#if one person asks me about my pumpkin that I did of the murdered woman in The Grudge it will break the curse and my soul will be free

[tuulikki]

Okay, but I feel this fear is, happily, moot

Because since when have stencils meaningfully helped anyone. Those things aren’t made to cover uneven spherical surfaces (i.e., pumpkins) and it always guarantees that the end product looks fucked

It’s the way it’s supposed to be

[darkmatilda]

ׂ╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

part 1: first day of investigation

part 2 here!

in which you and the BAU are handling the case of a murderer in a small, sleepy town

tw: decapitation, description of a crime scene etc, mention of a suicide attempt, mental illness

contents: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, solving a criminal mystery, angst, slow burn

words: 4k

“And how's school?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“It could be worse,” said Jeremy after a moment, in an indifferent tone. You sighed, wondering if, as a teenager, you also answered everything, even more serious, open questions with vague remarks, driving the person asking how you were doing to frustration.

Answering that question, no, you didn’t do that. When you were a teenager, you didn’t have anyone who cared about you. Precisely for this reason that you practically tormented your brother with phone conversations, feeling immense guilt for leaving him with your parents. The same parents with whom you ultimately decided to cut off contact. You had never faced a more difficult decision — cutting them off or continuing a relationship that tragically affected your mental health? After each interaction with them, you felt weak, defenseless, insignificant, and above all, exhausted. It wasn’t even about your mother’s illness. They were just terrible people.

Your sixteen-year-old brother didn’t have that option. He had to deal with them until he turned eighteen and moved out. You regularly made sure he was okay. However, lately, you had the impression that his voice was becoming more and more devoid of emotion. Depressed. And you couldn’t do anything about it.

Prentiss appeared right in front of you. She noticed you were on the phone, so to avoid interrupting you, she tried to convey something silently. With her thumb, she pointed toward the main deck of the jet. From the movements of her lips, you were able to read, “Hotch is calling everyone.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let this topic go,” you said again to your brother. You could imagine him rolling his green eyes. “I have to get back to work; I’ll call as soon as I have time. Don’t get into trouble and take care. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You ended the call and noticed a smile on the brunette’s face. Together, you joined the rest of the team.

“I heard part of your conversation,” she confessed. “Don’t tell me you have a kid that you’re hiding from us?”

“Who’s hiding what from whom?” Morgan chimed in as he walked in, holding two huge cups of coffee. He handed one of them to Reid.

Prentiss nodded in your direction.

“Did you know that y/n has a kid?”

You nudged her.

“I don’t have any kids. I was just talking to my brother,” you explained briefly. You didn’t like discussing your family, even with friends. In fact, you were often accused of being too secretive.

“I didn’t even know you had a brother,” Reid added, frowning. 

He, along with the rest of them, looked at you with mild surprise. You muttered something under your breath, shrugging. You felt a bit embarrassed that your family was the center of the discussion. You were saved from the awkwardness by your own boss.

“Can we start?”

JJ handed out the case files. As soon as you opened yours, you were met with an exceptionally graphic scene.

“ The bodies were discovered by someone from the forestry service, but according to the local police, anyone could have found them. It wasn’t hidden very carefully, as if someone didn’t care about it being discovered. A man and a woman, both decapitated. Before you ask, the heads were found in the same place as the rest of the bodies. Except for that, no serious injuries, just a few minor bruises and scratches. As if they were trying to defend themselves while they still could. “

No one spoke; the only sound was the turning of pages as the whole team focused intently on analyzing the photos. Your brows lowered in concentration, your entire face tense. Maybe you looked at things like this every day, but that didn’t mean it had become pleasant or that it didn’t disgust you. Sitting across from you, Reid was the first to speak.

“What do we know about the victims?”

At that same moment, as JJ spoke up again, you flipped the page and were met with two photos that looked like they’d been pulled from a social media account. Both people were alive, happy. The man was crouching next to a young boy who seemed to be pulling away, unwilling to be in the picture with his father. In the background, there was a garden, a tall white fence typical of American suburbs, and a slide. You barely stopped yourself from glancing at Hotch — he had a son around the same age, and this case might hit him particularly hard. The woman in the photo wore square glasses, with a cheerful, friendly gaze peeking out from beneath them. Round cheeks, a wide smile.

"Andrew Ward, 37 years old. He was one of the city councilors. He had a wife and one son, and he’d lived in this town his entire life. Then there's Jessica Larsen, the deputy mayor—she and her husband were both heavily involved in public life."

“A city councilor and the deputy mayor?” Prentiss repeated, thoughtfully resting her elbow on the arm of her seat. “Does anyone else feel like this could be some kind of score-settling? Revenge? Maybe from someone who was wronged by the city council over… I don’t know…”

"Higher bills," you said absentmindedly, blurting out the first thought that came to mind, immediately wincing at your own foolishness. You were still distracted by the conversation with Jeremy. You pinched your arm, trying to force yourself to focus on the case.

"Raising bills doesn’t typically drive people to murder," Reid corrected, pausing to glance at the files again. You never felt embarrassed when he pointed out your mistakes—he had a way of doing it so skillfully and politely. "Prentiss is on the right track; it could be revenge. Our UNSUB might hate authority due to some personal experience, maybe sees themselves as an anarchist, though it's hard to lean in that direction with so little information. Garcia, have you checked if the victims were connected in any way?"

The blonde woman on the laptop screen nodded.

"I’ve checked everything I could find about them, but unfortunately, I couldn’t uncover a single connection that might move the case forward."

Hotch raised a hand, stopping you from further speculation.

"That’s not all," he began, looking at each of you in turn. "Right after those two bodies were found, three more were discovered."

Morgan raised his eyebrows high.

"Five bodies? No wonder they called us in."

"And here’s where our biggest problem arises," your boss continued “Look at the photos. These three bodies were also decapitated but except for that, treated in a completely different way”

You turned the page again, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Other victims were killed with much more brutality, all covers in cuts and bruises. It was even hard to define their gender, but when you looked at the description you knew that this time, they were all women."Were two different people responsible for this?" Prentiss asked.

“Two murders cutting their victims' heads in such a small city?” spoke up Rossi, skeptically. 

"I don’t think it’s two different killers," you said hesitated, unable to look away from the photos. As you studied them, you absorbed every detail, trying to imagine the murderer inflicting these injuries. If anyone could have peered into your mind at that moment, they might have gotten serious PTSD. “Just…take a look at the wounds. There’s much more on these women and are visibly more brutal. But they look like they were inflicted by the same hand, the same person. The placement is often consistent," you noted. "How much time passed between the murders?"

“We haven’t gotten this information yet" said Hotch. "But based on my experience, I can say we’re looking at a matter of weeks."

You noticed that Reid was watching you closely. It seemed he was doing it unconsciously. When you sent him a questioning glance, he slightly blushed and immediately cleared his throat.

“I’m curious about what y/n said,” he admitted. It was clear to see the many calculations and analyses happening in his mind. This was evident in the increasing pace of his speech. “It really does look like the same person, but in different circumstances, perhaps influenced by different emotions. Maybe even with different motives. I realize the possibility of that is close to zero, but what if we’re dealing with a murderer with multiple personality disorder?”

A silence fell as everyone contemplated Reid's words. You made eye contact with him again — your tracks of thought began to overlap, your conclusions intertwining. Looking at his face, you felt, in a way, smarter and understood; it became easier to connect the fragments of ideas that had surfaced in your mind.

You shook your head.

 "No... I'm not sure. I understand what you're saying, but it seems to me that this isn't entirely true in our case. Your theory would suggest that two different personalities of our UNSUB committed these crimes, but in such cases, the crimes usually contrast more with each other. It's much harder to connect them, and here... I immediately noticed that this was the work of the same person."

Reid leaned in with interest over the table. Everyone seemed to look at you encouragingly, waiting for you to continue your theory. Yet you only took on a resigned, apologetic posture — nothing else came to mind. Any potential ideas felt too chaotic; some instincts accompanied you, but it was nothing you wanted to share out loud. You felt that they wouldn't help at all.

"We'll definitely know more after seeing the crime scene," Hotch stated, closing his files. With that, he ended the official discussion, giving you time to review the photos alone and think everything over one more time.

That’s exactly what you focused on for the rest of the meeting. You sat with one leg crossed over the other, a closed folder resting on your lap. You didn’t need to look at the photos anymore; you just needed to close your eyes and listen to your intuition. It definitely had something to say about this case. You just weren’t sure what…

Just before arriving at the scene, Hotch asked to speak with you privately. You couldn't hide it; you felt a bit anxious.

Maybe it was about your recent distraction. Of course, it was about your worry for your brother, but that shouldn’t have been an excuse; nothing should be distracting you. Or maybe he wanted to discuss something completely different, and you had just imagined this whole scenario in your mind. Knowing you and your tendency to overthink, both options seemed equally likely.

 "As I mentioned, y/n, I need to talk to you about something. It’s regarding your accommodation."

First, you breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t anything more serious. Then, your eyebrows raised in surprise. Accommodation?

"There have been some issues with the hotel we’re planning to stay at," Hotch continued. "We couldn’t secure separate rooms for each of you. You’ve been assigned to share a room with Reid. If that’s a problem for you, we can always look for another place, but that would mean you'd be away from the rest of the team..."

“No, it’s not a problem,” you assured him, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. You were relieved that the conversation didn’t involve any serious issues, just a trivial problem with the room. Besides, why would it bother you to share a room with Spencer? It was only for a few nights. "I was afraid you wanted to talk to me about something else," you blurted out.

“About what?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, nothing,” you replied quickly and somewhat squeakily.

Hotch smiled slightly at your reaction, but his gaze seemed to analyze you closely.

 Oh you idiot, why couldn’t you just shut up? you thought to yourself as you walked away.

*

The weather decided to play a trick on you.

 As you were driving to the crime scene, the waterfall was sliding down the windshield, almost making it impossible to see anything. In any case, there wasn't much to look at. After passing the main part of the town, you were surrounded only by forest — trees shimmering in shades of orange.

The view didn’t impress you much. You definitely preferred warm, sunny weather and lounging in the sun, rather than freezing every day after stepping outside and dealing with frizzy hair from the humidity. You liked the town better. It felt small and cozy, as if it were taken straight out of Gilmore Girls.

Prentiss was behind the wheel, and you were sitting next to her in the passenger seat, while JJ was your navigator. The boys took a different car.

“So,” Emily began, turning left at the intersection with her eyes fixed on the road. “You care a lot about your brother, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, sinking deeper into your seat. Why did she have to bring this up again? It wasn't that you didn't trust them; you just didn’t like talking about your family. It wasn't even about being ashamed — why dwell on unpleasant topics? Besides, as was well known, you were private. You had to be incredibly close to someone to open up, and even then, you didn’t lay all your cards on the table.

Together with JJ, they looked at you kindly and encouragingly. You acted like you were fascinated by what was behind the glass. Soon, you arrived at the crime scene. 

That means, before you reached your destination, you had to walk quite a distance into the forest. Since it was late October, the days had grown particularly short, and you could already see the first streaks of darkness between the enormous trees that seemed to watch you with their ancient gaze.

If you hadn't had the girls with you, you would have felt a thrill on your spine. 

The location where the bodies were found had been secured very thoroughly. Local police cars gathered there, and soon the rest of your team arrived. You glanced at your muddy shoes and made a mental note to start dressing more appropriately for the weather from tomorrow on.

The rain intensified. Emily pulled her hood tighter around her head. 

“Working in these conditions...'"

Her sentence was interrupted by the appearance of an incredibly tall man, somewhat resembling a bear. Long hair protruded from under his sheriff's hat, and he seemed to be about the same age as Hotch, with whom he immediately shook hands. 

“Agent Hotchner, we're from the FBI.'"

"Sheriff Russell” he introduced himself, pressing his hand to his forehead with concern. 'I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen a lot. I can't believe anyone from this town could do something like this; I know these people and...'"

“Can we see the bodies?" you asked. It was getting dark, and you wanted to get as good a look as possible. There was something intriguing about this case that had unsettled you since the moment you first opened the file.

Without waiting for an answer, you and Emily moved toward the secured area. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"God, I hate this chatter," she sighed in annoyance. "I know these people; they’d never do something like this," she mimicked the sheriff’s deep voice. "Neighbors of serial killers always say that. Someone can be polite in conversation and keep five bodies in their basement — it’s not mutually exclusive."

You stifled a laugh. 

"Don’t forget the how could he have done it? He always said good morning in the hallway!"

“Or about kids. Sure, he was killing small animals since he was four and had a knife collection, but deep down, he was polite! I can't believe he shot up half the school…”

Hotch appeared right next to you, so you cut her off with a firm elbow jab. You accidentally hit her in the ribs, causing her to let out a groan. This only intensified your incredibly inappropriate amusement. Your boss was standing so close, so you covered your mouth under the guise of a cough. 

In the next thirty minutes, the laughter faded away.

You began by examining the bodies of the first victims, in chronological order. These were the three brutally murdered women. The whole scene seemed to be waiting for your arrival. Not a single detail had been altered, making it easier for you to connect emotionally with the situation. Most of the profilers you knew were meticulous about keeping their feelings detached from their work. It was the only way to endure this job for more than a year without committing suicide. You applied that strategy yourself, but not entirely.

When investigating a case, you tried to imagine yourself in both the shoes of the perpetrator and the victims. Often, you would close your eyes, attempting to visualize and feel it all in vivid detail. To step away from pure theory and let intuition take over.

It was likely the reason that, for the past year since you started this work, you hadn’t imagined a day without at least one tranquilizer and a sleeping pill.

After thoroughly examining the first crime scene, you drove to inspect the next one. This time, the victims were two people connected to the city council. The previous victims had been a teacher, a former resident of the orphanage, and a social worker. When you learned this, a heavy feeling settled at the back of your mind. You were certain there was a connection between these victims.

"Let’s consider what drives the unsub to remove the victim’s head" Rossi suggested.

Before you could even define the meaning of the question, Reid rushed to answer.

"Decapitation is one of the most symbolic acts of violence. The head represents thought, intellect, and control. By removing it, the killer may be expressing a need to destroy those aspects. It could also be a form of humiliation, a metaphorical stripping of their power and authority," he explained in a slightly robotic tone, as if reciting from a Wikipedia entry.

You smiled subtly at the thought. He noticed and gave you a questioning look, which you chose to ignore.

“That would fit for the two later victims," Morgan said, resting his hands thoughtfully on his hips. "They were on the city council — the unsub might have felt he was stripping them of authority and power. But how does that apply to the others? A social worker, a teacher, and an orphanage employee?"

You fixed your gaze on your dirty shoes, Derek’s question echoing in your mind.

 What was it all about?

*

You’d forgotten your sleeping pills.

Once more, you searched your toiletries bag, where you usually kept them. Not a trace.

You pressed your lips tightly together, angry with yourself. Your sleep problems weren’t that serious — were caused mainly by overthinking and constant worry. You didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself in that regard. It was much easier to rely on the medication, and as long as it worked. Sometimes you forgot that you were even struggling with it at all.

“Is something wrong?” Reid asked, stepping out of the bathroom. Following Hotch’s words, you were sharing a room with him. “You seem upset.”

You shook your head dismissively.

“I just forgot something.”

Only then did you look at him. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. You realized it was the first time you’d seen him in such casual, everyday clothing. He usually wore shirts, blazers, and vests — somewhat grandpa-like, but you thought it suited him well.

You realized you had been staring at each other in silence for quite some time. To break the awkwardness, you cleared your throat and decided to return to one of the exhausting topics.

“There’s something strange about this case. You know, I’ve thought a lot about your theory regarding personality disorder, but something doesn’t sit right with me. Aside from the fact that it’s very, very rare, it’s just… my intuition doesn’t agree with it. I hope I don’t sound like a shaman. 

Spencer bursted out and sat on the edge of his bed. In your room, only the standing lamp illuminated the space, casting a dim orange light around. Despite that, you could see the thoughtful expression on his face.

“We once dealt with a case where the unsub was struggling with that very disorder. He was abused as a child and developed a separate personality, Amanda, who harmed men similar to his abuser,” he shared in a quiet, less confident tone than the one he used on the jet. He must have been tired after a long day at work, and like you, frustrated that you hadn’t found anything.

Above all, the circumstances were different. Your conversation had shifted to a more personal level, concerning two friends rather than coworkers. 

“Do you see any similarities between these two cases?” you asked, intrigued since you had never dealt with a similar case yourself.

“Not exactly,” he shook his head. “At one time, I read a lot about that disorder. There was another instance where we had an unsub who…” he trailed off, a visibly tense expression crossing his face.

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassured him. You didn’t know what was bothering him, but it was clear he regretted bringing it up at all. You had never been one to push for more; you often felt uncomfortable with certain topics, and you were incredibly grateful when someone recognized your withdrawal and changed the subject. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks” he whispered. But I think there’s something to your intuition. This whole case is exceptionally peculiar.”

““Well, you can call me a shaman now. By the way, are you planning to go to bed already?”

“And you?” he replied with a question of his own. “Actually, I’d prefer to read for a while, but I don’t want to disturb your sleep…”

Your broad smile clearly surprised him.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted to spend some time with a book too”

In fact, it didn’t stem from your desires at all. You loved reading, but your brain was usually too tired for it in the evenings. However, you were aware that falling asleep would take you an unusually long time, and you preferred to make use of that time rather than stare at the ceiling.

You pulled out the only novel you had brought, Kafka on the Shore. You were about halfway through. Then you remembered you had meant to call your brother, but when you glanced at the clock, you realized that due to the time zone difference, it was already late at night for him. You sighed with a pang of guilt. You promised yourself you would do it tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Spencer,” you said when you both agreed it was finally time to go to sleep.

“Goodnight, shaman” he responded. 

You smiled in your pillow. 

part 2?

[wandagcre]

my pumpkin | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x AFAB ! reader)

Sam wants to try something new with you.

WARNING: smut, dark dom! ghostface! sam, dark sub!reader (they're both crazy), can be interpreted as intersex!sam or cumming strap-on sam, mentions of blood and murder, knife play, possessiveness, breeding kink, slight degradation & humiliation, aftercare +18 / men & minors dni.

Words: 5.5k | [ AO3 ]

In the middle of your night routine, you hear a thud somewhere in the apartment. Deciding to investigate, you left your glass of water in the kitchen. Like on autopilot, your feet already dragged you to approach towards the living room, and your gut was right: there was a tall figure that had caught your attention and a smile made its way to your lips with ease.

There stood Sam, in your unlit living room, her dark thick robe pooling by her combat boots and she was taking off the bloody Ghostface mask. Her hair was haphazardly tied up and she's left with her wifebeater tank top and dark sweatpants — bronze skin currently dripping with sweat. Sam had a blank expression on, maybe a hint of bloodlust glint that lingered on her face, which turned you on — imagining how it must've been so good to see her in the act, especially this one.

You spot a few bruises and cuts on her upper body. You already expected this, walking away for a second to retrieve the first-aid kit and mentally taking note to ice some of her bruises later. 

Sam's hazel eyes lit up soon as she met yours, arms opening for a hug.

"Love. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?"

"You too, Sammy." You affectionately murmur and nestled deeper in the embrace and Sam tightens her grip in return. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

There you were with Sam in the small bathroom in your shared apartment. She sat quietly by the closed toilet, her arm brought up to you. Moments like this were your favorite, having to tend her cuts and bruises. There was something about Sam appearing as both vulnerable and vicious post-murder during the ungodly hours.

"Wanna tell me how it went?" You start as you wipe the remaining blood on her skin then you dab the cotton with alcohol feather light. The curiosity was eating you. 

In return, Sam smiles at how your eyes twinkled as you asked, she pulls away slightly, her hold on you moving to your waist to pull you closer in between her legs. The faint smell of peaches and cigarettes immediately filled your senses.

She sighed, "He was all talk. Pissed me off a bit with that foul mouth he got running whenever he saw a woman..." Sam’s grip by your soft waist tightens at some thought, "It made me think of how rude and disgusting he must have been to you, princess. And that angers me so much."

"But you took care of it, I know you did good." you respond with much appreciation in your tone, as if the conversation that had transpired was casually about the weather. Your hands find their way on top of Sam’s hair, your thumb gently caressing through them.

The corner of Sam’s eyes crinkled. "Anything for my baby. He squirmed like a useless pig." 

