ran, gripping the metal in your hands tightly as it dragged then went taunt.

“Dean, hit the ground!” Sam’s voice was loud and just in time to avoid hitting Dean with the chain that you realized was stretched between you and Sam. Dean dropped, and though you expected the chain to go through and dissipate the ghost, instead it hit him square in the back, hard enough that you and Sam both swung closer towards him, your momentum dragging him forward.

The chain wrapped around the horseman, dragging him forward the last few feet and across the border onto what used to be church property in his time, and what was still considered hallowed ground.

The chain grew hot in your hands as the Hessian shook and burned, the air growing sharp as the cold intelligent hate you had felt since his appearance crystallized into a mind-piercing screech of pain.

He flickered, flickered, and vanished.

The chain fell to the ground, the mist vanished, and, most telling of all, the malevolent feeling that had been present for every moment of the Horseman’s presence was gone completely.

You flexed your hands, slightly burned and sore from gripping the chain, as you walked closer to Sam and Dean just a foot away from where the Hessian disappeared.

“You guys okay?”

Dean was standing up, brushing dirt off his knees and his now very scarred gun. He nodded briefly, but couldn’t seem to find words. Sam shook his hands, ran them through his hair then shrugged, “I’m fine. You?”

You nodded then kicked at the heavy chain laying on the ground, “what is so special about this thing?”

Dean leaned over and picked it up. “It was Bobby’s. We used it before on a ghost—a buruburu, actually.”

He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts as he hauled it back to the trunk, so you turned to Sam for further explanation.

“It’s an iron chain etched with spell work. When he didn’t follow the plan, I had to think fast.” Sam shrugged, like it had been no big deal to make that leap. As much as you could admire the looks of them, sometimes, you were amazed by the brains alone inside these Winchesters.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you did. Anyway, you’d better call Jack, let him know that Tarrytown’s Hessian is gone for good.” Sam nodded, taking his phone out as you walked over to Dean.

He had just finished putting away his gun and the chain, but when he heard you, he turned and pulled you into his arms. You felt the shudder of relief go through him and relaxed a bit yourself now that it was over.

It had been a close one.

You stood up on your tiptoes and found his mouth with yours, pressing a sweet slow kiss to his full lips. Just as it was starting to heat up, you leaned back and gave him your coyest smile.

“And as for you, Monsieur Cowboy,” you said in your best approximation of a French accent, “I believe we have some Halloween plans back at the bunker.”

Dean’s smile was predatory as he pulled you into another kiss, “oui, m’dame.”

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[thetradeway]

Session 17 Halloween!

Melaina is supposed to be guiding us to the High Forest, but we seem to be lost and going in circles. It is getting darker and darker. Ahleqs lies down and prepares to die.

We hear some spooky singing coming from the north east. Tarragon and Ahleqs roll good survival checks and head off in the direction of the sounds. We reach a blighted manse! Or it might be a post office. Who knows.

The clearing in which it sits is damp, waterlogged. The stone of the manse seems unnaturally dark; the light from the stars seems to grow darker as we move toward it. We debate briefly the idea of knocking and saying trick or treat, but this is dismissed as a weird Aaracokran holiday tradition. As we draw near it gets darker and darker, to the point where the humans can’t see. Gunna lights a torch, and Ahleqs casts Light on Simon.

Kessler goes and knocks, Gunna accompanies. The doors are dark oak. There is a pair of crystal blue eyes peering out through the window next to the door!! Gunna wants to ask the eyes directions. He looks again and the eyes are gone. The doors are locked. The singing comes again, louder this time; Ahleqs casts Mage Armor.

Popcorn is terrified; with some cajoling Tarragon is able to get him to follow her. She reminds him how brave he was and how he kicked the shit out of those ogres from before. Gunna grouses that he could have kicked their asses if he’d been woken up sooner; Ahleqs pets him on the head and tells him he’s a brave human. He is mollified.

Kessler tries to pick the lock and fails spectacularly. Melaina has a go (rolls a 26!) but still can’t open it. Ahleqs has a look at it to see if its locked by magical means - there seems to be an aura of some sort around the door. It feels like it doesn’t want to be opened.

Gideon finds a hedge. He then fondles the door until he knows what’s up (Identify). Gets a splinter. There’s no spell on it - he suggests it’s a mimic. He decides to try tickling it, but nothing happens. “Listen here, you two-plank hinge swinger!” He rolls to intimidate the door and gets a 6. Popcorn gives him a quizzical look.

Perhaps it’s undead? Gideon holds his prayer wheel to it; nothing happens. He tries offering it a gold piece; as he places it down, he notices the floor is sticky with what looks like blood. Perhaps it wants a blood offering? We investigate the blood. It doesn’t seem ritualistic, but looks like something bleeding has been dragged through them. Okay.

Ahleqs picks up some of the blood and tries not to be sick as he rubs it on the door; nothing happens so he listens for the singing. It’s strangely quiet now though. Melaina checks the door for traps.

The hinges on the door don’t look gummed up or rusted, and there is no sign of traps. She has picked the lock but it won’t open. She cannot see any reason for this. Gunna tries pushing the door. Nothing. We argue about what to do next.

While we’re bickering, the doors swing open. SpooooooOOOOooooOOOky!

Gunna goes in. We all try to follow but something happens to Gunna so we have to wait. No - it’s a description that Joe is trying to get out before we all rush in, and while we’re all shouting over him.

There are two statues (demonic looking) in the foyer - we hear cracking, and the statues come to life. ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!

We roll initiative. Tarragon turns to look for Popcorn but he’s disappeared. She decides he can look after himself for a minute.

Ahleqs does Tides of Chaos (rolls 69 - nice) to give himself advantage on an Eldritch Blast (slashing and bludgeoning don’t seem to do much), and can choose up to three creatures to hit with 4d10 lightning damage. Holy Shit. Big Boy Magic Time!

They’re not dead - they attack Tarragon and Gunna, and only manage to hit Gunna once. Don’t worry, Gideon will save the day! He considers Greasing them, but goes with Scorching Ray instead.

Melaina obliterates one with an arrow and her new sharpshooter feat, Gunna gets the other shortly after. Final Fantasy Fanfare. We make checks to see what they were - turns out they were gargoyles.

Popcorn is shivering in a clump of trees outside; Tarragon gives him some food and helps him hide better, and tells him she’ll come back for him.

Meanwhile, Gideon fist bumps a griffin statue and it opens a doorway. There are spiral stairs going up and down, but the stairs up are blocked off by a portcullis. Going past the stairs is another room, large, with chairs and tables and a chandelier. There’s a bit of a Marie Celeste vibe. As Tarragon and Kessler move into he room, the chandelier suddenly falls to the floor with a horrendous crash; Ahleqs screams like a girl and Gunna shouts ‘Shield Wall!’

I was wrong - Gideon fist bumped the statue and opened a secret passage in this room. It ends at a wall that looks like it slides to one side but there is no obvious mechanism. We move into the dining room to the south instead and interrupt a ghostly dinner party. OooooOOOoooOOOoo!!

Ahleqs stutters an apology, at which all of the ghosts stop talking and turn to him. The host turns to screech at Ahleqs, ‘ you should not be here!’ rushes at him and vanishes, along with all the other ghosts and it is all quiet. Ahleqs scrambles over Tarragon to get away.

The table is thickly covered in dust, with what look like plates underneath the dust. Gideon is afraid of ghosts and refuses to come in. There are tapestries on the wall depicting hunting scenes and courtly life; they crumble in Tarragon’s hand. Ahleqs finds a door to the south, but not a secret one. Locked though. Melaina has a go at picking it, but she gets Guidance from Tarragon so 10 is enough - just as well.

The room suddenly erupts into flame - we are temporarily blinded and make Wisdom saves. Ahleqs does Tides of Chaos to give himself advantage, and can’t speak for a minute. Every time he tries, pink bubbles emanate from his mouth. The flames are illusory. Phew!  

There’s a ballroom behind the doors that Melaina picks. The ghost from before appears floating in the room - he looks younger. A beautiful woman enters - he holds her and they look into each others eyes.

They talk about running away together (what about his wife?), and an army of undead? I think? There are glass doors that would open outside - we can’t see through them because they’re so dirty. We try anyway. Gunna sees what looks like an outdoor pool.

