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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 7 months ago

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Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it.

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him.

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache.

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right?

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but…

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it.

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her.

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.”

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs.

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?”

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.”

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him.

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.”

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out.

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table.

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober?

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do?

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you.

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it.

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink.

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked.

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared.

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled.

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.”

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.”

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you.

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid.

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible.

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth.

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused.

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader.

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him.

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -”

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you.

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question.

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly.

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath.

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.”

Oh.

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you.

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky.

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.”

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh.

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you.

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental?

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command.

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile.

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered.

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest.

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right?

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again.

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head.

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather.

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise.

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you.

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle.

Oh, he liked you a lot.

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it.

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you.

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch.

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked.

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered.

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture.

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books.

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer.

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move.

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers.

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now?

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too.

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now.

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises.

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.”

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out.

“Yep.”

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?”

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face.

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it.

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes.

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about.

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair.

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low.

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star.

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled.

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered.

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?”

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath.

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone.

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face.

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk.

“My shirt,” he stated.

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.”

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips.

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again.

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.”

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it.

“Y/N?”

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again.

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it.

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool.

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts.

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself.

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat.

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request.

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood.

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right?

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.”

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight.

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him.

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive.

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?”

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying.

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.”

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began.

You started to smile.

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.”

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.”

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back.

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.”

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips.

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?”

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naffeclipse · 22 days ago

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Heya, @sparkym00n, I'm your Secret Skeleton! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy Sun/Moon with a reader who loves scary movies and helps them pass out candy to trick-or-treaters!

Scaredy Clown

Sun/Moon & Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: ~3,800 Warnings: N/A

A scream erupts from the TV. On the screen, the victim is savagely stabbed by the killer doll she didn’t see hiding just beneath the table. No matter how often you warn her not to go into the kitchen, she does it anyway.

You’ve seen this a dozen times before—perhaps in part because it is your favorite scary movie. Even after all these years, it never gets old. The practical efforts are still solid, and the story remains buried within you, waiting to emerge every autumn and whisper to revisit the film.

What better time to enjoy it than on Halloween?

Walking out of the kitchen, Sun stops and stares with mild concern tugging down on his smile. The October sunlight is warm while the air is cool, and you’re snuggled deep into a blanket on the couch, looking back at your animatronic roommate. You give him a sheepish grin in return.

“Friend, isn’t it a little early to watch such a dark film?” He holds a few orange sheets of crafting paper in his hands which he neatly stacks until each page is even with the next. “I appreciate that you’re getting into the Halloween spirit but I would like to organize the kids’ materials without hearing someone get murdered at eight o’clock in the morning.”

You glance at your phone and sure enough, it is bright and early on October 31st.

“Sure, Sunny,” you say with a contrite laugh. You click pause on the remote. “I just thought you said you would watch it with me.”

“We did say we would,” he gives pointedly, though you’re not certain if the uncertain flicker of his optics to the screen is just your imagination playing tricks on you so early on the trick-or-treat day. “But after daycare and after we hand out candy to kids.”

Your smile softens as you look over him. He’s even wearing a little costume, with an eyepatch waiting to be drawn down one optic and a little stuffed parrot perched on the white and rough shirt of a pirate.

“Sure, buddy.” You slip off of the couch, stretching your arms high above your head. A soft groan escapes you as you loosen your limbs. You glance back at Sun. “You look good by the way. The kids are going to love you, captain.”

Sun’s white teeth stretch into a full-blown grin. There it is. He hooks one finger, squeezes one eye, and comically growls, “Argh, me matey.”

You snicker. “Save it for the kids.”

“Argh, but me first mate must be in the spirit of the ghoulish gathering so early, and so must I!”

“Stop,” you try to hide your laughter but your shoulders shake. Slipping a hand over your mouth, your smile slips through. “Aren’t you running late?”

Sun straightens, snapping from Foxy the pirate to the daycare owner who needs to get to his job. “Oh, look at the time! You’re right. I’ll see you later. Please do the dishes in the sink and I’ll take care of cleaning up the counters after I get home.”

You reach the kitchen as Sun zigs back to the little box on the counter. It’s filled to the brim with special Halloween stickers, orange and black paper, and scissors with pumpkins on the end of the handles. A few treats are tucked inside, including a bag of sugar-free, one regular, and one little bag of carrots in colorful jack-o-lanterns for every kid and whatever their needs require.

“Will do.” You lean against the entryway. “Have a good day, Sunny.”

“You as well.” He lifts his head as he hauls up his container. “Happy Halloween! Don’t forget your costume.”

You wave him away as he slips out the door into the crisp autumn air. You glance around the kitchen, dirty and in need of attention. Still, the thought of chores does little to dampen your grin of anticipation.

It’s your day off, miraculously in line with the sugar-filled holiday.

Your roommate will return soon enough. Eager for an easy day and to celebrate something with your dear friend, you mentally plot out the rest of your day. A fairy costume awaits you for the events of the evening, but what you’re looking forward to is the night after the lights have been turned off and it’s time to crash on the couch and show Moon your favorite movie. You’ve talked it up so much, you hope they can at least enjoy it with you if only to see why you are the way you are.

Until then, you’ll surprise Sun by getting his chores done as well. You’ve got nothing but time and a track of Halloween songs to help you cruise through the day.

You’ve started counting how many groups of children knock on your door with FazCo Halloween baskets and hide behind masks from the old era of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

There are many Freddy’s, of course, with little bear ears and some even have a mic to accompany them. Old-style Chica pops up now and then with girls that have their hair in pigtails. Once, Foxy the pirate appears, an older boy who has red hair and a big grin hiding under his mask. A few Roxannes appear while parents happily stand back to let the kids knock on your door or older siblings begrudgingly wait, seeming to wish to be anywhere but here. You even see Bonnie on a dad who slings a plastic red guitar over his back and welcomes back his daughter who’s dressed as Ballora.

You stand beside Sun as the early and youngest kids arrive for candy before the October daylight sinks. Cooing at the costumes, you admire the children. When a kid asks you to guess who they are, you hem and haw in deep thought before the Sun lends you a helpful guess. The kids giggle before snatching a treat and racing back down the front porch.

“They’re being very good tonight,” Sun says as he gently closes the door. With one hand, he fixes the parrot on his shoulder so the yellow peak is facing forward once more, “So many ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s!”

“Yeah,” you say softly, afraid you sound absentminded. You’ve been wondering all evening if anyone would be dressed as the Daycare Attendant back before the mega Pizzaplex burnt down. You almost ask if Sun is disappointed. Instead, you steal a piece of candy and unwrap it.

Sun covers your hand. He tilts his head, one optic pale and milky while the other is covered by a black eyepatch. “You didn’t say trick or treat.”

You stick out your tongue and quickly pop the tootsie roll in your mouth. “Trick.”

“Where are your manners?” he wags his finger at you before a ringing doorbell spares you from his lighthearted rebukes.

The sun drops and bleeds into a darkness thick and befitting for such an enchanting night. Moon pops out, his head spinning in greeting to older kids who stiffen in the slightest before they bust out a grin. Your roommate uses a soft, gentle voice with younger ones when they hesitate to reach up and fish around for candy out of the big orange plastic tub Moon holds.

