#or something halloween-y too. just cause it's that season

[no1bookgirl]

Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Synopsis: Every year, since Tobais Hawthorne discovered Nash’s fondness for turkeys, Hawthorne House has set up a pen full of turkeys somewhere outside of Hawthorne House. In 2024, 27 years after the first turkey pen had been set up, a certain Hawthorne *cough* Xander *cough* forgot to lock the pen correctly. The turkeys put their brains together and hobbled out of the pen, now having free reign of Hawthorne House, tormenting its occupants with a haunting gobble.

POV: 2nd from you as Grayson’s gf!!

Pairings: Grayson x Reader, Avery x Jameson, Libby x Nash, and Xander x Max!

wc: 9.8k

a/n: Thanksgiving fic!! one of my first actual character x reader things. I was going to do a halloween themed one cause halloween would be crazy at hawthorne house, but thanksgiving was much more festive! (this might also be a day or two after thanksgiving 🙄🙄) Warning!! one y/n usage that I really tried to avoid… I hate having to write y/n it’s so icky to me ☹️ MINOR GAMES UNTOLD SPOILERS!!!

Now, I present: Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024

When you are the girlfriend of Grayson Hawthorne, former heir apparent of philanthropist Tobias Hawthorne, you were bound to have that big, fancy Thanksgiving that you felt you could never get used to. You were also bound to getting caught in the antics of his brothers. And their girlfriends.

Yeah, Hawthorne Thanksgiving was good, lavish, luxury, chaotic especially, but you couldn’t help but remember your fondness for your grandmother’s mashed potatoes. Or your mom’s turkey. Those quiet, comfortable, small Thanksgivings. The ones where you’d actually have time to go around the table and share something you’re grateful for.

Trying to take your mind off of your need for your grandma, for your mom, just for your family again, you walk down the art gallery, staring at the walls of endless works. Your eyes fall upon one exhibit, a large amount of turkey-hand paintings ordered by year. There were four rows of them, each containing around eight paintings. The top row was Nash’s, the hand feathers becoming more defined as the years grew on. It was cute to think of the Hawthorne brothers squishing their hands in paint, pressing it against paper, and decorating it was silly items like top hats and monocles, a cowboy hat and a lasso, or sun glasses and a glass of wine.

You’d done the same project when you were a child, running home from the bus stop, paper fluttering in the wind, slamming the door open and proudly displaying your artwork on the fridge. Gentle hands would rub your back, cheek kisses were also common, soft words would encourage your art.

Before actually meeting the brothers, you never would’ve been able to imagine them doing that from what you had seen. It would feel too forced, like they just didn’t fit into that picture of childishness. But maybe that was one of their plans all along, Grayson’s plan. He needed to be that mature business man, always trying to keep himself steady, others steady too, including you until you saw through that facade, breaking him open to see who he really could be.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Grayson’s voice came from behind you, the now audible clicking of his shoes becoming louder.

“Yeah,” you laughed. Turning around, you found one of those rare Grayson smiles plastered on his face, warming her heart. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe the fun memories of the turkey hands.

He looked down, like he was nervous, but you could still see the hint of the smile. “It’s you,” he said as if reading your mind, “that’s making me smile like this. Even after being together for three years, it’s still so foreign.”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to your smile.” You took a few steps closer to him, closing the gap as you wrapped your arms around him. “Gray?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to know something I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving season?” you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He cocked his head. “Friends?”

“Close…”

“Family?”

“Closer…”

He chewed on his lip, in actual thought. “I give up,” he said, mock defeat in his voice.

“This Thanksgiving season, I’m grateful for…” you paused for dramatic effect, your mouth staying in a wide open-mouthed smile. “You.”

Grayson’s brows shot up, even though you had told him this millions of times before. “Really?” he asked, his arms finally wrapping loosely around your torso.

“Forever,” you sing, rocking you and Grayson back and forth, “and ever and ever and ever.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, taking in each other in the silence, wrapped up all nice and cozy compared to the outdoors. But everything with Grayson was warm. Swimming was warm because of summer. Grayson was warm because he was your sun, the thing that brought that smile to your face, the sun that faded down into a calmer, more comforting figure as the day dragged on. Grayson was the warm person you would wake up to in the morning, pressing yourself against his chest or his hair or wherever you happen to be.

Grayson leaned down into your ear, his breath warm, heating you up even more. “They’re setting the turkey pen up soon,” he commented. “Do you think it would be fun to watch?”

“Grayson,” you cock your head at him, “we do this every year: You come up to me, butter me up and all that jazz, then ask if I want to watch them build the pen, which we end up doing no matter what I say.”

He chuckled at you, at all the other turkey pen watching times you’d been together. Reaching around his back, he grabbed on of your hands, giving it a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

You gave one of those small, flustered smiles even if he had done this so many times before. “Why, yes, prince charming.”

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The pen was always a grand thing, more than enough room for the turkeys. There were about seven or eight turkeys in there, not at all knowing they would get slaughtered in only a matter of days at the hands of the greedy, and hungry, Xan- Hawthornes.

“I feel bad for them,” you said, letting your head rest against Grayson’s shoulder as a frown deepened on your face.

Grayson’s head cocked gently. “Why is that?”

“Because they don’t know they’re going to be eaten,” you began, even more empathy creeping in now that you actually expressed your sadness. “They just think they’re getting out in a new fancy home.”

“Well, all things have to come to an end at some point, and sometimes that end might not be when you’d expect or want,” said Grayson, his voice soft and steady, keeping you down.

You nodded absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the helpless turkeys. “I guess you’re right. But when are you not?” you murmured, hopeful that he didn’t hear the last part. But by the small smirk that he somehow couldn’t suppress, you could tell he did hear it.

“Who’s all coming for Thanksgiving this year? It’s approaching faster than I’d like.”

“There’s a few new people coming this year,” Grayson said, a half sigh in his voice. “I know Gigi and Katrina will be joining us this year.”

Your heart dropped at the mention of that cat. Lord did it scare you. Not that you were scared of cats, but the way the leopard sized cat would stare at you from Gigi’s arms, it’s pupils shrinking as it looked like it was planning you to be her next meal. Grayson always made sure to keep a safe distance between you and Katrina whenever Gigi decided it was her turn to barge into your room. Whether it be holding Katrina or letting her sleep on him, he’d separate you two.

“That damn cat,” you breathed out.

“Knox may also be here this year, maybe not. Lyra’s having Thanksgiving with her family. All the rest of the normal people will be there: Avery, obviously, Jameson, Libby, Nash, then on,” he said.

You blew out a long breath, wishing you could see it in the air. If it wasn’t cold enough to see your breath, it wasn’t Thanksgiving yet. And Texas had a long way to go. 70° F was no where near what homes temperature would be around this time of month. Now, coats would start to be pulled out of the basement. A sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm. Hats wouldn’t be out for a while. It always seemed that something, just one thing, was just off enough for this place to not feel like home.

Even if you came here almost every break you got in school since you met Grayson three years ago, it still never felt right. Too hot. Too stuffy. Too many people. They didn’t know what you meant when you called certain things differently. You’re offered sweet tea instead of lemonade on those hot summer days. It was never enough. And you felt bad. Grayson always tried to make you feel at home here, safe, secure. You tried to make yourself seem happy, but Grayson could see right through it.

A whirring sound came from somewhere around the corner. Grayson’s arm instinctively went to wrap around you, holding you closer to him. A… figure emerged from the corner. It was Tiramisu… in a child sized Jeep?

Without having to see who it was, Grayson called out, “Xander.” It was silent before Xander popped out from behind you and Grayson, his arm tightening even more around you. You yelped, clinging on to Grayson.