Gideon plucks up the courage to follow us now that the ghosts have gone. Ahleqs looks at the fireplace. Nothing special. (only rolls 12 tho.) Tarragon can’t find any buttons or switches. Gunna tries the doors to the pool and they swing open.

The pool water is green and has skeletons in it. As Gunna approaches he notices what looks like a sword glinting by the rotting deck chairs. He rushes over and picks it up without checking, because that’s how you play d&d. We hear Gunna giggling and exclaiming ‘treasure!’ He has activated an Encounter. He has not, in fact, won d&d.

There is a horrendous heaving sound - a huge decomposing beholder rises out of the pool, its eyes rotten and blind. Roll initiative!!!

Tarragon casts Thunderwave at 2nd level. Ahleqs screams, and casts Witch Bolt. Then he clicks the right spell instead of Burning Hands, and does 19 damage. He does Tides of Chaos again - his hair falls out.

The beholder does an Enervation Ray and nearly kills Tarragon and Gideon; Tarragon heals Gideon and Picasso’s herself into a bear. (Eyes in wrong place, seeing out the back until Joe fixes it for her)

Gunna kills it and it explodes, showering us in gross. Gunna rolls a 22 on his dex save and grabs a deck chair to shield himself, while shouting ‘Shield wall!’ again.

Gideon investigates the sword Gunna found - it is a sword of +1. Shiny!

We go down the spiral staircase into a cellar - a door slams shut behind us. There is a dial, which has to be turned and a four digit code must be input.

There is a flesh golem on a table, with buckets of organs all around, and surgery implements. Worst of all, a noxious gas starts to fill the room.

We have to put the correct body parts on the golem - Ahleqs volunteers to sew them on, giving himself advantage with Tides of Chaos. A unicorn appears controlled by the DM; as it does so it looks around itself in disgust and promptly disappears again. On the second roll he gets a Modron. What in the world is going on.

Third roll he becomes immune to being intoxicated for 22 days. Bummer.

The golem is complete - Kessler pulls the lever and electrocutes the thing and awakens it. It gets up and rushes toward the locking mechanism, puts in the number and the gas disappears. Thanks kind sir! After that he (we assume it’s a he; the area one would normally check in case of confusion is tastefully blurred out on the diagram, and wouldn’t necessarily help us anyway) crumbles back into his component parts. Ahleqs faints.

When he awakes, he investigates the room and finds a magic satchel. He opens it but holds his head away from it in case it attacks. Gideon sticks his arm in the satchel to see how deep it is - it (his arm) disappears. Ahleqs puts one of the golem’s arm inside - it disappears. When he reaches in again he is able to pull it out. It appears to be a Bag of Holding! Gideon remarks that Ahleqs seems to have fouled this one up already; he wants to know if Bags of Holding are machine washable. (I am on the floor at this point.)

Gideon has a go at investigating the secret passageway. The DM reminds us that the door was revealed by fist bumping the griffin statue. God we’re stupid. Tarragon tries another fist bump, misses, falls into the statue and something happens. Holy fuck are we stupid. I love this game.

The door at the end of the secret passage opens, but the near door closes again, shutting Gunna away from the rest of us.

Gunna finds himself in an almost empty room with blood smears and a rug. There are several doors leading out of this room.

Everything is running slow, so Joe calls it there. (Had a feeling this would be more than a one-shot…)

Duncan asks how much less we got done than Joe thought we would; the basement took a lot less time but everything else took ten times longer. Yeah, we’re fuckin’ stupid!

[kenzieam]

Trick or Treat - An Eric & Fox Halloween Oneshot

Rating: M (SMUT, SMUT, BEAUTIFUL SMUT)

Thanks everyone for the re-blogs and support!!! IT IS SO AWESOME!!!

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THIS STORY IS A PRETTY COMMON HALLOWEEN THEME, BUT HERE IS MY TAKE ON FOX AND ERIC, ENJOY…. I DID

“This is going to be great!” Ally enthused, sitting back. “Okay, blink.”

I blinked, feeling the fake eyelashes settle awkwardly on my lids. “They feel weird.”

“They’re supposed to,” Ally reached for her lip gloss then turned back to me. “Don’t touch them!”

I dropped my hand like a guilty child, sufficiently chagrined and curled my fingers against my thighs. I jumped slightly when I felt bare skin and looked down. I always wore jeans, training pants, sweats or the occasional capris; I never wore skirts and certainly not skirts this short. Seeing me finger my hemline Ally snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re even Dauntless?”

“Graduated higher than you.” I muttered, sneaking a grin at my best friend. This was a running joke for us, although we’d both scored high in our initiation class, you’d have a hard time believing it, of me at least. I never wore the skimpy outfits Dauntless women were known for, and I had no visible tattoos or piercings beyond my bottom lip, even my hair was it’s natural shade; but that isn’t saying much, it’s goddamn fox-pelt red, hence my Dauntless name, Fox. Shit, I was a square, man, no wonder I didn’t have a boyfriend.

Tonight was Dauntless’ annual Halloween party, and if there was ever a faction tailor-made for a holiday, and vice versa, it was Dauntless and All Hallow’s Eve. The whole Pit was decorated in black and cobwebs, skeletons and fake ghosts, and the speakers spewed a constant mix of hellish grunge metal and angry alternative rock, bands like Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie and Alice Cooper, interspersed with an occasional, completely incongruous word vomit of some song called ‘The Monster Mash’. Ally, my best friend and fellow transfer (Erudite for her, Abnegation for me), had managed to convince me to dress up tonight and attend the annual party, whereas last year I’d been able to beg off, feigning a convincing chest cold, and the year before that we’d been initiates, and banned from the legendary festivities.

She’d even managed to pour me into a tiny embarrassment of a dress, more torn lace and black satin than anything else, with a corset body that pushed my not-inconsiderable chest directly up under my chin, and also lacked anything resembling a skirt, merely a few anaemic swatches of satin and lace tangled together that barely covered the ass I had, well, worked my ass off for doing squats. The black silk boyshorts I wore underneath covered more than the damn skirt did but Ally had begged and pleaded for me to dress her counterpoint, the dark twin to her slutty angel, so here we were, the Yin and Yang of barely covered naughty bits. I even wore a long black straight wig, I didn’t recognize myself at all.

Ally’s dress was no better, and, other than the colour, was not virginal or angelic in anyway, but, as Ally had reminded me at least a half-dozen times in the last hour, Halloween was the night it was okay to dress up as a slut, that’s what every girl was, even if she had mouse ears on her head, she was probably wearing lingerie and was a ‘slutty mouse’. I didn’t understand the appeal, but Ally had been talking about nothing else since mid-September and I was, despite myself, getting excited about the upcoming night.

“Don’t worry about anything, just find a guy with a costume you like and start making out with him.” Ally continued, putting the finishing touches on my blood-red lips.

“No frickin’ way,” I replied, watching as she grabbed a different tube of lip gloss, this a pearlescent white and started coating her own mouth. “I not making out with anyone.”

“It doesn’t count if you’re wearing a costume,” Ally replied, smoothing down her dyed-platinum blonde hair, ironed straight as a board and hanging almost to her ass.

“It also doesn’t count if you don’t do it,” I replied stubbornly. I’d never really connected with the opposite sex here at Dauntless, they were all loud and muscular, sweaty and aggressive, yelling non-stop at each other in the mess hall, throwing food and challenging each other to fights in the Pit. I’d taken care of enough children when I was a Stiff, I didn’t feel like doing it now. Fortunately, my job as a tattoo artist was fairly obligation-free. I was waitlisted for a leadership spot, probably in the Ambassador or Family Resources division, but so far nothing had come up. I was content for now, however, tattooing and my apprenticeship for body-piercing was almost complete. My interactions with man-children was fortunately limited, once their ink was done I could kick them out of my chair.

“He might be there.” Ally sing-songed, fitting her gauzy angel wings to her back.

“Who?” I replied mulishly. We both knew goddamn well who he was, but damned if I was going to say his name.

“Eric,” Ally sang, winking at me. I snorted and looked away. Ally walked up behind me in the mirror and grinned over my shoulder. “Yeah, and I hear he’s single now. Him and Zoë broke up.”