A few children compliment your fairy costume. You thank them while boldly twirling to show off the translucent mesh of the wings. You even hold a little wand in your hand, a makeshift paint brush with blues and reds and yellows still stained on the bristles, but for any of the curious little ones who ask, you say that you’re a paint fairy. You fix things with paint! They buy it well enough. Sun was the one who helped you pick the purple fabric of your attire and made sure the wings fit on your back without drooping and Moon helped you bring your wand to life with dye.

Again, you count dozens of children wearing Glamrock Freddy masks and one kid with an elaborate Montgomery Gator costume complete with a green tail and a big purple bass hanging off of his shoulder.

They both run off, almost bumping into another trick-or-treater who stands frozen in place. A little girl. You pause, confused. There’s plenty of candy left, and you open your mouth to say so but stop short.

She whimpers at the bottom of the steps. Moon straightens from the hunched position he had used on the group of older kids who are now retreating down the sidewalk, and he fixes his hat slightly. His nightcap is replaced with a black tricorn leather piece, the kind pirates wear.

“I can…” you hold out your hand for the bucket of candy. You flicker your eyes back and forth between the girl and her mother who is now kneeling beside her, whispering encouragement into her ear.

A firm look from your dear friend gives you a reason to stay put.

Moon’s red optics soften as he crouches down, eye level with the child. It amazes you to see how small the lanky animatronic can make himself. In a gentle, low, but clear voice, he asks, “Would you like some candy?”

The girl jumps slightly. She’s dressed in a little princess costume, her dress red and her crown a golden plastic tiara. Her mother nods with a gentle smile.

You stand still, waiting with your hands clasped tightly behind your back. A lurch in your heart wonders how Moon will take it if the girl bursts into tears and runs away. It’s terrifying to watch—not like a horror movie where you’re sitting on the couch, safely tucked back from the events playing on the screen. You’re watching it unfold in real-time. You don’t want to witness it end in tragedy but you can’t avert your eyes as Moon gently holds out the orange container with black pumpkins plastered over it.

“Go on,” the little girl’s mother says.

She takes a brave step up, and up, clinging to her mother’s hand. She stops before Moon, halfway hiding her face against her mother’s leg while gazing at Moon.

“Welcome, princess,” Moon bows his head, rolling a little pirate accent in respect. “You must require the greatest candy that only your royal highness can afford. Please, would you take but one of my humble offerings?”

She giggles, partly stilted as if she’s not sure whether to be afraid anymore.

You keep glancing at him, wondering if this is alright. Does it hurt to see children afraid? Even for a moment? You can’t tell. Moon is so difficult to read.

“Are you a good clown or a bad clown?” the little girl finally asks in a tiny voice. Her big eyes stare up at him with earnest innocence.

“I’m a good one! I swear upon my heart, princess.” He dramatically lays his hand over his white, billowy shirt. “See?”

She looks back once more to her mother before she bravely steps forward. Moon tips the bowl forward so she might choose. She quickly plucks one wrapped sweet and ducks back to her mother.

“Happy Halloween,” Moon says gently.

The girl flashes a small smile, and the fear in her eyes lessens before she hurries away with her mother.

Moon straightens. Though he grins silver teeth in a never-ending smile, you can’t see if he’s upset.

Quietly, you touch Moon’s arm. His shoulder twitches but he doesn’t look at you.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly. “I can hand out the candy next time if you prefer.”

“It’s nothing new.” Moon’s faceplate swivels back to you now. His red optics burn low, settling over you with a dusting of crimson. “Kids are afraid of me.”

“Not all of them,” you say quickly. You then bite your bottom lip. Are you making things worse or better?

“No. Not all of them.” Moon looks down at the candy bowl and flicks through a few before he finds a little orange-wrapped peanut butter cup. He holds it out to you. “Even at the Pizzaplex, sometimes kids would cry when it was naptime.”

“I’m sorry, Moon.” You hold his gaze, then glance down to the candy. You try to take it but he slips it back just before your fingers can pinch it. You shoot him a disgruntled look.

He grins wildly, his hat tilting with the roll of his head.

“You didn’t say trick-or-treat,” he laughs, mischievous and deep.

You stick your tongue out.

“No treats for naughty children.” Moon tucks the peanut butter cup away behind his back. “You can have it when you ask politely.”

“First off, not a kid, second off, I think you’re avoiding the subject.”

“Not avoiding,” he sing-songs in his gravelly voice, “just changing it.”

He pauses. You follow his gaze out to the street where you see two little children skipping between their parents. One wears a mask with Sun’s face on it, and the other wears Moon’s. You almost fall while staring.

Oh. That’s sweet.

You hope.

Moon chuckles once and gently closes the door in anticipation of another child coming down the walkway. You take it as a good sign.

Fine. You’ll bite. You face Moon, and with exaggerated reluctance, say “Trick-or-treat. Please.”

He chuckles before tossing the peanut butter cup to you. You catch it and quickly rip it open, devouring it before the doorbell rings—another round of trick-or-treaters.

“Happy Halloween,” he rasps before opening the door.

You check the front porch one last time. The street lies empty and you find a few neighbors flicking off their lights and drawing down curtains. No more kids run up and down the sidewalk. Jack-o-lanterns are slowly eating up the wick and leaving nothing but a puddle of wax in the gourds of their mouths. A cold wind blows through, pushing up leaves and a few unfortunate candy wrappers.

“That should be it.” You flick the front lights off and lock the door with a heavy click. You turn on your heels and face Moon, beaming wide as you shake your shoulders once to wiggle your fairy wings in excitement. “Ready for our movie?”

His smile is unmoving. Red eyes, piercing the slight low light of the entryway give you pause before he dips his head. Slowly, he removes the pirate patch eye.

“Yes,” he rasps.

You whoop once in glee before rushing into the kitchen to start popcorn. The quiet echo of Moon’s laughter sounds behind you, but it stops short, off-kilter.

A few minutes later, you’re on the couch with a soft blanket and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. Moon crosses his legs beside you, having lost most of his pirate costume. The little parrot on his shoulder remains. It looks funny, perched there in a frozen state of fake feathers and black beady eyes. Moon moves it slightly and makes a squawk to startle you just as the film opens up with the title screen.

You swat at his metallic hands then rethink it and toss your blanket over his head. That does the trick.

Then the first scene begins with the opening scene panning upon an older house.

“Pay attention, you’re going to miss it!” you harshly whisper, straightening to attention.

Moon snickers as he drags the blanket down his face. His fingers curl over the edge.

“Too scary, too scary!” he mockingly wails before you toss popcorn at him. It bounces off the billowy white shirt of his half-put-together costume. He arches his brow at you.

“You said you would watch it with me,” your tone inches into a whine. This is supposed to be fun.

Moon pats your head before you again, shove his arm away.

“We did,” Moon relents with a dramatic sigh. “Why a movie about a possessed doll?”

“Because possessed killer dolls are scary. Especially when they’re chasing you.” You pop a handful of your buttery snack into your mouth. “Shush. This is where he gets—just watch!”

Moon reclines into the couch and finally holds still. His nightcap, replacing his pirate hat, dangles over the end of his shoulder. Curiously, you glance at him between scenes. He’s unmoving. A few jumpscares happen, and while they used to get you the first few times you watched it, not anymore. Strangely, Moon doesn’t jump either. His fists, however, clenched tight.