The cold room was filled with laughter. It was easy to say that the two of you were truly match made in heaven. The person in question was your boss, who thought he was being sly with his provocative comments and uncomfortable staring at you while at work. He was insufferable to say at least. Even the last interaction you had with him was you trying to play along with one of his nauseous comments because God knows given your position, he’ll always have his way.

Sadly for him, he doesn’t even know it'll be his last day to live. 

Because you didn't even have to tell Sam because she was there to witness, right outside your workplace to pick you up and his sleazy gestures unfolded in front of your waiting girlfriend. Your boss just had to outwardly say that ‘he can’t get enough of your good and shapely presence’ within Sam’s earshot.

Now? He's nothing but a fresh butchered meat fed to a bloodlust Loomis.

You left your girlfriend in the bathroom for some privacy. For a few minutes, you heard water running.  To your surprise however, as you plop down to your shared bed, Sam was across you and there was a pensive look on her face as she leans by the door frame. Her hair remains to be haphazardly tied on, her hands a bit wet.

“I wanna try something on you, baby.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

“This.” 

Sam retrieves a familiar dagger from her back – it was the one you managed to get your hands on and gave it to her as a birthday present. Back then, you didn’t know yet whether the Ghostface version of her had existed yet; but you did this anyway after she opened up about her previous encounters given by the reputation that precedes her, to provide her with some sort of an easy to carry and hide of a self-defence weapon. With her words and the dagger on her hand, you were confused to say at least.

“I need you to elaborate, Sam.” you ask, to which Sam bit her lip and sauntered towards you. 

"I’m going to mark you with it. Nothing too deep and crazy, trust me. And you can also say no! I promise I won’t be mad. It’s only a thought, baby.”

“Alright.” You exhale, sitting with crossed legs, looking up to her and see Sam visibly becoming relaxed. “But can I ask why you want to do it? I genuinely just want to know your reason behind it. And how…exactly?”

Sam’s eyes softened as her eyes were pierced onto yours, "It’s basically just carving a small thing to your body. I… I want to mark you in a way that’s personal and close to who I am. Also, I want to remember us – this being my first kill for you.”

You understand now, pulling Sam by her thighs who still stood tall in front of you for a hug. The scent of peaches and cigarettes fill your nose once again, it was oddly addicting and comforting. It was distinctively very Sam.

"So, it's about owning me... in your terms?"

“Yes.” she whispered.

You decide to lighten up the mood, “And you’re sure this is your first kill for me? Not my old friend from my hometown?”

Sam frowned, almost not getting get your joke – but soon she heartily chuckles as the realization dawns upon her. There was another case you suspected, an old friend whom Sam felt very territorial over you when you told her that they confessed when you returned home. Suspiciously, they disappeared, but you find out a year later that they only travelled on a spontaneous trip.

“No. But... maybe I almost wanted to.”

You bite your bottom lip and Sam nudges you with her finger by your shoulder, motioning for you to make space for her in the bed. Now she joins you beneath the sheets, standing on her knees, looking down as she’s still towering over you.

“That’s hot.” 

Sam shakes her head and closes the distance between you two, “Only you would say that…” She holds the dagger on her dominant hand, the sharp metal pointed away from you.

The cold night is coming to a close, barely feels like one, as the room starts to become heated. Especially with your girlfriend’s eyes unashamedly trailing over your body, like you were a delicious prey served as a five-star meal just for her.

“And that’s exactly why you love me.” You say with ease, lips now ghosting near hers, feeling her ragged breath increasing. 

"Exactly, baby. No one compares.” 

Sam tucked a stray hair behind your ear. Your face heats up at the gesture. You didn't feel any different around her, like any other day around her you remained to feel safe. Secured. Not even her retelling stories of her vivid killings can even change that. Perhaps, you were as sick as her, but you couldn’t give a single fuck about it.

With an exhale, you give her the green light. 

"Okay baby. I trust you."

A wolfish grin appeared on her lips, changing so quickly like a mere switch. With that sight, a shot of arousal started to stir on your stomach.

"Remember your colors, baby. Say red and we’ll stop immediately. How do you feel right now?" 

The dagger made its presence known as Sam dragged the pointed end on your bare right thigh with slight pressure startled you – not enough to draw blood – yet it was sharp and daunting, completely contradicting the gentleness in her tone. 

"G-green," you stuttered out. 

“Good girl.” Sam says and tilts your chin up using the dagger. “Now strip for me.”

Your breath hitches once again. The lust is heightened as you feel Sam’s piercing eyes on you, watching you wiggle off your skimpy shorts first, eyes following and so attentive to the growing damp spot on your underwear. Her dagger remained on your chin until it was time for you to strip out of her old loose shirt that you chose to wear earlier and Sam audibly groaned when she found out that you weren’t wearing any bra at all, she zones out in the sight. You feel her scoot on the sheets closer to you – to say that she was a big fan of your tits would be an understatement.

“Fucking irresistible,” Sam lets out a groan and starts to busy herself, already moved onto a different agenda – mouth and teeth getting involved as she marks and sucks all over your tits, your skin becoming thoroughly wet and littered with hickeys. For a few minutes she stayed on worshipping your upper body. While it turned you on, the ache in your cunt was also becoming an issue, making you squirm. “That’s already an appetizer and dessert for me, shit, you’re just so good…” 

Now her thighs have your almost naked body trapped,  Sam remains hovering above you as you laid down. You get a closer look of her taut muscles flexing through the wifebeater she wears as she moves, a few scars coming to light on her body. You realize that she’s about to take you while in her post-murder outfit, making you squirm your legs once again trying to find ease in your arousal. She’s still sweaty and sticky but you honestly can’t care any less. Not when you have her sculpted body ready to pounce on you at any moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to shower first?” You joke and her expression didn’t falter.

Sam only smirked. “We were going to change the sheets, anyway. I planned on having you either way for tonight.” Her hot breath was so close, tickling your exposed skin.

Your body felt warmer, opposed to her cold free hand that slightly startled you as she roughly palmed a cupful of your tits, giving it another good squeeze. 

“Fuck…” you moan, her moves to affect you were rapidly increasing.

Sam teased again by her slow hands going for a sharp tug on your nipple. “We’re getting into it, princess.” 

She lowered herself and finally met your lips for a kiss, the slow and softness of a start quickly dissipated as she grew hungry for more. Still kissing you, both hands trying to cup your face, occasionally darting her tongue on your mouth. Sam moved fast and rough, as though she was quenching her thirst and your lips were the only water left for her. You wouldn’t be surprised if your lips actually bruised. You were starting to feel breathless and lightheaded, trying to match her pace and she pulled away to tug on your bottom lip. She swiped it with her tongue for good measure. You don’t feel her close anymore and yet you still tried to chase her lips again, only to find out that she looked smug as soon as you opened your eyes.

“Just for me.” Sam murmurs to no one.

You dazedly acknowledge her, “Yes, only yours.”

“God, If you only know how you endlessly drive me mad...”

Sam had her palm pressed on the mattress, resting on the side of your head. You meet her halfway by having your elbows propped up, carrying your upper body’s weight. Yet, you don’t know how long it’ll last – not with Sam’s mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on your body; from your cheek, affectionate and soft, to your neck where her nose tickled you and mouth that met where your jugular vein rests – lingering to suck and bite. You don’t even try to conceal your moans to your girlfriend’s delight, the sounds loud enough to make her eager as ever. Your eyes roll on the back of your head, immediately lost to the sensation. With the tip of the knife pressed on your plush stomach all at once and scratching you lightly, though lifted quickly, it made your stomach twitch and you whimper.

You feel unbearably soaked, clearly wanting for more. Completely certain that you're damp enough for your Sam to smell your arousal. Your girlfriend smirks in confirmation and when she moves her hip low enough for yours to meet. When you pushed your core closer against your girlfriend's, Sam already has your ass cupped, squeezing your flesh, and it only made you grind hard enough to feel something hard — 

Oh. 

You feel her.

The walls of your cunt started to rapidly clench on nothing. Sam detaches her hips away from you after a little teaser and your fingers make their way to her hair, then caressing on Sam's nape and your girlfriend arches her neck, groaning in response. She moves lower, wanting to give you wet kisses placed on the soft rolls of your stomach which slightly tickled you in the process. You were about to protest, beyond needy, but it seems that Sam has already read your mind.

"Here it comes." 

You take a deep breath and feel the sharp knife moving in ragged curves as Sam draws with it. She pushes it down a few millimeters more on your stomach. You groan in each line she makes, it stings a little as she continues marking.

"Wanna know what I marked, princess?" Sam regains your attention by tilting your chin up to look at her using the knife, you open your eyes, seeing the metal now painted with red specks of blood.

"Y-Yes.”

"It's the first letter of my name. So every time you take a look in the mirror naked, you'll always be reminded that you're nobody else's but mine."

"Oh fu- fuck, fuck!" you whimper, although now you feel turned on more than anything. 

The knife resumes in contact with your freshly marked area again, Sam drags it as if she's tracing it for the second time on your skin. your eyes are screwed shut — you can't explain the sensation, walking in the line between pain and pleasure. It stings yet it's so addicting. You think that a huge chunk of it was maybe because it was Sam doing it with her honeyed voice and dark tunnel gaze onto you.

"You're doing so good, baby." She praises you, voice deeper than ever.

Sam crawls down lower onto you and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, curious of her next move. The spot now feels wet as you feel your girlfriend licking your fresh wound and you let out a strangled moan in response.

“Oh god!”

When you made eye contact with your girlfriend, her eyes were heavy lidded more than ever. It’s evident even in the room that’s barely lit, only the lamp on, and you see her wet lips tugged in a smirk. The color red is slightly evident from having to sucked off the trail of blood that trickled out of your fresh wound.

Sam meant it when she said that it'll leave a scar enough for you to see even right after this session. In theory, you should be terrified of how precise your girlfriend is with the weapon, but you aren't at all. You are thrilled in reality, as you know that Sam is using a special dagger to brand you, different amongst the one she uses to kill her victims; this one was shorter and unused, not actually meant to kill. For you and only you.

After all, who doesn't like being proved to be her princess and a special exception?

The aftermath of the knife's stinging hasn't left just yet. As you reel into the sensation, you feel the mattress dip and you see Sam adjusting.

“Sit up for me.” Sam orders and you quickly scramble into position, legs folded, facing your girlfriend. “Color?”

“Still green.” you whisper, eyes becoming watery. “Can you please touch me now?”

Sam doesn’t respond. Instead, there was the dagger, the side of it being dragged across your tits down to your pelvis. Your girlfriend had set your underwear aside. You close your eyes again to flutter out the teariness, then something plunges inside of your core. The object feels foreign against your spongy walls and it's coming in fast and intrusive. It makes you moan unadulteratedly loud, heat spreading all over your body. It was the most relief your cunt has received had felt this entire session; evident in the way your wetness seeped more, yet you’re becoming slightly embarrassed of the sloshing sounds that fills the room as the thing continues to move in and out of your flesh. 

"I wish I had recorded this, princess. Look at you taking it all in..." Sam murmurs huskily and her words feel hot on your body.

“Record?” 

Your girlfriend tilts her head, “Maybe next time,” She winks at you.

You’re a putty mess under her touch. Sam finds utmost joy seeing you unravelling into this form, unable to form coherent sentences as she has her way with you. You meet her entranced look – mouth quirked up and eyes more lust filled. As your eyes trail lower over Sam, you notice that your girlfriend’s dominant hand has the dagger’s flat base carefully held – the handle being plunged in and out of your pussy. The bed creaks more.

"Your pussy is so fucking greedy, taking my dagger so good... I can feel you pulsating in it. Maybe I'm gonna fuck you right after then cum inside of you, as a reward, huh?" she changes the angle of the dagger’s handle, pushing deeper and faster into you and you feel yourself leak even more, grasping on her hair. 

"Oh yes! yes! A-anything you want, S-Sam!"

"Knew you'd agree. My princess who's a whiny slut for me," Sam continues her ministrations, hand remaining precise, and you feel her free arm snake around your soft waist, as if she's trapping you. "you're making a mess in the bed, honey. Are you not embarrassed?"

You feel a twinge of embarrassment, realizing you were lost on riding your girlfriend’s dagger alone while she was simply thrusting the dagger’s handle in and out of you, all with ease, looking like a desperate whore while dripping and making a mess on Sam’s hand at the same time as your pussy overflowed with wetness. 

"N-No, because I love being a slut for you," you whisper truthfully, now growing desperate to chase orgasm. "I'm so so close,"

“For me only.” Sam growls in response, making her thrust it more forcefully as if she was actually stabbing. 

You let out a throaty moan and your hands moving so frenzied to alleviate the release by clawing all over Sam's back – anywhere you can reach and balance upon. Sam deliciously grunts at the action.

Like a cold bucket poured down on your then burning body, Sam dislodged the handle completely from your desperately soaked cunt. Now you’re back to clenching onto nothing, the ache between your legs becoming a real challenge for you to hold yourself for much longer.

"No, no, no! Fuck, I was about to cum, Sam..." you complain, feeling sensitive, tears running on your cheeks.

Sam comforts you, cupping your cheeks and wiping the tears away with her thumb. 

"Patience, baby." your girlfriend hushes you and you find her looking completely lost as you are, giving you comfort. She had her free hand sprawled on your lower stomach. "Suck this for me first. Then I'll let you do whatever, baby."

Sam then raises the knife that was glistening off your own wetness from earlier, making your cheeks heat up. Goodness, it’s coated ridiculously with a copious amount of wetness... which you're supposed to suck. Not that you were new to this – sucking something off for Sam – but the thought still makes you a tad shy.

You’re starting to think Sam enjoys humiliating you this much.

"All of it. C'mon, baby, get to work so we can finish you sooner." 

It's affecting Sam so much based on her raspier voice now. You comply with her order, making sure to put on a show; your free hand gripping on her shoulder and lips now on the handle of the knife, sucking all of your wetness that once coated it. You made sure to look directly at Sam's heavy lidded eyes, who was now completely hazy and her mouth open to your delight. You wanted her to lose her mind as much as you did, making sure that your cheeks were hollowed and moaning along the action, even making your tongue twirl around it. Your girlfriend exhales loudly at the sight you presented her.

“Fuck. You’re teasing me back, princess?” Sam tilts her head, questioning you. She discards the dagger, object clanking, and now somewhere on the floor. 

You were more than happy to see that it got onto her. “Just putting on a show for you…”

Sam has enough, having a taste of your arousal as she grabs you for a bruising kiss. She seems to savor it as her tongue gets involved, as though she’s eager to taste her favorite flavor. "My little slut. Still green?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?" Sam traces lightly the now marked letter S wound that resides on your lower stomach.

"No," Your girlfriend smiles at your response and you close your eyes. The ache between your legs makes itself known as you squirm over Sam’s touch. You bit your lower lip in frustration. "Want you inside of me now, please, Sammy."

“Okay. I’m going to make you choose,” She looks you straight in the eye, “Do you want to lay down or to ride me?”

A moan already escaped your throat, “W-what would you like?”

“Don’t answer me with a question, baby. I am asking you.” Her voice is deep and stern, waiting for you.

You look at her still completely dressed – unlike you, all bare for her. You start to feel a little conscious so you decide to immediately change that up.

“Want to undress you and ride you.”

You were more than ecstatic, seeing Sam nod in agreement – you absolutely waste no time in removing her wifebeater tank top, sweatpants, and boxers immediately, appreciating all of Sam’s muscular and sweaty glory. It doesn’t help that she’s got a few specks of blood still somewhere on her body, the eroticism of it all is not lost on you. Her tits were hypnotizing and to see it paired with her hard on, makes you lick your lips in anticipation. You start to understand more why your girlfriend loves body worshipping so much, because you feel just the same as her.

Sam was amused at your dazed expression, so lost that she has to snap you to reality by pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Ride me now, pretty girl.” She rasps out and you quickly get on Sam’s lap. Her length is pressed against your stomach, making your breath ragged and she isn’t even inside you yet.

You align yourself onto Sam, who glides her cock first into your wet folds. Your hands were on a deathly grip, squeezing over your girlfriend’s broad shoulder, and Sam is becoming more unrestrained with you. She huffs, snakes her arm by your waist then to your hips – continuing her motions until she is satisfied with how your wetness thoroughly coated her cock. 

“Fuck, I’m going in now, baby…” Sam’s hazel eyes peer over you, searching for any sign of discomfort. She was only met with your lust filled eyes and opened mouth, easily one of her favorite sights when it comes to you. The tip teases your clit making you moan and finally, she pushes inside of you, making you both groan at the sensation. She's big and girthy, even if it’s only half of her cock that was fully in, and your walls were still adjusting to accommodate all of her. Sam understood this, hence her careful movements, afraid of hurting you by accident. 

“Tell me whenever you’re ready, princess.”

You profusely nod your head in appreciation, “Y-yes, shit, give me a minute.”

As your walls were processing her length, Sam soaks in the feeling of being inside of you. It was so warm and comfortable; both of your single nerves felt like it was throbbing and clenching, and by God, the fucking clenching — you were gripping her cock in a way that felt delicious and so par with her possessiveness — the entirety of you, soul and body, are no one’s but hers. It was a feeling that Sam would never get tired of. 

You’re now fully sinked into Sam’s entire length, eyes getting teary in pleasure.

“You can move now,” 

Sam presses a kiss on your cheek and doesn’t waste a minute to move; Both weights being unminded given the position, the bed creaks louder than ever as you ride her. Your pussy is sopping, feeling soaked as a waterfall. In comparison to your throat, it feels dry with all the screaming you’ve done for Sam, already anticipating that you'll sound hoarse later. Maybe you won’t even have a voice to speak at all.

For a split second you think about the complaints you'd get the next day.

But being sunk deep in your girlfriend's cock, the thought vanishes quickly and you’re filled with so much desperation, hips rolling along with Sam's movements — so fucking close. The burning feeling of the cock against your walls soon dissipated, evident with the faster pace, the skin to skin slapping vibrates throughout the bedroom, your sheets are definitely mixed with wetness and stickiness.

One of Sam's hands was steadying you by holding on your soft and plush sides, the other kneading roughly on your tits. When you look at Sam, you see her eyes moving down and up in appreciation, drinking in your sight. you only moan louder as the sensations in tandem were driving you dripping and insane.

"Gonna fill you to the brim and paint your walls white," Sam’s promise vibrates delectably against your neck, the skin to skin slapping resonates louder than ever and she was pulling half and pushing in the whole of her cock in a rigorous motion. You feel helpless and reduced to a piece of dumb moanings.

"Look at you now, baby. fuck I’m gonna breed you. Not a single drop is going to drip out of this pretty pussy. I bet you'll like that, huh?"

"Y-yes, yes, yes!" 

"With the sounds you're making alone, shit, ‘m gonna cum. You're driving me mad, baby,"

Sam’s fingertips were hard and rough in circle motions against your engorged clit. It was enough to drive you to be equally mad as her, you already know that you’ll be driven over the edge. She indeed filled you to the brim, your pussy welcoming all of her now. The knot in your lower stomach finally untangles – which was much deserved – you had cum hard with Sam’s relentless thrusts, and the relief immediately washed over your body. Now you're heaving on your girlfriend’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath, yet she hasn't stopped her actions still. With a few more thrusts and grunts, you feel your girlfriend finally shoot ropes of warm cum inside of you.

"Don't move just yet." Sam moans against your neck, but it's more of a command. you still feel your pussy pulsating like crazy from your high, thinking that Sam is only doing it to ride it out, squeezing all of the cum that both of you have to release. To your surprise, she only picked up the pace and started to thrust her cock onto your pussy once again. 

"F-fuck, fuck, Sam! I'm still sensitive!" You try to slightly push her away by the shoulder.

Sam won't budge, knowing you'd say your safe word if it were the case.

"Shh. I know you can do more, princess,”

Your eyes were screwed shut and your neck thrown back, lost and savoring the pleasure. You feel how Sam's completely using your body for her pleasure, as she pulls almost her entire length out, tip of her cock still in, only to sink all of her suddenly in a fast manner. Your pussy walls were clenching, afraid that you’ll actually grow another type of heartbeat, as the pressure flows deliciously into you. You seep more wetness in the process. With Sam’s unforgiving pace, you can’t even say that you didn’t like that, being responsible for such insane fueled lust, so you let her.