“So?”

“Sssooo, now’s your chance.”

I made a fart noise with my lips. “Bullshit.” The brick wall otherwise known as Eric Coulter had his choice of women here at Dauntless, most of which were willing to ride that walking cock with no strings attached, he’d never looked my way before, why would he now? With the exception of his nerve-wracking lurking around our initiation training two years ago, I never even saw the guy around. I was pretty sure I was at the bottom of his list of desired conquests.

“Okay,” Ally grinned, “whatever you say Foxy…. Ready to go?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready as I’m ever going to be.”

We held hands as we reached the edge of the Pit; the music was even louder down here, vibrating through the floor and I scanned the writhing crowd. Everyone was in costumes of varying complexity and detail and, just like I’d guessed, most of the girls were wearing more skin than clothes, although few seemed to have gone with a good/bad twin theme like Ally and I had. I rapidly grew uncomfortable as someone recognized me and began elbowing their neighbours, stunned by what I was wearing. A few of my tattoos were finally visible and I saw a lot of eyes widening as they started to realize I wasn’t quite the prude everyone thought.

Ally squeezed my hand and grinned at me, pulling me towards the bar and I felt a hand drop onto my shoulder. I turned my head to see Uriah Pedrad, one of the few people I considered a friend, who insisted on only me for his tattoos, staring at me in drunken shock. He leaned in close, brow furrowed before he finally realized who I was; it was probably the small chevron scar on the corner of my lip, courtesy of my snake bite piercing getting ripped out one night, that gave me away.

“Holy shit, Foxy Loxy,” he slurred, grinning widely, his cowboy hat askew and button-down shirt undone enough to show off his ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’ t-shirt underneath. “You look diff’rent, but shit, you look GOOD!”

“Thanks Uri,” I mumbled, red-faced. His large hand suddenly slapped my back. “An’ I love yur wings!”

Tattooed across my back were a large pair of black raven’s wings and written vertically down my spine was ‘Fallen Angel’. Nobody besides Ally and my occasional boyfriends had ever seen these, even when I wore my usual muscle shirts all anyone could see was a non-descript black curve on the backs of my shoulders.

“Holy sheeet, yur a babe!” Uriah babbled.

Ally rolled her eyes and handed me a plastic cup. “Drink,” she ordered me. “It’s a double, you’re going to need it.”

Fortunately, Uriah had a short attention span and soon found himself getting his ass kicked in a modified game of beer pong. I watched him for awhile, couldn’t help but smile at the big doofus. Ally was pulled out right away for a dance by a guy dressed as a mummy and I smiled at them. She’d never had any problems making friends or interacting with guys. She was always the life of the party and sometimes I wondered just how in the hell we’d ended up as friends. All of my relationships had been quiet and sweet, fizzing out more from lack of interest than anything else. Although by no means a virgin, I still didn’t really understand what all the fuss was about, sex wasn’t that great; a lot of squirming and squealing. Ally said I just hadn’t found a good one yet, a man that would set me on fire, would I ever find that?.

Maybe tonight? I ordered myself to relax, to stop standing here like fucking installation art and at least act like I knew how to have a good time. Ally had pushed protection at me, and I was up to date with my birth control, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for not finding a guy, not tonight. Dauntless was pretty laidback about casual sex, and I’d yet to have tried out that faction perk. I decided tonight was the night, I was going to see what all the fuss was about, I was going to have fun.

Although I’m a little embarrassed to say that my new get-up made for an endless stream of interested guys, and more than a few girls, sidling up to me, something didn’t feel right and I politely begged off each one. If I was only giving myself permission to go wild one night, I was going to make it count.

I had my head cocked to the side, trying to understand what the scarecrow in front of me was babbling about when hot breath tickled my ear.

“You look good enough to eat.”

I couldn’t stop a jump, that deep husky tone was like a caress up my spine, a hand between my legs. My heart started to beat harder and I felt suddenly warmer. I turned and looked up at the owner of that sinful voice.

He was tall and muscular, which was pretty much every guy in Dauntless, but this one stood tall, confident in himself. He was all in black, black jeans, long-sleeved button-down black shirt. A large and realistic wolf-head covered his features. It looked like it was made of real fur, and covered his whole head and neck, all the down to his collarbones. The only part I could see was a slice of square jaw through the mouth hole and the glint of eyes deep in the mask.

I had no fucking idea who this guy was, but my body didn’t care. Sensations like I’d never felt had begun to race through me, and I’m pretty sure I looked like the textbook definition of ‘body language - desire’. Was it the alcohol I’d been drinking? I was tipsy sure, but not drunk. I doubted it was my vow to have a good time either, if that had been the case, any of the guys before this one would have worked, but no, my body had decided. This was the guy. I was suddenly nervous. I doubted very strongly I was being at all subtle, I was all but panting right now, but FUCK… whoever this guy was, he was making my body hum like a tuning fork.

I couldn’t really tell because his face was covered, but I got the idea he was feeling something similar. His eyes glittered through the mask and he’d edged closer to me. Every few seconds his hands would twitch, like he was fighting not to reach over and touch me. His cologne was intoxicating, but underneath that, there was more, a natural scent to him that called to my blood, and I was shocked and mortified when sudden X-rated thoughts flooded my mind, thoughts and ideas of what kinds of fun we could have between the sheets. I’m pretty sure I’d found the guy Ally had told me about, the one that would set me on fire.

I shook my head slightly, realizing I’d taken an embarrassing amount of time to answer him, had been standing here drooling, looking like a cat in heat.

“Y-yeah?” I managed to stutter back.

He chuckled, a panty-dropping sound that did nothing to stop the moisture flooding my silk panties. Fuck, who was this?? To both my horror and intense relief he moved even closer and leaned down to murmur, in that same heated purr, “can I take a bite?”

My mouth opened and closed as I tried to form some type of answer. My body was screaming ‘hell yes!’, even if my mind hadn’t caught up yet. Fuck it, I decided. Tonight I’m going to have fun.

“You can have a taste,” I purred back, giving in to the desire flooding my body. It was a heady sensation, intoxicating and a confidence I didn’t know I had poured into my limbs.

He seemed a little startled by my answer, so I reached up and grabbed his furry cheek, pulled him down to my mouth and FUCK ME. His lips were soft and warm, and the jolt that shot through me as our lips touched was almost painful. He inhaled sharply too, then pressed his lips harder to mine, his tongue sweeping against me. I opened my mouth and the feel of his tongue sent shivers down my spine. His arms wrapped around me, crushing me to him as he started kissing me like he never wanted to stop, like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. I felt the same, clawing at him, trying to pull him even closer. His chest was hard against mine, and I felt my nipples harden, a tiny shiver shooting through him as he felt it too.

We devoured each other’s mouths and it felt fucking incredible. I’d never been kissed like this before, had a guy’s tongue exploring every inch of my mouth, or mine his, and I cursed myself for missing out on this all these years. Shit, if people were capable of kissing like this, who the hell had time to make trouble anywhere else? Finally, we had to pull apart to keep from passing out and I tipped my forehead against his furry face, panting. His hands tightened on me and I could feel him rock hard pressing against my bare thigh. My heart went into overdrive, fuck, I wanted this… we’d have to get out of here in a hurry to keep from giving our fellow party-goers a show. He seemed to have the same idea, his eyes gazing right into mine as he growled.

“We need to go somewhere more private,” his voice was guttural and I nodded. Every cell in my body was screaming for him right now, I’d never felt like this before. I nodded.

“Fuck, yeah baby,” he purred, melting against me, obviously as affected by me as I was of him. It was an incredible sensation and I didn’t want it to go away. His large hand slipped into mine and he pulled me away from the bar. I could feel tension in him, like he was fighting the urge to drag me out of there, was forcing himself to walk like a normal person. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I didn’t care, I was so turned on right now I’d fuck him in a dark corner of the Pit.

He turns and pulls me ahead of him while we’re walking and the way he’s grabbing my hips make me realize he feels the same way too, that we’re not going to make it very far out of the Pit and away from the party before he gives in to the animal lust roaring through both of us; and I’m right.