“Greetings, fellow residents.” Xander gave them no time before he started to ask questions. “How has your day been? How do you like Tiramisu’s Jeep? How about the turkeys? Are they interesting this year? Should I dye them purple-“

“Alexander,” Grayson commanded, stopping Xander in his tracks. You’d almost never seen Xander stop talking this quickly, but he was silent. “There is no need to dye the turkeys, or anything for that matter, purple.”

Xander’s lip puffed out in a pout. “But that’s the best part,” he whined, knowing full well that he would do it anyway. And temporarily dye Grayson’s hair to get back at him.

Contorting your face, you look to Xander. “I don’t think purple is very festive…”

Xander looked up, taking that into consideration, and nodded. Tiramisu panted from beneath you, wiggling against whatever was keeping him in the toy car. Xander bent down to pet him, earning wet dog kisses to his hand.

“We better get going,” he said, “Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Your brows furrowed. “You training him for the Macy’s day parade or something?”

“Similar to that. Hawthorne style,” he said with a grin that greatly reflected Jameson.

“Do not suspend him from a helicopter like you did with our last dog? That did not end well for Wilhelmina,” Grayson scolded.

What happened to Wilhelmina?

Xander huffed out a long sigh, groaning and whining like a little kid. “You always ruin my plans, little Graybe-“

“Don’t even try that with me, Alexander.” The full name again. What was up with him today?

Xander turned around, pulling out a remote control to have Tiramisu slowly follow him as he sulked away. But Tiramisu’s smiley little dog face was the opposite of Xander’s, tongue out and panting.

“Xander?” you called. He slowly, dramatically, turned around to face you again. “Who’s feeding the turkeys?”

“We’re going in an order. I’m first, then Jamie, Grayson, Nash, Avery, Libby, and last Oren,” he mumbled, still keeping his sad face on.

He turned back around, pulling out a remote control to push Tiramisu around as he wobbled away. Beside Xander, Tiramisu was the opposite, his face all smiley, tongue out, tail wagging, and panting.

When they were far enough away, you looked up at Grayson, your best attempt at a mad face directed at him.

He noticed your expression, arching a brow—those weirdly perfect brows. No, it was actually weird—and cocking his head. “What’s that face for?”

“That was really mean, Grayson. I think you should apologize,” you declared.

Grayson gave you a look, one that you knew meant that you both mutual understood something, but you were deciding to act like you didn’t. “He’s going to be okay. I know he’s going to be okay. And the look he gave me just means he’s going to do that, but ten times worse.”

“But you called him his full name. Twice!” You’d almost never heard Xander be called by his full name. Not even by Nash. It genuinely took you a second to realize that Alexander wasn’t an inside joke between Xander and Grayson.

“Trust me, he’ll be okay,” he said, finally, squeezing your arm and giving you a kiss on the top of the head. “Now, how about we go back to our gallery walk?”

The smile reappeared on your face and the two of you turned around, making your way back into Hawthorne House.

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Thursday, November 21st, 2024

Somehow, on this fine evening, every just so happened to be eating lunch at the same time, small talk filling the table as they passed plates around, piling food on top of other food that you knew were not goin for taste good once all mixed together. But for some strange reason, Avery and Jameson made it a competition to see who could stack their plate higher without a single thing falling. They were both well off their plates, at least six inches of food each. You and Grayson shared the same disgusted look. Yeah, your family wasn’t as fancy as all these people, but at least you had manners.

Suddenly, with dramatic effect, Xander burst into the room, a panicked look that you had never seen before on his face. The bang made Avery jump, knocking over everything on your plate, mingling with all the other food. Her hand flew over her mouth at the mess. Not only did it topple over and mix everything, it splattered everything everywhere, on everyone, and Tiramisu was more than happy to clean up the floor.

“Xander!” Avery screeched. Her face softened when she saw Xander’s. “Xander..?

“They. Are. Gone.” He punctuated each word with a force you’d expect out of Grayson.

Nash swiftly stood up, getting into his ready stance. “Who is gone, Xan?”

“The turkeys. When I went to go check and see if they ate all their breakfast, there was only one left. I didn’t close that pen right, they’re all gone,” his tone was frantic, more than you had ever heard from him before.

Grayson followed Nash but his stance was much more protective, aware. “That just means that they are on the premises, not exactly inside of Hawthorne House.”

Xander shook his head violently. “They are inside. The seven that got out. And they are out for revenge,” he panted. You finally made the connection that he was probably running from them.

Oren started to talk to someone on his radio, giving them instructions on what measures to take next. Xander sat down at the table, swiping his finger through Avery’s fallen mix of ham, cheese, mayo, grapes, and some garlic sauce. Xanders face twisted, then loosened, and continued that pattern. Grayson had migrated over to Oren, trying to go through everything they had to do.

The rest of the lunch was silent, doors locked, waiting for the anticipation of the turkeys.

“So everyone-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

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It wasn’t long before one of the turkeys tried to claim its first victim.

Can turkeys fly?

Yes, turkeys can fly, but only short distances.

Speed

Wild turkeys can fly at speeds of up to 55 miles per hour.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Help me.

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You were aimlessly roaming Hawthorne House, trying to find something to distract yourself with. Thundering footsteps came from down the hall, screaming accompanying the steps. It was a familiar shriek. Avery. And then you heard it, what she was running from. The gobbles echoed through the endless halls, not allowing you to know where it was coming from.

You looked around for any kind of escape, anything high enough that you could still climb on. You time spent with the Hawthornes and built you an expertise in climbing, even when there was almost nothing to climb. There was the tiniest ledge, just enough to fit your foot, so, you began your climb. Arm moving up and over, feet bracing against the wall.

On top of the ledge, your legs shook, almost taking you down to the ground. Avery’s footsteps grew louder as they approached you, the flapping of wings following. She shrieked again, the slapping of her shoes against the ground growing closer together, her legs moving faster.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, her arms pumping as she rounded a corner, coming in to view.

Suddenly, she ran into something. She faced the turkey, its speed slowing. They were at a standstill. Avery versus the turkey. Avery stood proud, trying to cover her obviously shaking hands and legs, her breathing ragged. She licked her lips, staring down the turkey. Taking her eyes off for only a second, she looked up at you, pleading in her gaze.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare? Help me!” she called out, disturbing the turkey. It gave an aggressive gobble, taking a step toward Avery and flapping it’s wings. She moved backwards, slightly stumbling.

Under you, the wall shook, knocking you off balance. You almost fell, but narrowly caught the ledge with your shaking fingers, her hands almost too sweaty to hold you up. Without any warning, a loud crack came from under you. Avery instinctively ducked down, her arms covering her head. The turkey fell over, it’s body still on the floor, a small hole behind where the turkey had just stood.

It felt like your legs moved without any signals from your brain, nothing was telling you to move but you were.

“Avery!” you said, rushing over to her. You knelt beside her, your hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s okay, shh, you’re okay,” your voice was gentle. Her body shook as she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around you.

Footsteps echoed from behind the two of you, and you turned to find Jameson holding one of the Winchester rifles. How fitting. Then, you connected the dots. Secret passage way.

“Avery,” Jameson breathed out, falling down beside you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I scared you.” Similar to Xander earlier that day, he looked more panicked than ever, scooping Avery out of your arms.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, her breathing still uneven.

“Fine and okay aren’t the same thing, Heiress,” Jameson said, a small, soft, trying-to-be-comforting smile on his face.

Avery took one more deep breath before sitting up, untangling herself from Jameson. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The two sat for a moment, just staring at each other.

“We should probably clean that up,” you commented, loosely referring to the dead turkey a few feet away.