The movie plays on, and you get lost in it once more.

By the time the final girl makes it out alive and the evil killer is defeated, you’re sinking low into the cushions and letting loose a yawn.

“So?” You yawn again. Turning to Moon, you smirk. “What did you think?”

Moon stares straight ahead at the screen. The credits roll and you realize he was clutching fistfuls of his starry pants when he releases the fabric. The deep blue and yellow star print is crumpled.

“Scary,” he says deadpan. “How are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Just fine,” you laugh. “It’s pretty freaky, isn’t it?”

He offers a nonchalant hum. You get to your feet, putting the popcorn bowl aside. You’ll clean it up with the rest of the Halloween decorations in the morning.

“Come on, buddy. Do you need to charge?” you ask while stretching your arms above your head. You had hoped for a little more comment about one of your favorite movies, but the day has worn away your energy and you’re more than ready to hit the hay. You’ll get more of his thoughts about it tomorrow.

“No. We’re fine until tomorrow evening,” he answers.

Good, then he’s free to…

You feel a shadow close beside you. Glancing back, you discover Moon looming at your shoulder. You stare at him.

“Do you need something?” you ask, brow crinkling.

He says nothing. Which is not unusual for Moon. He’ll avoid your questions when he doesn’t feel like answering or just to annoy you. It’s hard to tell. You roll your eyes and shrug.

“I’m going to bed then.” You take a step away.

No answer. Moon keeps in time with you, still hovering well within reach but never actually brushing against you.

You look at him again briefly as you shuffle down the hall that leads to the bathroom and your two bedrooms. Moon doesn’t necessarily need to sleep, but they’ve told you in the past that it can relieve some pressure to ‘doze’ for an hour or two.

You brush your teeth while Moon funnily stands in the doorway, like a guard dog waiting for a threat to approach. Finished with your nightly routine, you slip to your bedroom where Moon continues to hover. You finally stop and face him completely.

“What is it?”

He stares at you, his fingers curling up and down.

“Come on, tell me.” You put a hand on your hip. “What is it that you tell your daycare kids? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

A scowl crosses his faceplate. He starts picking at his pirate shirt, staring down at the fluff fabric bunched on the chest while you stand there. You can wait all night. You’ve never seen him so agitated before.

Was it that little girl earlier?

Slowly, Moon lifts his head. His nightcap bell falls from his shoulder and down his back with a soft jingle.

“Can we stay with you tonight?” he asks in a quiet voice.

You blink.

Sun’s expression from this morning returns to the front of your mind. The uncertain glance he spared the TV screen despite reassuring you they are planning on watching the movie with you.

“Are you…?” You stop, eyes wide.

“No,” Moon growls then shakes his head, clutching at his hat in a mimic of someone pulling at the roots of their hair in utter frustration. “Forget it.”

“No, no, it’s alright.” You touch his arm and he stops, halfway in the hall and half in your bedroom. “My bed’s a little small but we can both fit.”

He seems to teeter, almost swaying as if to bolt away and never look back, but he slowly turns to face you.

“Will you be comfortable with us that close?”

You laugh gently. “Buddy, it’s no big deal. Come on. What are roommates for, am I right?”

He stares at you. You crack a big smile to chip through his rigidness. The joke falling a little flat aside, Moon begrudgingly allows you to tug him towards your bed. You don’t flip the light on for his sake, and instead quickly throw on pajama bottoms with his back turned to you.

“We didn’t have to watch the movie, you know.” You finish fixing the waistband of your pants on your hips. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings. We could have watched something else.”

“It’s your favorite,” he says so simply, it gives you pause. You glance over your bed to where he stands, clutching a fistful of your pillow in his hand. “We wanted to experience it with you.”

You sigh gently. A gentle warmth spills into you, and you wonder how you found such a friend.

“Thanks. Next time, we’ll do something that you like, okay?”

“Sure.”

Moon pulls the blankets back, and at the silent invitation, you slip into bed. Moon carefully settles down beside you on top of the covers. He curls himself carefully around you, giving you space to toss and turn on the mattress until your head lies gently on your pillow. He doesn’t touch one inch of you despite so little space. Is he uncomfortable? When you lift your eyes to find him in the dark, the red glow startles you so badly that you almost bite your tongue.

“Are you going to fall off the bed?” you ask, bewildered.

“No.” He grabs the fake parrot on his shoulder and takes it off. Without looking, he sets it down on your nightstand.

“Okay.” You pause, chewing on your lip. “Are you scared?”

“Stop.” A hand covers your face as if forcibly closing your eyelids will make the question go away. “Sleep.”

“Just—can you tell me you’re okay, at least?” you ask, muffled underneath his silicon palm. “I don’t want my friends to be terrified because we did something that I like.”

The quiet settles as heavy as the night. For a long time, you don’t move, caught under his hand and held still by the urge to not shake the bed unnecessarily by squirming under the covers.

“We’re fine,” Moon says softly. “Now.”

You breathe a gentle breath of relief.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. Goodnight, Moon.” You gently slide his hand off your face and give him a smile in the dark. He can see it, can’t he? “Sweet dreams.”

He doesn’t dream, but you want to say it all the same.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs as you finally drift off into the darkness.

#DCABeeTeamH24 #scaredy clown #sparkym00n #happy halloween #naff writing

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ofmdrecaps · 2 months ago

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10/05/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Matthew Maher's Birthdayl S2 Anniversary; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Samba Schutte: BTS; S2 Anniversary Fan tributes!; Stats & Trends; Truly Docked Events; OFMD Buys Boats - The Raffle News; Love Notes;

== Matthew Maher's Birthday! ==

Happy birthday to our fabulous Pete!! Happy birthday Matthew! We hope it is absolutely amazing!! Thank you to @adoptourcrew for spotlighting his b-day!

Check out their dedication video!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Tumblr

== S2 Anniversary ==

Happy S2 anniversary yall! It's be been one year since s2 came out! So much activity has been going on!

= David Jenkins =

Pirate Dad, David Jenkins has been very VERY ACTIVE today!

He even was kind enough to respond to some fandom fun! Note: I removed the users name and handle since they went private (I can only assume cause of people being jerks). Pro Tip: If you don't like something, don't be a dick about it. - David Jenkins

Annnnd Chaos Dad answered our friend @thought-balloon!!

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

= Samba Schutte =

Samba joined in the fun by giving us NEW BTS!!!

Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

= Adopt Our Crew =

Our friends at Adopt Our Crew sent a lovely message in honor of the anniversary <3

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

== S2 Anniversary Fan Spotlight ==

So many fans brought out some beautiful dedications for us as well!

= Emcolbs =

The lovely @emcolbs made such an absolutely stunning tribute to OFMD, Stede and Ed becoming mateys! Excuse me while I cry like a baby. You can get a copy of this for free to print out on em's Ko-Fi! Visit em on her various socials! Instagram / Tumblr / InPrint

Source: Emcolbs Twitter

= Illustory Art =

Our darling friend @illustoryart made this delightfully detailed and colorful tribute to OFMD for the S2 Anniversary! I can never get over the unique and adorable style of their art! Check Illustory art out on Twitter / Instagram!