The cum inside of you from earlier was getting messy as it was starting to leak along with the damp of your wetness in the sheets. If Sam's goal was to actually break the bed, you fear that it'll come to fruition as your girlfriend only continues to move her cock in and out rougher and faster than ever.

"These fucking pretty tits… all for me," Sam says in stupor, licking her lips at your sweaty and red figure. She lets her thumb and forefinger roll and tug on your nipple, then meets your mouth open in pleasure to swallow all of your moans.

Your grip on her moves to her tangled hair, barely tied now, tightened and tugging on her scalp to her pleasure. Sam grunts as she meets your hips rolling, now messy and slowly becoming uncoordinated, and gives a final few thrusts. Soon again, a relief washes over you so soon and you feel so full and insanely warm — Sam had just cummed for the second time inside of you and you just released your high as well.

"I told you," Sam huffed out, lips smirking as she looked up at you. "That I was gonna fill you up like crazy. What do you say about me marking you more, with a heart beside my first name letter this time?"

The feeling of the dagger both it’s sharpness and how she plowed it inside of you flashed quickly and familiar, the sensation still fresh. Your pussy throbs at the thought.

"You're insatiable." Sam chuckles at your words, combing your sweaty mess of hair as you whine half-heartedly at the equally messy appearance of your girlfriend’s suggestion. "And so cheesy. Like, a heart? Seriously?"

Although Sam wasn't affected at the jab in the slightest. She raises an eyebrow instead.

She cups your ass closer to her pelvis, as if there remains to be a distance between the two of you. Your cunt couldn’t help it but pathetically clench around her.

"Says the one who won't get off my cock still." Sam cockily retorts at you as she feels you adjust.

"Touché."

You remain in that same position until Sam notices that you're startled as she brushed her thumb against the fresh S wound. 

She exhales and affectionately pats your plush thigh, "Let's get up before another round, princess. We have to clean that mark up, just in case."

You tighten the grip of your thighs now wrapped around her sweaty lower back refusing to get up.

"Don't wanna. I'm comfy in here." 

You make it a point by keeping yourself snug as she's still inside of you and you clench your walls once again on her cock. Every time you do the action, the mixed fluid inside of you gushes even more, making a squelching sound and you drip a little more not only at the sheets, but as well as Sam’s thighs. Sam moans at this, her neck arched as she reels onto the feeling.

"C'mon you little tease. Say, I'll lift you through it?"

You look at her eyes seriously, "you'll stay inside?"

"Yes, doofus."

From a distance, you hear the television. 

Man, 48, was found dead and stabbed twenty-six times, suspect remains unconfirmed but suggests the Ghostface’s brutal pattern….

“I guess no work for me tomorrow…?”

“And more time for me to ruin you. It’s totally a win-win.”

Sam laughs heartily at your joke and you find yourself joining along with her. You pay no mind, letting your girlfriend scoop you with ease as you make your way towards the sink and she takes care of you. It was safe to say it wouldn't be the last time that they'll be playing with the knife. 

(please practice safe-sex!)

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[cyborg-franky]

Heard you were having bad brain times and wanted some silly fun stuff, i gotchu.

How about some stereotypicallly basic white girl things op characters do?

Some ideas(feel free to add your own): loves pumpkin spice everything, says shit like "totes ma goats", lives for drama filled "real tv" shows, wears a pink tracksuit, watches Mean Girls religiously(the movie title is very literal,you don't need to have seen it), listens to Taylor Swift all the time, loves Twilight, eats a bagel for breakfast everyday, planned their outfit based on a white suburban mom's pinterest board

Just some ideas, hopefully this is fun and I hope you feel better soon💜💜💜

With love,

-Zell

May darling <3 I love this idea and I feel better and sorry this took a second.

I hope no one takes offence, I'm white as hell so like.. yes. [also we are all a little white woman aren't we, deep down there's a Beccy and a Karen lurking]

Marco  He’s the bitch that can’t wait for pumpkin spice to come around. He also showed up to Wano 20 minutes late with Starbucks which is pretty white girl of him. His Sphinx outfit looks like a mom coming back from yoga.

Ace Spends too long looking at TikTok. Daddy issues.

Thatch Drinks wine and writes smut.

Izou Goes and gets his nails did but spends the entire time gossiping about the bitch down the street and her shit haircut.

Law Is a huge twilight fan and spends hours online fighting about whose better looking that one guy or the other one guy. 

Rayleigh All around his home is ‘wine o'clock’ -  ‘everything is better with prosecco’ and has those bowls that say ‘bowl ‘plate’ and so on. ‘Live Laugh Love’

Buggy Would murder someone if they messed up his $80 extensions.

Hawkins I can imagine him telling Kaido he can’t go out and kill people because ‘uh don’t you know Mercury is in retrograde? I just can’t babes’

Boa ‘R U OKAY HUN?’ at every vague sounding Facebook post that's like : ( or ‘ugh’

Nami Is the person who posts : ( vague on facebook. Also, she’s a huge Karen, fight me. She would walk up to God himself and ask to see his manager. 

Thatch, Killer, Sanji Could spend hours watching episode after episode of ‘Real housewives of Dressrosa’ and ‘teen mom Grandline’ 

Zoro, Kid Post gym selfies on insta making sure you can see their protein shakes.

Nami, Vivi, Boa, Rebecca Do ‘Zumba’ and won’t shut the fuck up about it and makes it their entire personality for the three months they attend.

Perona ‘This car is powered by fairy dust!’  ‘princess onboard!’ ‘my other ride is a broom’ bumper stickers.

Whitebeard ‘My children are my world’ and the stickers that are stick figure families along the back of his van. Fighting a salesperson who gets paid minimum wage over 10 cents.

Hawkins, Drake, Izou Won’t leave the house before checking their horoscopes. 

Mihawk INSANELY LONG COMPLICATED COFFEE ORDER and will make you make it again if that milk is full fat.

Shanks Woo girl 

Sabo Sticks gum in someone's hair if they even mildly piss him off. Spends $400 on boots and never wears them. Oh, watches you make his drink like a hawk and before you make his second one 'Um excuse me, I ordered TWO drinks' while your still making it.

Queen, Black Maria At a restaurant ordering dessert ‘Oh I shouldn’t’ ‘Oh no babe, you deserve it’ ‘okay, I’ll be a devil and have a piece of that cheesecake’ BOTH GIGGLE

Doffy, Kaido Pink tracksuit bottoms and small dogs in their handbags. Shades and purses that cost more than your house. Roger Takes one sip of a beer  and acts drunk ‘I’m sooooo wasted guys omg’

Franky, Sanji, Roger, Thatch Crying over movies like  ‘Dirty Dancing’ and wishing they could be the girl and the lead guy is so hot omg.

Corazon "I'll just have ONE glass of wine" and the glass is the side of his head. or runs a bubble bath and drinks three bottles but it's not a problem it's self care.

Tag yourselves, I'm Marco with a dash of Thatch.

[softholand]

trick or kisses | tom holland

pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader

summary: you and tom visit a haunted house for your channel’s halloween special

warnings: cursing, horror stuff, gore (fake blood and body parts), clowns, serial killers

words: 2.6k

a/n: my first ever halloween fic is here!! it takes place in the same youtuber!reader au but it can also be read on its own (: anyways, i rlly hope you guys like it, pls remember to reblog and leave your feedback, it’s very much appreciated !! stay safe, and happy halloween 🎃🕯🍁

You had started your vlog that morning when you woke up, filming yourself making two cups of hot tea before taking them to bed, where you and Tom slowly sipped on it like you did most mornings before getting up.

Then, you greeted your followers, explaining what the plans for the day were and things you had to get done before leaving the house. After that, Tom left to go to the gym and you took the opportunity to tidy up a little bit since there were clothes and just stuff everywhere. When that was out of the way, you took a long shower, washed your hair, shaved, scrubbed, and moisturized your body, feeling like a new person after.

When Tom got back, you had just made yourself some toast with roasted tomatoes and garlic, something you loved to have as a late breakfast, taking the opportunity to show your followers how to do it since they had been asking for the recipe. After taking a quick shower, Tom joined you by the table and you ate together, something you also loved to do when he stayed at your house.

Once the kitchen was tidied, Tom went to a meeting in the city and you got into full work mode, sitting on your desk and editing videos until he was back and then it was time to get ready. You got out of your bedroom in some black tights, a plaid skirt, a warm sweater, and a long coat, making Tom playfully whistle as soon as he saw you. “Damn, babe! You look good!” Your brunette exclaimed, making heat rush to your face. “Thanks! You’re pretty cute too!” With that, it was your boyfriend’s time to blush, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.

He really was looking good though, wearing his trusty cuffed jeans, a hoodie, and a denim jacket, which perfectly complemented the look. “Thanks! You’re ready to go?” You nodded and after putting your shoes on, you both got into Tom’s car, choosing a playlist to listen to while you got to the address.

Taking your camera out of your bag, you used the time to let your followers know that you were currently on your way since the last thing you recorded was a clip of you showing your outfit. “Are you nervous?” You asked your boyfriend, turning the camera to him.

As a good driver, he kept his gaze on the road but his expression told you he had heard you. “I wasn’t until you asked me this question! Are you… planning something?” Tom said, taking a quick peek at you before adding “Like murdering me?” His question made you laugh, but you felt like you could keep playing this game. “Nah, your fans and Sony would be at my ass if I did.” You shrugged your shoulders, making him burst out laughing.

After about half an hour on the road, you and Tom finally arrived at the haunted house location. The place was huge, all decorated with pumpkins, skeletons, scarecrows, spiderwebs, fog machines, and many other scary stuff, making you quickly take out your camera and record everything for your vlog. A few minutes later, a lady dressed as Morticia Addams welcomed you and your boyfriend, saying it was a pleasure to have you guys there.

Later you found out that she was actually the one you talked to on the phone to schedule your visit, her name was Alice and she was a very nice older woman. She instructed you through some of the rules, saying that you could stop at any point, in case you felt too scared or even a little overwhelmed, all you had to do was say the safe word, which in that case, was corn.

After that, two very real-looking zombies escorted you and Tom to the inside of the house, where the “real fun was about to start”, as one of them grumbled in your boyfriend’s ear, making him jump. “Already?” You asked, laughing at his face. “Shut up!” Tom flipped you off, your laughter dying when you heard a deep mechanical voice saying you could finally enter the house.

The first thing you saw upon entering was fog, so much that you couldn’t even make out what part of the house you currently were in. You were just about to ask Tom if he could see anything when a guy dressed as Michael Myers jumped in front of you, holding a knife dangerously close to your and Tom’s faces, which caused you to let out a scream in surprise.

“Fuck!” You yelled, holding Tom’s hand as your life depended on it, forgetting that you were supposed to be recording this for your vlog. “You okay?” Tom asked, almost laughing at you. “For fucks sake, where did he come from? I almost peed my pants! Why are you not scared?” You asked, trying to adjust your camera. “Well, I knew something was about to jump out so I just prepared myself.” He shrugged. “But that was so sudden though.” You pouted, making your boyfriend laugh, leaving a quick peck on your lips.

When you recovered from the scare of your life, you followed Tom to what looked like to be the living room, also decorated with everything a haunted house asked for, spider webs, tombstones, jars filled with some gross looking substances, skeletons, mummies, and again, a lot of fog.

“Remember me, why are we doing this again?” Your boyfriend asked, while you passed the living room and went into the kitchen, which looked even more disgusting. “For my followers' pleasure, of course! They seem to love watching us suffer.” You answered, to which Tom responded, “Yeah, I still remember that spicy challenge we made.”

As you pointed your camera to the open refrigerator, you saw some very real-looking limbs stored in plastic bags, some of them covered in blood, even a few fake flies were placed on top of them. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” You exclaimed, practically gagging, which caused your boyfriend to do the same. It was when you got a little closer to inspect the fridge that one of the supposed fake arms started to shake uncontrollably, making both you and your boyfriend yelp in surprise. “Fucking hell!” Tom let it out, instantly backing off, practically dragging you with him.

“I did not expect that!” You said to your camera, even though it was so dark in there you could barely see if you were actually in focus. “It was quite clever though, I have to say that,” Tom said and you had to agree with him that, even though scary, it was a really good idea.

You kept walking and eventually got out of the kitchen, where a hallway filled with doors on both sides and a terrifying-looking clown at the end of it welcomed you and your boyfriend, who clutched your hand knowing how much you disliked the circus creature. “Oh, fuck me!” You sighed, feeling your heart race. “You wanna stop?” Tom asked, his voice filled with concern. “No, it’s fine! Let’s keep going!” You stated, taking a deep breath before adjusting your vlogging camera. “That’s my tough girl!” Tom smirked, bringing your hand to his lips, depositions a kiss on each of your knuckles. “I don’t think he’s even real.” Your brunette commented, before leading the way, hand still clutched to yours.

Taking a closer look at the doors, you could see they had writings on them, writing made with (fake) blood, mind you. The first one said “NOT THIS ONE”, while the second had “TRY THIS ONE” written in bold letters. The third and fourth had “NOT THIS ONE EITHER” and “OPEN THIS ONE” written consecutively on them.

“What do we do now?” You asked Tom, who shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe they’re trying to trick us like in the movie IT. I think we should go for the first one.” His words made no sense in your head but since the first door was the furthest away from the clown, you agreed with him. “Okay, but you open.” You let it out, making your boyfriend glare at you. “Thanks love!” He gave you a fake smile, making you stick your tongue out.

As soon as Tom opened the door, you knew you had made the wrong choice, screams started to come out of the speakers, while a cloud of fog engulfed you both. You felt Tom hold your hand but you couldn’t see him, what you could see though was the body parts that scattered the room when you suddenly tripped on a dismembered leg, covered in blood.

Suddenly, a guy dressed as Leatherface came running towards you, chainsaw in hand, making you let out a scream, before dragging you and your boyfriend out of there. “What were you saying?” You asked Tom as soon as you closed the door. “Nevermind.” Your brunette let it out, making you laugh at both of your faces.

After much consideration, you concluded that most likely every door had something behind it, so you decided to just skip the others and go to the end of the hallway, but to do that, you’d have to pass the clown, a task you were not very fond of doing. “C’mon, stay behind me, don’t look at him. It’ll be quick!” Tom assured you, to which you nodded, hiding your face on his back, holding his arms with as much force as you had.

Everything seemed to be going well, you passed the second door, then the third and the last one, where the clown was, only a couple of steps away. Tom’s body did a great job of shielding you, but what neither of you expected was for the clown, that by this point you were sure was just a dummy, to fucking move and scare the shit out of you and your boyfriend. The clown’s evil laugh echoed through your head, making you cover your ears with both hands, forgetting about Tom and your vlog.

You were so scared you didn’t even realize you had passed the stupid clown and was now in a room full of mirrors with Tom looking worried at you. “Hey y/n, it’s me! You okay?” He asked, carefully taking your hands from your ears. Tom seemed terrified for you and it broke your heart to see him like that. “I’m sorry, I… I just…” you tried, but couldn’t form a sentence. “It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. That was terrifying, even for me and I don’t even care about clowns, I can only imagine how it was for you.” Tom murmured, cradling your face in his hands.

“It was horrible!” You groaned, hiding in your boyfriend’s chest. “It’s okay! We can stop and go home, what do you think?” Your brunette asked but all you did was shake your head. “No, we’re almost done, and I have to finish the vlog.” You said, making Tom furrow his brows. “You don’t have to keep doing this if you’re scared, y/n!” He stated but you assured him you were okay and that you could keep going.

Thankfully, after the whole clown fiasco, there wasn’t anything major that scared you for the remainder of the house tour, maybe the crew realized you almost had a heart attack and decided to play it cool, if so, you were very grateful for that. Nothing jumped out at you in the room with the mirrors, the only thing scary about it was that you couldn’t tell if the masked faces were real or not, but thankfully, none of them seemed to be.

After that, you passed another corridor filled with fake animal heads, blood dripping from the walls, making your shoes squeak with each step you took. At the end of it, another actor dressed as a butcher worked on a “freshly killed body”, cutting off its parts, not even sparing you and Tom a look. Right before exiting the house, a loud thud could be heard from inside, making you and your boyfriend turn back to try and find the source of the sound. That ended up not being the smartest idea ‘cause a man wearing a creepy mask tried to chase you, making you both run until you finally made it out.

Alice was waiting for you at the end, with two medals which said “I survived!” on them. You and Tom both laughed but accepted the prize nonetheless. “I mean, one more scare, and I wouldn’t have survived but yeah, I’ll take this.” You murmured while putting the medal around your neck, making them laugh.

As expected, both Alice and some of the actors wanted to take some photos with Tom, which of course, your brunette happily agreed to. Once everyone was content, Alice let you know they had a photo booth in case you wanted to take some photos to remember this day forever, as she excitedly exclaimed. You and Tom agreed and a few minutes later you were getting out of the booth with the pictures, some of them funny and some sweet like the one where Tom kissed your cheek while you smiled at the camera.

After saying goodbye and thanking everyone for their time, you and Tom got into the car, making your way back to your apartment. “That was fun!” You exclaimed to your vlogging camera once you were settled inside your boyfriend’s car. “Taking the part that you almost died, yeah, you can say it was fun!” Tom playfully said, making you smack his arm. “Shut up! I could see you were terrified of that clown too.” You pouted and your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh.

Before getting home, Tom stopped at one of your favorite restaurants to pick something for you to eat since it was starting to get dark and you hadn’t even had lunch yet. Now, with two bags filled with food, you finally made your way to your apartment, where you sprawled everything on your coffee table for you to share while you watched an episode of a tv show you were currently watching together.

You decided to also take the opportunity to end your vlog since you’d most likely forget to do it later like it had already happened so many times before. “We’re home!” You exclaimed to your camera, pointing it at your tired face. “And we just finished eating too much Thai food so now we’re about to pass out at any minute.” With that, your boyfriend laughed, shaking his head. “Anyways, I don’t even know how much footage from the house I got, since I was hiding behind Tom most of the time but whatever, I hope you guys enjoyed seeing us both being terrified for our lives. I’m gonna end this vlog here now, don’t forget to like the video and subscribe to my channel if you haven’t already. I love you guys so much, and I’ll see you soon. Bye! Say bye, Tom.” You said, before flipping the camera to him. “Bye everyone, thanks for watching!” With one last little wave, you stopped recording, leaving editing for the next day, since you were too tired to even look at the footage now.

Later that night, you were cuddled up in your bed with Tom, your head resting on his chest, while he played with your hair, making it hard for you not to fall asleep. Once you checked your phone, you realized it was already past midnight, which only meant one thing. “Hey, it’s past midnight. Happy Halloween!” You whispered, getting his attention. “Yeah? Well, then Happy Halloween, baby!” He exclaimed, pecking your lips. “Hey, one more question.” You said, to which he furrowed his brows. “What?” Tom asked, slightly confused with your sudden excitement, since you were about to fall asleep only seconds ago. Smiling, you asked your boyfriend the silly joke you had come up with earlier, “Trick or kisses?” to which, laughing, Tom quickly answered “Kisses, definitely kisses!” before colliding his lips to yours.

tagging some of my lovely mutuals ~ @venomsilk @missnxthingg @duskholland @hazofmyheart @wazzupmrstark @lauras-collection @mrs-hollandstan @stuckonspidey @tomhollandd @t-lostinworlds @uglypastels @screamholland @veryholland @cali-holland @annathesillyfriend @reawritesthings

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

[dadsbongos]

Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

~~

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

~~

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

~~

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

~~

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

~~

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

[multi-lefaiye]

happy blorbo blursday! if you're participating today I'd love to hear about whatever oc is in the brain microwave as of late :)

OKAY i wanted to answer the Rook Vibes asks first b/c i decided that i'm gonna talk about rook here :D i did talk about them a bit with those vibes, but i want to talk about them more because they are my special little guy.

first up, let me share some art of my baby <3 this is a color palette meme thing i did for them! i randomly generated a color palette and found a random pose and outfit and went wild.

[Image Description: A drawing of my OC Rook in a limited color palette, shown from around the knees up. The palette is primarily made up of shades of blue, with a vibrant red as well. Rook is a lean person with scars littering their skin and large, pointed ears. They have eyes with black sclerae and colored irises, short dark hair, long claws, and sharp teeth. In the drawing, Rook is wearing a loose wrap around their chest and shoulders and a long skirt. They are holding a baseball bat with one hand, resting it on their shoulders, and their other hand is resting on their hip. The background of the drawing is dark blue with a red stripe diagonally across it. End ID.]