We make it as far as the Chasm before he pushes me roughly against the railing and rubs his whole body against my back, purring low in his throat. I can barely hear him over the howl of the rushing water but that’s okay, we can be as loud as we want up here and no one will know. The thought is freeing, that and the feeling of him pressed up against me, his cock a hard ridge against my ass. I arch my back to rub against his straining dick and his arms tighten around me, a strangled sound in his throat.

“Fuck,” I hear him behind me, it sounds like his teeth are gritted, like he’s fighting hard to be at least partially gentle with me, but I don’t want that, I want hard, fast and rough. This surprises me, I normally don’t, but I want this and him so bad it hurts.

I drop my head back against his muscular shoulder, shiver as his hands roam over my breasts and moan against the soft fur of his mask.

“Fuck me goddammit. Hard and fast, make me scream.” I’ve never said such words before, never felt compelled to but Jesus, I’m throbbing for this dizzying stranger. He groans again, shuddering against me and yanks hard, my breasts pop free and fill his hands. I cry out as I almost come right there, tingles racing hot through me and his hips pump against my ass. His fingers find the barbells through my nipples and he gives a low sound of approval that I feel more than hear. His calloused fingers pinch me and I bit back a wail, grinding desperately back against him. One hand drops to cup between my legs and he nearly snarls with lust as he feels how soaked I am and there is no more teasing, neither one of us can wait anymore.

He pushes aside my panties and I feel him fumbling with his pants, then the head of his cock pressing against my folds. He slams inside me, filling me in one vicious, powerful thrust and I scream into the Chasm’s roar. His grip is bruising as he holds my hips, ramming into me and it feels so fucking incredible, it’s all I can do to hang onto the railing and keep us from plunging headfirst into the raging water. That’s part of the excitement, part of the appeal, certain death in front of me and definite ecstasy behind me and I feel the most amazing fucking sensations racing through me as he thrusts into me, slamming me from behind. His hand snakes forward and he finds my hood piercing and my blood heats all the more at his lust-filled groan.

My body is jerking violently, his powerful, almost out of control thrusts smashing me against the railing and I finally understand what all the fuss is about. With the right person sex is mind-blowing, amazing; and it vaguely occurs to me that I’ve been missing out on an amazing experience my whole time at Dauntless; one I’m not going to overlook again. I hope whoever this is with the monster cock driving inside me has a nice personality, because he’s not going anywhere now.

The incredible sensations racing through me finally coalesce into a single bolt of mind-blowing ecstasy and I give in with a scream, arching back against his straining chest as the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had rips through me. My vision greys and only him behind me, erratically thrusting, panting roughly, keeps me from collapsing. The wolf behind me finally howls as he comes hard and I feel him pulsing inside me, his seed warm. Another, almost instantaneous climax tears through me and I hear him moan behind me as my walls milk him, drawing out his orgasm, his hips pressed hard against my ass. Finally, we collapse forwards, panting, leaning over the railing, too overwhelmed with what we just shared to do anything more than just exist for awhile. His weight is crushing me, but it’s a good feeling, and despite the fact that I don’t know this man’s name, I don’t even know what he looks like, I feel safe with him, safe and…. holy shit, loved? No, desired, definitely. I want more, I want so much more with this stranger.

Finally, with a shudder he stands up, pulling free from me and I shiver at the sudden cold. His seed trickles down my thighs and I hurriedly tuck my breasts back into my dress. For a half-second I feel awkward and consider standing here, staring at the Chasm until he leaves but no, we just shared everything, saw each other at our most vulnerable, we’re past that now. I take a deep breath and turn. He���s standing close behind me, chest still heaving, waiting for me to say something. I smile and bite my bottom lip. His growl is hungry when he steps back towards me, hand snaking into my wig and tipping my head back for another kiss, it falls off and he throws it away without looking up. The mask gets in the way this time and he snarls in frustration, yanking it off. I don’t want to disturb the illusion, not yet, so I keep my eyes closed as his lips claim mine again instantly. My head swims and the same passion he awoke at the bar floods my body again. He crushes me to his body as I cling to his and we pull apart enough to rest our foreheads together, breathe heavily and share the same air for a long moment. Finally, on some unspoken signal, we open our eyes, see for the first time who we just gave our hearts to, who we just fucked ‘till they screamed.

My heart skips and I lean back against the railing for support. It can't be.... Eric??

His eyes are huge and he licks his lips before speaking. “Fox?”  

I‘m almost speechless, how does he even know my name? It’s not like we run in the same social circles, hell, I don’t have a circle. I’m stunned, even though our sex was rough, there was still an inherent gentleness I felt in him, something I didn’t expect from Eric Coulter. The mask had hidden his leadership bars, his long sleeves his forearm tattoos, and I didn’t know him well enough to pick him out by voice or scent…. until now. Eric had just given me the most powerful orgasm I’d ever had, and I think I’d returned the favour, but…. damn.

Finally, still riding this carefree edge I just found, I grin and ask, “Trick or Treat?”

Eric grins back, a wide, genuine smile that takes my breath away. I’ve never talked to him before, never seen anything but the scowling leader storming through the Pit, so this side of him is unexpected and gives me a warm feeling in my chest. We just gaze at each other for a long moment, but the awkwardness I expect doesn’t come. I’m not embarrassed in front of him, and he’s not with me.

The grin still on his face, Eric closes the distance between us, watching me with hooded eyes. Stopping so close we’re almost touching he reaches up and caresses my cheek. His touch is warm and gentle and a tiny voice inside me hums contentedly. He leans forward and just before his lips touch mine he whispers.

“Treat.”

[indy-bindy]