“Yeah,” they sighed together.

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After Oren had come and cleaned the turkey up, you traveled back to you and Grayson’s room, flopping down on the bed next to Grayson and his laptop. You gave a dramatic sigh, finally able to breathe fully.

“What’s that for?” Grayson asked, starting at her collarbone and tracing a finger down your arm into your hand.

“One turkey down,” you began, “six to go.”

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Friday, November 22nd, 2024

Some nights, when even you couldn’t get Grayson to fall asleep, you two resorted to the few other people Grayson felt——not necessarily safe sleeping in a room with——comfortable to sleep in a room with if you were their too. Grayson’s eyes drooped, and you felt so bad. He hadn’t slept much before you had arrived back at Hawthorne House from Harvard, the place where he had betrayed you and left. He didn’t really betray you, just had his own shit to deal with. But, still, it hurt. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever, shadowing his pale face. You also came to the realization that his heightened irritability—Xander’s first name, the purple turkeys—was due to Grayson’s lack of sleep. Poor thing.

You wrapped one of the millions of blankets Xander had in his pile that he called a bed around Grayson, tucking him in snuggly.

“Good night,” you whispered against his ear, giving his cheek a soft kiss.

Xander was also somewhere in the pile, probably cuddled up with Max or some of his stuffed animals.

“Good night to you too, Xan,” you whisper called, a waving hand appearing somewhere underneath the blankets.

Xander had a strange habit of forgetting to close doors. Anywhere he went. Any time. But he especially did when he went to bed. You always assumed he didn’t have much of a night time routine. Well, until Max came around and forced him into a nightly skincare routine. Or maybe Xander just liked to have that small nightlight, just a little childlike comfort.

Lying behind Grayson, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arm draping over him side under his arm. You tried to sleep, you really did, but with the events from today, you couldn’t help your open eyes. Grayson’s hair twirled around your finger, his light snoring, Xanders not-so light snoring, Max wiggling around in her sleep. Everyone in the house was peaceful, but you just couldn’t focus. And when you tried to sleep, you only thought about not sleeping, keeping you awake even longer.

So quiet. So eerily quiet. Nothing like what you were used to sleeping through in Cambridge. Or, at least, your first year when you were required to live on campus. Since then, and kind of to apologize for leaving, Grayson got you a nice house not too far from campus. It was nice and cozy—2 bed, 3 bath, nice finished basement equipped with a bar!—just what you were looking for. It kind of reminded you of the heaps of blankets you were in right now.

One game you enjoyed playing in Xander’s room was Dig In His Weird Blanket Pile And See What You Find! It was kind of like a blind bag: you never know what you’re going to pull out.

You dug your hand in, feeling around until you found something. It was cold, despite the warmth of the blankets, circular, felt like glass. You wretched our hand out of the pile, holding up a small, glass ball. A Fushigi ball? Hawthornes and their weird talents. You put that one back down, digging around for something else. Your fingers caught in something else, pulling out a crochet hook, a single piece of yarn connecting it to a half finished crochet dog that vaguely resembles Tiramisu.

You continued to dig around, finding new random things, some you didn’t even know existed. When your hand was touching the bottom of this pit, the room got lighter, and lighter. The door was creaking open. But Nash wouldn’t be up, he probably would’ve woken Libby up. And why would Jameson or Avery be coming in here at this hour? That left only one thing.

The fucking turkeys.

You froze, your arm still in the sea of blankets, unable to move. Beside you, Grayson shifted, rubbing his head around, his brows furrowing when we couldn’t find your hand.

“Mm,” he whined, his arm reaching to feel around. Your free arm roughly grasped his wrist, stirring him more. “What are you doing…” he trailed off when he saw the panic on your face, the utter fear. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He sat up fully, grabbing your hands. You looked back up at the ledge of the pit until he followed your gaze. He must have noticed the weird amount of light streaming into the room.

Then the gobble came. And another. Were there multiple? Here? Right now?

Like some sort of sleeper agent—literally—Max launched up from where she was sleeping, bringing Xander’s arm with her. Xander stirred too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“What the fuck was that?” Max whispered, her eyes locked forward as if she wasn’t able to move, that if she did some monster—the turkeys—would come out and attack her.

There was a figure peering over the ledge now, casting a shadow on Max. It’s sickly long neck, that stupid beak, the feathers down the rest of the body. You were only just realizing how terribly inaccurate your hand-turkey drawings had been. It gobbled again, flapping its wings, and jumped down. Max screamed, scrambling out of the pit. You followed, confused and disoriented, the lack of sleep catching up to you. Grayson rushed up after you, his arms going around you.

Xander continued to look around confused. And then he began to, very slowly, climb onto the ledge, wobbling across his room to somewhere by a desk of some sort. “Don’t freak out, you guys. I have something for this.”

Of course he did.

He adjusted the screws or bolts of mechanical things you didn’t understand, paying very close attention to the turkey’s position. He pulled a small lever back, and then let go. It was another one of his weird machines, the ones that take too many steps. The thing ran almost all the way around his room: on the walls, the book ridden ceiling, the floor, even. Only seconds after that lever was released, a ball, in your mind a canon ball, launched from a corner not too far from you, hitting the turkey square in the head.

That drew a gasp from you, Max, and Grayson, all still standing huddled in a corner.

“There,” Xander said, grogginess roughening his voice, “are you better now?”

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You and Grayson laid on the floor of Nash and Libby’s room, Max curled up next to you. The door was locked securely, making sure to pose no danger to the sleeping people inside.

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Saturday, November 23rd, 2024

When your eyes finally opened, they met Nash’s, Grayson standing beside him.

“Mornin’,” he said, patting your shoulder. The surface under you was comfortable, squishy, compared to the floor you, Grayson, and Max had chosen to sleep on last night.

When you finally collected your mind, you focused on where you were, what you knew about the turkeys now. I’m in Libby and Nash’s bed, I think, and two turkeys have been taken down. That leaves only five more, that could be done in a day, right?

“Are you feeling any better?” Grayson asked, his voice soft and quiet.

You completely ignored the question. “Where is Xander?”

A small smile pulled at Grayson’s lips, warming your heart. Your face also heated up thinking about the fact you most likely looked like you crawled out of a dumpster five seconds ago.

“Xan slept in his own room. He’s okay, too,” Grayson assured, running a hand through your hair, getting caught in the knots near the bottom.

“Mm,” you hummed in recognition. You stuffed your face back into one of the pillows, trying to drift off again. Grayson’s hand ran down your back, stopping just above your hips and tracing back up.

It was nice, having him there with you, something to keep you steady in the midst of all these turkey troubles. Your mind drifted off, dreaming of pool what and hot summer days, cameras and candid polaroid pictures, Grayson’s violin and your piano matching in just the right places.

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The next time you woke up, the room was more familiar the things you had dreamed of: playful strings of photos on the wall, his violins hanging with them. It was nice to have that feeling of home in at least one place here.

It was so quiet. Quieter than you had ever heard it. Even in the dead of night you could here Jameson and Avery scurrying around, Grayson taking a swim, Xander working up late on his next project, the steady strum of Nash’s guitar, used to put the babies to bed. Everyone had probably locked themself up in their room, including you. But then where was Grayson?

Deciding it was time for your next quest, you got up, wobbling over to the closet, and then the bathroom, finally getting ready for the day. You didn’t feel like doing much today; just a simple sweater, jeans, and a pair of fluffy socks you pulled out of some looks of clothes you were hiding from Grayson.

After leaving the bathroom, you opened the door to the balcony, the cold air washing over your body. You peered over the railing, the pool water still leaving no sign that Grayson had been there. Strange. Guess the next stop was the music room.