ANYWAY so rook is the protagonist of a wip i keep going back and forth on the name of, but for now i just call it 'rook' as a working title. simple title, it's fine. the basic premise of the story is that it's about rook, a monster that's kinda like. some sort of zombie shapeshifter creature. rook was the victim of a violent, horrific murder, and they were resurrected an unknown amount of time later by someone who wanted a pet monster to order around and do his bidding.

instead of becoming their creator's little pet monster, though, rook ends up being found by a local woman named kay, who sees humanity in them when no one else does and takes them in. she and rook become friends, and a large chunk of the story centers around rook, who has no memory of their existence as a human, trying to Be A Person.

however, WELL, rook does know their death wasn't pretty, and as much as they want to be a nice person and have a happy life, they also want some kind of justice (or vengeance, whatever works). another big element of the story is rook trying to hunt down the one who killed them and get their fucking revenge. already a daunting task, made harder by the fact that they don't remember anything about what happened in the first place.

i'm very into stories that center around recovery, mental health, and identity, so that's a lot of what rook's story is. with an added element of "rook wants to do some murder so so badly."

anyway uhhh some facts about rook:

i have a lot of thoughts about rook's powers and the drawbacks of those powers, as well as why they have them in the first place, but honestly that's probably worth a whole separate post. i've thought about making them a void-walker, but i want them to have their own lore. (plus, well, rook is a shapeshifter and void-walkers can't do that)

rook was given their name by their creator, a man who's obsessed with chess metaphors. they're also not the only monster he's created--boy's goin for the whole set. they initially rejected this name, but eventually they come to reclaim it as their own. they make their own meaning.

for a while, rook really leans into the perception that they are a terrible, horrible monster who only causes harm. they refer to themself as a devil and a demon and a bunch of other shit, because there's a period in their story where they decide to be just as monstrous as they were "meant" to be.

i wrote a short story a couple of years ago about rook's murder and all the backstory around that, only to decide later that none of that was canon anymore for the most part. welp!

the actual perfect rook song is louie zong's song pumpkin's revenge. once again, if i had the energy to make something with them based on this song.... it'd be all over for y'all (i'm kidding)

rook loves animals, but unfortunately most animals are afraid of them :(

rook is a shapeshifter, but they don't actually have that much ability to change their physical form without a large amount of effort and energy. there are a lot of things about rook's appearance that generally can't change, regardless of the form they take, such as their scars and sharp teeth.

okay yeah that's my baby <3 i love them so so dearly and they matter so so much to me <3

[callemreine]

Brave face, talk so lightly(hide the truth)

'All my life, I've just wanted to make things easier for them.'

Au August

Day/Prompt: Day 26 - Soulmate

Ship: Prinxiety, brief logicality, creativitwins

Word count: 3k (I'm so sorry I got carried away)

Cw: swearing / brief murder mention / implied death / crying / nightmares(?) / anxiety mention / caps / claustrophobia(?)

A/N: the prompt is your dreams are your soulmate's memories. The title is from the song "Sick of losing soulmates" by dodie. I wrote the first 1/4 of this a few days ago and the rest in one sitting and I couldn't care less about proofreading it so Im so sorry if there are any mistakes ;-;

@tsshipmonth2020

I see a girl in the distance. She has her back turned. Long chocolate-colored hair tied in a low messy bun. My hand is reaching out to her. I feel this sudden longing to be held by this woman. Craving her caring and loving words. Telling me that everything is going to be alright.

Wait. Why is she getting farther away?

She looks back at me with a sad smile. Everything gets dark. I let my eyes stray from her to look around. When was I in a hospital corridor?

"I'm sorry, Pumpkin. You're gonna have to continue our adventure without me. But, fear not, Little one. I'll always be there by you. You just gotta learn to know where I am,"

She caresses my cheek, giving me the warmest smile I have ever received.

She's gone, suddenly. I touch my cheek, still feeling the ghost of her warm touch. Along with… something wet? Am- Am I crying?

"Roman!"

I don't move. I feel stuck. But, also free, somehow. Just unsure of what to do, I guess?

"Roman! Wake up. You idiot!

"Roman!

"Oh, thank all things unholy! I thought someone was in our room, trying to murder us! You were crying, and- and whispering stuff! And it's creeping me the fuck out! And I'm not easily creeped out, you know that" Remus exclaimed as he sat on Roman's chest, grabbing his twin’s shoulders.

"Man, you're soulmate must have some twisted memories," He continued, getting off of Roman and returning to his own bed across the room.

'Yeah. Twisted…' Roman thought.

~*~*~

"You okay there, Sweetie?" Roman heard from where his head was buried on the kitchen counter. "Yeah... Just thinking about my soulmate again," he admitted.

"Another bad dream?" His mom inquired as she sat next to Roman, patting his back. "It's not just that. It's about the move. Like, we're never really sure which of our memories they see, right? But, they've seen all my memories from this place. Like, they know where I've been my entire life…" he trailed off.

"I'm just not sure how they would feel seeing a whole new different place… They don't seem to be in a place to experience a big change right now. All my life, I've just wanted to make things easier for them. And, yeah, my dreams don't really change that much. But, I make an effort, y'know?" Roman looked up at his mom to seek at least some kind of reassurance.

"I understand what you mean, and I think that what you're doing is great. And I know that you're gonna be the bestest thing that's ever gonna happen to them. But, I'm really sorry. We don't really have any choice with this move. I know your soulmate is in a dark place right now, but you can't always do everything for them. You're also your own person," His mom hugged him.

Roman felt like he was hopeless in this situation. And, he was always hoping for the best. For his soulmate or otherwise. Maybe his mom was right about putting himself first sometimes.

~*~*~

Virgil was in his first period when someone he didn't expect to walk into his classroom… walks into his classroom… They were wearing an army green shirt, a denim jacket with neon green highlights and spikes at the bottom, ripped jeans, and platform boots with more spikes and vulgar words written on them. To say that this man was familiar was an understatement. He KNEW this man's entire life THROUGH his dreams.

Virgil felt like he was trespassing someone's life. Like, he wasn't supposed to know the man. And that, they shouldn't be in any way related. Especially to their sibling.

He wasn't really ecstatic about meeting his soulmate. IN SCHOOL NO LESS. It wasn't really an ideal 'meet-your-soulmate' place for someone like Virgil.

"Alright, students, I'm sure you've all noticed that we have a new student right here. Now, why don't you go and introduce yourself, Mister," their teacher said to the denim jacket guy.

"Umm. Sup? I'm Remus Duke Kingsley. Nice to meet you all. And, if you see a guy that looks like me but without the mustache and wears red all the time, he’s always loud, you can’t miss him. That's my twin brother, Roman. The boring one," Remus says, yawning by the end of his introduction.

'HOLY FUCK, TWINS?!' Virgil thought. Fortunately(or unfortunately, depending on which part of Virgil's brain you're asking), Remus already gave him a vague description of who to look out for.

~*~*~

Virgil continues his day and falls into his daily routine, which mostly includes attempting to avoid being perceived by anyone. It usually succeeds if you exclude his friend, Patton, from ‘anyone.’ He only hopes that his soulmate also sees Patton in their dreams cuz, to be honest, Patton is the ray of sunshine everyone needs. Yeah, he was also friends with Logan, but he’s more like a moon if you ask him.

Virgil goes into the cafeteria and sits at their usual table, his back facing the entire cafeteria. He takes out a paper bag from his bag and grabs the sandwich he bought earlier, not waiting for his friends.

A few moments pass before Logan and Patton reach his table. “Hey, kiddo! You alright?” Patton says as he sits down. Virgil just gives them a nod and continues to eat. “I heard this morning that there were new students,” Logan inquires before Patton interrupts “Oh yeah! They’re twins! I have first period with one of them. He’s really nice. Oh! Hey! Roman! Over here!” Patton shouts and waves his arm toward a student that just entered the cafeteria. “Hope you guys don’t mind that I invited him over to sit with us,” He continues and flashes both Virgil and Logan a smile no one could say no to.

“Hey, Patton.” The guy says to Patton. “Hope you guys don’t mind me crashing your table. I’m Roman by the way,” Roman says to the other two. “Pleasure to meet you, Roman. I’m Logan. And, no, we wouldn’t mind at all,” Logan answered him back. Roman looked over to Virgil who just nodded and said his name. Roman then proceeded to sit next to Virgil but not paying him any mind.

And, though Virgil seemed to be calm about the situation, his mind is currently in flames having his anxiety and his gay panic fight over each other. Virgil is currently waiting for who would win, that's why he seems so calm on the outside. After finishing his sandwich, he was trying to think of something he could do to keep himself from leaving and be noticed. He looked over to Logan, attentively listening to Patton talking about the dog he saw this morning. Roman was silently eating his lunch, also listening to Patton, but looking around the cafeteria every once in a while.

It seems that Virgil’s anxiety won the fight because he decided that he doesn’t want to stick around with his friends and his apparent soulmate without doing anything. So, he stands up and excuses himself from the group. "Hey! Wait!" Roman calls after him. Virgil stops a few feet from the table to look back at Roman who was already jogging towards him.

"Virgil, right?" He assures.

Virgil nods. "Ok, there’s just something I wanna ask you. Are those two soulmates?" Roman throws his thumb back, pointing at the two left at the table. "Cuz, as much as how adorable they look together, I kinda don't want to be stuck as a third wheel," he continues.

"Oh. Yeah, those two are soulmates. Sometimes, I wonder if they ever do notice me every time I leave the table," Virgil elaborates, looking back at his friends with a slight smile.

"Umm. Class doesn't start for a few more minutes. I was wondering if I could join you for a while? Wherever you were going…" Roman trailed off, realizing he didn't know where the shorter male was headed.

"Uhh. Yeah, sure. I was just headed to the courtyard to pass the time,"

'Shit. Virgil, why are you doing this?! Why did you agree?! You have anxiety!' Virgil mentally scolded himself.

"Ok. Cool. I'll just go get my stuff," Roman flashed Virgil a smile before heading back to the table.

'Fuck. I am so screwed,' Virgil thought.

~*~*~

"So, what's the deal with those two? I mean, how did they deal with the soulmates thing?" Roman finally spoke a few moments after they found a bench to settle on. "Uhh, well. Logan is my childhood friend and the first day we started high school here, they both had a dream of roll call the other had that day, I guess? They both heard each other's name and boom. You got your glasses gays," Virgil discussed, reminiscing the events that happened that day.

Roman let out a chuckle at Virgil's last words, causing the other's heart to skip a beat. They remain silent for a while, watching the other students passing by.

"What about you?" Roman spoke up.

"What about me?" Virgil glances back.

"I mean, what about you? Have you met your soulmate? Do you know who they are? You just seem like an interesting individual to me, having to stick around knowing you're third-wheeling all the time yet valuing your time with them and your time with yourself all the same. Well, either that or I'm just embarrassed that I think you're uncomfortable with me here…" Roman rambled, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Virgil chuckled, "Nah. I just get anxious when meeting new people. Plus, I think you're a pretty nice guy." They smiled at each other, Virgil feeling his face heat up, and looks away immediately. "And, about the soulmate thing. I think I have a clue of who they might be, I just…" he trailed off.

"What's holding you back?" Roman muttered, lowering his head, attempting to catch the other's eye. "I… I just think that my memories aren't that… for them. They're just this amazing and joyful person… I just don't think they deserve to see my bland memories every night,"

The pair fell silent, Roman feeling sympathy for the other. Virgil felt Roman shift in his seat before speaking up, "I don't think anyone's memories are ever bland."

Virgil looks up at Roman who has a far-off look with a slight smile on his lips. "I think that our dreams are what shows us what we're missing in life. What our soulmate has that we need and what we have that they need. You know, what makes you both feel complete when you're with each other," Roman smiled.

Virgil pondered on the other's statement for a while. "Is that... Is that how you feel when you're with your soulmate?" He said, being careful with his words. Roman sighed but remained smiling, "I haven't met them yet. But, what you said earlier reminded me of them. I always think they're a little different. My moms said that dreams are supposed to show my soulmate's memories. But, no one is ever sure which ones we see. Well, my dreams always have one thing in common… There's darkness every time…" Roman trailed off, looking more sad as he continued.

"Sometimes, they walk out of their house and, suddenly, everything goes dark and I see pairs of eyes staring at me as I walk. Or sometimes, they lie in bed and, suddenly, it's dark again and I'm stuck inside a box too small for me. But, there’s always this one dream that always repeats itself. Though, I'm not sure my soulmate's gonna be comfortable with me sharing," Roman finally snaps out of his trance and looks up at Virgil, looking embarrassed.

At this point, Virgil is now entirely sure that the person in front of him is his soulmate. He feels tears cloud his eyes so he looks away to play off wiping them away before looking back at Roman with pity in his expression. This is exactly what Virgil was afraid of, having his soulmate also experience the darkness that clouds him every day he wakes up.

"Wow… They- I- I don't know what to say… What are you gonna do when you meet them?" Virgil glances at Roman, pity still in his eyes. Roman let out a sigh but smiled, "I'm gonna give them the biggest hug they've ever received and reassure them that I'm always gonna be with them and that they'll never have to feel alone all the time ever again." Roman looked at Virgil with a smile. But, before he could notice the tear that fell from the other's eye, a loud shrill of their school bell rang throughout the courtyard, signaling the start of their next class.

"Talk about first impressions," Roman said with a chuckle, standing up. "Well, see you around, Virgil. I got a few more 'Hi, I'm Roman' to do," he continued, leaving Virgil on the bench.

~*~*~

I hear my converse squeak as I walk through the hallway. There are people around me, but they're all just silhouettes of the same familiar darkness. I'm walking to what seems to be the cafeteria. I sit down and grab my lunch from my bag. A few minutes pass, two figures sit in front of me. There's something familiar about them despite being two black silhouettes.

"Hey, kiddo! You alright?"

Patton?

"I heard there were new students," Logan?

Wait. Am I…

"Oh yeah! They're twins!"

Oh.

"I have first period with one of them. He's really nice. Oh! Hey! Roman! Over here!"

Before I could look over to… me…

Darkness. Again.

I hear muffled voices. Too muffled to be recognized.

I stay in darkness for what felt like hours before I get surrounded by light.

Too bright.

There's a silhouette in front of me. It doesn't have any facial features but I can feel it stare at me. Slowly, the light around me doesn't feel too bright anymore. It feels… warm and comforting. Similar to the feeling I have in my chest, along with a squeezing feeling. I feel tears cloud my eyes, but I feel happy, somehow?

I feel someone embrace me. I look up to see the silhouette. Its arms around me, like it's protecting me. I feel secure. I feel loved.

I hug back, breaking down in its arms.

"You don't have to be alone anymore"

I hear my own voice. I break down sobbing, seeking more of the silhouette's warmth.

I stopped sobbing after a while but remained in the silhouette's arms for what felt like hours.

"You gotta wake him up!" I heard a distant voice say in a hushed tone.

"No, he hasn't slept like this since who knows when… Something must've happened yesterday..."

I feel myself slowly drifting from where I was standing.

"We can just tell the school he's sick"

"On the second day?"

I feel someone caress my cheek.

"You can stay too if you want"

"Hey, sweetie," Roman opens his eyes to his mom in front of him.

"What's going on? Why are you all in our room?" Roman asks as he sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He eyes Remus standing in front of their mama. Their mom is sitting on the edge of Roman's bed, facing him.

"Well, sweetie. You see, you just had a full night's sleep," their mom explained.

"You looked so peaceful too," their mama added with a smile. Roman stopped to let the events of his dream last night come back to him.

"Roman, is everything ok?" Their mama walked over to him, tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm okay!" He flashed a smile to his moms, meaning what he said.

~*~*~

Roman hadn't been able to sit still ever since he got to school. 'Late', he should add. Apparently, he overslept while Remus and their moms decide whether to wake him up or not.

When they got to school in the middle of first period, they were excused because their moms were there to explain. With a slightly bent truth, of course.

Roman had to wait three(and a half) classes to talk to Virgil. They didn't have any classes together, to which Roman was bummed to find out. When the bell rang, signaling their lunch break, Roman hurriedly headed to the cafeteria. When he got there, he spotted Virgil just about to sit down at their usual table.

"Uhh. Virgil? Can I talk to you for a sec?" Roman felt awkward, to say the least.

"Uhm. Sure," Virgil replied, standing up. Roman led them under a tree in the courtyard, away from other students. They stayed silent for a while before Virgil spoke up, "So… what'd you wanted to talk about?"

Roman just stared at Virgil for a few moments, examining him, before enveloping him in a tight hug. Virgil stood frozen for a while, surprised at the gesture. He slowly placed his hands on Roman's back, still confused at the sudden affection.

"You're not alone anymore, Pumpkin," Roman said in a gentle voice, cradling the other's head. Virgil froze when he heard the nickname. His expression then softens and hugs Roman tighter, burying his face on the taller male’s shoulder.

"How did you find out?" Roman heard, slightly muffled by his jacket. "Had a dream about yesterday," Roman simply stated, not elaborating more. "What about you? You said you had a clue. Oh! That rhymed,"

They both laughed.

"I have first period with Remus and I recognized him right away," Virgil replied, his face still buried on Roman's shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry you have to deal with him," Roman chuckled.

"No, I'm sorry you had to deal with him your entire life,"

"Well, we're not alone anymore now, are we? Roman asked with a serious tone. Virgil parted a few inches from Roman, still holding on to him. He smiled as he looked up at Roman, "No, we're not."

This might be the last one I'll do for AU august but I'm also deciding if I should go back to the prompts I missed when I was sick hmm

I wish I included Remus more in this but it was already 3k words and thats the longest I've ever written so maybe its for the best XD

[keepcalm-and-beyou]

Serial Killer Boyfriend

YoungFP x Reader

Werewolves howl, Phantoms prowl, where witches go riding and black cats are seen, the moon full and bright whispers tis Halloween. 

It feels like magic in the night when you see the pumpkins light. Time for the ghouls and ghost to seek goodies, for people hoping for treats not tricks. 

Halloween time in our town with pep. Everyone from school invited and some not invited to this years Spooktacular Party surely must be getting ready as i am. 

🎃Now I have a story that I'd like to tell About this guy you all know him, he had me scared as hell! He comes to me at night after I crawl into bed He's burnt up like a weenie and his name is Fred!🎃  

As A nightmare on my street song plays on my radio I apply my lipstick and smile when the song mentions the name Fred as it makes me think of my friend Fred Andrews, i also cant help but love the nightmare on elm street movie. Freddy Kruger what an intense killer to get you in your precious dreams i hope they make more movies like that. A noise interrupted my thoughts slightly making me jump. heading towards where it had come from i look out my window to the left then right side seeing some children running around on my street dressed up in their costumes trick or treating, the street lights shinned on my street sign that read ELM STREET. 

Thinking the noise must of been from those who are outside simply wanting candy i turn away from the half way open window i scream as i felt something grab my arm from where the window was i turn fast to face it seeing my boyfriend trying to climb through the window. I let a relived sigh leave my lips and step back in no mood to help him through my window but to watch his struggle he sure deserves it after that stunt. 

“Thank for the help babe” FP says sarcastically while finally getting him self through my window his eyes not yet even looking really at me until he stands up straight turning to fully face where i was standing by my bedroom wall. 

FP’s eyebrows raised in what looked like surprise “Wow babe, damn you look good not like that’s anything new” 

“Well i tried thank you, uh what are you suppose to be, some poor victim of a serial killer stabbing, some messed up boy with mommy issues and a daddy who just doesn't seem to love him the same these days who has a issue filled girlfriend that seems so awkward all the time who probably kills his own girlfriend because ya know always some bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend, he must of watched way to many movies” I ask him as he slowly creeps closer to where i have been standing. This is when i notice the knife in his hand. It sure don’t look like the typical cheap fake ones used for such things as Halloween costumes. That makes me raise an eyebrow at the sharp metal in his hand. Fps eyes caught my reaction to his choice in accessory for his costume and he smirks getting closer to me. 

“Nah babe this blood is of my victims” he smirks wider as his eyes seem to burn into mine “I’m the killer” he adds while he brings his knife up to his bottom lip resting it there. 