Source: Illustory Art Twitter / Instagram

= Moss Groves =

Look at this brilliant dedication done by our so very talented @mossgroves! Their likenesses for Stede and Ed are second to none, and always bring such light and love to these two <3 Visit Moss Groves Linktr.ee for more of her exquisite work!

Source: MossGroves Twitter

= Ram Ranch =

Our fantastic friend Ram, has really knocked this tribute to OFMD out of the park. His work is always so stunningly lit, and detailed and seeing our boys as mateys makes me tear up just like Ed <3 Look at those butterflies! Please check out his other work on Twitter and Instagram!

Source: Ram Ranch Twitter

= Lumillys =

Another adorable and so incredibly creative dedication to OFMD was done by the dazzling @lumiilys! Check out this incredibly inventive pop up book Ollie made! You can check out his work on his various socials: Twitter / Tumblr / Instagram

Source: Lumiily's twitter

= Jaskierx =

This sweet dedication to our show really hit me hard today so thank you Lyse <3 You always know exactly what to say.

Source: Jaskierx Tumblr

= A Muse of Fyre =

And another lovely tribute to S2 by our friend @amuseoffyre and their insanely awesome muppet Ed and Stede!

Source: Amuseoffyre's Twitter

Obviously there were so many lovely dedications! I just wanted to highlight some that really caught my eye and was able to get permission to share!!

== Stats & Trends ==

Our friends over at Never Left Podcast was kind enough to share that OFMD is still the 9th most popular show on max for the s2 Anniversary!

Source: Never Left Podcast Twitter

Also, our dear crewmate Lucy was able to catch #OurFlagMeansDeath trending for the S2 Anniversary!

Source: Lucy aka Butterscup95 on Twitter

== Truly Docked Events ==

Our friends over at Truly Dock Gatherings & Events have another event coming up on January 24, 2026! This time in St. Augustine, Florida!

"We are chartering a private sail which will include dinner, a pirate battle, and more! More details on the ticket page!"

Tickets: https://truly-docked-ofmd.ticketleap.com/truly-docked-2026/

Discord: https://discord.gg/b9Sv5u96uF

Source: TrulyDockedOFMD Instagram

== OFMD Buys Boats - The Raffle ==

More updates! Interested in the raffle? More info below!

Linktr.ee

Instagram

Twitter

Tumblr

Facebook

You can sign up for email updates here!

Or Email them at [email protected]!

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Facebook

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! First of all! Happy S2 Anniversary!

I know this is a day late, sorry about that! There's been a lot of chatter over some of the things that David said yesterday-- some folks took it as OFMD was not getting an s3, some people took it as still quite hopeful! I gotta say, I'm loving how much it's given us all something to focus on again. We get to celebrate OFMD-- we get to speculate. I realize it's not a "hey s3 is happening!" but it's hopeful, and what is life without hope? It's kraken era, it's gravy basket, and HOPE is what pulls us OUT of those places! So go out and clown/honk and celebrate if you want to! Take every tweet from David as a good thing! If you don't want to-- that's okay too! But with so many months of "hey we've reached the end of the road" looming over us, it feels like a good thing to think there's going to "most if not all of us would do it again in a heartbeat". This fandom wears hope well, at least I think so. Alright, I'm already late so I'm gonna shush. I hope you all had a lovely anniversary, and the beginning of this week treats you with nothing but kindness lovelies. Take care of yourselves <3

#David jenkins #samba schutte #ofmd daily recap #daily ofmd recap #ofmd buys boats #tinycrewbigraffle #ofmd bts #ofmd s2 bts #ofmd #our flag means death #adopt our crew #save ofmd #ofmd daily recaps #matthew maher

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spadecentral · 3 months ago

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🫂 Are We Still Friends? | Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade x Reader

>> requested: used me own noggin' for this one, matey >> a/n: this has been in the drafts since may 21st. im cooked.

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: they see you after a falling out >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): none

Ace Trappola was not one for sitting in silence. Quite the opposite, in fact. Sound followed him everywhere he went. So it was particularly confusing to everyone else why he went silent when he saw you in the hall of Night Raven College.

The two of you were friends in middle school, but his girlfriends got more and more obnoxious. You couldn't stand to be friends with Ace, even though he kept trying to assure you that everything was fine and you both shouldn't let a girl get between the two of you. You left anyway, unable to bear the weight of stupid friends hanging around their stupid girlfriends and not listening.

He tries to ignore you and walk by without a second thought, but he can't help but feel a vague sense of shame in the back of his head.

Deuce Spade thinks that he has a pretty good relationship with all of his friends. That is, until he sees you passing him in Night Raven College, totally ignoring him.

You had both been friends since you were little, your parents introducing the two of you so that they could have more time to talk. But as you grew up together, and he started to change, you just couldn't handle it. You stopped being his friend after a huge argument, throwing several years of friendship in his face.

As he debated walking over to you to try and rekindle the friendship the two of you once had, you had already walked off, not paying attention.

>> ace and deuce taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @wisteriainslumber | @villaim

@pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin

@ezr4n | @l1vyatan | @savanaclaw1996 | @enigmatic-pers | @v-anrouge

@queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive | @monochromepalette | @she-wont-miss

#shrimpnetwrk #deuce spade #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #twisted wonderland #twst ace #twst deuce

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vmlnrznotfound · 3 months ago

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Hello hellooooo first of all congrats on 300+ followers! I’ve been seeing ur fics all over recently and they’re so scrumptious omg ur writing <333

Saw that ur requests r open so i wanted to ask if u’d be willing to write sth for Hiori? Maybe like childhood friends trope where reader also has strict parents and they care a lot about academics/a certain extracurricular etc.

Congrats again and thank u for feeding the bllk community!!

maps we draw ourselves.

hiori yo x reader

a/n: thank you so much anonnie, im legit BLUSHING! i try my best!

the sun was bright and warm on a afternoon. at just seven years old, you and hiori were playing in the small backyard of his house, which had become your favorite hangout spot. the grass was freshly cut, and the scent of it mixed with the smell of the nearby barbecue your parents were preparing.

hiori had set up a makeshift fort using old sheets and a few wooden sticks. inside, it was a cozy little hideaway where you both could let your imaginations run wild. today, you were playing pirates, with hiori proudly wearing a pirate hat he’d crafted from cardboard.

“arrr, matey!” hiori declared, holding up a plastic sword. “we’ve got to find the treasure before the other pirates do!”

you giggled, playing along. “aye aye, captain yo! where do we start?”

hiori pointed towards the far end of the yard. “we have to sail through the wild jungle and avoid the dangerous traps!”

as you both pretended to navigate through the jungle of your backyard, you noticed hiori’s face turning serious. “hey, y/n,” he said quietly as you paused for a moment. “do you ever get tired of all the stuff we’re supposed to do? like school and... you know, everything?”

you looked at him, puzzled. “what do you mean?”

hiori sat down on the grass, “well, my mom and dad are always telling me i have to practice soccer. it feels like i don’t get to just play and have fun like this.”