The hallways were especially empty today. Not even a cleaner or security walking around. That’s why the hallways were so quiet. It was eerie walking through the halls, the ceiling too tall now, the walls too close, the hall too long, a shiver creeping up your spine. Your steps quicken, trying to looking for any signs of Grayson. But it was like he just disappeared, gone.

Standing outside of the empty music room, you felt weak, tired too, your lack of sleep finally catching up to you. Then, your ears caught the beginning of a note, followed by another, and another, each played flawlessly, tuned perfectly. Maybe the music room wasn’t so empty. But piano wasn’t exactly Grayson’s forte. Your head peeked in, catching a glimpse of a figure at one of the pianos. A cane leaned up against the bench gave away who it could be. The sound of your steps light, you entered the room, trying not to disturb Nan as she listened to the piano.

“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice as gruff as usual. “You ain’t sneaky.”

Now caught, with no escape, you walk over to the piano, standing on the other end of the bench.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you said. Nan looked over to you, and you were just now realizing where Nash had gotten his many faces from. “Mind if I sit here? I won’t make a peep,” you promised.

“Fine,” she huffed.

You took a seat beside her, gentle to not knock over her cane of the other side. Sitting silently, you watched as the piano keys pressed themselves down, the music following with them.

“You play?” she asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nodded slowly. “Sorta. I’m rusty though,” you admitted. You placed your hands gently on the piano keys, thinking up a song to play. Her fingers pressed down the key, moving in a familiar rhythm. The occasional press of the wrong key would stop you, making the song choppy. But you couldn’t help to think that those mistakes, the things that might slow you down, just added character.

Nan swayed to the music beside you, matching the rhythm. She seemed to recognize the song, know how to play it, pressing down a key or two on her side when it might have seemed too far from you. It was nice to have this moment. Most of the time, and what had been described of her, Nan wasn’t gentle, she was gruff, she was snorted laughs, she was bored huffs. Or maybe, just maybe, Nan was just Nan.

“You’re good,” her voice seemed softer now, calm “Y’know that, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her finger rested against one of the lower octave note, playing a simple pattern, switching between notes. Her head turned the slightest bit toward you, you could feel it.

“C’mere more often. I can get you to learn some of my favorite songs,” she said. A smile grew on your face, returned with a not so happy look. “Don’t make that face. You’re starting to look like Xander.”

Pad-pad-pad

The hell?

Pad-pad-pad

You leaned over, trying to see on Nan’s side, find where the padding feet were coming from. Riding up next to the two of you, an animal came in, bobbing its head as it walked. The turkey.

“How are you in here?” Nan said at the turkey, and the way she said it made it seem like she actually expected an answer from it.

Gobble

She stared at the turkey, like the stare-down Avery had had with the first turkey. Her hand reached over for the precariously balanced cane.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

“You’re really going to make me up, aren’t you, bastard,” she huffed, standing up and using the piano as leverage.

Her cane swung aimlessly in the air, only hitting the turkey a few times. “Scram!” she shouted at it, watching as it scurried away in her presence.

Bonk

The turkey slammed right into the wall.

Thud

Another loud sound as the turkey hit the ground.

Similar to Nan, you just stared at it, motionless.

“One more turkey down,” you grumbled.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Sunday, November 24th, 2024

Waddling into the kitchen, you jumped up to sit on the counter beside Libby’s chocolate cupcakes.

“Libbbyyy,” you said.

“Yeeeeesss,” she dragged as she carefully frosted a cupcake.

You put on your best puppy eyes, looking at her like a little kid. “Can you make me something for lunch?”

“You’re twenty-two,” someone drawled from behind you. “You don’t need Lib to make you lunch.”

You flicked your hand at Nash, not even turning around to look at him. “Shoo.”

“Excuse me?” Nash said, his voice now right behind you.

Nash walked around the counter, a baby balancing on his hip, taking a ball of cookie dough off of a baking sheet nearby and popping it in his mouth. “I think,” he said around the cookie dough, “you should make your own lunch and let Lib breathe.”

“Thank you, Nash, but I think I can take care of myself.”

The baby was placed on the counter next to you, looking up and smiling at you.

“Hi, there, baby,” you squealed, picking her up and placing her on your lap, moving her arms around to fake punch or lifting them up and down, making her dance. She giggles and squeals, looking around, until her face dropped, looking at the entrance to the kitchen. Following her gaze, your eyes landed on another one of those stupid turkeys.

“Another one?” you whispered, drawing the attention of Nash and Libby.

“Another what-“

The room froze, everyone’s eyes on the turkey. Everything in the room was still, just staring. Until the turkey screamed its battle cry.

“What the hell,” Nash muttered, watching as the turkey ran in circles around the kitchen.

Libby jumped onto the counter watching as the turkey made a b-line toward her. She screeched, grabbing that pan of cookie dough and throwing it, hitting the turkey right on the head. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering it in shock.

“I just killed that turkey,” she mumbled. “I just killed that fucking turkey,” she repeated, her eyes wide.

Across the room, Nash stood staring at Libby. “Good job, Lib,” he said proudly.

“Usually, the turkey in the kitchen is dead,” Jameson said, entering the kitchen. Avery soon followed behind, probably startled by all the commotion.

“Libby, what’s wrong? What was that bang? And most of all, why are you on the counter?” She gave no time to answer any of the questions.

Libby’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words.

“Are those turkey cupcakes?” Avery asked, looking to the tray of cupcakes beside Libby.

“I was stress baking!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Monday, November 25th, 2024

It was quiet again, the hallways. They weren’t empty this time, though, just quiet. Sitting on one of the many benches placed around Hawthorne House, you were reading a book, still too distracted by the turkeys which defeated the purpose of reading. Or what reading was supposed to be doing right now. Your book just wasn’t interesting enough. It couldn’t grab your attention like so many others had before. You thought it could be an escape, but it failed, miserably. Every sound, the rustle of a tree, the audible explosion of one of Xander’s creations, the faint shriek of Grayson’s violin, it all made you jump. When was the next time you’d be accosted by a turkey?

Bark, bark, bark

“Tiramisu!” Xander screeched as he ran after Tiramisu, both of them moving directly toward you.

Tiramisu jumped on the bench beside you, sticking his nose in your nose and then licking all over your face, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Xander!” you said, choppy through your laughter. “Help me!”

Once Xander had gotten to the bench, he opened his arm, scooping up Tiramisu. “I told you to stay by me, missy,” he said, “I said you had to be the Oren to my Avery!”

“You’re using Tiara as your bodyguard?” you laughed in disbelief, the concept of Tiramisu, so tiny next to Xander, being his bodyguard was comical.

Xander head nodded proudly, placing Tiramisu back on the ground. He flopped onto the bench, blowing out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s like this dog doesn’t even know English.”

You snorted. “Xander, you’re not gonna believe what I’m about to tell you…”

A smile grew on his face, looking over at you. “Aren’t you ecstatic to have Katrina here? I know you love her so much.” One of his long, skinny fingers approached you, poking your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “I don’t know. At least Gigi will be there.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” said Xander. Tiramisu jumped up on the bench, lying on her back and spreading across your and Xander’s laps, all smiling and panting. Your hand instinctively went to his belly, petting him.

Suddenly, a thought came to your mind. “Who takes Tiramisu on walks?”

Xander stared blanking at the cleanly lined trees across the path, his smile fading. “That’s a very good question.” He cocked his head, genuinely lost in thought.

“Oh, my gosh. I don’t know who walks Tiramisu,” he admitted. “I don’t even know if she gets walked.”