“Shit does that mean i’m the girlfriend you want to kill for some bullshit reason” i fake seriousness.

“Hmm I think ill keep you around you look to good to ruin that tight outfit” he smirks checking me out. 

“Thanks. Oh and next time use the front door you ass”

“Did i give you a fright” FP stalks even closer to just inches apart. Like he is  stalking his prey. I deny that he frightened me and i lightly push him backwards from my bubble of space done with his creepy killer vibes in my bedroom and wanting to get my party on. 

Walking out my front door like a normal none creepy person uses i turn to FP “Your not really gonna walk around with that legit knife are you, because that seems like big ole trouble to me” 

“You have no idea” FP says quietly but loud enough to hear him. I watch as he passes by me down my steps and put the knife into a holster on his jeans.

“Wait what?” I ask confused on his statement. only for him to act as if he never heard me. 

I spot a boy who looks like our friend a small ways down coming from his front lawn as we approach and it is indeed my best guy friend! 

“Oh my gosh Fred i love it i absolutely approve of this years choice in costume” I say excitedly going to hug him not caring for his eyes to slightly open wider at my revealing chest area. 

“You look.. uh wow yeah wow a good wow very good wow” Fred rambled 

“Watch it Fred” FP warned in what seemed to be a half joke half serious threat as he slaps Fred’s check lightly and they do a quick bro hug. 

“Awe my guys, my killer boyfriend and killer best friend, my Freddy as Freddy i love it, glad you didn’t go with a mask of Freddy Kruger though i prefer your pretty face” I smack Fred on the same cheek FP had done. 

“I knew you would” Fred smiles. 

“Okay i could use a drink and Hiram douche as rich as he is must have plenty at his party so hurry up move it along” FP says nodding his head ahead of us indicating for us to start walking that way. 

Hiram Lodge, rich and rude mostly describes him. someone who many of us don’t particularly like. Fred dislikes him for many reasons one being Hermione Gomez the girl Fred was into and thought she could be the one. Until she chose Hiram and his pearls over Fred and his heart. FP dislikes him for many of the same reasons Fred does but one being Me the ex girlfriend of Hiram, I thought he could be the one until our once fun filled relationship turned into a cold one into a distant one into me choosing FP over Hiram. But hey a party with free booze is our kind of party and we got the invite well me and Fred did anyways. 

Walking through the streets of Riverdale seeing all the Halloween decorations like the lights from jack-o lanterns and ghosts hanging from trees, feeling the chilling vibes of the magic that is Halloween night run through my body, the feel of a cold hand in mine making me smile at my serial killer looking boyfriend. 

I watch as few children pass us by seeing the looks shared by Fred and FP raising my eyebrow at what they could be thinking then suddenly the two teenagers yell and jump forward towards the little kids scaring them making the children scream and run off. Rolling my eyes at the two men in front of me laughing like hyenas. 

“Real mature boys” I say unimpressed at the child like behaviour 

“Its Halloween y/n lighten up” Fred laughs 

“Yeah babe its meant to be scary” FP adds

“True but no need to terrorise little kids” I shake my head at them. And continue our walk.

Nearing the house holding the Halloween party hosted by Hiram i notice some familiar faces as much as i can being with all the Halloween costumes. my eyes came upon sierra dressed as wonder woman, a perfect costume for her and her girl power woman on a mission thing she has going on. a short distance a way as well seeing tom Keller in a army costume, another typically perfect costume for the boy.

The outside of the house isn't much decorated i try to push through some of my fellow classmates with FP and Fred hot on my tail walking through the front doors. I’m impressed by what my eyes are seeing the many outstanding lights making the house look like a nightclub ready for teenagers to dance the night away, i see Halloween theme streamers and garland, hanging bats all over the roof of the house, your typical mini orange pumpkins and some painted black placed on tables, and my favourite of all the creepy images on the walls that change. 

“Boy Hiram of course with all the crap” FP looks around at all the decorations as i was. “Think he’s compensating for something Fred” FP chuckles looking to Fred who’s standing next to him. Fred laughs at his best friends remark. 

“No comment” I smirk barley looking towards FP to see his glare thrown my way. 

“Speak of the devil” Fred nods his head to where Hiram is walking towards us. Hiram lodge strolls head high nearing us wearing a medieval king costume, it makes me want to laugh at another super typical costume for the boy who think’s he is a real king, only kind of royal he happens to be is a royal pain in the ass. 

“Well well well a sight for sore eyes, in all her black beauty” Hiram steps closely in front of me with that stupid smirk and ignorant eyes. I simply fake a big smile as my only response. 

“Fred” Hiram greets in a major Hiram way that doesn't sound very greeting like. so Fred does the same. My eyes moves back and fourth between the two and landing on Hiram as his eyes land on my exposed chest thanks to my Elvira costume. This doesn't go unnoticed by my serial killer boyfriend who steps in front of me chest puffed out and eyes murdering the rich man who only smirks more at the exchange. 

“Ah FP Jones i do believe you were not sent an invite but by all means enjoy my humble adobe, oh but please don’t let your serpent behaviour disturb my gathering” 

“Hiram” is heard from behind him of course coming from Hermione. I roll my eyes at her presence dressed as a medieval queen. “Hello glad you guys can attend” she says playing the dutiful girlfriend.

“Mhm thanks” I say in the most super fake tone i can muster up and a smile to go with it as i move past them farther into the home of the devil incarnate. 

Pouring my self a much needed beverage as FP pushes some guy lightly out of his way to reach a bottle of whiskey taken the whole thing for him self.

“Are you really just gonna take the whole thing?” i chuckle

“What like he cant afford to lose out on one damn bottle y/n” 

“Okay then” i let out a small sigh hoping FP doesn't get to hammered. 

“Hey it saves me from having to stab someone to move out my way for a drink” FP pulls out his knife he had in his holster waving it around near our faces with a wide smile. I’m not sure if its because it Halloween that this whole dressed in blood serial killer thing is legit creepy, but hey its pretend right. 

“Stop waving that thing in my face before you make me lose an eye you psycho” I tell him half jokingly. he just stares at me for a moment like contemplating on something, maybe something i said. But finally after making a clicking noise with his tongue he puts the knife back into his holster. 

“Good boy” I teasingly say to him as i grab his chin giving him a kiss to his cheek. 

Hand in hand we walk around for a bit saying a few hellos to some friends of mine as FP stays silent drinking from his bottle and eyeing a few people dangerously creepy. We enter the dining room seeing people including Fred playing beer pong. 

“Y/n come be on my team I’m kicking Tom’s ass” Fred shouts to where i stand with FP by the entrance. FP looks annoyed at the thought but i don’t care he can brood and mood alone for 5 minutes well i kick some major Keller toosh. 

“Oh Keller boy its on” i challenge as Fred cheers at my comment. 

I stand tall and elegantly yet cockily toss the ping pong ball, it lands perfectly into a cup filled half way with beer in front of Tom. Tom of course drinks it. Fred and I throw a few more times ultimately winning which causes us much joy giving us the need to jump around cheering for our self’s along with others in the room, i jump into Fred’s arms smiling at our victory he spins me around laughing. 

“That was awesome y/n” Fred smiles as he put me down. 

“Tha-” I’m cut off by the dark voice of FP

“I thought i said watch it” he remarks dryly to Fred as Fred gives him an unsure look. 

“Wow okay babe laying on the crazy tonight real hard don’t you think” I tell FP furrowing my eyebrows at the bloody boy. FP scoffs and Fred backs away slowly to leave me to deal with my crazy boo. 

FP moves close to my ear and says “Nah what would be crazy is if someone losses a hand because they can’t keep them off you” and he tilts his head in that weird way like a challenging way. Then all of a sudden he’s laughing. I can’t help my face reacting as if he has gone mad. 

“Let’s keep checking out the place babe” FP says in his normal tone as if he wasn't just a crazy jealous boyfriend. And put’s his arm around my shoulders. 

We came across a room that seems like a second living room it looks like the teenagers in it are playing a game as they all sit in whats suppose to be a circle. 

“Oh look its Y/n, care to indulge us in a game of secrets and sins” Penelope’s voice rang out. she use to be a decent human being but it seems her adopted family the blossoms have really done a number on her after she accepted to be with Clifford her adopted brother. honestly I’m unsure if its even legal. 

“I don’t know about that one” I shrug not really in the mood to share a secret of any sorts. 

“Are you scared to tell us something” Clifford chimes in as he is sitting next to the red headed sister girlfriend of his. 

“Let’s go babe” FP grumbles in my ear. But i shake my head at his words. 

“No no i’ll stay” I smile and take a seat on one of the few couches in the room that have space. FP stay’s standing by the door.

“Well that makes it your turn y/n, any sinful secrets you might wanna share” Penelope asks with a wicked smirk plastered on her face as if she already knows any secrets i may have. 

“Hmm i cheated on a math test once, no that’s a lame one, uh i keyed Hiram’s car after we broke up” that last so called secret made FP chuckle. but Penelope rolled her eyes not amused by my choices of secrets. 

“I have a obsession with the movie the heather's i do as well imagine poisoning my classmates, I’m sure you’ll be able to relate” i tell Penelope with a small smile. She lets out a huff still not amused.  

“So that’s your big secrets? Really. I think not Elm Street girl” she says smiling at me. Causing me to raise my eyebrow. And she continues on. 

“You know who else lives on Elm Street, Fred Andrews right? Your friend, your boyfriends friend” she drags on

“So do you have a point or are you just obtuse” I laugh in my head at my own joke sense obtuse is opposite of something pointy. 

“Funny. You like to do a lot with that mouth of yours, like talk when know one cares to listen or make out with Fred Andrews when you think know ones looking” she smiles deviously as my eyes widen in shock. 

“What?!” is heard from the door FP in fit of rage.  

“Wait let me explain” I say to FP but he doesn't hear it he’s to busy pushing his way out of the bedroom door so i follow him. 

“FP can you slow down what are you doing let me explain” I yell for him to hear me but all i see is him on a hunt. oh no probably for Fred. Poor Fred. 

Fp reaches Fred who is in the big living room area where the drinks are and teenager’s dancing. FP grab’s Fred by his shirt throwing him into a wall swiftly reaching for his knife 

‘FP no” i shout as i near the two boys. 

“What the hell FP” Fred asks his best friend. 

“I outta kill you boy” FP barks in Fred face now holding his knife to his throat. 

“FP stop please its not what you think i swear” I plead with my now looking like a real serial killer boyfriend. 

“Y/n whats going on? Why do you have a knife? wait is that a real knife FP?!” Fred asks a bunch of questions in his nervous and scared state. We all barley notice the music had turned down a bit and people were gasping and whispering amongst them self's. 

“You touched my girl!” FP says lowly very low dangerously low. 

Fred looks beyond shocked at the news his best friend knew. He was speechless. 

“FP please let’s talk outside or in a quite room” i beg of him. 

“Screw this” FP says angrily and grab’s Fred again by the shirt only to throw him into the wall once more before backing away. “You better watch out boy” FP threatens Fred. FP disappear’s into the house and I tend to Fred. 

“Oh my gosh are you okay i cant believe he just went that psycho” I held onto Fred’s head looking over his neck and face for any injuries. Seeing a small cut from the knife on is neck, making me cringe at the fact my boyfriend did that. 

“I’m okay y/n how did he find out?” Fred asks looking guilty 

“Secrets and sins and one red headed bitch of a blossom” I remark coldly.

“I’m going to find the bathroom see if i need anything for my neck” Fred tells me as he starts to move towards the door way. 

I should look for FP to tell him the truth the whole truth to that secret. The fact that it was before i chose to be with FP, it was a drunk bad judgement call right after my break up with Hiram. 

Its been some time looking for FP i think its safe to say he left the party. Maybe that’s a good thing give him some space to calm down and when he wants to talk i’ll gladly talk to him. I haven't seen Fred in awhile either, if he ditched me i’m going to kill that athletic guitar playing boy. No sign of my best friend and the party has majorly died down with only a few students i barley know from school and the few i do know decently well like Sierra, Tom, Penelope and Clifford, Marty Mantle and Darryl Doiley and of course the host him self and his little girlfriend Heromine. 

I look around some more for Fred so we can leave, i check anywhere i can including upstairs. I come across a room at the very end of the hall and open the door slowly “Hello anyone in here?” I ask not wanting to intrude on anyone's personal business. There’s no answer. I cant make much of what’s in the room it’s very dark until i find the nearest light switch flicking it on my eyes instantly see a body on the ground. 

“Oh my god Fred?!” I move fast towards the body now seeing the crimson colour seeping through his shirt as if he has been stabbed. I couldn't control it my mouth had i mind of its own as it let out a screeching sound of horror at the sight of my best friend bleeding not a single movement made on the floor. 

I stood in shock for a moment after my scream rang through the walls catching the attention of a few of my fellow classmates as they run into the room. 

I hear gasps and what happened and omgs come from a few mouths as i stare eyes wide open at Fred on the ground. I see Tom get closer to Fred’s body when i snap out of my trance of horror. 

“Wait don’t touch his body!” i spit out before anyone can lay a finger on the boy. 

Everyone looks at me as i’m insane. 

“Finger prints and moving a body is like what tampering with a crime scene and if you have your finger prints on him guess who’s a suspect of murder” I tell everyone sternly. 

“We need to see if he is breathing!” Tom says freaked out. 

I move closer to Fred’s unconscious body not enough to touch and tell everyone to shut the hell up so i can listen for his breathing, I hear nothing. I then put my hand in front of his nose and mouth to see if i can feel air coming from his bloody body, I can not. 

“He’s not breathing guys.. he’s dead” i cry out covering my mouth in more shock. I hear little cries from the girls Heromine and Sierra. 

“This can’t be happening my parents will kill me if i through a party and there happens to be a dead body laying around” Hiram sighs

“My dad is probably gonna kick my ass” I hear Marty say in a fearful tone.

“We need to call the cop’s” Tom says

“I don’t know about that” Clifford chimes in. 

“What are you talking about that’s what your suppose to do, unless you killed him?” Tom shouts back at Clifford. as Clifford scoffs

“This could ruin our life’s what colleges are wanting to accept people involved in a murder” Penelope say’s. 

“Was that a confession?” Darryl Doiley ask’s The red head rolls her eye’s

“Who would do this” I let tear slip from my eyes. 

Everyone looks around at one another eyes scanning each other with possible thoughts that one of us killed Fred Andrews. 

“Hiram. I bet it was Hiram” Penelope says smugly as always these days. 

“And why would I do that?” Hiram asks in almost to good to be true calm manner. Everyone turns their heads to Penelope so she can further explain her accusations.

“Oh please you never did like the boy so much you even stole his girlfriend” she replies nodding towards Hermione who still have many tears on her face. 

“Please you strike me for the killing type both you Blossom’s and your weird family” Hiram spits back to the red headed girl. 

“This is so not cool guys we need to do something” Sierra says. 

“Yeah like the cops’” Tom says again 

“No, no cop’s, not until we figure who might have done it” Hiram speaks.

“We can all point fingers at each other but nothing proves either of us did it” I tell them hoping their madness would stop i haven't even had time to really wrap my head around the dead body of my best friend. 

“What about FP” Darryl Doiley speaks up from the corner of the room he’s been hiding in sense he came in after my scream. Everyone turns to look at the Doiley boy at the same time with looks that say what about him. 

“He had a knife right he held it to Fred’s throat and went all psycho doesn't that prove anything” Darryl continued 

“This is true, FP did have a weapon and is well crazy” Hiram says as a matter of fact. I roll my eyes at him. 

“No way he wouldn't .. I don’t think he would, oh my no no he couldn't” i say unsure in my own words that my boyfriend and Fred’s best friend would commit such a crime. 

“I don’t know the look in his eyes sure showed insanity” Penelope spoke

“Y/n it might be true look at the facts he was mad at Fred, he held Fred at knife point, and threatened him. It doesn’t look good for FP” Tom states

“What doesn't look good for me” FP appears in the door way of the room giving us all a fright many of us jumping at his voice. Some of our eyes wide in fear to see him in front of us hearing us talk about him. The girls Heromine, Sierra and Penelope move further away from him as they practically huddle together, Darryl and Marty look terrified, while Hiram and Tom have no expressions on their faces, then there’s me standing in the middle of everyone beside Fred’s body not knowing what to say and trying hard to keep my face a normal looking way. 

“Say hey what happened here” FP says what almost seems like a question but more of a taunt, he takes a step inside the room with his head tiled in that creepy way he does.

“Get away from us you murderer” Penelope shouts at him. 

“Hmm that’s not very nice” FP smirks deviously at her as he pulls out his knife pointing it at her “You are not very nice” he tell’s her. He looks at everyone in the room ‘In fact none of you really are. Not to me that’s for damn sure” he clicks his tongue. 

“Hey man we no what you did and its cool we wont say anything to anyone” Marty tells FP in hopes to get out of a killer situation. FP just laughs at the boys attempts. 

“FP tell them you didn't hurt Fred i know you didn't right?” i ask my own hopes rising

“We know you killed him FP” Hiram says to him

“How do we know your not the killer? huh? you like scary movies maybe your movie freak mind lost its reality button ever think of that” FP says challenging Hiram's words. Hiram scoffs. 

“Okay well if FP didn't do it and none of us did lets just call the cops” Tom says starting to walk towards the door when FP’s knife ends up nearing his face

“Na na na Keller get back” FP demands so Tom goes back to his spot by Fred’s body and near me. I look to Fred’s dead body and to FP, feeling a wave of sadness wash over me finally seeing it feeling it , that FP killed him. My eyes water as i take small slow step to FP who bares his knife still in front of him. 

“Why FP.. please tell me why” I cry slowly moving toward my killer boyfriend. 

“Why y/n! why!” he shouts manically making me jump. He turns to face the door he had just shut then back to me. 

Suddenly FP steps to me grabbing me by my throat facing me to everyone has his grip is tight on my neck keeping me in place close to him. 

“Listen FP” Sierra says trying to defuse the ticking bomb 

“No you listen you little bitch! Anyone moves and ill be happy to see what your insides look like. Takes the strength of a man to gut someone ya know” FP barks

“You all and your privileged life’s, you northsiders think your so better then everyone else!” FP shouts and his grip gets even tighter on my throat making me whimper. “Not anymore” FP drags his knife on my face as he speaks but not hard enough to cut into my skin. 

“We are sorry i’m sorry we all are sorry!” Sierra shouts

“You don’t have to do this FP let y/n go” Tom says calmly reaching his hand out

“Let her go FP” Hiram says more demanding

“Please FP you don’t have to hurt anyone” Heromine chimes in

“Oh my ” Penelope mumbles 

“Dude come on please” Darryl cries out 

“We’re sorry dude” Marty says but not enough meaning to believe it.

“If any of us made you feel less then us we are sorry if any of us picked on you we are sorry or if we made fun of you FP” Sierra speaks again apologising for everyone. And everyone’s voice rings out say yes and yeah’s agreeing to what she had said in fear for their life’s. 

“Nah” FP says then quickly spins me to face him and send’s his knife into my stomach instantly my hands go to the wound i feel the wet substance and my knees hit the floor as horror painful sounds escape my lips everyone runs to me as i turn around best i can hands red and dripping, the girls faces wet with tears the guys faces filled with horror i take one last look at my stomach hand covering it again.

“Gotcha” my head snaps up to everyone as i smile wide

“Really I’m dead no one calls the cop’s ” Fred says from the floor with his face looking towards us all. 

“What?!” everyone shouts with wide eyes and still horrified yet shocked faces all around. 

“Good job FP” Fred smiles getting up from the floor. “Man that’s tough playing dead for that long so glad no one saw me breathing when i needed to” 

“You did great man” FP smiles 

“But the blood” Hermione asks

“Corn syrup” I reply with a smile

“You are all seriously insane” Sierra says 

“That was not funny” Hiram adds sternly 

“Holy heck thank god” Tom sighs of relief 

“I can’t believe you guys” Heromine says shaking her head in dismay.

“Not cool” Marty adds 

“You had us all going” Penelope says in boredom

“Yeah” Clifford adds not making eye contact with anyone probably embarrassed that he got fooled. 

“Well can’t say you guys didn’t deserve it” FP smiles a normal smile not a creepy one at last. 

“Happy Halloween guys” Fred smiles 

“I got me one hot serial killer boyfriend” I put my arm around FP’s waist as his arm goes around my shoulder. 