Meeting

'God damn it!' I can never find the damn store I needed when I really needed it. Hmm.. I mean I'd been walking for probably maybe a full hour that should've only taken maybe ten minutes to find. I was starting to get really annoyed. Jesus, friends, why the hell couldn't you just tell me where the fuck it was? I just wanted to find something for my stupid cybernetics to really work and this was really pissing me off. So, I texted them telling them I had to give it up, and noticed my phone was on it's last two percent. With a groan of frustration, I looked around and spotted a tiny park in the middle of the city. Good thing it was like eight at night, but it was darkening fast because it was fall now, and everyone was starting to close up their shops, minus the many bars around here. I guess that's the joy of hanging in downtown Seattle all the time. Meh. Now if I could find my portable charger. I was rummaging through my bag for a few moments and swearing to myself under my breath when I heard a very loud cawing. It was strange, because most the crows were cawing to alert others. This caw was..I don't really know the best way to put it. It held a demanding tone to it, as if it was seeking the attention of humans and not other crows. I mean, the bastard scared me from looking in my bag to him, perched on a tree branch literally like a foot from my left shoulder. The branch was slightly sagging from his size, he looked almost as big as a bald eagle and was so black it was hard to tell if he even had feathers or if he was just a solid mass of shadow. "What the actual fuck?" I managed to inquire, my breath escaping me. One loud caw was the reply, and then he hopped to the ground. Before I really could get a chance to so much as exhale, he melted. I'm not fucking joking. He melted. His beautiful midnight feathers melted and fused together as he began to grow even more, the feathers becoming fabric. His body made rather horrifying sounds as the bones and everything moved and shifted, only to reform into what I was pretty fuckin sure was human skin. For a fleeting second, I saw literally so much I didn't think a crow could be so well blessed to have. I had to blink, though, my eyes were watering as I stared quite blatantly, my eyes affixed to his body as he formed a loose black t shirt and black jeans, kinda loose fitting and looked rather good on him. His hair was short and black. He was totally clean shaven except a stubble just starting to grow on his chin and sorta running across his jaw. This dude stood probably around maybe 5 and half to six feet tall and he was fucking gorgeous. Dude didn't even need a fucking scythe. He could reap my soul by just looking at me and I would literally melt. He had the most intense dark eyes and was that perfect in-between of wiry/muscled without looking emaciated or like he could break me in a hug. Ugh. Those kinda guys were kinda gross to me. But this...Holy hell. "Greetings." I could feel that sensation one gets when they know they're gonna be seduced and both want it horribly but also are afraid they're gonna fall in love in a single second flat. I cleared my throat feeling suddenly shy, uncertain as to how to reply. "H-hi.." I stammered, dumbstruck and scooting over on the bench for him. He smirked. Damn it. Don't do this to me. "What..ah..what brings you here?" I managed. "I had a mild craving for a drink, thought I could see if anyone around here would happen to have one. Nice to meet you, by the way. I am..well..Death. Of course, I'm pretty sure you got that." He sat down besides me. "But you ought to just call me Max. Literally everyone knew me as that when I was alive." This absolutely gorgeous man sat down besides me and draped an arm over the bench behind me, scooting a hair closer. "Would you happen to know where a guy could get a good beer around here? I would be most grateful." His voice was so nice to hear, kinda deep and sexy, but not overwhelming. I stood up and adjusted my bag. "I know this is probably on the list of shit I should never do, but you'd have decent luck finding some in my place. My friends always leave me really interesting beer to try and I never get around to it because I'm more of a hard liquor kinda chick myself, but you can just get drunk or whatever on it, it'd save it from going bad. I also have hard cider...Oh but you don't wanna hear me ramble. Come on, it'll be cool to have company!" I smiled and starting to walk to my place, the grim reaper following almost soundlessly behind me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After about ten minutes, somehow I had found us the way home. Good thing I remembered a shop I had walked by earlier, decorated with cute dancing skeletons. "I always found it interesting how humans celebrated Halloween," Max commented. I stopped only for him to run right into me, pushing me up against a wall for a moment against a perpendicular building. It may have been a small moment of silliness, but for a second I could feel this intense feeling. Not fear...a little spark. I blinked up at him and he placed his palms against the wall on either side of my face. "My apologies," He murmured. 'Why is he talking to me like this..is he going to..? No, he just wants to drink and talk to someone. He probably does this shit all the time..' He removed his hands and pulled away. Fuck, his body was like right there. I didn't feel cold, surprisingly. Instead, it felt really hot. "Don't be," I mumbled and removed myself from the wall. "Don't forget to breathe" He admonished lightly, forming a pure black cloak around his neck, the cape of it riding the light breeze as we kept walking. I tried my best not to think of the fact that I literally was letting death through my door, but I also couldn't give two shits. I was 24, yeah, but I had nearly nothing. No friends, no family close enough to touch, my mother was really busy like my dad and my brother was off with his girl for all eternity, plus most of my friends were really busy. I spent a lot of my life for a very long time idolizing him and when he would come for me. I didn't exactly know this was what the universe had in mind for me. We finally got to my place and he waited for me to opened my door, which I was struggling a little to open. Dang newfangled locks were supposed to be easier, not harder. After a few more seconds, I managed to click it open and then pushed the door open. "Welcome to my abode." I said, smiling now that I was home. Max stepped in, closing the door behind me. "What a cute and small place.." He turned to me and without even the hint of a warning, I found myself pushed up against my door, pinned again by his body and my hands held to my door. His face was right up in mine, eyes holding mine in a steady and dark gaze. "M-Max?" I managed, breathless and flushed as I tried to pull my wrists free. His grip was very sure and I felt a slight discomfort trying to move. "What are you-" I was cut off was a burning kiss that made my heart miss a beat and the air leave me. Shit. Was he taking me away now? I moaned softly into the kiss before I could stop myself, loving the surprising softness of his mouth against mine. He let go of one of my wrists and I was about to slide my arms around his neck, but he pulled away, lightly feathering kisses down my cheek, my jawline, then down my neck, stopping specifically just before the base of my neck. "So fragile." He murmured, tingles racing down my neck as I gasped softly, an inaudible moan escaping me. "I thought you wanted a beer.." I managed, trying to maintain some level of composure as he kissed a bit further. "Yes. But. I. Want. You. More. Little. One." he kissed his way down my neck and was working his way down to my collarbone. "I can help-" He shook his head as he kissed me again, harder, heated and with an intensity I've never felt from anyone. His fingers found my zipper and he pulled it down, unveiling. Slowly. I wanted him to hurry, to get what he wanted from me so I myself could have a drinks. I tried to help him but he pulled away, lightly biting my lower lip. "No," He smiled and finished pulling my zipper down, kneeling before me. Deft fingers made short work of my shoes and I had them off in no time. I felt sort of weird, no one just does this kind of stuff to me without some level of awkward. "I like these, by the way. I'm not much for fashion, but you look good in these." He winked at me and I could feel myself melting a bit. "Death and thigh-highs.." I giggled some at the idea. Someone who collects the souls of the deceased wants to touch my body in ways I'm pretty sure I could never really explain...Woah, Nelly. "Mira, sit." He ordered, after pulling my last stocking off. I did as told, followed by the mighty grim reaper, who sat facing me. "Come close, Mira. I need to finish unwrapping you." I scooted closer and he pulled me into his lap, hands splayed over my back as he admired the view. "Do you like my shirt?" I asked. It was actually akin to a corset, tightly made and pushing my breasts up against me, making them much more noticeable. I didn't know I was going to end up actually not alone for a night, so I thought it'd be funny to wear something sexy today, plus I was hoping to get someone at the place I had been looking for. It was kinda pink and it had a column of hooks marching up the center. Sleeveless and strapless, it accentuated my curves and my body, making me look a bit skinnier than I actually was. Apprehension set in as he started to unbutton my jeans, pulling the zipper down and hooking his fingers into the waistband. He peeled them off, planting kisses down my legs before unzipping my shirt. I finally got my chance, and climbed into his lap, my fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt and pushed up, my wrists catching his shirt. I slid it up and he bowed his head so I could get it off completely. I felt my shirt also fall away and he dropped it to the floor, seizing my arms and holding them to my back. 'He won't let me touch him much. Hmm.' His kisses trailed down to my bra and he kissed the little bow between my breasts, working his way down my body and sliding his hands to my back, finding my the hooks on the back of my bra and deftly undoing them. "Say goodbye to your barrier, little one. You are mine, now." I swallowed hard as he hooked his thumbs in my underwear, pulling down. I met with resistance. "Please.." I murmured, "Slow down. I need to feel you, too. If I am yours, than you should be mine." He lightly kissed my cheek. "Oh no, little girl. I am totally getting what I desire so much. I know you'll enjoy everything I have to give you, but worry not," His dark eyes seemed to light up in what I was sure was probably a rare moment of warmth, and in them I saw a multitude of beautiful colors, ranging from full black to copper to gold to brown and to chocolate colors, to the color of autumn leaves as they bid their final farewell. I felt like I was watching a gorgeous movie that only I was allowed to see. "Max.." I breathed. Those eyes looked into mine and I felt my heart skip a beat. I blinked shyly and looked away. "I will not take you away, little one. Your time is far from over." I pressed my body close to his and he slid his hands upwards, cupping my breasts and kneading them slowly, gently. I sighed in bliss, my fingers lacing into his hair. "Please.." He leaned down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth, the other surrounded by warm fingers that teased them and pebbled them into stiff little peaks, a knee spreading my legs apart. I gasped from the intense sensations firing through my nerves like static, my hands gliding down his back while he kissed his way down my skin, his fingers finding their way between my legs and lightly rubbing my clitoris. "Max, please let me have you.." I begged, my back arching from the feeling as it rushed up my body in a wave of intense bliss. He chuckled against my skin and continued until he reached his fingers. He moved his fingers, lightly teasing my outer labia before pushing his fingers deep into me, and not just one, but two. I felt like I was going to melt around him. I clenched my vaginal walls, wanting to feel him inside me.. "Hold on, Mira," He breathed against me, "Let daddy go." He ordered and his fingers slid out of me. "No, damn it!" I cried as he pulled away, only to pull me upright and lean me back against the couch. He knelt on the floor and resumed his assault on the most sensitive places of me, his tongue entering the mix as he started to lick deeper and deeper into me before pulling back and lightly licking and teasing me once more. He drew a line straight up to my clitoris again, sucking a bit on it for good measure while I writhed and shuddered around him, a powerful surge of pleasure spiking through my entire body. "Please, daddy! I'm gonna come!" I bit my finger hard, my teeth digging in and cutting through a bit. "Please!" I mewled.  The man that was death took orders from me, lifting my hips and eating me out with a drive that couldn't be matched by most people and was doing it so well that I did come, explosively. I felt the clenching sensation as all my muscles started to spasm and my hot juices drenched him. He seemed to not mind, drinking me like I was the best cup of cream in the world. "Yes!!! Fuck! Me! Please!" I cried. He pulled away, suddenly kissing me and thrusting deep into me. I felt the sweetness of my fluids in my mouth as he deposited my come in there. I swallowed, moaning loudly. "Kitten feels so fucking tight.." He groaned, resting his hands on either side of my face as he went at me, thrusting hard and with solid, long strokes that seem aimed for my g-spot. I cried out loudly with every single thrust, my body tightening more and more around his cock as I slid my arms around his neck. He leaned down, his teeth finding my neck and biting down softly at first, but as we got closer to orgasm, his bites became a bit harder. "Ready?!" He growled into my ear. My body was so coiled up I felt like I was about to explode, bliss and absolute ecstasy clouding my head and taking me away to a whole new place. Max suddenly bit down, hard, his teeth breaking the skin and I felt the waves of bliss wash over me every few seconds. "Oh, yessssssss...." I purred, clinging to him as I felt his cock pulsating and his semen flooding into the depths of me. Our juices combined, spilling out of me and onto my couch. Good thing it was leather. I wrapped my legs around him until he finally finished, wrapping his arms tightly around me. Our breathing was slowing a few minutes later and I finally got up, wrapped in my bathrobe since I needed to shower anyways. "Max?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him. He lay gloriously naked in my sheets and was smiling sleepily at me. I could feel the heat in my face and I looked away. "Did you still want that beer?" I heard the sheets rustle, then felt him gently run his finger down my spine, sending an intense chill down my back. "Yes, please." His reply was simplistic and held no specific emotions. "There's some blood on you. Let me clean it first." He went off to the kitchen and returned moments later with a damp towel and wiped me down with it and an alcohol swab he seemed to have procured. "I didn't mean to do that," He mused. "Don't worry, I've been through much worse." "I would know. I've seen you so often and you always somehow were so cheerful. That's why it made me happy the day I came for him, he won't bother you anymore." He smiled and slid my bra over my shoulders. "Allow me." Hold up, what? Woah. I could feel myself turning slightly red. “You don't have to do that." I mumbled, but he was already fastening the hooks with precision before  looking through my drawers, finally selecting a pair of cute sky blue ones with little penguins on them. "Hey! I can dress myself!" I giggled. "Jesus, I'm not a kid. I can do all of this stuff here without any help." I said, as he sauntered back to me, kneeling and started to dress me. His fingers made short work of it and seemed to have far too much practice in this. I didn't care, though, it was kinda funny to see the almighty spirit of death trying to hunt me down some pjs. He found some pants and picked his shirt up off the floor, shaking it out. He dropped it next to me on the floor and repeated the process with my pants, then pulled them up to just below my belly. "Arms up." He grinned at me. "I don't need your help, Max. I can adult!" He chuckled and suddenly pushed me against my bed, his eyes becoming serious. "So you think you can adult? Could you adult enough to win against me?" I nodded, doing my best to keep a straight face. I felt a sudden dark tendril of fear and desire streak through me as he drew himself to his full height. "Can you win when you alone are simply half-mortal?" I blinked. "Small girl, you have no idea what I am capable of. Only a fraction of a fraction of the truth." Damn it. "So you can actually control your kiss of death or whatever..?" I asked, entering the kitchen and opening the fridge. I leaned on the door some and sighed. What to eat? "Yes. I could easily take the life you have fought so hard to maintain in the blink of an eye." He'd followed me and was now steadily breathing against my neck. I flinched slightly from the proximity. "Do you like having random sex with people or is that just me?" He snorted. "Of course it's just you, all these other humans are too fragile for me. Like I could save them from me. I am simply a result, however. You..however..you're not fully human." He stated, reaching for a Shock Top and backing off. He was right. I was a cybernetic machine. "That is why it would be a bit harder to take you, anyways. You're still part machine, something that lasts much longer than most humans." I smiled and settled for making a sandwich for myself. "Did you want any food?" I asked, looking over at him. He shook his head. "Unless it's you." He stood and sauntered over to me, placing the jelly I had just taken out of the fridge on the counter and trapping me against the counter. Again? I would probably die from the amount of sex that could happen. I leaned back on my hands and looked up at him. "Why?" He shook his head and leaned closer, his breath surprisingly fresh despite what we had done. Must've snagged some of my mouthwash or something. My breathing was picking up and I could feel my blood pressure rising fast. I bit my lip and gently placed my hands on his chest, uncertain as to whether I wanted to kiss him. Instead, I pushed him back some, then slipped under his arm, grabbing the jelly and hunting my peanut butter down. Max was on the couch, tying his boots. "I actually must take my leave. I need to go collect souls." He seemed to be brooding slightly. "Hey," I said, "Don't worry, I still hope you'll come by to visit sometime." I finished making my sandwich and started to eat. He picked up the bottle and drained the rest of it, his eyes searching the apartment. "Recycling is by the front door," Both of us got up and he almost ran into me a second time, though not as compromising. "Ladies first," His voice sent a tingle through my body. "Thanks. Be careful out there..who knows what will try to defy you this time." I smiled and we headed for the door. Damn it. I wish I could have a roommate. It sucked to live alone sometimes. "Mira, I'll come back sometime. Otherwise, I will see you when your time comes." He kissed my forehead and I just felt this comforting wave surrounding my head. "Don't do anything stupid, though. Tonight could've ended differently if it had been someone else." I shivered to think if he had been anyone else. "Be careful out there, Max. Come by whenever you feel like it. I have saving the world stuff most of the time, but I'm pretty sure we will meet again." He nodded and I opened the door. "Bye, Max." I smiled and gave a little wave. "Bye, Mira." He took off, melting away into a giant mass of darkness and then reforming as a massive crow once more, taking flight into the starry skies. A few moments later while I was watching tv, it occurred to me to look down for a second. When I did, I felt kind of bad. He forgot his shirt.