The two of you sat, contemplating Tiramisu’s daily schedule, trying to find any space where a walk could fit it.

“She has her morning bath at 8, then she has breakfast at 9:30, every other week at 10:30 she has her manicure,” Xander said. “12:00 she has lunch and then goes to play.”

“Maybe that’s when she gets walked?”

“But that’s play time, not walking. At 12:45, she’s tired and takes her afternoon nap in Libby and Nash’s room, and joins Nash for a doggy guitar lesson and then a doggy piano lesson at 2:00 and 2:30.”

“How does she even play guitar or piano? It’s not like she has fingers,” you asked, thinking of all the possible, stupid, ways that Xander could have come up with.

Xander shot up, intrigued by the opportunity to share his creation. “Okay, so it’s one really big piano, like, each key is a foot wide, and it’s like those ones that you can step on to play it and it’s really fun.”

“What about the guitar?”

“That’s one isn’t really her playing, she just kind of paws at the strings and Nash’s hand…”

“Oh.”

More silence. Tiramisu panting. You pull your phone out, checking the time. 12:19 Perfect timing.

“Perfect timing,” you voiced. “It’s play time.”

Tiramisu shot up, jumping off of your laps and spinning in circles, waiting for you and Xander to play with her.

“Should we play with the long sword today?” Xander joked, standing up and aggressively rubbing Tiramisu’s back.

“For sure,” you said sarcastically, getting up from your own position, closing your book not caring about where you were.

Tiramisu trotted next to you as the group of you walked to one of the many expensive fields scattered around the Hawthorne property. There was actually an area dedicated to Tiramisu, a bucket of toys and beaten up sticks near the entrance to the fenced off land.

He fake threw it a few times, finally letting it go and watching Tiramisu launch after it, a bolt of brown, curly fur.

“We really need to find a time to get her walked,” you sighed.

“Or just ask Nash if she goes on walks.” Xander shrugged slightly, taking the returned stick and catapulting it again. You were surprised that Xander didn’t have a machine for this yet, but you guessed he just really wanted to spend some time with Tiara.

“Christmas is also coming up, maybe we’ll do something fun again like the other year,” reminded Xander.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to do Hawthorne Secret Santa That’s Not At All Secret Santa. “Crazy how me and Tiramisu got each other. She couldn’t even get me a present!”

“She did get you a present,” Xander pouted.

Shooting a glare at him, you crossed your arms. “I proper present. Not a pigeon he found on the driveway.”

A minute passed and Tiramisu still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t have gone far, but surely it had been far enough for you to not see her at all.

Another minute.

Tick, tock

Another minute.

What’s taking so long?

“Tiara?” You called, your voice echoing through the wind. “Tiara? Tiramisu!”

Nothing but trees rustling.

“Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne!” Xander shouted, starting to walk in the direction Tiramisu had last ran to. “Where are you?”

Trudging up the hilly part of Tiramisu’s play area, you peeked to the fall of the hill, two figures running around at the lowest point. You could easily recognize Tiramisu being one of them.

“Tiramisu!” you repeated, running down the hill. Watching as the hyper dog ran around after something, she finally caught up, pouncing on it.

“What is that?” Xander muttered, following you down the hill.

Approaching the writhing animal and Tiramisu, you recognized the long neck, the feathered body, the distorted squabble.

She got another turkey!

You scrambled over to her, rubbing and petting her. “Good girl, Tiara!”

“Yay!!” Xander whooped from behind you, pumping his fists in the air and jumping up and down. “Tiramisu’s a hero!” he chanted.

“Tiramisu’s a hero!” you joined in, jumping around as Tiramisu ran in circles around you.

Two turkeys left. Which, based on this pattern, two more days.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Tuesday, November 26th, 2024

Gigi’s arrival was scheduled for today. And Katrina. Ugh.

Avery was always the one to greet people at the door, as she owned Hawthorne House and didn’t want anyone doing anything for her. With the events of the last five days, Avery had to, reluctantly, bring a whole new group of bodyguards to the door.

You decided to join them, thinking that it would save you from the turkeys that seemed weirdly attracted to you. Your meet up spot was far from the entrance—in some random meeting room one the third floor of Hawthorne House. Maybe turkeys couldn’t climb stairs? It’s only other method of getting to the third floor would be elevator which wouldn’t work very well for them.

“So, Avery,” you said, sidling up into the beside Avery, “how do you think Thanksgiving is going to go this year? Seems pretty eventful already.”

“Not good.” Her head was balanced in her hands, elbows in the table. “Everything has gone to shit because of those stupid turkeys.”

Reassuringly patting her back, you leaned back in your chair. “I think it’ll be fine. Thanksgiving—scratch that, any holiday—here is always a little eventful. Like secret santa the other year.”

“Oh, my god, that was hilarious. Libby got out so fast,” she let out in a laugh.

“Oh! Not really a holiday, but from what I’ve heard of Nash’s bachelor party,” you said. “You know what?” Avery hummed. “I should get Grayson a pair of fresh leather pants for Christmas this year.”

Avery let out a strained giggle, trying to hold it in, before she exploded, throwing her head back and leaning in her chair, almost tipping it over.

“Ms. Grambs,” one of the new bodyguards said, his voice commanding. Your laughter quickly subsided, leaving you and Avery silent. “Ms. Grayson will be here soon. I recommend starting to walk to the entrance in order to get here before she does.”

Avery nodded, standing up from her chair, stretching, and walking over to Oren. You followed her like a lost puppy, standing awkwardly on the side as she tells Oren what the other bodyguard had just said to her.

“Shall we get going?” she offers.

“We shall,” Oren replies flatly.

With what seemed like an entire army of bodyguards behind you, Avery, and Oren, you started your journey, through the windy halls and passageways.

Truly, you were excited to have Gigi over, thrilled, but it was that cat. Katrina. Katrina Katrina. Now, she wouldn’t do anything to you—couldn’t do anything. It was just that hunger way she looked at you, her eyes forming into slits as she glared at you from perched beside Gigi.

“I can just tell you’re thrilled to have Katrina over,” Avery said, practically reading your mind.

“Me and Grayson already had this conversation,” you huffed, shaking your head at the ground.

Avery just laughed, following your gaze to the ground. “It just,” she paused. “Katrina isn’t even scary.”

“It’s not that!” you burst. “It’s not that she herself is scary, it’s just that way she looks at me like I’m her next meal. Like I’m one of the turkeys!”

Avery seemed very amused by your argument, just smirking that smile that told you she had spent one too many hours with Jameson.

“Maybe you are her next meal,” Avery teased, poking your ribs.

“You’d just let me get scarfed down by that cat?” you scoffed. “Wow. What a fake friend.” You crossed your arms, dramatically turning away from Avery and picking up your speed.

Avery just skipped after you, jumping on your back and holding your sleeve to keep you close by. “I was just kidding, jeez,” she laughed, watching as a smile broke out on your face. “See! You aren’t even mad at me!”

You joined her giggling, knocking into each other as you walked through the halls, laughing over stupid stuff that probably wasn’t even funny.

“Oh, my god!” Avery jumped up. “There’s something I have to tell you about! Okay, let’s set the scene, I’m in my room, it’s an unusually quiet night. Jameson isn’t back yet and his curfew, set by me because we had an event early the next morning, was way behind us. Hours behind.”

“Damn. Grayson would never. Could,” you corrected.

“I know! I’m getting tired, it’s like twelve and I’m just planning on going to bed by myself, cold and lonely,” she continued.

You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling you in. “You could have just cuddled with me,” you said with a wink.