“Happy Halloween” FP and i say at the same time to everyone. 

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whumptober No.4 - Taken Hostage

TW: Guns, off-screen assumed character death, sexist character, smoking

Taglist: @whumpers-inc

There is a surprising (and hand-cramping) amount of paperwork that goes into working at a call center, even one as unconventional as 1-877-WHMP-NOW. An annoying, several hour, several stack amount. Bianca will never forgive whoever it was in HR or accounting (the only two departments who actually seem masochistic enough to enjoy bureaucracy) that suggested all these extra reports and encounter summaries and redundancy measures.

In the same way you tune out the world while enjoying a nature walk and only begin paying attention again when your unconscious mind notices something dangerously wrong, Bianca pauses in her muttered curses to the paperwork gods and listens.

“Why of course she’s in today,” Fran says in a tight tone. “I’ll just transfer you right to your personal whump-passionate care coordinator, Dom.”

Not Dom. Not that irritating, overly stuffed up crock of shit again. Dom had run through almost the entire call center, leaving Bianca the only person who had yet to swear to walk if they were forced to deal with the self-impressed asshole. Jerking her head up, Bianca stares Fran down, like a deer willing a semi-truck to change paths. She shakes her head, desperately miming cutting across her throat with a rushed flail.

Their gazes lock. Fran continues to dial, even as they watch Bianca’s distressed pantomime with all the impassive finality of a monarch’s sentence.

“Don’t you dare, Fran,” Bianca hisses. “I swear by all that is good and holy if you transfer him--”

Her line rings, and she answers it with a chipper grin that doesn’t touch her glare one bit. “Well hey, sugar!” If looks could kill, Bianca would be in a whole other line of work right now as she tosses an eraser at Fran’s head. “What can I do for you today, hun?”

Well, she can already tell this isn’t going to be a pleasant call, not if the sirens are any indication.

“Brianna,” Dom cries, “I’m too handsome for jail!”

Bianca mouths to Fran, “I’ll kill you,” even as they duck their head and pretend to be oh-so invested in their latest call report. She tosses another eraser and this one hits the mark, bouncing off the back of their skull.

“Hello! Brianna! I need you to put down the Covergirl or your nail file and do your job, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes, she returns her attention to Dom. “I’m awful sorry. What did you say your emergency was?”

“Thank you for the urgency,” he spits.

Bianca waits for him to elaborate. The sirens on his end of the line continue blaring, the voluming growing as they grow closer.

“Did the line cut out, sugar?” she prompts, carefully sterilizing her tone with a thick layer of honey.

“I tried to rob this small town little podunk town store and took this girl--” Dom lets out a short cry of pain and kicks at something. He corrects himself, ”This bitch. And someone had the nerve to call the cops on me!”

At the sound of gunfire- too close to the gun to be from any policeman, Bianca raises a single brow in silent question of his intelligence. In her humble, professional opinion wasting ammo on puerile displays and a lead tantrum is useless, but again, she’s just a professional. She only graduated at the top of her class and has years, if not decades, on Dom in terms of experience.

Of course, Bianca says none of that.

“Have you taken the girl hostage, Dom?”

“Yes! Jeez, do I have to spell everything out for you people?”

“It’s very helpful when our clients are clear and precise, Dom,” Bianca returns, an almost feral edge to the too wide portions of her smile. “Have you read our informational brochure, ‘So You Want to Take a Hostage’? Or perused our FAQs for whumpers?”

“Why should I?”

A year ago maybe Bianca might have been surprised. Now she’s just glad Dom can’t see the various mocking faces and mouthed insults she indulges in due to such a response. That doesn’t mitigate the desire she feels to bash her head against her desk until her mental faculties match Dom’s. Instead, she parrots, “No. Why should you.”

“So, what do I do?” Dom asks, impatience clear in his tone. “How do I get out of this?”

“Well, Dom, could I speak with your hostage for a hot sec?”

Completely ignoring her question, Dom muses aloud, “What if I just went out there with my guns and just started shooting. There’s only one car out there. I can take out some backwater donut cop.”

She loves her job. She loves her job. She. Loves. Her. Job. She may be a masochist.

“That course of action might not work well, sugar,” Bianca says carefully.

“Why not?”

Just as she’s about to answer, said aforementioned cop starts in with the megaphones and the offers for surrender. Quickly, she traces the call while Dom yells back about assholes and what he deserves and specifically what the cop deserves, involving his megaphone and uncomfortable places.

That ‘podunk’ little town is more of a small city, and even if there is only one cop currently there, there are bound to be more en route, and rapidly at that.

“Are you listening to me, sweetheart?” Dom demands. “There’s only one of him and I’ve got two guns. It’s fool proof.”

Oh, it’s something to do with fools alright. “So, to clarify, you’ve got a gun in each hand?”

“I just said that, honey, put your listening ears on and try to keep up.”

Over her ten plus years working with the call center, Bianca has heard plenty of stupid shit in her time but trying to go out dual wielding guns is… a new one. She quickly shoots Fran a short text reading, You SO owe me, Franny.

“What about your hostage? How are you going to keep control over her? Is she bound?” Bianca tries to reason with Dom, the apparent Blade wannabe, even if it’s futile.

“I’ll bring her with and put the gun to her head. Easy.”

Easy. Yes, so easy. Fran returns her text. ‘You’re the absolute goddess of dealing with BS I am not worthy.’

“Dom, could you be a dear and let me speak with her, please? Thank you sugar.”

“God what is it with women always needing to yap yap yap?” Dom complains as he rips the gag out of the hostage’s mouth.

“FUCK YOU!” She howls immediately. “I’ll bite your fingers off, you small dicked piece of shit!”

So, Bianca had admittedly harbored suspicions that the ‘girl’ was actually a grown woman, considering Dom’s typical behavior, but this certainly confirms that. A wistful sigh builds as Bianca listens to the hostage chew Dom out and insult his manhood and intelligence.

‘Damn straight. I expect pumpkin spice brownies and a latte on my desk tomorrow morning.’

‘It’s June.’

“It’s DOM.’

‘Pumpkin spice brownies gotcha.’

A solid, but wet crack jerks Bianca’s attention back to the matter at hand. The hostage is eerily quiet. Waiting for a response from either Dom or the hostage, she picks at the dry skin on her lips and taps her foot.

“Oh shit,” Dom whispers.

Screwing her eyes shut as if that will change what his answer is, Bianca asks, “Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just pistol whip your hostage?”

“Yeah.”

Nope, this is officially the stupidest, most asinine, bass-ackwards call from a client she’s ever had to suffer through. Clearly having overheard, Fran twists around to get a better vantage point to watch as Bianca places her head in her hands and fights back a scream of frustration.

Collecting herself, Bianca chirps, “I’m sorry, sugar, but you really ought to have read our guide. The first rule of a hostage situation is to keep your hostage alive as leverage. Now, as it stands, you’re a murderer surrounded by... “ She counts up each little blip. “Four cop cars and another two on the way. You have to understand, honey, that it goes against policy to stay involved.”

“What? No! You can’t do this you bitch!”

Bianca grins, sharp and vicious. “Oh, Dom, I can, and I will.” With that, and Dom still shouting injustice, she hangs up.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” she breezily admits to Fran.

They match her smile inch for inch, and then some. “Bee, you’re my hero. I’m throwing in maple walnut fudge pancakes just for that.”

“Of course we’ll have IT burn the connection and remote into Dom’s phone before the incident gets too close to home, blah blah blah, and we’ll look into whether that lady remembers anything after the whole gun to the head thing,” she dismisses, “but for now, I need a smoke break or twenty. Toodles!”

[write-orflight]

Trouble: Chapter 2

*Gif not mine*

Pairings: HotchxReader

Prologue  Chapter 1

Rating: M

Words: 3K

Warnings: Basic witch stuff, angst, mentions of child birth, mentions of near death

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: After Haley’s passing, Aaron Hotchner has lost the light in his eyes. He seems to find it it the most unlikely of places, an occult themed coffee shop ran by a witch.

A.N: Tarot, wicca, and crystal information is very secondhand if you see any inaccuracies, no you don’t. If you are a witch tho and want to help and be nice to me enter my ask box please, I’m annoying my friend too much.

Chapter 2: God, don't let me lose my mind

The deeper into autumn you got the more busy the shop was. 

Halloween was a big money grabber for your shop. People loved to come to the shop around that time because your shop offered such ‘spooky’ feel, as the hipster who came in that morning would say. You hated that. Halloween was one of your favorite holidays simply because the veil between the natural and supernatural was so thin it was the best time for spells and charms but what you didn’t like was people and baby witches asking you about certain spells or how to commune with spirits just so they can do something “extra spooky” for whatever parties they were having for the season. Consultations were such easy money though so you’d never turn them away but your answer was always the same, that Spirits are not toys and that if they are going to invite them it better be serious and for the right intentions otherwise they might not leave. 

Despite it being your favorite season, It didn’t make you less annoyed. 

“If I have to make another Pumpkin flavored whatever and tell a sorority girl not to invoke a demon in her house, I’m going to scream.” Silena says to you as you enter the shop, Artemis in tow. Your sitter had to take an exam so you had to watch her for the first 2 hours of your shift. Artie, knowing the drill by now, tries to crawl up to the bar stool. You watch her for a second, smiling her little legs before taking pity on her and hoisting her up. She immediately pulls a coloring book and crayons out her bag, before working diligently in silence. You kiss her temple before walking behind the counter, tying your apron on. 

“You had another consultation today?” You asked.  

“Pfft, it wasn’t even that. She asked me while ordering her coffee, though I should’ve charged her for that dumbass question.” You look at her pointed, nodding your head towards your child who repeats everything. Silly winces “Sorry, but still. If this is how halloween is going to be, you’re probably going to have to do some balancing spells.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Exactly what I need, more work.” 

“What’s a dumbass?” Artie pipes up from her perch on the stool. 

“Something you are not and shouldn’t repeat unless you want your mom mad at me.” Silly says, reaching across the counter to ruffle her hair. 

The doorbell of the shop rings and the very man who’s occupied your mind these past couple of months steps in. Aaron Hotchner was one of your favorite customers despite not talking very much, he’d make small talk while you made his order which you found yourself doing slower than it would normally take you, just to get a little bit more of his time, he’d leave a tip in the jar and be on his way always leaving you with a small smile that you always immediately returned with a wide one. You tried to stop yourself from getting attached but here you were, an adult woman who had a crush on a customer who probably didn’t think about you when he left the shop. 

You’d never seen him on a weekend though and frankly you didn’t know if you could handle seeing him like this again, he wore dark blue jeans, a black belt and a black t-shirt that fit a little too well over his broad chest you couldn’t help but staring at his arms that you’d never seen on display like this. You knew for a fact(well you hoped at least) he’d have no issue picking you up or pinning you down. 

Now’s not the time, y/n… you think. 

“Hey, you.” You greet, flirtatiously. You’ve been trying not to flirt with him, you really were but sometimes you couldn’t help it. It was your personality. “Didn’t think I’d see you in here. On a weekend, no less.” 

“Yea, decided to stop for coffee before heading to my sister in law’s. Can I have my usual and an Americano for her?” He asks 

“You got it.” You wink before starting to work. Silly gives you a knowing look which you brush off. Hotch takes a seat at the bar a few seats away from your daughter who looks up at him. 

“Hi!” She says excitedly. “I’m Artie.” 

“Hi Artie, I’m Aaron.” He looks around. “Are your parents around?” You look up. You’d forgotten to mention you had a kid to Hotch, which would probably explain his confusion of a random child sitting alone. 

“My mama’s right there, silly.” She laughs. “Mama?” She says you look up automatically from the milk you’re frothing. 

“Yes, bean?” You say. 

“Can I have a brownie?”  

“Well, I don’t know. Did you finish the addition tables I asked you to do?” She shakes her head at you. “Well, how about you do that then we’ll see if it’s brownie time, deal?” She nods, fast while pulling her math homework out of her bag. Hotch watches the interaction confused but with a slight smile. 

“I didn’t know you had a kid.” He says 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Gus.” You say, calling him by the nickname you affectionately gave him your first meeting. “But yes I do, that’s Artemis.” 

He nods, knowingly. “How old?” 

“Well, I don’t know. How old are you, bean?” You say. 

“I’m six!” She says, holding up 5 fingers, you grab her other hand to extend her other index finger too so the number was actually 6. 

“Really? You’re not 16 yet?” Silly asks, ruffling her hair. “I thought you were driving us home tonight?” 

Artie shakes her head. “Mama says I can’t drive yet.” 

“Between you and me kid, your mama shouldn’t be on the road either.” You swat at her. 

Aaron gives a small chuckle at the display in front of him. But he has to ask the burning question in his head. “Her dad—“ 

“Not in the picture.” You cut off. “Like not even in the same gallery.” 

Hotch nods understandably as you put his drinks in the carrier for him. He looks at you confused when you add a 3rd cup. 

“Hot chocolate.” You say. “For your son. I imagine that’s where you’re going. To pick him up from your sister?”  

“How did you know I had a son?” He asks. 

“Oh, I just used one of my witchy spells to find out information on you.” You say jokingly, but he looks at you with mild horror. “I’m kidding, Spencer told me.” 

He nods. “Thank you, y/n.” 

“No problem, come back to see me?” 

“Always.” He says, offering you a small secret smile before leaving. You can’t help the dreamy look you give his retreating back. 

“Are you coming back to earth anytime soon?” Sil says, shaking her head. “You got it bad, kid.” 

“Pfft, no I don’t.” You say turning to clean up the mess you just made. 

“I don’t understand why you just won’t ask him out.” 

“He’s healing, Sil.” You say, shrugging. “And I don’t want to push him into something he’s obviously not ready for.” 

Not to mention you also didn’t think you were ready for it. 

———————————————

On Halloween day, you get a visit from one of your favorite customers 

“Pennywise!” You say to chipper blonde women who strolled in she was wearing a orange and black dress with little jack-O-lantern earrings that you had gotten her the beginning of month. You move your hair back to show her the Ouija board pointer earrings she had gotten you in return. Penelope Garcia couldn’t just accept a gift without giving one in return. 

“Hey Y/N, how are you this ole hallow’s eve?”

“It’s Halloween and a full moon tonight.” You say excitedly. “It’s like witch Christmas.” 

“I don’t know about that but I am happy for you. Can I have a pumpkin spice latte and since I’m such a good friend an Americano with extra sugar for the good doctor?” She asks. 

“You got it, Pen.” You say before starting her order. “Heading into work now?” 

“Sure am! Hopefully there’s not a gruesome murder so I’ll be able to spend my Halloween having fun.” Penelope says. “You got any plans?” 

“Other than taking Artie Trick or Treating and charging some crystals in the full moon, no.” 

“Come on, no wild parties? no hexing beautiful men into falling in love with you?” Penny asks. You laugh loudly, shaking your head. “Man, maybe the life of a witch was more exciting in my head.” 

“Yea, you did.” You laugh. “I’m basically just a cool rock collector plus love spells, so not my thing.” 

“So there’s such a thing?” 

“Yea there’s love spells. I don’t believe in using them. I think love itself is it’s own powerful being. It shouldn’t be manipulated with, if someone was meant to love me they would.” 

“Speaking of love and love spells…” Silena pipes up from the display case she was loading pastries she just made into. “Penelope, how’s your boss?” You glare over at her. 

“Hotch?” Penny asks looking between the two of you before smirking at you. “Why do you want to know?” 

“I don’t.” You say at the same time as Silena says. “She has a Texas sized crush on him.” 

Garcia practically squeals at that. “Let me set you up please.” 

“No, Penny.” You say, immediately 

“Why not?” Her and Silly say at the same time. 

“Because… I don’t know didn’t his wife just die months ago, it’s hardly appropriate for me to try swoop in.” 

“Ex-wife. They were already long divorced before she died.” Penelope adds 

“Still! It’s not appropriate.” You say. 

“So what? You’re just going to keep making him free coffee until he realizes you're into him?” 

“Yup” you say adding the 3rd cup to Garcia’s carrier. “Give that to Grumpy for me please.” Garcia opens her mouth to say something but you just hold up your hand cutting her off 

“Fine.” She says, grabbing the carrier. “Only because I have to go to work though, this conversation isn’t over.”  

“Yes it is.” You call after her. 

——————————————

You were back in the shop. Artie was tuckered out after a long night of trick or treating and crashing from her sugar high so you decided to charge some of your crystals and do some balancing spells, knowing for a fact a lot of teenagers did stupid shit to upset the balance. 

As you were lighting the candles and incense, you heard a knock at the door. You were long closed so who could possibly need something right now? You look out the window and Aaron is standing there. You’re confused but you let him in anyway. 

“Hey Grumpy, what’re you doing here?” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you were closed, I guess I’ve never been here at night. I’ll go. I'm sorry for bothering you.” He says turns to go but you grab his arm to stop him. 

“Gus… it’s almost midnight, no business is open. You’re here because there’s obviously something upsetting you so I’m not just going to let you leave.” You all but push him into barstool. “Now like I said it’s almost midnight so there is something important I need to do so if you’ll sit tight for like 2 minutes, I’ll make us coffee.” 

Hotch obliges, sitting silently watching you as you lit some candles on the altar you kept in the shop. You placed the honey cake you had made earlier in the day on the altar before whispering. 

“Thank you to the patron, Artemis, Great goddess of Moon and Magic. Mistress of deer and owl. Be thou my guide and Inspiration. Teach me Thy mysteries and lead me in thy ways.” You stand and turn back to Hotch who is watching you intensely. “Sorry about that, midnight is her favorite time. Coffee?” You ask, He nods as you move behind the counter. 

“Can I ask what it is you just did?” Hotch ask. 

“That?” He nods. “It’s a full moon so since Artemis is my patron goddess, it’s best to leave a sacrifice to stay in her favor.” You shrug. He looks at you like you're crazy but you're used to that look. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s no different then some catholic practices. In fact, Christians often stole from pagan practices, and only one is just considered ‘taboo’ now.” 

“Is that why you named your child Artemis, because she’s your Patron?” He asks. 

“Actually, Artemis is my Patron because of Artie.” You say, he looks at you as if asking you to continue. “I wasn’t always like this.” You say gesturing to yourself and the shop. “My parents are pastors and for a long time I was this faith devout christian girl. But I got pregnant out of wedlock, my parents disowned me and I was looking for something to turn to. I met Silena and she introduced me to Wicca, and said whoever my Patron was through meditation and study, They’ll reveal themselves to me. So I went months, meditating daily, and still nothing was working. Then I went into labor, and everything was going wrong. I thought, this was my punishment from god for not only getting pregnant without marriage but turning to witchcraft. I had to have an emergency C-section. And when I was on the operating table, I almost died, Artie almost died. I started to see these images of deer and boar running through the forest. And finally when I came back to, and I could hear my baby crying, the first thing I saw when my eyes opened was the full moon out the window.” You sigh, sliding a cup to Hotch before moving from behind the counter to take a seat next to him. “That’s when I realized the goddess had saved me and my child. And while Artemis prefers virgin patronage, and that ship had long sailed past back then. I figured naming my child after her was the next best thing.”  

“That’s a beautiful story, Y/N.” He says, looking at you sincerely.   

“Thank you, and since you’re not running for the hills, why don’t you tell me why you really knocked at my door at midnight.” 

“It’s just…” He starts, clearing his throat. “Tonight was the first ‘major’ holiday without Haley. And I tried to take Jack’s mind off it, make it fun but it was like this looming weight above us. That it wasn’t the same without her and that it never would be. And I was upset and just wanted to take a walk but I guess my feet carried me here.” He shrugged. 

“Well I’m glad you’re here grumpy. And you’re healing you need to give yourself time--” 

“I don’t have time!” He snaps. You flinch back a bit, having never heard his raised voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just-I don’t have time to heal. I have to be there for Jack.”

“Who’s there for you, Aaron?” You ask. He looks at you confused. You hardly ever call him by his name. It's either grumpy or gus or a combination of the two. Never by his actual name, he hated how much he liked how it sounded coming from your lips. “Do you know what a rock tumbler is?” you ask, he shakes his head confused where you’re going with this. You run behind the counter to retrieve the box you had dug through the very first night you met.