“my parents keep saying i need to study hard to become a doctor. but i just want to play and not think about studying,” you explained.

hiori shrugged and picked up a small stick, pretending it was a treasure map. “maybe one day we’ll get to choose what we want to do, and we won’t have to worry so much.”

you smiled, feeling comforted by his words. “yeah, and until then, we can hunt for treasures, as pirates!"

hiori grinned, clearly pleased with the idea. “yes! and we’ll make sure to find all the treasure.”

the carefree days of pirate adventures became cherished memories. the small backyard fort was long gone, replaced by the responsibilities that came with growing up.

at seventeen, you and hiori were sitting on the front steps of his house, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

the conversations you used to have about treasure hunts and wild jungles had been replaced by talks about exams, future careers, and the weight of expectations.

“remember when we used to play pirates in the backyard?” hiori asked, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips.

you laughed softly, nodding. “yeah, we really thought we’d find some buried treasure back there.”

“i wish things were still that simple,” he admitted, his voice tinged with the same seriousness you’d first noticed all those years ago.

“me too,” you agreed, leaning back on your hands. “it feels like everything’s been decided for us, like we’re just following a map that someone else drew.”

hiori glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “but maybe we can still find our own treasure, you know? maybe it’s not about what everyone else wants for us, but what we want for ourselves.”

you looked at him, surprised by the familiar words. it reminded you of that day in the backyard, when he’d said something similar about choosing your own path. “yeah, maybe you’re right,” you said, feeling a bit of that old excitement returning.

“so, what do you say, y/n? one last treasure hunt before we head off into the real world?” hiori asked, his grin widening.

you smiled back at him, feeling a surge of determination. “let’s do it, captain yo. we’ll find our treasure, no matter what.”

tag list: @fishii28 @someprettyname @ikuaiku

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x y/n #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #hiori x reader #hiori #hiori yo

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smoothriverrocksrock · 2 months ago

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(Tf one spoilers!)

So who’s making the “B-127 joins D-16/Megatron after Optimus banishes them” au? I mean Bee knew them both for equal amounts of time, totally possible for his morality to sway Megatron’s way instead of Optimus’s.

Honestly, Bee doesn’t even have to join him for ideology reasons. Maybe Bee just doesn’t like the idea of one of his friends being isolated with a bunch of murder-happy strangers after the most devastating moment of his life. Maybe Bee wants to try and help Megatron through the divorce, even help him reconcile with Optimus. Maybe Bee was so inspired by watching D-16 stand up to Sentinel that he wanted to stay with him.

Also I’m a sucker for symmetry and having the friend group split in half is awesome for me.

Rest assured that there’s a 80% chance I’ll do this one day. I got thoughts to sort first before I do anything though

#And come on #Don’t we all have a billion thoughts on what a Decepticon Bumblebee would look like?#My first bullet point is establishing the headcanon that Shockwave and Alchemist Prime were besties #And Shockwave losing his mind when he realizes B-127 has his cog (passed down by Alpha Trion himself mind you!)#Thus creating a dynamic where Shockwave sees Bee as Alchemist’s successor but really hating that fact #transformers one spoilers #transformers #maccadam #me thoughts mateys #Megatron #b 127 #b-127 #bumblebee #DeceptiBee au

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cambion-companion · 2 years ago

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matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

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ruiniel · 11 months ago

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Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Pairing: Alucard x fem!reader

Rating: T (🔞later)

Count: 1.4k

Tags & Warnings: Mutual pining, Romantic angst, Unresolved emotional tension, Second Person POV, Two people running from their feelings like their lives depend on it, for Reasons

Part I Part III

II. Breaking

“Ow!”

Adrian looks up at the child’s scrunching face as he holds her arm, wrapping the gauze around the gash. “I’m sorry, Sara, but next time please be careful.”

“I was, Pavel pushed me,” she complains, just in time for the accused to spring up from his spot.

“No, I didn’t, you slipped!”

“Running away from you!”

“Enough, please,” Adrian says, and the two fall silent. “This could have been your head. You must take care of each other, remember?”

“Yes…” come two almost-chastened voices.

They run off as soon as he’s done, and rising to his feet, he stares at the deepening shades across the skies.

He debates whether to linger and return the supplies later, or give in to a wretched need to return to the laboratory this moment, only to bask in more of his own misery.

It’s no one’s fault, really. He let this bloom, he nurtured it with every evening spent together, every trip to the woods, every late night spent debating in the library, ending with your head falling on his shoulder, your breath slowing with sleep.

He walks back towards the looming shadow of his home, slow and hesitating, considering whether to force himself to turn aside. No matter his self-deprecation, the fact is: he waited too long. And perhaps, you weren’t even looking at him that way, the way he thought you were in those few sparse moments of delusion.

But today, holding you against him felt so good it shamed him. The way your skin felt against his, the weight of you in his arms, a dizzying sensation rushing through his blood like lava.

Well. You’ve chosen your path.

But he's slowly learning: all good things have a habit of ending.

Your gaze moves from Matei’s bag which he’d let drop to the floor, to his face.

“You… you did what?”

“I told you,” he’s positively beaming. “The magister accepted me as his pupil. We can move away to a larger community, and I’ll have a decent wage, and you know what this means, don’t you?”

Your mind fails to jump over ‘move away’, which feels like something heavy and sharp has dropped down your stomach. “Matei, we never discussed this.”

“I know, but it happened… as a fluke! I gave him the needed papers and one thing led to another… do you understand? We’ll be faring well, and I’ll take care of you and you’ll never have to work a day!”

You should be glad for his joy, but the words bite instead, and you remove your arm from his excited grasp. “Matei, but I… I want to work. My apprenticeship isn’t over, and leaving now means quitting. I want to be a doctor. Remember?”

Matei sighs, as though being reminded of something unpleasant, then runs a hand through his dark locks. “Right, right… but this is… if this isn’t good fortune I don’t know what is!”

You’re shaking. You were feeling guilty for not missing him much, but now the feeling has less hold than it did. “And what about my good fortune?” You try to rein in your mounting frustration, seeing his silence for what it is. He is a good man, you remember, but he, too, is only human. “You… you never believed in me, did you?”

His shoulders sag as Matei looks away. “You wouldn't have to struggle with that anymore.”

He makes no move to stop you when you turn and walk away.

Where to go, what to do?

Over and over you twist and turn this thought and that, walking without purpose as one smitten. Late you realize you’ve entered the castle, and the lonely corridors tinted by yellow light at this time of night feel too small.

In a strange development, you are slighted. You’d told him how much this meant, he seemed to understand. Groaning and barely holding back tears, you walk and climb stairs until you can’t, until your dress is wet on your back as you reach an exit.

It’s the same corner of the castle, where you like to come and think, sometimes. As you step forward, you realize you’re not alone: Adrian stands there, his body tilted forward, resting with his arms folded over the edge, his face lowered and hidden by them.

He’s not seen you of course, but knowing his abilities, he surely heard your steps.

As the days passed, Adrian became a scarce figure in your life. The laboratory, once a space of collaboration, now echoes with his lingering absence. He seems to avoid your gaze, the former warmth replaced by a formality that creates a subtle and painful distance between you. Yet, in quiet moments like these, when moonlight bathes the village below in a soft glow, you can't escape the memories of that night on the battlement. The pendant, a silent witness, rests against your heart like a heavy secret.

The air is crisp, and the scent of blooming flowers mingles with the distant voice of the forest. You’re drawn by an invisible thread, closer: it hurts less now that he’s here.

Adrian slowly raises his head, staring into the horizon. His gaze flickers to you for a breath, caught by the shimmer of the pendant.