“Aww,” she shimmed her shoulders against you. “Okay, back to my story! The lights are off, I’m almost asleep, until the door finally creaks over, Jameson standing in the doorframe. To be funny, I pretended to sleep, waiting for him to shake me awake or something. But all that happens is that Jameson crawls into bed next to me— Oh! I forgot to mention he was drunk. Yeah, so, he crawls up next to me and just whispers in my ear,” she lowered her voice into a whisper, “‘I have a secret…’”

You recognized that, something Avery had mentioned one time when she was talking about her mom. “Doesn’t that have something to do with your mom..?” you guessed, shrinking away in case you were wrong.

“Yes! At this point, I’m intrigued, waiting for Jameson to whisper whatever this secret was into my ear. And what he said is un-fucking-believable. He says: ‘When me and Nash and Grayson and Xander were younger, we tried starting a band, and we uploaded a bunch of videos to YouTube—it was a private account—but someone hacked in and made it public. So, somewhere on the internet, you can find video of all of us dressed up real funny and singing a bunch of shitty songs.’”

Your mouth drops open, trying to picture a younger Grayson on some makeshift stage at Hawthorne House, performing some pop or rock song.

Avery just laughs and smiles at your shocked expression. “That’s exactly how I felt on the inside,” she giggled, clearing her throat to continue her story. Again. “Like any sane person, of course I go in my computer the next day, and search up their little band. It wasn’t difficult, even if I didn’t have a name, and lord was it funny. Jameson on electric guitar, Nash playing some regular guitar, Xander on drums, and Grayson for vocals.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!”

“She isn’t!” a new voice pops in. In front of you stood Gigi, Hello Kitty suitcase almost exploding, mostly like being packed with cat toys. Katrina was sitting next to her, way too professional for a cat.

“So?” Gigi lifts her eyebrows. “What is she not kidding about?”

You and Avery grinned at each other, slowly turning to Gigi. “Your brother and his brothers’ attempt at a boy band,” you both said.

Gigi gasped dramatically, a smile stretching across her face. “You’re kidding!”

“She’s not!”

“I’m not!”

Not too far, as you’d expect, was Oren, the smallest hint of a smile in his face. He noticed you staring, gesturing a nod toward Avery. “She isn’t lying. I was there.”

Through the commotion of laughter and conversation, it would’ve been hard to hear anyone, anything if something went wrong. Or if you had a visitor.

“Ow!” Gigi winced, placing a hand on her hip and rubbing it. “What was that?” She jumped again. “Ow! What the…” She looked down to her left, finding the perpetrator.

“A turkey?” she asked, her voice a mix of shocked confusion and fear. And then full fledged fear as she realized that there was a turkey trying to get her. “It’s a turkey!” she squeaked, running over and trying to climb Oren like a jungle gym.

Noticing her alert, he gets right in to bodyguard mode, looking around for the threat. He landed on the turkey, reaching somewhere on his hip.

“You two, move back. Now,” he ordered, not wasting a second once we had. Just like the first turkey taken down, a loud bang rang out, the turkey thudding on the floor after.

A new commotion broke out after the shot was fired, filling the foyer with a sound too loud for you. Quiet was something you were used to now. It wasn’t too nothing, it just was. But this, it broke all of that quiet.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Wednesday, November 27th, 2024

There was one last turkey. One final turkey before this was all over. Like you had the day the turkey war began, everyone was gathered in one of the dining room to eat lunch, but instead, it was a meeting.

“Okay, everyone!” Avery commanded from the head of the table, standing up from her chair. “I have brought you here today to discuss our game plan to take down the final torturous turkey. I have devised a role for each of you.”

A list appeared on a screen that seemed invisible until now.

Avery and Y/N: Gamemasters [;)] - Will create solutions and test products alongside our Builders.

Libby and Nash: Healers (Lots of baked goods…) - Helps in case of emergencies.

Jameson and Gigi: Fuel - Food, drinks, whatever. Most likely working beside our Healers.

Grayson and Oren: Logistics (of sorts) - Thinks about how our plan may actually work, what might go wrong, and how to fix it.

Xander and Max: Builders (you’ve got this, Max!) - Builds our solution if needed, tests it too.

Oren’s Men: Capturers - searches for the turkey and relays messages to Oren.

Tiramisu & Katrina: Our Last Resort Weapons - If all else fails, we have them to use.

“Working in these teams will help our plan work better. Each of us being alone may cause too much stress or tension. Having multiple people on a job will also move things alone faster,” Avery states. “Lots of these roles will work with other roles, example, Gamesmakers will often work with the Logicians and Builders. Because of our collaboration, we’ll need a method of communication. Phones may be laggy and are very reliant on battery, which some of us don’t value.” Avery shot a glare at Jameson. “So, each of you will be given a walkie-talkie.” She looked to Oren, motioning for a box on the floor ten feet from the table. He lifted the box, walking around the table and distributing one to each member.

“Now, shall we spread out? Our Healers: Libby, Nash, and our Fuel: Jameson, and Gigi in the kitchen. The Gamemakers, Logistics, and Builders follow me. Capturers spread out and look for the turkey. Our final weapons will also be with our healers and fuel. Go!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Nothing was working. Each plan failed by just a little bit, and when you tried fixing it, it failed again. Everyone was tired. Sitting there for three hours trying to think of something, trying it , and failing. No matter how much food and drinks you were given, that adrenaline from before was starting to fade. We also haven’t got any word on where the turkey could be.

You lay on the floor, head resting on Grayson’s chest, his hand running through your hair, down your back, and back up.

“We can’t give up,” Avery said, sitting up from her defeated starfish on the floor.

“But there’s only one more option left,” you groaned.

“Katrina and Tiramisu.”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

“Oren,” a distorted voice came from his walkie-talkie, “we’ve got’em. In Alexander’s Wing. He was standing out front of Alexander’s room, almost got in. Couldn’t find him for a while; place’s a mess.”

From across the room, you watched an exaggerated frown form in Xander’s face.

“Time to move out,” Oren ordered, leading the way.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Luckily for you, every hallway of Xander’s wing was filled to the brim with weird trinkets and big machine pieces. Hidden behind a long table which was most likely used to hold fancy decorations at one point, everyone crouched, covered by the new less fancy things piled on the table.

“Xander, you’ve really got to clean up your mess,” Nash said, that mother hen coming out of him.

Xander waved a dismissive hand in his face. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make Grayson do it then.” Xander’s worst fear: someone possibly messing up his perfectly messy set up with their perfectly clean organization skills. Which Grayson excelled at.

Xander’s head turned slowly toward Nash, his eyes narrowed. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” He punctuated every word, but it was difficult to take Xander seriously sometimes.

“You know damn well I would dare,” Nash chuckled, meeting Xander’s eyes, steady and even, not even a hint of intimidation.

“Enough with the bickering,” Avery demanded. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

Avery’s head spun around, looking at everyone, landing on Libby and Max frantically shaking their heads. With a sigh, Avery explained the plan. Again. “We send you in as bait,” Avery pointed to you, “and wait for the turkey. Once it tried to attack, we jump out and attack it. If nothing else works, we send out Tiramisu and Katrina. Now do you got it?”

The silent agreement was enough for Avery, sending you out to take your place across from the turkey. You felt like Avery or Nan, staring down the turkey, waiting for any movement from it. The tension built, heart racing under the gaze of everyone, everything. This probably looked so stupid: you, standing in front of a turkey, practically have a staring contest, while everyone else was scattered around the room hidden behind piles of shit Xander needed to clean up.