<3 END <3

[newstanmarshblog]

The Average and Unusual Couple: Chapter Seven

   Ever since the start of their relationship, Stan and Lydia became more and more closer to each other. They often sit next together in classes and lunch breaks, text each other on their phones whenever big paleontology news break out, and they’ll talk through Skype at least once a week. They even made an oath in not keeping secrets from each other. Stan went first by telling Lydia that he and Wendy used to be in a relationship that has been broken off ever since, and then Lydia admitted to Stan that she at one point almost accidentally kissed a ghost while exploring a haunted house. But despite of their relationship becoming strong, they have also agreed that they need to spend time apart at least once a while, mainly on weekends. While Stan was spending some more time with his friends and playing with his dog, Lydia was spending her time in becoming better friends with Wendy and Bebe, giving Bertha and Prudence a Skype call, and having some more quality with Beetlejuice.

   It’s been now about a month since the two first greeted each other at the school cafeteria, and Lydia has decided that the time has come to put Stan’s trust worthy for her to the ultimate test. She was gonna take him to the Netherworld. In preparation for it to happen, she talked to Stan earlier in wanting to share some of her favorite horror movies with him, and he happily was on board with it.

   It’s the first Saturday on October just after breakfast at the Deetzes household, and a doorbell is ranged. Lydia heads over to the front door to open it. As she opens the door, Stan was standing there waiting to see her.

   Stan: Good morning, Lydia.

   Lydia: Hi, Stan. How was your morning?

   Stan: It went good. My mom made me some pancakes, and then she just dropped off me here while she goes to see some of her friends.

   Lydia: That’s nice. I just finished decorating the house with all of my halloween stuff. Come on in and see them.

   As Stan enters into the house, he sees a lot of halloween decorations around the area. The green couch had a huge quilt that has an image of a witch riding on boom stick on it, ghosts were displayed on the left front window while black spiders were on the right front window, bats are placed all over close to the ceiling, a huge fathead of Dracula is placed between the couch and the stairs, smaller fatheads of zombies are displayed at the stairs, and at the center of the dinning table was a big jack-o’-lantern.

   Stan: Woah, dude. I know that you said on how much you love halloween and all, but this is way more than I expected.

   Lydia: *laughs* Halloween is like my equivalent to how everyone else is to Christmas. This is my most favorite time of the year, and I fucking love so much!