“Adrian,” you speak his name softly, uncertain of how he'll respond.

“Hello.”

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” You walk closer, dropping to the ground not far from him, your arms circling your knees.

“If you wish, I can go,” he murmurs without turning.

You linger in silence, breaking inside from his words like a second blow to the chest. “I don’t wish it.” It must have escaped through your voice as he turns then, gazing down at you.

“Did something happen?”

You can’t look at him. “He wants to leave.”

“Leave?”

There’s no change in his voice or his stance. You continue, unable to stop. “Matei wants to move away for a post. And he wants me to go with him to Brașov, for good.”

He was always easy to confide in, and despite your feelings for him nowadays and their hurts, Adrian is still your closest friend—and very silent now.

“And what about… your apprenticeship?”

You look at him then, really look at him. In the weak light of a faraway lamp burning by the entrance, the gleam of his eyes feels strange.

Shaking your head, you rest your chin on your knees. “I suppose that’s obvious, isn't it?”

Adrian takes a slow step, then another, and heavily sits down by your side with a sigh. You look sideways at him as he rests his head against the stone wall. “Brașov is quite far.”

Well, what did you expect him to say? Don’t go? Don’t leave, please? Your fantasies are as deluded as you are.

“When?”

You tell him of the details, the words like stones heavy in your mouth. He listens, eyes never leaving your face, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t want to leave,” you finally say, looking away. “My… my life is here.” You are here. If only you dared to speak it, but even so—a useless confession might alienate him further and you need him, selfish creature that you are.

The sensation of warm fingers startles you as they glide down your face. You don’t even know when you’d begun to weep. Damned hell, he’s so close.

“I have no solution to offer,” Adrian says. His voice is odd, strangled as though something presses down his windpipe. “This is… an important turning point, and I don’t envy you in the slightest. Only you know what you want your life to be. Will you follow your truth?”

There is warmth in his words, and his hand lingers on your face. You ought to do something, but if you move, this is over, and it becomes a memory.

Adrian watches as you nod, grateful and miserable. Maybe going away is best? How else to forget, and regain the freedom of spirit these feelings stole? But being here, now, is the most honest and true to yourself you’ve been in a long time.

His thumb tickles the corner of your lips, and without thought your tongue shyly grazes it, tasting the salt of your tears.

Adrian’s eyes widen; in a haze, you realize what you’ve done. For one terrifying moment that leaves you dizzy, he looks as though he's about to do something, leaning towards you.

His touch burns on your skin. He swallows emptily then rises as one drunk, and you dare not stop him, or turn to look. Trapped in your mortification, you listen to his rushed footsteps and the creaking door being hastily shut, leaving you alone.

Part III

#adrian tepes x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania alucard x reader #alucard x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #x reader #castlevania imagine #adrian tepes x you #alucard x you

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jokeringcutio · 1 year ago

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Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

#captain james hook x reader #james hook fanfiction #captain hook x reader #captain hook x you #Halloween requests #halloween drabbles #Halloween party

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lonelym00n · 2 years ago

Text

Is it okay to run when you're feeling weak?

Part 3 of The Devil Likes the Pirate Series

Tara Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: You get closer with Tara and all her friends. She opens up to you about her past.

It had been a few days since you last saw Tara, and though she did follow up on her promise to text you, it was hard not to feel a bit sad about the time spent away from her. And sure, maybe it was ridiculous to be feeling that way, but within the short span of time that you’d gotten to know her, Tara had you wrapped tightly around her pinky finger.

You’re currently tucked into your favorite corner of Blackmore’s library, textbooks splayed haphazardly in front of you. Your backpack occupies the chair to your right and the two positioned across from you remain empty, a rare occurrence for this time of the year. You would’ve expected the library to be filled with students cramming for exams, but then again, you had to admit that midterm week wasn’t as hellish as you expected it to be. While you normally despised studying, you were honestly just more thankful for the reprieve from being buried up to your eyeballs in assignments.

Your attention is barely on your studies, way too preoccupied with thoughts of Tara and when you’d get to see her next. The last you’d heard from her was that Sam had her locked up in their ‘dungeon of an apartment’ and that she likely wouldn’t be able to escape for a while. You felt bad for being the cause of not only a huge fight between the two sisters, but the loss of Tara’s freedom too. You’d jokingly told Tara over text that you’d shimmy up the fire escape so the two of you could hangout and she replied that Sam would probably shoot you if she caught you. Having witnessed how scary the older girl was when mad, you certainly weren’t going to find out if the threat was empty or not.

Just as you’re about to turn back to your work, your phone buzzes with a notification. You curiously shift your eyes to it and nearly jump out of your seat in joy as Tara’s contact name is displayed on the screen.

Tara: hey stranger

Y/N: hey matey

Tara: enoughhhh pirate jokes

Y/N: okay okay

Y/N: so what’s up?

Tara: i’m bored, pls tell me ur doing something fun so i can live vicariously through u

Y/N: sorry nothing exciting, just studying for midterms in the library

Tara: shit i almost forgot about those

Tara: i hate house arrest

Y/N: house arrest must suck

Y/N: any chance you’ll be off of it soon?

Tara: ughh hopefully sometime this week

Tara: why, do you miss me or something? ;)

Y/N: god you’re insufferable

Y/N: but… maybe i do miss u just a little bit

Tara: awww i knew it <3

Tara: i’ll talk to sam when she gets back from the store and see what i can do

You click your phone off with a sigh. Sam would probably refuse to let Tara out of the house and you’d be stuck thinking about her from a distance. Whatever reason Sam has for being so protective of Tara must be a really good one. You couldn’t even begin to guess what had happened. Tara did mention that she’d tell you eventually, and you made a mental note to be extremely patient with her in the meantime.

Reaching into your backpack, you pull out a pair of noise canceling headphones and place them onto your head. You switch on some soft music to play in the background while studying and start reviewing the exam material.

You sit hunched over your thick textbook for what must’ve been at least an hour or two. You’re so engrossed in your reading that you don’t notice that the two chairs in front of you are being pulled out. It isn’t until you feel a tap on your shoulder that you register that there are now two people sitting in front of you.

“Oh shit!” You jump slightly in surprise and tear the headphones off your head. “So sorry, I didn’t even see you sit down.”

You finally glance up to see who is in front of you and promptly choke on your spit.

Tara grins cheekily back at you, grin stretching further at the coughing fit you’re now caught up in. “Surprise!”

“Tara, what the hell are you doing here?!” You practically splutter out the question, cheeks tinting pink (as they so often do around Tara) in embarrassment when you realize that another person is witnessing you literally choke at the sight of Tara.

Tara mischievously raises a single eyebrow at you and her eyes twinkle with joy, “You should know by now that giving your location to your kidnapper is a bad idea.”

You laugh gleefully at the familiar joke and a feeling of warmth blossoms throughout your chest.

“Jokes aside, I convinced Sam to let me come here to study for midterms. She allowed it but made me bring a friend with me.” She turns to where her friend is sitting silently beside her and then looks back at you, “Do you remember Mindy?”

The girl looks sort of familiar, but you couldn’t say you remembered exactly who she was. You smile apologetically at her and exchange a quick hello before speaking, “It’s nice to officially meet you Mindy. I’m assuming you were part of the group that helped rescue me?”