You knew that even if the turkey did attack you, which was what this plan relied on, you’d be safe. Each person was equipped with a weapon of their choice. Gigi was keeping Katrina back, Oren had his gun, Avery held her knife, steady in her fingers. Jameson had a finished bottle of wine, Xander held Tiramisu back, Max had been nervously gripping her wrench before, Libby had a baking sheet, Nash had a whole goddamn guitar, and, lastly, Grayson firmly held one of the long swords. None of these people would let you get hurt, even if it was by accident every single one of them would feel bad, like it was their fault.

But now, standing in front of the turkey, you have to put all that behind. Face this stupid thing head on.

It finally made a sound, a distorted gobble. You braced for impact at the sound of a squeal coming from somewhere in the room, but it never came. When your eyes opened, a streak of light brown blew past you. Was it the turkey? It was only until that same distorted squabble cried out that you realized that either Katrina or Tiramisu. Based on the fact that Katrina would probably enjoy seeing you being eaten by a turkey, you expected to find Tiramisu wherever the flash had gone to. On one side of the room, the opposite side, you heard a whine. So it wasn’t Tiramisu.

The sound of something being dragged across the floor drew your attention back to the other side of the room. Katrina moved slowly toward you, dragging the turkey in mouth toward you. She dragged it to your feet, stopping, sitting very professionally, looking up at you and flashing one of those strange smiles that cats can pull off. She nudged the turkey with her nose, sitting back up a pawing at it.

“Katrina!” Gigi shouted, her voice a mix of anger and admiration. “What was that? You weren’t supposed to go until I told you to!” she scolded, picking Katrina up.

Katrina looked up at her with those innocent eyes, nuzzling in Gigi’s neck. Gigi huffed out a sigh, giving up on trying to lecture Katrina into listening.

“Well,” Avery said, her voice holding a confusing emotion, “that was the final turkey. It’s over.”

The room broke out into a cheer, even Oren was smiling, but the only one standing still, in the middle of it all was Avery. Weaving through everyone, you walked up to Avery, taking one of her hands.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to catch her gaze.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

You gave her that look that Nash always gave you (you were still trying to master it), cocking a brow at her (another thing you’d learned!). “What’s wrong? You sad there’s no game anymore?”

Avery stayed quiet, swaying with you when you wrapped your arms around her. “I guess,” she said shamefully.

“I swear you’re starting to sound more and more like Jameson every day,” you teased, poking her in the ribs this time. “Now, come on, turn that frown—“you flashed a smile”—upside down.”

Taking both of her hands, you forced her to dance with everyone else, swaying around the room until she finally gave in.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Thursday, November 28th, 2024

There was a singular turkey on the large table, making it look small. Everything else was normal, and you knew damn well that with a snap of her finger Avery could have a thousand more turkey and make this year’s turkey amount normal. But she didn’t. And it felt like home. Watching everyone argue over how much turkey everyone would get, fighting over the last pieces.

Your hand searched around under the table, meeting Grayson’s and wrapping your fingers around his, leaning your head against his shoulder. A smile, unknowing smile grew on your face, watching everything, so perfect.

Maybe now you would try a little harder to make this place feel like home.

a/n: WOOOOOOOOO!!!! this took, like, over a week to write it’s actually insane. and the end still seems sort of rushed 😣😣 but i’m gonna leave it and maybe come back to it later. because of the rush, i don’t care if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proofread……..

[ofmymuses]

idk if this is something people already do but recently i found it helpful to just focus on writing when i get in a writing mood instead of writing my reply and then taking a few minutes to search for a suitable gif. instead, i'll just put "[ gif ]" as a placeholder and focus completely on writing. and when i'm done or need a break, then i'll take the time to find gifs and queue the finished posts. i find this helps a lot with making writing less clunky ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

[gothcsz]

Obvious | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 4 of Unscripted Desire | ~12k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Life after quitting the porn industry.

Tags: halloween vibes, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex (protected), getting bent over in a parking garage, frankie heavy beginning (they had us in the first half not gonna lie), speaking of frankie he wears the ghostface mask while hitting it, connie has entered this little universe, masturbation with vibrator (f), clit stimulation, dirty talk, pussy slapping, JUST THE TIP!!!!, no use of y/n, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: surpriseeeee, i woke up a little too inspired to write and voila, out came this beautiful chapter that i was not expecting to get out so soon. again, this fic has def taken off in ways i never imagined but uhhh, we out here 🖤 thanks to everyone for the support, frankie girlies (gn) i hope i did your man justice 'cause i was feeling a little too feral for him. as for my just the tip stans... we did it joe 🤠 i hope you guys fucking love this the way i do and that you ruined your underwear... just as i did 🖤

The cool autumn breeze sweeps over you as you walk out of the movie theater with Frankie, the Halloween spirit in full swing. Scream 2 was as thrilling as ever, and your favorite of the trilogy.

The fall season always makes you feel nostalgic, and tonight has been no exception—dinner, a movie, and Frankie by your side for the past month has made things feel better than they have been for quite some time now.

“It’s not that hard to escape the bastard,” Frankie says confidently, as if he’d be the first to survive the whole ordeal. “He’s just some guy—or girl—wearing a mask with a knife. I’d have them handled in five minutes. Tops.”

You laugh, humoring him. “Oh, I’m sure you would.”

The parking garage is mostly empty, dimly lit as you make your way to his truck, parked at the top level. You’re talking casually about the film when he suddenly slows down, a mischievous smirk creeping across his face. He corners you slowly, backing you against the cool metal of the truck, his presence looming as you feel the tension rise. 

“Or,” he says, voice dropping lower, “I could be a real kickass Ghostface.”

Your eyes flick to the mask in his hand, the complimentary one that came with the tickets, and then back to him. His dark brown eyes gleam with playful intent, and a thrill shoots through you. “Oh yeah?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

He grins, slipping his cap off and pulling the mask over his face. Oh, shit. You’ve never had a mask kink before, but something about Frankie wearing it like this, his body pressing closer, has your pulse racing. 

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” He asks, his voice lowering to mimic what’d you just seen, a smooth yet eerie tone. It’s almost too good, too convincing, and you suddenly understand why people fantasize about this kind of thing.

You bite your lip, your mind swirling with desire as his hand slides down to your hip, squeezing gently. “I don’t have one,” you say, teasing him. You can barely see his eyes through the mask’s slits, but the way his head tilts makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, c’mon, hermosa,” he purrs, “don’t lie to me.”

You giggle nervously, feeling the heat between you both intensify. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you place a hand on his chest, letting it slide down slowly until it reaches his belt. He grunts in response, his free hand gripping the back of your head tightly. The pressure sends a shiver down your spine, and you whimper softly.

“You’re liking this, aren’t you?” He asks, voice muffled slightly by the mask but dripping with lust.

“More than I’d like to admit,” you breathe out, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. And before you can process it, your jeans and underwear are being pulled down to your mid-thigh. Frankie wastes no time, maneuvering you into the backseat of the truck. You’re bent over, ass out, hands pressed against the cool leather as you hear him undo his belt, the sound of his zipper punctuating the quiet.

He’s quick, efficient, rolling a condom over his thick cock before positioning himself behind you. His hand grips your hip as he thrusts into you, and you gasp as he fills you, the mask still firmly on his face. 

It’s fucking amazing. Frankie fucks you like no one ever has—not like it’s for show or performance, but feverent and real. Each thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, sending your vision into a haze of stars. You’re more vocal than you’ve ever been, moaning his name, asking for more.

“Harder,” you whine, and he obliges, his nails digging into your hips as he pounds into you relentlessly. His grunts mix with your moans, the sound echoing in the empty parking garage. 

When he’s close, he finally pulls the mask off, tossing it aside before leaning down, kissing and nipping at your neck. His fingers move below you, rubbing at your sensitive clit as you clench around him, your orgasm rushing through you.