“Well a rock tumbler is a device you put rocks into. Rocks that have eroded, rocks that have trekked the earth, rocks that have been to hell and back. And what you do is you put them in this device with a little bit of water and you wait. Days, weeks, months all the while this device is just spinning, you don’t see what’s happening on the inside but after a while, when the time is right, you get these beautiful lustrous stones.” You say, showing him the box. “Healing is the same way, others don’t see you working. But in the end, they’ll see the result. And you’ll feel the result too. But if you don’t take that step you don’t end up with gems like these. You just end up with an eroded dingy rock.” You look up at Hotch and he’s tearing up slightly. Your heart melts. “Do you want a hug?” you say. 

“You don’t have to--” 

You cut him off. “No one on earth gives hugs because they have to. I want to give you a hug if you want one. So do you want a hug?” 

He nods, fastly. So you stand, he follows suit and allows you to pull him down into a full embrace. Your arms around his neck and shoulders, he envelopes you fully into his torso, arms tight around your waist. You sigh, content. Before shaking yourself out of it. This wasn’t about you. No matter how right it felt. 

After a minute or so you break apart. You look him in the eyes and he’s staring back at you in what feels like admiration. You clear your throat. “Can I give you something?” you ask.

“Is it another crystal?” He asked back. 

“Yes, it is.” You rummage through the box before pulling out the one you needed. “This is Aragonite, it’s good for healing old wounds and building emotional strength. Now I can gift you this but you have to activate it yourself. Even if you don’t believe it, I feel like it’s good words to hear yourself say anyway.” You grab his left hand, sliding the crystal into it. He looks into your eyes. “Now say, I release past wounds and embrace resilience.” 

Hotch sighs. “I release past wounds and embrace resilience.” He then slides the stone in his pocket. Before grabbing your hand again. “Thank you, Y/N” 

“Anytime, Grumpy.” You say.  

Taglist: @megatrexus @roses-and-grasses​ @tittymuncher69​ @liaabsurd​ @ladyravenclaw​ @genevievedarcygrangerreading​ @softbibxtch​ @xxdisappearwithoutatracexx​

[laequiem]

No tricks, only treats [ONESHOT]

/ Cardan and Jude join the rest of the family to enjoy Halloween in the Mortal World.

Part of Tales from the Mortal Realm, a collection of random moments in the lives of the Queen and King of Elfhame.

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

Read it on ao3

"Is it strange that I find you attractive dressed as such?"

I was looking at myself in the mirror, assessing my outfit, when Cardan sneaked into the room. His training with The Ghost was paying off, he was as silent as ever.

"Strange? Yes. Surprising? No."

I saw him prowl towards me through the glass. He slid his arms around my waist, staring at me through my reflection.

Today is October 31st and Oak insisted we join him in celebrating Halloween. Of course, this means we all need costumes. I decided to go as the one character I knew more than anyone else.

Cardan.

I looked through his wardrobe for my outfit. It was quite hard to find a top that was loose enough to account for my breasts, as most of his clothes were tailored to fit him perfectly. I also found a dark blue coat, its collar covered in iridescent feathers. I gave up trying to find pants in his collection, as my hips would never fit, and just wore a pair of black leggings with black combat boots.

"What do you mean, dear Jude?"

"The only thing you love more than booze is yourself."

He raised his brows, making a show of looking offended. 

"Your capacity to lie to yourself will always impress me,” he said then plucked a kiss to my temple, “I love you more than I love wine."

I don’t think I will ever get over him being  caring . It felt as if he was a completely different person from the boy who would disturb lessons just to get attention.

Cardan turned me to face him, then inspected my face. “Something is missing.” He took my hand and directed me to his personal vanity. He opened the drawer and pulled out some cosmetics. He lined my eyes with kohl and coated my lashes with dark mascara. I suppressed my laugh when I saw he was so concentrated that he had stuck out his tongue. Then, he took out some glittery gold powder and applied it on my cheekbones. 

He took a step back to look at his handiwork and smiled.

“And the final touch,” he said as he plucked his crown off his head and put it on my head at an angle, “Voilà!”

I looked at myself in the mirror. I did not bother with any kind of wig. I put my hair up in elaborate braids, letting a few short curls hang in a few places. Yet, even without his signature dark hair, I still looked like him. I made faces at myself in the mirror, trying to get his grin right. 

Finally, I got up. “Your turn now, dearest Cardan.”

When Heather learned that Cardan would be coming too, she started suggesting outfits for him. She even went as far as drawing some of them. Something about his otherworldly looks inspired her. Maybe it's the tail, since a lot of her designs included it: a devil, sexy cat man and my personal favorite, a cute puppy.

In the end, I chose my own, petty idea. I walked in the closet and pulled out the outfit I had the servants clean for the occasion. 

“A King needs his Queen,” I grinned as I revealed the Queen of Mirth dress and crown.

Cardan threw his head back laughing. “You sure know how to hold a grudge.”

Thankfully, my husband was a team player, and he went with it. Even in this, he looked strikingly handsome. Or pretty, I guess. Unfair.

We landed in Maine in the early afternoon. It was strange to be awake so early, but Cardan did not seem bothered at all. We met up with Vivi, Heather, Oak, Taryn and Garrett at the entrance to FallFest, some kind of harvest festival that was held every October in the local park. It had everything from harvest contests to food stands, a section with typical carnival games, a small hay maze and even a haunted house.

I was not surprised to see my eldest sister dressed up, she went crazy for Halloween every year. Vivienne would dress up for a week straight before Halloween, even when she still lived in Elfhame. She was wearing a tight black bodysuit with a tail and claws as well as a black leather mask with cat ears. Heather dressed up as some kind of … plant lady? She had a short bodysuit made of green ivy leaves, green stockings and a long red wig. Oak was with them, wearing a reddish pink shirt with a big yellow star on it. I can only assume they went for pop-culture references I am unfamiliar with.

The real surprise was seeing my twin Taryn and her quiet lover also dressed up.

"What are you dressed as?", Cardan inquired, cocking his head to the side, "You ought to have dressed as Jude, you have already proved to be so good at it."

I snapped my head at him and slammed my foot as hard as I could on his. He was joking, of course. But the peace between me and Taryn was still fairly new. We mostly kept to ourselves and rarely talked. Garrett was back with the Court of Shadow and we were friendly, but he kept his professional and personal lives completely separated.

Cardan was hopping on one foot, scowling at me like he did not understand why I was upset. Taryn understood, though. She was sheepishly looking at the ground.

"I… I'm sorry for tricking you, Cardan."

I tried finding something to say to end the awkwardness. I wanted Cardan to apologize for what he said, but I knew he would not. Fae don't apologize.

Thankfully, Vivi broke the silence. "C'mon guys, we're here to HAVE FUN!" she complained, "What ARE you two dressed as?"

"Phantom of the Opera." Garrett replied.

"Nerds."

"Says the one dressed up as Catwoman." Garrett mocked.

The bickering continued, though less mean-spirited than Cardan’s original comment, as we walked down the main path. Our first stop was the pumpkin carving station. Each couple got their own pumpkin to carve, though Vivi and Heather’s pumpkin was mostly Oak’s handiwork and the couple making sure he did not stab himself. Taryn and Garrett made some intricate flower design on theirs, Garrett being the one doing the carving of course. As for us, well… Cardan had creative ideas, but no skills with a blade, and my skills were more of the  stabbing  variety. We settled on giving our pumpkin a traditional jack-o-lantern face. 

After the effort of carving pumpkins, we were starving. Oak was complaining, dragging his feet on the ground so much that Vivi and Heathers were holding both of his hands to pull him along. Behind them, I saw Taryn with her arm looped around The Ghost's.

I was suddenly very aware that Cardan and I were the only ones not holding hands.

Nobody knows us here. We needn't keep the appearance of the power couple, together to rule and nothing else.

I took my hand out of the pockets of my borrowed coat and tentatively brushed my fingers against Cardan's hand. I saw him whip his head towards me, and I blushed when I witnessed the surprise in his face. Soon enough, he smiled. One of those smiles he kept for me and only me, blissful and happy. The smile he gives me when we have the time to spend hours cuddled together in bed, enjoying each other's presence.

Cardan took my hand and squeezed. I squeezed back.

We spent the rest of the afternoon eating good food, trying to guess the weight of giant pumpkins and visiting a haunted house. Cardan was fascinated by the weird human traditions and absolutely ecstatic about the food. Pumpkin-spiced flavored food will become the new trend in Elfhame, judging by his reaction.

When the sun started to go down, Taryn and Garrett left for Madoc’s, who decided to try giving out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Heather and Vivienne had initially volunteered to take Oak trick-or-treating himself, but when one of their friends invited them to a party, we offered to take him instead. Oak was excited to spend more time with me and “Uncle Cardan”. 

I had not gone trick-or-treating in...10 years? Maybe 12? Since my parents died. Cardan, obviously, had never gone. So, dressed up as each other, with Oak dressed as some cartoon character, we roamed the residential streets of the city to beg for sweets.

“If it is called ‘trick-or-treat’, does that mean I can make bargains if someone refuses to give me candy?” Cardan asked as we watched Oak go up to a house.

I gave him my best ‘I’ll-strangle-you-if-you-do’ stare. “No. No turning people into cats, no curse making them hear imaginary insects buzzing around their ears.”

“Why is it called trick-or-treat, then?”

Vivienne told me they had to explain this to Oak, too, a few weeks ago. Someone at school had mentioned being excited to go trick-or-treating and my brother had been very confused.

“I don’t know.”

Cardan hmmed and smirked, “Perhaps the Folk were involved when the holiday was first established.”

I crossed my arms.

“If that’s the case, not all traditions need to be brought back.”

He laughed at that, then reached around me and pulled me closer to him.

“You win. I won’t trick anyone,” he crooned in my ear, “but I want a kiss for being well behaved.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “So needy.”

Once again, I had to remind myself that nobody knows us here. Nobody recognized our costumes today: in the mortal world, dressed as each other, we were only The Guy In An Ugly Dress and Fashionable Emo Boy. Nobody knew we are King and Queen of Elfhame, therefore there are no expectations to be the hedonistic king and his murderous wife.

I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him down. I felt him smile as I captured his lips with mine.

“Ew, gross!” Oak’s voice came from the other end of the driveway, “Stop that, come here.”

Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other and looked towards the house. Oak was in front of the opened door, talking with a couple. 

“Honey, look,” the tallest woman exclaimed as we walked down the driveway, “She’s dressed as High King Cardan!”

“Oh my god,” the other one replied, sounding so very human, “that sounds kind of profane. Do you think he would have her hung for this?”

As I looked at the two women, I realized that Oak had stumbled upon the house of a Fae couple. They saw through his glamour, and he saw through theirs.

“This is my sister Jude,” Oak started, “and this is my Uncle Cardan.”

Both females had gone completely still and were staring at Cardan with wide eyes. Simultaneously, they bowed deeply. 

“Forgive us, Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting you.”

“We so rarely see our kind around here,” the shorter one said nervously, “we… wanted to meet who little Oak was with.”

“We have tea, if you would like.”

I dared a glance at Cardan and noticed he seemed amused. Was he delighted to make them uncomfortable?

“That won’t be necessary,” he said as he took my hand, “My  wife  has us on a tight schedule, we have other houses to visit. Have a nice evening.”

I caught the emphasis on  wife  and realized they only recognized him as royalty. ‘  Your Majesty ’, singular. I could tell from the two females’ expressions that they also understood their mistake. I felt bad for them knowing they had no ill intent, probably unaware of the situation in Faerie. Yet, I could not help the grin that crept on my face. I worked hard to become High Queen. I fought and killed my way through the ranks, almost dying. Multiple times. I made decisions that will haunt me until the day I die. I am High Queen, and the Folk must know. 

“It was nice meeting you,” I say as I take Oak’s hand, “You are welcome to visit us at the palace if you wish.”

My memories from before Faerieland were to blurry, I did not remember getting so much candy. Did Taryn and I get that much? How could we possibly have eaten all of that? Cardan and I each had a smaller bag, only accompanying Oak to some of the doors, but Oak had multiple full bags. Once he went to sleep, Oriana was more than happy to give us some. She had learned how bad candy was for children’s teeth - even little Fae kids. She filled little bags for us to take back to Elfhame. 

Like anyone eating candy for the first time, Cardan went a little crazy. He wanted to try everything. Faeries might be different in a lot of ways, but I now have proof that chocolate is addictive even to them. 

The High King of Elfhame ate so much candy that he fell asleep on the couch, to the former General’s dismay.

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 6: “Heartfelt Appeal”

You find two characters that click so well, look them up...and there’s no content! ‘Why?? Someone please make content!’ The pleas go unheard. You’ll just have to make it yourself. Show some love for your rare pairs today!

MORE FANTASYSHIPPING! 8D

Year 2’s Duel Monster Spirit Day! Friendly reminder that ‘Mana’ is the name Dark Magician Girl gave when she introduced herself to Syrus last year.

Colorful banners and streamers hang from the entrance hall once more, market tents set up in the main yard with flashy signs and flags announcing their wares or food or other activities. Syrus stares at it all with the same wonder as last year, and peers through the throng of students hopefully. His other friends have already gone off to find the activities they like best, be it duels or carnival games or the kissing booth, so Syrus is free to wander at his leisure and search.

It’s stupid, it’s silly, and Syrus still wonders if last year was a fever dream regardless of the way Christina keeps teasing him and the ghost of arms he sometimes feels around his shoulders. But still, he hopes and maybe this year he can confirm it for sure.

“Syrus!” a voice calls out that tickles his memory and Syrus swings to face-

“Mana!” Heat floods his cheeks. Dear Ra, did she get prettier or is he just hopelessly, stupidly crushing? “You...you just disappeared last time,” he squeaks out the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t a jumbled mess of pretty hug magic like, and wants to kick himself when Mana’s expression falls.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says, looking so sad it physically hurts. “I didn’t want it to end that way. I lost track of the time and I wasted too much of it showing off.” Her voice turns a bit bitter before she shrugs it off and smiles again. “But not this time. This time you have my full attention.”

“No, no!” Syrus frantically waves his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean- I what?”

Mana giggles and leans down. “Just for today, you have me all to yourself!” Winking, she taps his nose and Syrus wheezes as his heart makes a valiant attempt at pounding straight out of his chest. Leaning back, Mana clasps her hands behind her back. “So what do you want to do?”

“Ah, well, um, we, we could, we could check out the carnival games,” Syrus finally stammers out a full sentence. Gods he hasn’t been this bad about it since the beginning of the year!

Mana only giggles again as she takes his hand and heads off toward the game booths. “Don’t go hiding in a trashcan on me now.”

Syrus’ brain freezes for a full second. “YOU SAW THAT?”

“I see everything Chinatsu sees! Well, almost.”

Who the hell is Chinatsu?!

*

It takes a solid 30 minutes and two botched carnival games to finally work himself out of that last anxiety attack, but finally his heartrate feels normal and he doesn’t want to die of mortification. If he dies he won’t get to see Mana smile or hear her squeal over the stuffed Happy Lover she won from the last game. Her throwing arm is ridiculously good. She’s also amazingly child-like for...however old she’s supposed to be.

“Ooo! I wanna try that! I wanna try that!” she squeals, pointing animatedly at the food stall with an assortment of pastries. “The bean fishies! Chinatsu loves these! I always wanted to try one!”

Syrus orders them a taiyaki each and ends up going back for seconds when Manna practically melts where she stands. “It’s so rich and sweet~!”

The next half hour ends up devoted purely to letting Mana sample all the food at the festival and discover her favorites. They compare tastes and Syrus offers recommendations. Mana ends up leaning more towards milder flavors of the sweet and savory variety; too much flavor and she’ll gag on it even if she likes the taste. Syrus prefers saltier foods with just a tiny extra kick. Mana’s reaction to hot spices had been concerning but strangely fun.

“Hey, um, if it’s not rude to ask...” Syrus starts as they sit on a bench nibbling on dango. Mana tilts her head to show she’s listening and Syrus ploughs ahead before he can talk himself out of it. “Are you really the Dark Magician Girl?”

Manna chews slowly before swallowing. “What do you think, silly?”

He thinks she is, and he’d call it crazy if not for, well, everything else crazy about the last two years of his life. After literally sentient murder crazy light, he might be ready to believe anything. But then- “Why me?”

“Because you wanted to get to know me,” Manna says without missing a beat. “You didn’t just see a pretty face or a powerful mage; you wanted to know the real me beneath all of that.”

“Oh...” Syrus remembers that conversation. Christina asked him why he had a card crush on the Dark Magician Girl. Did she ask because...

“And because I want to get to know you too,” Mana continues and Syrus sputters as his poor heart makes itself known again. “I’ve gotten to watch you a lot but that’s not the same as interacting. I want you to show me who you are. And I want to show you who I am.”

“Me? But I’m...I’m not...” His eyes fall to the ground as he thinks of that embarrassing episode of hiding in a trash can, of his brother who he couldn’t even stand up to in the end, of the Society of Light that he did absolutely nothing to help stop and even got himself kidnapped by a digital woman and her duel monster lackeys.

“Syrus.” A hand on his cheek brings him back to face Mana’s deep green eyes. “You can do anything and be anyone you want to be. I mean, just look at you already.” She plucks at the yellow blazer and Syrus’ chest fills with pride at the reminder. That’s right. He did do that. All on his own. “You look so good in yellow!” Mana cheers and Syrus’ ducks his face away again. He doesn’t know how to handle all these compliments! “Believe in yourself, and when that’s hard to do, believe me when I say I believe you can do anything.”

Those words might mean more to him than any other praise or pep talk he’s gotten before, simply because they sound so genuine. He’ll hold those words close to his heart for the rest of his life, because someone as strong and powerful as the freaking Dark Magician Girl believes in him. Swallowing, he nods and clears his throat to find his voice. “So, um, what do you wanna know?”

Smiling, Mana stands and pulls him straight back to the carnival games. Oh, so they’re not talking more? Syrus has to admit to being disappointed.

“Favorite color?” Mana asks as they try to catch tiny goldfish and distracts Syrus from the extra shiny one he almost caught.

“Actually...it’s orange,” he amidst sheepishly. “But I look horrid in it.”

“Aw, I think you’d look cute in orange! Like a little pumpkin.”

“A pumpkin?!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was that an insult?” Mana asks with such genuine concern and confusion that Syrus can’t even be mad.

Shaking his head, Sryus flips the question around on her. “What about you?”

Mana stares at the water in the plastic pool. “It used to be purple...but I think I like grey a little better now.” She looks up and smiles and Syrus can’t help but feel like he’s missed something significant in that response.

“Favorite animal?” Mana asks once they’ve moved on to a ring toss game.

“Dogs,” Syrus says immediately, then feels self conscious about it. “I mean, they’re loyal and fluffy and I’ve always wanted one, they look fun to play with-”

Mana laughs. “Dogs are man’s best friend, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Mine are birds.” Mana looks up to the sky. “Because they can fly. I always wanted that freedom.”

“But you can fly too, can’t you?”

“In spirit form. But I can’t go too far from my card. Like this I can only float a bit.” With a snap of her fingers, her feet lift a couple centimeters off the ground in demonstration.

“That’s so cool.” Syrus stares in awe as Mana sets her feet back on the ground.

“The silliest thing you’ve ever done?”

A deep breath as a laundry list of his most mortifying experiences assault him. Breath out. He digs deeper for an older memory less tarnished by years of ridicule and insecurity. “I wore a sand bucket on my head and called myself a king.”

Mana laughs, loud and sudden, and Syrus takes pride in his four year old self for managing to entertain two people. He doubts he’d share that memory with anyone else; it’s one of the few he has of Zane smiling.

“I used to hide in giant vases then jump out and scare the crap out of my best friend,” Mana says with a wide grin, and Syrus snorts because he can picture it clearly. “Master always scolded me, but his reactions were too fun.”

Her master? Dark Magician then? Syrus wonders what kind of person would get to hang out with both of them. Probably another powerful spellcaster. “What is he like? Your master? Or...is he here today too?”

“Mahad? No, his situation is different from mine so it’s harder for him to cross the border,” Mana says, scanning the festival for their next game. “He’s pretty strict, and doesn’t know how to take a joke. But he’s kind and selfless.” Her voice grows soft and wistful, then she shakes herself and scratches her cheek. “Honestly, we’re kinda opposites, but that’s what makes it fun.”