Thankfully, Mindy doesn’t seem offended that you don’t remember her. She nods and slowly smirks, “Y’know I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, you were too busy making googly eyes at Tara here to notice anybody else.”

You flush a deep red before groaning and ducking your head down to bury yourself in your abandoned textbook.

Above you, Tara and Mindy snicker at your reaction.

“Told you she blushes easily.” The two laugh some more at Tara's retort.

You lift your head up with a frown etched onto your face. Promptly, you flip both of them off. They each respond with a chuckle.

“Anyways, even though you so rudely insulted me,” you roll your eyes playfully at Mindy before softening your expression, “I want to say I really appreciate whatever your part in helping me that night was. I already told Tara this, but it means so much to me that you guys were looking out for me. I’m sorry for whatever drama I caused in the aftermath”

Tara eyes you softly while Mindy waves off your apology. “No need to apologize. It was the right thing to do and I’m glad we were able to help. Even if Sam did almost kill me”

Tara swats Mindy on the shoulder for her comment. Deciding to change the subject, she scans her eyes across your study space before fixing you with a scrutinizing look. “How long have you been here for?”

“Uhh,” you tap your pencil against the desk while you think, “Two, maybe three hours. Why?”

Tara gasps and tuts at you disapprovingly, “Have you taken a break from studying to eat something at least?”

You shake your head, now that she’s mentioned it, you could use a snack.

She stands up and gently pulls you out of your seat. “C’mon,” she tugs your arm, “I’m gonna get you a snack.”

Obediently, you go to follow, but stop dead in your tracks when Mindy speaks up in alarm, “Wait, Tara?!”

Tara sighs heavily, drops your arm, and gives you a pointed look that tells you to wait where you are while she goes to talk to Mindy,

From your spot a few feet away, you can just barely make out their hushed conversation.

“You heard Sam, she said I need to stay with you at all times! We can’t piss her off again.”

Tara grunts in annoyance, “No, she said not to let me out of your sight. We’re just going to the coffee place right over there, you can watch us from where you are.”

“I don’t know.” Mindy sounds unsure.

“Mindy please? I’ll buy you a brownie and a latte.” You can tell by her adorable tone that she’s pouting and it takes a lot of self-discipline not to turn around to see it.

Mindy draws out a long groan, “Fine! But I’m gonna be watching so don’t do anything I wouldn’t want to see.”

Tara’s smile is triumphant as she skips over to you and threads her fingers through yours. You give her hand a small squeeze.

As the two of you wait in line, she looks up at you sweetly, “So did you really miss me or were you just joking earlier?”

You bite your lip, hoping to god she won’t tease you if you tell the truth. “I did miss you. You grew on me really quickly Tara.”

She sighs happily, “Good, because I was thinking the same thing. I really missed you too.”

You grin like an idiot, so glad that you weren’t alone in your sentiment.

The line shifts up slightly and it is swiftly your turn to order. You give the barista your order and motion for Tara to do the same. When she relays her coffee order, you do your best to commit it to memory. She adds Mindy’s items and before she can retrieve her wallet, you whip out your card and tap it against the screen. Tara glares at you but you only smile back innocently.

The two of you slide down to wait for your food and drinks to be ready.

“Well,” Tara drags out the word and releases a breath, “I know you’re probably wondering why Sam locked me in the apartment or why I couldn’t come here without Mindy. And I do owe you an explanation but-”

You hastily cut her off, “You don’t owe me an explanation for anything Tara. It’s all up to whether you want to tell me or not. Whatever it is you went through, it’s obviously a very big deal. I’d understand if it’s not something you want to ever share with me.”

She pulls you into a quick hug, “I do want to tell you, but I think I need more time. Just so you know though, it’s something that me, Mindy, Chad, and Sam all went through. That’s why we’re all so protective of each other.”

You give her an understanding look, “Thank you for trusting me with that.”

She nods, “Sam’s still really mad at me and she probably won’t let me go alone anywhere for a while. I do want to keep hanging out with you though. Do you mind that it has to be with one of my friends?”

Your brow furrows slightly and you’re fast to shake your head, “No I don’t mind at all. I totally get it and I’m honestly just happy that I get to see you at all. Plus, your friends seem really nice, it’d be nice to get to know them.”

Tara sighs in relief before wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning up to kiss you on the cheek.

You smile brightly at the gesture.

A few seconds later your name is called and you step forward to collect the order. Tara grabs the items you’re unable to scoop up. The two of you return back to where Mindy is sitting.

She chirps out a thanks and the three of you enjoy your food silently. The rest of the afternoon is spent with you continuing to study, with Tara and Mindy begrudgingly joining you. You take frequent breaks to poke fun at each other and your heart flutters happily in your chest. If this is what it felt like to have friends, you never wanted to let them go.

From that day forward, you began to spend a lot of time with Tara and her ragtag group of friends. You loved hanging out with them, they were everything you felt you’d been missing in college. Mindy was sarcastic and hilarious and Anika was kind and bubbly. You liked her especially because she would always put a stop to Mindy’s teasing. Chad was cool, but you found him to be a bit more intimidating than everyone else. You didn’t mind Ethan, he was just a bit too shy and dorky for your liking.

Overall, you found a sense of home in the group. You were so grateful that they accepted you into their circle with open arms.

Your feelings for Tara were stronger than you’d ever felt for anyone thus far in your life. Her personality shone so brightly, it was no wonder why all her friends gravitated towards her so strongly. She was so sweet, yet so witty, brave, and strong. You are beyond thankful that you were lucky enough to stumble into her life, and you tell her so all the time.

The weeks fly by as you become even further integrated into the group of friends. You’re no longer on the outside, you’re one of them. Not a day goes by where you don’t feel so fortunate to have met them.

It’s after one of your many hangouts with Tara, Mindy, and Anika (you refer to them as double dates in your head) that Tara tells you she has a surprise for you. She takes you to a beautiful park and leads you to a more secluded spot, where a picnic is neatly laid out. You squeal like a child and excitedly run over to take a seat on the blanket. A conversation you can’t make out plays behind you.

“Anika and I are going to be just over there. We’ll be able to see you the whole time. Are you sure you want to tell her?”

Though Tara feels nervous, she nods her head nonetheless, “I trust her Mindy. It’s going to hurt like hell to talk about it again, but I want her to know. Besides, she’s in danger even being around us, so I feel like I owe it to her to tell her.”

Mindy agrees, she’d done the same thing with Anika when things got serious between them. She understands the position that Tara is in. “Okay. Call out if you need us.”

The three girls split off, heading their separate ways.

Tara plops down next to where you’re splayed out on the blanket, her thigh bumping against your own. You grin lazily at her.

She takes a moment to herself to admire you. Her fingers card through your hair before shifting to smooth the pads of her thumbs across your cheeks. You relax into the touch, sighing softly.

Tara’s lips press to your forehead and you close your eyes at the gentle contact.

She murmurs out your name and you leisurely open your eyes. “I’m ready to tell you about what happened.”

You open your mouth to protest but she shuts down your attempt, “No it’s okay, I want to tell you. Everyone else is okay with you knowing. Even Sam.”

You sit up straight, “Even Sam? She knows about me?”