   Stan: Then I can’t wait to see how you’ll dress up for this year’s Halloween party.

   Lydia: Oh, you’ll love it, but I want to keep a surprise for now. Anyway, ready to watch some horror movies with me?

   Stan: Absolutely!

   Stan follows Lydia to her bedroom, and as he comes, he sees the small table with the  black and red spider web covering displayed at the near center of the room along with a candle in a glass placed at top of the table.

   Stan: Why do you have your little table out here? Did you just plan on something extra special for the two of us?

   Lydia: Yes, Stan. For I have one more personal secret to share with you.

   Stan: What is it?

   Lydia: For the past month, I’ve been enjoying hanging out with you so much that I can’t thank you more than enough on being a spectacular friend for me. I love your honestly, your kindness, your humor, and even listening to your stories is a trill to hear. But best of all, you’ve been so far a very trustful person. You keep to your word as I’ve been doing to you too. But now, I’m about to show you the biggest secret that I keep so privately that I never told anyone about. Not even my parents knows about it. So promise me as my newest best friend that you won’t tell a single person on what I’m about to show you. This has to be just the between the two of us, okay?

   Stan has never seen Lydia this serious to him before. For whatever it is, he’s very curious about it.

   Stan: Alright. Show me what it is, and I won’t say a single word for whatever happens here. You have my word.

   Lydia: Thanks. That’s all I need to hear.

   Lydia closes the curtains, and uses a match to light up the candle.

   Lydia: Take my hand, and try not to freak out because I don’t my parents to hear us.

   They both hold each other hands.

   Stan: Okay. Let’s do this.

   Lydia: *takes a huge breath* Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary! Ghostly hauntings I turn loose…Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

   Without warning, a huge thunder sound is heard, the walls of the room tears itself apart, and becomes stone walls. The candle disappears, and the table covering files onto Lydia. Some bats fly around in the newly large room that Stan and Lydia has been teleported into. And during the entire time, Stan did keep his cool despite on flinching a little.

   Stan: Holy shit, dude! Where are we?

   Lydia: If you thought your adventures in South Park were insane enough, then you have yet to experience my adventures in…*opens the wooden door to reveal the outdoors*…the Netherworld!

   Stan gasped in awe by seeing the world that he is in. Skeleton ghosts flying around, roads and houses all being held by floating grounds, and the sky is mainly orange along with partly reddish clouds.

   Stan: I’ve been to Iraq and Afghanistan, went into space twice, and even got sucked into Facebook, but this is by far the most bizarre place that I’ve ever been to. How often you come here?

   Lydia: Usually everyday. This is where I’ve been spending much of my time on being myself for the past 3 years. Anyway, I’m really excited to introduce you to some of my other friends, and tell you about my own strange and unusual stories here. Come on!

   As they start walking together on the floating ground, Stan sees that Lydia is dressed up very differently. Wearing the table covering that now has become a large spiderweb pattern red poncho, over a full-body black unitard.

   Stan: The clothes you’re wearing. Are they your Netherworld clothing?

   Lydia: Why, yes they are. These are my most favorite clothing to wear because they embrace me on being my true self. People would find something like this out of the ordinary, and wearing it in our world is probably illegal to wear in public. But here in the Netherworld, this outfit is pretty ordinary to everyone as I’ve seen clothing that are much more stranger in comparison.

   Stan: Those clothes may be out of the ordinary, but since I’ve gotten to know much about your strange and unusual livelihood, it suits you so perfectly. It brings the true spooky beauty within you that you really are. *begins to smile*

   Lydia smiles back at him and the two look at each other for a brief moment, but all that got interrupted by the sound of a huge honk noise. They both turn around to see a clown holding a bulb horn right in front of them.

   Scuzzo: *laughs hysterically* Boy, I just love ruining a romantic moment all just for a good laugh!

   Lydia: Ah crap, it’s Scuzzo the clown.

   Scuzzo: And what do we have here? One of Beetlepuss’s friends, and a newcomer. What’s your name, young man?

   Stan: Stan.

   Scuzzo: Stan? Ha! That’s like the most boring name in existence. Why don’t you name yourself Spanky instead?

   Lydia: Listen, Scuzzo, I’m giving Stan here a tour of the Netherworld as it’s his first visit here. So, can you kindly please leave us alone?

   Scuzzo: Oh, what’s wrong with me? Ain’t I funny enough for you both? I make people laugh for a living, and they don’t find me annoying at all. Hell, they aren’t even afraid of my looks!

   Stan: You look more like a lame excuse of a hunchback clown being portrayed by Peter Lorre.

   Scuzzo angry: Why I oughta make you pay for that! I know, a simple slapstick in the face should cover it! *laughs*

   ???: Hey, Mr. Lorre, looks like your feet had just fallen asleep in the middle of a railroad.

   Scuzzo: Huh? Who said that?

   ???: Better wake your feet up before the 11:05 train picks you up. Time’s ticking.

   Scuzzo looks down to see that he’s standing in the middle of a railroad. He tries to walk out of the tracks, but can’t as he finally notices that his big feet are sleeping. The sound of a train whistle is heard, and Scuzzo begins to panic.

   Scuzzo panicking: Aahhh! *uses his bulb horn to wake his feet up* Wake up you lazy feet, wake up!

   Stan and Lydia watch the whole thing speechless, and then they get pulled back away from the tracks. They’re both placed into beach lounge chairs, and standing from behind was Beetlejuice.

   Lydia: *laughs* I had a feeling that it was you the entire time.

   Stan: Who the hell are you?

   Beetlejuice: We’ll talk about that in a sec, but right now, let’s watch the show.

   Scuzzo continues to struggle in trying to wake his feet up, but it was too late as the train was about to hit him.

   Scuzzo: AAAAHHHHHH!!!

   The train hits Scuzzo extremely hard that he smashed landed onto the the rail guards in front of the vehicle.

   Scuzzo very angry: I’ll get you for this, Beetlejuice! I SWEAR IT!

   As the train sends Scuzzo off somewhere else, Stan, Lydia, and Beetlejuice were all laughing together.

   Lydia: *laughs* Very cruel, but very funny nonetheless.

   Stan: *laughing* You can’t go wrong on slapstick humor, that’s for sure. But I’m also surprised that the train didn’t kill him.

   Beetlejuice: Well, unless if you’re a visiter from the world of the living, everyone else in the Netherworld can’t be killed off because we’re all already dead. Even though the train didn’t kill off that clown, he’s still gonna be in a lot of pain for the weeks to come.

   Stan: I see. Anyway, who are you?

   Beetlejuice: Have you not just heard on what that fucking clown called me?!

   Stan: Your name is Beetlejuice?

   Beetlejuice: Correct, bucco! Or should I just call you, Stan Marsh.

   Stan was beginning to recognize something about Beetlejuice. The black & white stripe outfit, the long light blonde hair, and those very crooked greenish teeth. He must’ve met him once before.

   Stan: Wait a minute, I have a feeling that we already saw each other once before. Were you Cousin BJ?

   Beetlejuice: *turns himself into Cousin BJ* Aww, you do remember me! I’m so touched!

   Lydia: *laughs* It’s one of his human disguises whenever he visits into our world.

   Stan: You two aren’t actually related by any means, right?

   Lydia: Nope, Beetlejuice and I are BFF. Our relationship goes back ever since shortly after my eleventh birthday.

   Beetlejuice: I was giving her parents some good scares, and Lyds here wasn’t scared by any of my tactics. She found them very amusing, along with my funny pranks, and I loved how really appreciates me for who I am. And that’s how we became the best of pals ever since.

   Lydia: Anyway, me and Stan were about to visit to your roadhouse, BJ. Let’s head on over here, shall we?

   Beetlejuice: Just don’t mind that give my neighbor a usual prank of mine first along the way.

   Stan: Okay, but just answer me one question first. Are you actually a Las Vegas Raiders fan or not?

   Beetlejuice: Oh, that! I was just pulling your leg during that time as a way to give myself a belly laugh. *shows offs his chubby belly with a big mouth laughing hysterically* My actual favorite football team is the Netherworld Eyeballs. Our team are ten time Hollyweird Bowl champions, and our current quarterback has even won MVP three times straight in a row.