She points to a shooting game booth before eagerly charging toward it; Syrus shows her how to use the toy gun and manages to beat her at this game. He still lets her pick out the prize, giggling when she picks out a lucky cat keychain.

“Dream career?” The key chain sways as it dangles from her finger.

Syrus fidgets. “It may seem kinda obvious, but I wanna be a pro duelist. A really famous one,” he mumbles, eyes turning to the ground.

“I bet you’ll be more famous that Yugi!” Mana cheers and Syrus quickly waves his hand in front of him.

“No! No, I doubt that!”

“Do you wanna have kids?” she asks while they fish for balloons with little hooks on strings.

Syrus chokes and drops his string straight into the water. “I mean, uh, maybe?? I guess I’d like- like to settle down and- and have a family- eventually...”

Mana smiles, but it looks a bit sad. “Yeah. I definitely want that too.”

“Best childhood memory?” Nimble fingers rifle through the Senbonbiki strings before giving one a tug.

Syrus answers without hesitation. “Zane teaching me how to duel.”

The string is a dud without a prize attached; Mana turns from pouting to look at Syrus with curious eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah... we...” Syrus looks away, tries to keep the melancholy out of his voice. “We had a good relationship back then.”

Mana hums, reaching out to take his hand and wander back through the festival. “I think...mine is meeting Atem for the first time.”

Atem. That’s Christina’s ace card. Syrus shouldn’t be surprised he’s a duel spirit too. “Are all monster cards duel spirits?”

“Not every card has a spirit attached, but I have noticed almost every design mirrors a creature or person that actually exists.”

“Weird.” Honestly, Syrus never thought about it before, but it’s really weird that a game on Earth could accurately depict creatures from another dimension. Sure, Pegasus based the original cards off carvings he found in Egypt, but those were 3000 years old! Some of the new archetypes look distinctly futuristic, and Jaden designed the Neo Spacians so explain that! Just thinking about it gives Syrus a headache.

“Have you ever lost a fight?” he ventures to ask as they nibble on chocolate bananas.

“Lots of times,” Mana laughs at herself. “Especially during training. And no matter how good you are there’s always someone stronger, so tactical retreat is necessary!”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Syrus nods. The sky’s getting darker. Will Mana still be here for the fireworks? “What’s it like being a spirit?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “It’s...lonely sometimes,” she admits, voice soft, almost forlorn. “Not many people can see us. We entertain ourselves by watching the world and taking bets on what kind of trouble Jaden will get into next.” Mana shrugs and smiles, an obvious attempt to make light of the situation, but Syrus can see straight through it.

“Oh,” he says, wishing he could put his emotions into words that wouldn’t hollow.

Mana glances out at the darkening sky, voice soft as she asks, “One thing you really wanna do before you die?”

“Huh?” The question startles Syrus as much as the oddly wistful tone. “I guess...” He hesitates. One thing? The thing he wants to do most? That he’d regret never doing? “I wanna be happy. With someone I mean!” he quickly amends and the word babble spills out from there. “I wanna get married and buy a house and share my life with someone. I know it probably doesn’t sounds that ambitious but-”

“No, that’s a great ambition.”

Syrus can’t really name the emotion on Mana’s face. Nodding, he looks down at his feet and fiddles with his hands. “Maybe...if we get to know each other better...you could be that person?” He squeezes his eyes shut, not daring to look up.

An intake of breath. “Syrus...”

The boom rattles through his bones and Syrus screams, flinging himself towards the nearest source of comfort and shelter, straight into Mana’s arms. Oh. Oh, the fireworks! Prying his eyes open reveals bursts of color lighting up the sky as another boom shakes the air. He laughs awkwardly and rights himself, murmuring an apology.

“I don’t have much time left,” Mana says, colored light illuminating her mournful expression, and the dread seizes Syrus by the throat.

“Ki-kiss me properly this time!” Oh gods his voice cracked and got really screechy, but he said it! His hands fist against his legs, trembling as her heart goes off on another marathon, and what if she rejects him? What if he read this all wrong? What if-

“Okay.”

Her kiss lingers on his lips long after the fireworks fade and she disappears back to being a spirit. He can still feel her hand against his own, and this time he knows it’s real.

[myhauntedsalem]

13 of the Most Disturbing Last Words from Death Row Prisoners

Before execution, it is usually customary for condemned criminals to take the stage one last time and address the public with his or her final words. Whether it is a chilling statement aimed at shocking or upsetting those in attendance, a light-hearted statement that attempts get few chuckles or a final slap in the face of society, criminals throughout the years have had some pretty interesting things to say in the minutes prior to taking their final breath.

Here are the last words of 13 death row prisoners and the disturbing messages they chose to leave the world.

John Wayne Gacy

Last words: “Kiss my ass.”

John Wayne Gacy was convicted of the rape and murder of 33 men between 1972 and his arrest in 1978. The former children’s party entertainer became known as the “Killer Clown” because of the all the parties he attended in his clown suit and full-face makeup.

Gacy was executed by lethal injection just after midnight on May 10, 1994. When asked if he had any last words, Gacy is said to have snarled these three simple words.

Aileen Wuornos

Last words: “I’d just like to say I’m sailing with the rock, and I’ll be back like Independence Day, with Jesus June 6. Like the movie, big mother ship and all, I’ll be back.”

Aileen Wuornos, abandoned by her parents at a young age was working as a prostitute and robbing people to support herself by the time she became a teenager. In 1989 and 1990, Wuornos shot, killed and robbed at least six men. Arrested and tried in 1991 she received a total of six death sentences, earning her the inaccurate label by the press of being the first female American serial killer.

George Appel

Last words: “Well, gentlemen, you are about to see a baked Appel.”

Clearly keeping his sense of humor right until the last moment, this pun was to be the final words of convicted murderer George Appel before he was executed in the electric chair in New York in 1928 for the murder of a New York City police officer.

Peter Kürten  

Last words: “Tell me. After my head has been chopped off, will I still be able to hear, at least for a moment, the sound of my own blood gushing from the stump of my neck? That would be a pleasure to end all pleasures.”

Peter Kürten, or more commonly known as the “The Vampire of Dusseldorf,” is believed to have killed nearly 60 people in Germany. He beat, raped, and drank the blood of at least one of his victims. Kürten was executed by guillotine on July 2, 1931.

John Spenkelink  

Last words: “Capital punishment: them without the capital get the punishment.”

John Spenkelink was a drifter convicted of killing a traveling companion which he claimed was done in self-defense. Incidentally, he was also the first man put to be put to death in Florida after the U.S. Supreme Court reinstated capital punishment in 1976.

Barbara “Bloody Babs” Graham  

Last words: “Good people are always so sure they’re right.”

Barbara “Bloody Babs” Graham was a prostitute, drug addict and a murderess who was executed in the gas chamber at San Quentin in 1955 along with two accomplices. Graham beat an elderly woman to death when a robbery went bad. When she was strapped into the gas chamber by Joe Feretti, the man in charge of her execution, he told her, “Now take a deep breath and it won’t bother you” to which she responded, “How would you know?”

Gary Gilmore  

Last words: “Let’s do it!”

Convicted of killing a motel manager, Gary Gilmore’s was put to death in Utah on January 17, 1977, by a volunteer firing squad. He became the first person to be executed after the U.S. reinstated the death penalty in 1976, ending a 10-year lapse. Gilmore donated his organs and shortly after he was executed, two people received his corneas.

Notably, Gilmore gained further fame posthumously when advertising executive Dan Wieden credited Gilmore’s parting words as the inspiration for Nike’s tagline.

Carl Panzram  

Last words: “In my lifetime I have murdered 21 human beings, I have committed thousands of burglaries, robberies, larcenies, arsons and last but not least I have committed sodomy on more than 1,000 male human beings. For all these things, I am not in the least bit sorry.”

Carl Panzram was a serial killer, rapist, arsonist, and burglar who was hanged on September 5, 1930. Without ever showing any sign of remorse for his crimes, he refused to appeal his sentence, he even threatening to kill members of human rights groups who attempted to appeal on his behalf.

Defiant until the end, Panzram went on to tell his own executioner, “Hurry it up you Hoosier bastard! I could hang a dozen men while you’re screwing around.”

Timothy McVeigh

Last words: “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”

Timothy McVeigh is best known as the Oklahoma City bomber and was convicted of setting the bomb which killed 149 adults and 19 children at the federal building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma on April 19, 1995. McVeigh had no final words before being executed by lethal injection on June 11, 2001, in Indiana. Although he did leave a handwritten statement quoting the last lines of the poem called Invictus by Sir William Ernest Henley.

James French

Last words: “How’s this for a headline? ‘French Fries.’”

James French was the last person to be executed by electric chair under Oklahoma’s death penalty on August 10, 1966. Already in prison for life, but allegedly afraid to commit suicide, French murdered his cellmate, apparently to compel the state to execute him.

Thomas J. Grasso  

Last words: “I did not get my spaghettiOs, I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this.”

Thomas J. Grasso was executed by lethal injection in Oklahoma for strangling an 87 year-old woman to death on Christmas Eve with her own Christmas lights, while stealing a television and $12. In the US, prisoners on death row are traditionally allowed anything they would like to eat for their last meal before they are executed. Grasso took this right very seriously. His last meal request was for two dozen steamed mussels, two dozen steamed clams (flavoured by a wedge of lemon), a double cheeseburger from Burger King, a half-dozen barbecued spare ribs, two strawberry milkshakes, one-half of a pumpkin pie with whipped cream, diced strawberries, and a 16-ounce can of SpaghettiOs with meatballs, served at room temperature.

Unfortunately for him, the length or complexity of his list seemed to confuse kitchen staff who made one crucial mistake and served him spaghetti instead of his SpaghettiOs.

Robert Alton Harris  

Last words: “You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everyone dances with the grim reaper.”

Robert Alton Harris was responsible for the murder of two teenage boys. In 1992, he was the first person to be executed in the state of California in decades. His last words were a misquote from the film Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.

Tom “Black Jack” Ketchum

Last words: “I’ll be in hell before you start breakfast, boys. Let her rip!”

Tom “Black Jack” Ketchum, the infamous outlaw was finally caught after a failed train robbery. Sentenced to hang, Ketchum’s uttered these now famous words before his execution was horribly botched, and the noose cut his head clean off his body.

[annerbhp]

Lucky

- part one

- part two

- part three

- part four

- part five

- part six

- part seven

- part eight

- part nine

Part Ten

As they settle in for their first weekend in the Burrow, Ginny is pleased to see that Ron is behaving himself for the most part.

Soon enough he and Harry seem as chummy as ever. And, no, she is not warmed by their ridiculous friendship and how happy it clearly makes both of them just to be around each other. Mostly because Ron has also done everything he can to ensure that Harry and Ginny are never alone for even a minute.

Though it’s Molly who puts a ward across Ginny’s door.

“I’m very happy for you too,” she says, patting Ginny’s hand. “But there will be no nonsense under my roof.”

Ginny bites back the impulse to ask what she means by nonsense. Or more importantly, just what kind of things Molly herself got up to her fifth year to make her so suspicious.

Ron seems to have restrained himself from teasing Harry about the ward, probably rightly realizing he would be mortified if he knew. No, Ron saves the teasing all for her, the git.

But no one is mad or upset or making Harry feel bad, so not being able to find a minute to kiss him again the last 36 hours seems a small enough price to pay. Or so she tells herself.

Ron and Harry are currently at the sink, trimming sprouts, while Ginny sets the table. Harry is filling Ron in on everything they overheard Draco say the night of the party.

Ron glances back at her near the beginning of the recitation—though whether because he isn’t certain she should hear this or because he’s questioning her loyalties, she doesn’t know, because Harry says, “Ginny was there too, she heard it.”

Harry seems glad to have someone to back him up, especially since Ron seems dubious. Not that Ginny doesn’t have to correct Harry a few times when he overstates things.

“It’s definitely suspicious though!” Harry says.

“Yes,” Ginny agrees. “It is.” She still intends to give it the proper thought it deserves, though she’s still not sure what business it is of hers, what Draco may or may not be getting up to. If he’s a Death Eater.

“I take it Malfoy isn’t shouting about his evil plans in the Slytherin common room then,” Ron says, looking back at her.

“No,” Ginny says. “He’s rarely there from what I’ve seen.”

“See!” Harry says, grabbing onto the tidbit with typical zeal. “Suspicious!”

“But I’m not there much either,” she feels the need to clarify. “So maybe I’ve just missed him.”

“You aren’t?” Ron asks. “Why not? I mean, it’s not my favorite place, but I don’t remember it being that unpleasant.”

Ginny’s eyes narrow. “When have you ever been in the Slytherin common room?”

Ron and Harry share shifty glances.

“Uh, never,” Ron says. “Just guessing, really.”

Ginny looks at Harry, daring him to lie to her as blatantly as her brother just did.

He glances uneasily between the two of them. “Our second year,” he says, Ron immediately groaning and shoving at Harry’s shoulder.

“Whipped already,” Ron mutters.

Harry glares at him. “You want me to lie to her?”

“Fine,” Ron says. “We made polyjuice to get in. We thought maybe Malfoy was the one opening the chamber.”

Ginny feels something cold slide down her spine. “Oh.” She shoves the feeling down and away. Away, away, away. When she can breathe again, she says, “Right house, wrong person, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Ron says, having the grace to look uncomfortable. “Guess so.”

Harry’s looking at her too, but she can’t quite get herself to meet his gaze. “Well, what I’m hearing from this new tidbit is that this is hardly the first time you’ve suspected Draco of some evil plot.”

Ron snorts. “Harry pretty much suspects him of an evil plot every year.”

Harry scowls. “That’s not true. And besides, this year we already have proof!”

“One conversation is hardly proof,” Ron says.

“What about Borgin and Burke’s?”

“We all agreed we didn’t clearly see anything there. And you told Dumbledore, didn’t you? He didn’t think it was anything.”

“Which is stupid!” Harry exclaims. “I mean, the thing with Katie too!”

It does seem like a lot of suspicious things happening around Draco. But hearing that Harry spoke with Dumbledore and was dismissed is just as interesting. Unless he’s exaggerating that too. “Maybe they’re already doing something about it,” Ginny says. “The teachers. And they don’t want you getting in the way.”

Harry turns, opening his mouth with clear outrage, but she cuts across him before he can speak. “I’m not saying that’s right or okay, I’m just saying maybe it’s what they think.”

He gives her a mulish look, taking it out on the poor sprouts.

The conversation doesn’t go any further, the twins bursting into the kitchen a moment later. They come up behind Ron, arms thrown over his shoulders. “What is this we hear about you and a certain Lavender Brown?”

“What?” Ron sputters.

Fred leans in closer. “Sucking face every available moment?”

Ron’s ears burn an alarming shade of red, craning his head around to look at Ginny. “I can’t believe you told them!” 

She lifts her hands. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, no,” Fred confirms. “Our slippery little sister has failed us on that account. We heard it from a very reliable source. A Gryffindor source.”

Ginny rolls her eyes.

George nods. “Third-hand from someone who witnessed it first-hand!”

“Though from what we’ve heard,” Fred adds, “there is no one at Hogwarts who has not witnessed it first-hand.”

Ron pushes them off him, beginning to look desperate. “I think you should be a bit more concerned with who Harry has been snogging!”

“Wow,” Ginny says. “I thought Gryffindor were supposed to be brave. Way to throw your best mate to the skrewts.”

But Ron’s desperate ploy pays off immediately, the twins off and running, and nothing in the world to stop them as they turn on Harry instead.

George looks delighted. “Has little Harry caught himself a paramour at long last as well? What a bumper year for Gryffindor year six!”

Fred leans into Harry. “Has the Chosen One been chosen?”

“Tell us, Harry,” George says.

“Someone slip something into your pumpkin juice?” Fred asks.

Harry scowls. “Of course not.”

“Ah, a bit touchy,” George says, looking over at Fred. “He must really like this girl. It is a girl, isn’t it?”

“Does she know what a scrawny git you are?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t assume the Boy-Who-Lived is suave and cool.”

“Maybe she’s impressed by his Quidditch skills.”

“Likes a bloke who can handle his broom.”

Harry may look like he wants to die and sink into the floor, but Ron is the one looking more and more miserable the longer the twins talk. Serves him right.

Ginny just leans back, content to let them dig a hole as deep as possible for themselves.

“Tell us, Harry,” George insists.

“What’s she like?” Fred asks.

“Easy on the eyes?”

“A scintillating conversationalist?” Fred wags his eyebrows.

“Yes, tell us, Harry,” Ginny breaks in, feeling inexplicably perverse. “Is she a good kisser?”

The twins crow in approval, giving her proud looks as she appears to jump on to the ‘give Harry shit’ train.

Harry’s the one to turn and look at her in surprise, but she just lifts her eyebrow in challenge.

“No need to be bashful,” she says, fighting hard to keep a smile off her face.

He regards her a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what game she’s playing. “A gentleman never tells.”

The twins groan.

“Nice save,” Ginny says, rather pleasantly remembering their leisurely afternoon on the train.

“Pathetic,” Fred accuses.

“Well, it’s all I’ll say about it,” Harry says, even as a slow grin curves his lips like maybe he’s thinking about it to. Ginny gets stuck staring at his mouth for a moment.

Fred hoots with laughter. “From the look on his face, I’d say that’s a strong yes.”

“A very strong yes,” George agrees.

“You guys—” Ron tries to interrupt, looking more and more pained. But Ginny has no intention of letting him help the twins out of this before she’s good and ready.

“Ron,” she cuts across him. “Don’t be a spoilsport. We all want to know about Harry’s mystery woman.” She leans forward on her elbow, propping her chin up on her hand. “Go on, Harry. Enlighten us.”

“Yes, do tell,” George says.

“We want details,” Fred agrees.

Ginny settles back to wait, more curious to hear what he’ll say than she probably should be.

“Well,” Harry says, once he realizes Ginny has no intention of rescuing him from this, “she’s definitely got a wicked sense of humor. Downright depraved some might say.”

Ginny fights hard to keep her countenance, and Harry can clearly tell, a small smirk on his face, like maybe he’s settling in to enjoy himself. It only makes her want to kiss him more.

“Good, good,” Fred says. “It’s important to find someone capable of taking a joke.”

Harry nods. “Yes, well, she doesn’t take shit from anyone either. Especially me.” He pauses, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Best of all, she’s almost as good as I am at Quidditch.”

“Almost?” Ginny says, forgetting herself.

“Also,” Harry continues, clearly either not recognizing or just unmoved by the murder in her eyes, “even though she would deny it with her dying breath, she is just as competitive as any Gryffindor.”

“You take that back,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Harry leans against the sink, grinning at her as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly proud to have gotten a rise out of her. “Make me.”

Ginny pushes to her feet. “Oh, it’s on. You, me, brooms, the paddock. Now.”

“Wait, what?” she hears George say, but she’s far too focused on Harry to care.

“It’s nearly dark!” Ron tries to reason. “And cold!”

“So what?” Harry says, clearly just as keen. 

“Yeah,” Ginny says. “Fred and George will help you finish up the sprouts. Won’t you, brother dears?” Crossing over to Harry, she grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him towards the back door. “Harry and I have a few things to take care of.”

They are walking out the door when she hears George says, “What the hell?”

“You mean Harry and Ginny—?” Fred starts to say, voice incredulous.

The door shuts, cutting off any further conversation.

Harry shakes his head as he follows her out into the garden. “I meant it. Depraved.”

“You had just as much fun with that, admit it,” Ginny says, leading him around towards the front of the house until they are out of view of the kitchen windows. 

“Depraved,” he repeats, even as he reaches for her waist, like it’s also occurred to him that this is the first time they’ve been alone since they arrived.

“And a really good kisser?” she asks, her hand sneaking up behind his neck, Quidditch already forgotten. Or rather put off for another day. She has no intention of forgetting it.

“Yeah,” he says, “not a competitive bone in your body.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“I should have added bossy,” he says, not giving her a chance to respond before he’s kissing her. 

And god, it’s almost better that she remembers, her entire body tingling as he kisses and kisses and kisses her, brothers and mysteries and competitions all completely forgotten. Neither of them even paying any attention to the two soft cracks nearby as more people arrive.

“So was anyone going to tell me that Harry and Ginny are together?” they hear Bill ask loudly as he wrenches open the front door to the Burrow. “Or was I just supposed to walk by them snogging in the garden to figure it out?”