Tara eyes you a little guiltily, “ I told her a while ago that we’ve been hanging out. She isn’t thrilled about it, but she was glad to at least know. She’s been trying to meet you, but I keep turning her down. I didn’t want her to scare you away before I could give you the full story.”

It’s a little scary that Tara’s overprotective sister knows about you, but you reassure Tara that it’s fine. “Well at least we haven’t been sneaking around her back, she’d probably be more upset if that were the case. I’d love to meet her someday.”

Tara seems thankful that you don’t freak out about it. The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Tara turns to face you, a faraway look in her eyes. Sensing that things are about to get heavy, you give Tara your full attention.

“Have you ever heard of the Stab movies?”

You scratch your chin in thought. “Maybe? I think I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one.”

“Well,” she explains, “The original movie is based upon a series of killings that took place in Woodsboro, California. The two killers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, went crazy and killed a bunch of their friends. After the first Stab movie came out, the events of the killings became well-known by everyone.”

You’re completely unsure why you’re hearing facts about this movie, but Tara must have a reason, so you remain silent.

“Ever since the original killings and the first Stab movie, different people have taken up the killer’s mantle. These series of killings have been repeated five different times and three of them have taken place in Woodsboro.”

You feel dumb, how hadn’t you heard about a literal horror movie being remade five different times? “Oh my gosh, I had no idea.”

Tara’s eyes brim with tears and she looks smaller than ever at this moment. “Y/N, I moved here from Woodsboro a few months ago.”

You gasp and tears jump into your own eyes. You gently pull Tara into your lap to comfort her. “Oh Tara, I’m so sorry. It must’ve been so scary to live there.”

You press a few soft kisses into her hairline as her tears begin to silently drip down her face.

“I didn’t just live there." She pauses for a long moment. "I lived through one of the killings.”

Oh my god. Your body shakes as your own tears spill out. You hug her closer to you and she wraps her arms around your neck.

After a minute of quietly sobbing, she continues with what you are sure must’ve been a real-life nightmare, “It’s a tradition for the killer to wear a black cloak and a white mask with a screaming ghost face. I was home alone the first time I got attacked. I got stabbed seven different times and the killer broke my leg.”

She cries into your shirt and you clutch her so tightly in your arms. It’s unbelievable to hear that the girl who seems so put together at all times almost died a few months ago.

“I was so scared when I woke up in the hospital. It was almost impossible to believe that I had survived. And then about a day later, I was attacked again at the hospital.”

You reach aimlessly into the picnic basket and fish out a bottle of water, which you then offer to Tara. She takes a meek sip, but gives you a grateful look.

“After that, Sam decided we needed to leave town. It wasn’t safe anywhere. But, I didn’t have an inhaler with me, so we had to stop at my girlfriend’s house, where I kept a spare. It was a trap, and my sister’s boyfriend Richie and my girlfriend, Amber, revealed themselves to be the killers.”

She sobs brokenly at the mention of her girlfriend. You do everything you can think of to comfort her, even while knowing that it would never be enough to make her feel better. The betrayal of her own girlfriend almost killing her would likely stay in her mind forever.

“Fighting spread all throughout the house. Eventually, Amber and Richie were overpowered. Sam killed Richie but I- I-”

You coo at her and rub your hands soothingly around her whole body. She’s crying so hard she can barely breathe and you fish out the inhaler you’ve seen her take out of the front pocket of her pants many different times. You spew words of praise and encouragement at her as her shaky hand wraps around it and she takes a puff of much needed air.

Once her breathing has calmed, she continues her sentence from earlier, “I killed Amber. I shot my own girlfriend right in the forehead. I’ll never forget seeing her body crash into the ground. Some days I can’t live with the thought of what I did to her.”

“I’m so so sorry Tara. She never should’ve put you through that.”

Tara sniffles. “I lost so much over the course of three days. We all did. Our best friend Wes and his mother were killed. Chad was attacked and he lost his girlfriend, Liv. Mindy got stabbed in the shoulder. We didn’t deserve to go through all that pain.”

You hum in agreement. The three people you proudly called your friends certainly didn’t deserve that. You had so much more love and appreciation for them now knowing what they’d fought through.

Tara has calmed down a bit and just as you think the worst of it is over, she speaks up again, “A few more things. Sam is the daughter of Billy Loomis, the original ghostface killer. I learned during Woodsboro that she and I have different dads. Mindy and Chad’s uncle, Randy, was a part of the original killings and didn’t make it through the second. Basically, all of this means that you’re in a ton of danger just from hanging around with us. Ghostface always comes back to haunt the survivors.”

While you should, you don’t care that your life is in danger. You’re more worried about someone coming back to attack your friends. You would never be the same if you lost one of them so cruelly.

Tara has stopped crying, but she still looks so sad. “I understand if you don’t want to hang around us, you know?”

You huff out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding. Tenderly, you tilt Tara’s chin up until her eyes meet yours. “Tara, I could never leave you or our friends. In fact, you’re going to have to try harder than ever to get rid of me. Now I’m the one who’s not going to let you out of their sight.”

Her brown eyes swirl with so many different emotions as she looks up at you. You’d pay a million dollars for the chance to take a peek inside her head right now.

You’re suddenly met with the familiar warmth of her lips pressing gently into yours. You melt into the sweet kiss.

Tara pulls back reluctantly and bops you on the nose while she slowly climbs off of your lap. You miss her warmth immediately, but don’t protest.

“Look, Y/N, I really really like you. But as much as I want to be, I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I’m sorry, I never meant to lead you on.”

Tears spring out of your eyes despite your desperate attempts to keep them in. Though you are completely understanding, your heart still breaks at the news. “It’s okay Tara, I get it.”

She wants so badly to reach out and comfort you, but she feels she’s done enough damage for one night.

You pull your knees up to your chest and cry softly. Tara, who you had flirted with and even kissed several different times, was now telling you she didn't want a relationship. Your hopes had been so high that things were going to work out romantically between the two of you that you hadn't prepared yourself for the possibility of being turned away. Regardless of the way your chest aches with sorrow, you feel stupid for crying in front of Tara, who has gone through so much.

You swipe your tears away aggressively, berating yourself for your moment of weakness. “Can we still be friends?”

You don’t even really know why you’d asked the question. Being just friends with Tara, the girl you feel so strongly for, is going to tear you apart from the inside out. A whole new set of tears trickles uselessly down your face, clouding your vision completely.

Tara’s heart clenches at the sadness that oozes out of you, “Of course.”

You can’t stay here anymore and let Tara witness you being a worthless mess. You call out to Anika and Mindy, who come rushing over.

Before they make it into earshot, you whisper to Tara, “I’m sorry. I know it’s the asshole move, but I just need some time to get a handle on my feelings for you. I still really want to be your friend, but I can’t do it right away. I care about you so much, so please keep yourself safe.”

A protest flies out of her mouth as you stand up and dust yourself off. “I’m so sorry Tara, thank you for trusting me with everything, I’ll never tell another soul. See you in a bit.”

Anika and Mindy arrive shortly after you tell Tara goodbye. They try to call out to your retreating form, but you’re too wrapped up in your deprecating thoughts to listen. The three girls can only watch helplessly as you trudge further and further away.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream vi #scream fanfic #devil likes the pirate series #I take every opportunity I can to promote tamber #og script forever in my heart #lonelym00n fic

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