   Stan: Maybe take me during one of their regular season games someday so that I can see how your world plays the game in comparison to us Americans.

   Beetlejuice: Stanny boy, you’re twisting my arm on that idea! *twists his right arm* Put it there!

   Stan and Beetlejuice give each other a hand shake, and then the two literally have their entire body shaken for a brief moment.

   Lydia: *laugh* You two definitely are gonna get along really nicely, I’m sure of it.

   They all begin to make their way to Beetlejuice’s roadhouse. And just before they reach to the roadhouse, they come across a huge bull skull that sits across the street from Beetlejuice’s place. A strange small animal approaches them that has bull like horns, a propeller at the end of its tail, and acts like a dog.

   Lydia: Hi, Poopsie!

   Stan: That’s a dog? What kind of a breed he’s supposed to be?

   Lydia: Nobody knows. All other dogs in the Netherworld do look exactly like the dogs from our world, but Poopsie’s kind remains a mystery to this very day. The owner found him all alone at a Netherworld desert some years ago, and has taken him home as his companion ever since.

   Stan: Hmm. But regardless on what you are, it’s nice to meet you, Poopsie. *gives the dog a couple pats on the head*

   Beetlejuice uses his magic to places a big juicy bone right beside Poopsie.

   Beetlejuice: Yo, Poopsie. There’s a nice chilly bone right next to ya!

   The dog looks to his right, and sees the bone that automatically gets him excited. As Poopsie takes his bite on it, fleas begins to pop up from the hole marks, and they begin to crawl all over the dog. Poopsie begins to yap, and tries to get the fleas off of him by rubbing himself on the ground. 

   Beetlejuice: *laughs hysterically* I’m so glad in finally giving those fleas a new dog that they can call as their new home!

   Stan: Dude, what the hell?

   Beetlejuice: What? This mutt has been a pain in my ass for a long time, so I’ve been giving it back to him ever since.

   ???: Beetlejuice! What in tarnation did you do to my dog this time?!

   Coming forward towards them was a some kind of a monster that looks like Gossamer, but with brown hair instead of red, wears some cowboy gear, and doesn’t show any eyes. The monster sees his dog in a lot of agony, and turns his attention to Beetlejuice.

   Monster: Well, are you gonna explain to me, and do I need to give you a knuckle sandwich?

   Beetlejuice: I found those poor fleas all alone with no dog to stay at, then I remember that you have a dog, and send those fleas over to him. Have fun getting them off. *chuckles*

   Monster getting furious: You dang son of a bitch, I’ll have you thrown into a tar pit for this!

   Beetlejuice: I’ve already been into one, it wasn’t as fun as I remember it. But hey, why don’t you have that experience for yourself, and know what it feels like in being one.

   Beetlejuice magically places a tar pit onto Monster’s boots.

   Monster: What in tar-hooties? *sees that he’s stuck onto a tar pit, and struggles to get out of it* Grrraahhh!! Get me the hell out of this damn pit right now!

   Beetlejuice uses his magic to remove the tar pit and the fleas off from Poopsie.

   Beetlejuice: Well, it’s been fun talking with you furball, but now I must take my friends here to my roadhouse. See ya! *flies off*

   Stan: Are you okay, dude?

   Monster: No, I’ve been dealing with his pranks for the past serval years now, and it drives me even more crazier every time he does it! *clams himself down* Hmm, I see that you’re new around here. Who are you, stranger?

   Stan: I’m Stan Marsh, and I’m visiting from South Park. I recently became friends with Lydia here.

   Lydia: We’ve been hanging out together for the past month now, and today I decided to bring Stan over to the Netherworld for the very first time.

   Monster: Please to meet you, Stan. My full name is The Monster Across the Street, but everyone just calls me Monster for short.

   Both Stan and Monster greet to each other by shaking hands.

   Stan: I really like your dog, Monster. His behavior remains a bit of my own dog back at my place.

   Monster: What’s your dog’s name?

   Stan: Sparky. He’s such a loyal, playful, and brave kind of a dog.

   Monster: Poopsie here has that kind of that personality within him too. And since I don’t have any kids, he’s much like a son to me.

   Beetlejuice yelling from the roadhouse: Lyds, Stanny boy, hurry up! I got something awesome that I can’t wait to show ya!

   Stan: It was really nice in meeting you and Poopsie, Monster. I hope the rest of your day can be more peaceful.

   Monster: Tell Beetlejuice that the next time he pulls a prank on me and Poopsie, I’ll call the cops on him.

   Lydia: We’ll tell him, but I can’t make any promises on if he’ll take that warning seriously. See you later, bye.

   Both Stan and Lydia then walk together to Beetlejuice’s roadhouse.

   Stan: So, this is where BJ lives at, huh? What is like in there?

   Lydia: I’ll give you this quick warning. It’s pretty messy in there, and it can be very smelly.

   They both enter into the roadhouse, and as they come in, the place had a lot of garbage everywhere.

   Beetlejuice: Well, Stan, what do you think?

   Stan was beginning to smell the filthy room, and uses his hand to drive the horrible smell away from his nose.

   Stan disgusted: Oh god! And here I always thought Cartman’s shit and farts from eating KFC was the worst thing that I ever smelled in my life.

   Beetlejuice: Awww, you’re making my head spin. *his head spins around extremely fast for a couple seconds* Aaaahhhh! *uses his hands to make his head stop spinning*

   Nearby where the TV and couch is at are two of Beetlejuice’s roommates. A tall French skeleton person, and a big pink spider.

   Jacques: Bonjour, Lydia!

   Lydia: Hi, Jacques! Hi, Ginger! How’s things been with you both lately?

   Jacques: Well, you know me. I’ve keeping myself in wonderful shape as usual, and Ginger here has been getting ready for her auditions to be in Dancing with the Ghouls.

   Ginger: Who’s the cute boy with the poof ball hat standing next to you, Lydia?

   Lydia: This is my newest best friend, Stan Marsh. Stan, this is Jacques LaLean, and Ginger the Tap Dancing Spider.

   Stan: Please to meet you both.

   Jacques: You’re from South Park, are you not?

   Stan: Why, yes. How did you guess that?

   Jacques: Because Lydia told us a while back that she was moving over there. What is it like in South Park?

   Stan: Our town is always covered in the snow very often between October right until the end of March. We’re one of the coldest small towns in Colorado.

   Jacques: Je vois. And how much exercising do you do?

   Stan: I play quarterback for my school’s football team, and I walk and play with my dog every weekend.

   Jacques: Hold on a sec. You play American Football, and not the other Football game where you use your foot, right?

   Stan: Umm, yes. Why?

   Jacques: Putain de merde! *clams himself down* Sorry. Nothing against you, it’s just that I wish to meet someone that actually plays Football with their feet instead of how the Netherworld likes it. I’ve never yet met a person that plays the game like how we French people prefer it.

   Stan: It’s cool, dude. I forgive you.

   Ginger: Hey, Stan. Do you want to see my tap dancing moves?

   Stan: Yeah, why not. Give me your best shot.

   Ginger: Here it goes! And a one, and a two…*starts tap dancing with her legs as fast as she could until she gets exhausted* Well, did you like it?

   Stan: It’s a good start, I’ll give you that. Where did you learn to do it?

   Ginger: From my training videos. It takes a lot of practice, but I believe that I’m getting better at it every day.

   Stan: I wish you luck on it, Ginger. You’re gonna need it.

   Beetlejuice: Hey, Stan. If you’re finished chit-chatting with the skeleton and spider, I’ll like to show something that you’ll like to see right about now!

   Stan: Oh, alright. It was great talking with you two. I look forward in getting to know you both later on.

   Jacques: Until next then, Stan. Au revoir!

   Both Stan and Lydia make their way to where Beetlejuice was at.

   Stan: So umm, how do they deal with Beetlejuice’s lifestyle? Like you know, this place being so filthy and such.

   Lydia: Well, with Jacques, he’s thankful that he can’t smell it since he’s all bone and no flesh. And as for Ginger, it’s complicated. But to put it simply, she can handle anything gross because she eats bugs for a living.

   In the next chapter, Beetlejuice and Lydia shares Stan some memories from their past.