His teeth graze your skin as you both reach your peak, your body trembling as he groans, his release following yours.

He stills inside you, breathing heavily against your neck, and for a moment, everything is still—just you, him, and the night. You smile, feeling content, and he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out, leaving you both breathless in the backseat of his truck.

“Well, fuck.” Frankie curses under his breath, tying the condom off with a quick motion. His hands, now gentler, reach for yours as he helps you up, both of you quickly fixing your clothes and appearances.

Once you’re situated, you spin around to face him, your fingers lightly brushing his jaw as you lean in to kiss him. It’s sweet, and the soft smack of your lips echoes through the empty parking garage.

“That was amazing,” you say, still a little breathless, your heart still racing in your chest.

A smirk plays on his lips as he puts his cap back on and tosses the used condom in a nearby trash bin. “Gonna have to hold onto this,” he says, nodding toward the Ghostface mask, now thrown carelessly into the backseat. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, that flirty, teasing edge you’ve come to expect from him.

“It was definitely a heat-of-the-moment thing,” you say, trying to play it cool, though you can’t help the little grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, sure it was.” He winks, sliding into the driver’s seat beside you as he starts the engine, the rumble of his truck echoing as he pulls out of the garage.

The streets are alive with the Halloweekend night crowd. People spill out of bars, laughter and chatter drifting through the air as Frankie navigates through the bustling costumed scene. You catch sight of a group of friends stumbling onto the sidewalk, and you’re grateful that your apartment’s entrance is around the back, away from all the noise and chaos.

Frankie pulls up across the street from your place, parking the truck and turning to you with a slightly furrowed brow. “Not really a fan of your current living arrangement,” he says, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You shrug, reaching for your purse. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” though you can’t deny you’ve felt the same way. The cramped apartment above a rowdy bar wasn’t your dream setup, but it’s what you’ve got for now.

Leaning over the console, you peck his lips once, twice, then again. What starts as a series of playful kisses quickly turns into something more, your hands finding his stubbled jaw as his fingers graze your thigh. Before long, you’re fully making out again.

When you finally pull away, your lips tingling, you ask softly, “Wanna come up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes search yours for a moment, considering something. But then, with a slow nod, he says, “Yeah, okay.” His voice is steady, but there’s that familiar heat beneath it, the same one that had you wrapped up in the backseat earlier.

The following morning is spent with the both of you lazily lounging around your apartment, only leaving to pick up  a late breakfast from your favorite spot around the corner before you’re back in bed, sleeping the day away.

You’re barely aware of the warm breath ghosting over your inner thighs as you shift in your sleep, legs lazily spread across the bed. A sleepy moan slips out when you feel soft lips pressing against your pussy, then a firmer kiss followed by a slow drag of a tongue. 

You stir, half-dazed, your fingers instinctively moving to the unruly curls of hair between your legs as the sensation intensifies. Frankie’s lips latch onto your clit, sucking gently, and it sends a shock of pleasure through your body, waking you up fully.

“Oh,” his name slips from your lips like a breathless confession. 

You can feel his grin against you, hear the low groan vibrating through your sensitive flesh as he takes his time, his tongue swirling around you in lazy circles, savoring your taste.

Just for a second, a flash of something—or someone—else crosses your mind. Javier. The thought of him, of the way he’d made you fall apart that day in the elevator, flickers in your mind like a flame.

Your eyes fly open in shock, and you gasp, but Frankie is none the wiser. He assumes your reaction is all because of him, and that only spurs him on. His lips press harder against you as he brings two fingers up, spreading you open gently before sinking them inside. 

You shake your head, mentally shoving him back into the recesses where he belongs.

With a determined focus, you let yourself melt back into the pleasure, letting go of everything else. “Pussy tastes so good, hermosa,” he mumbles, as he works his mouth and fingers together, creating a messy, perfect rhythm that has your thighs clenching around his head.

It’s all too much, too good, and you can’t help the way your body writhes beneath him.

Your moans fill the room, louder and more desperate, hips lifting and chasing the pleasure as the tension in your spine coils tighter and tighter until it finally snaps, and you come undone all over his lips and fingers.

Frankie doesn’t stop right away—his lips stay on you, moving with less intensity now, just soft kisses as you come down from your high. He places a final, lingering kiss to your clit before he crawls up your body, kissing a path along your skin. You’re still wearing his t-shirt, your body half exposed, and he grins down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with satisfaction. 

“Figured you needed something to help get you through your shift,” he says, his voice teasing yet full of affection.

You give him a lazy, fucked-out smile, still catching your breath. “It’s gonna help me with more than just my shift, mister. You just gave me something new to add to my spank bank.”

He shakes his head playfully. “Spank bank, huh? Glad to be of service,” he adds with a wink, leaning in for another kiss, slower this time. You can’t help but run your hands over his arms, admiring the small scars, the beauty marks that dot his tan skin.

“Are you coming back tonight?” You ask softly, your fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for a peck.

He sighs against your lips before shaking his head. “Can’t. I’ve got Elliana this weekend,” he says, his tone softening as he mentions his four-year-old daughter. You haven’t met her yet, the two of you keeping things casual and slow.

Neither of you wants anything serious, but hearing him mention his daughter always adds a layer of sweetness to him that makes you feel warm.

You nod in understanding, pulling him down for one final kiss before you force yourself to get up and start getting ready for work. He watches you, that same teasing, affectionate glint in his eyes, and you can’t help but smile back at him, grateful for whatever this is between you two.

“You just got fucked, didn’t you?” Connie’s voice hits you the second you step behind the bar, her eyebrows wiggling with mischief as she leans against the counter, arms crossed over her Princess Peach costume that’s not really a costume—just a pink tennis dress with the signature crown atop of her head. 

“Hello to you too, Connie.” You give her a sarcastic smile, securing the half apron around your waist. It’s a routine now—her prying into your business like an investigative reporter for the gossip section.

Reminds you of another blond, and now you wonder if they’re all just like this.

Your firecracker of a coworker is an E.R. nurse who took on this bartending gig a few months after you did. The fact that she has to hustle for tips despite being in healthcare is one of those cruel ironies you both bitch about during slow shifts. You’d think a nurse would be raking in cash, but there are nights here at Lucky’s where she pulls more than at the hospital.

“I’m just saying,” Connie continues, mid-lemon slice, her eyes narrowing in exaggerated suspicion. “You’re wearing your cute jeans, your shirt’s actually clean, and—wait, is that makeup on your face? Please don’t tell me you’re in cat ears!” She pauses, blade in hand, smirking at you like she’s cracked some secret code.

Your face warms up as you adjust the stupid cat ears on your head. Yeah, she’s nailed it—hooking up with Frankie before your shift definitely put some extra pep in your step tonight. A little effort never hurt, especially when looking put-together meant better tips.

It’s Halloween, and people tend to tip better when you’re festive. So, why not milk it for all it’s worth?

“Just capitalizing off the holiday, Con. Is that a crime?” You say, bending down to grab the ice buckets for a quick refill before the evening rush hits.

“No, what is a crime,” she says, not missing a beat as she narrows her eyes at you, tossing the lemons aside, “is you skimping out on the juicy details of your love life.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that slips out as you hip-check her on your way to the ice machine. “I’m not skimping. It’s not like I’ve been hiding some wild love affair. We only started fucking, what, like two weeks ago?”

“And?” She leans forward, hands on her hips, waiting like she’s tuning in for the next episode of her favorite drama.

You bite your lip, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “It’s… fucking amazing.”

She whistles, then throws her hands up in celebration. You can’t help but laugh—loudly—your mood is too good to even pretend to be embarrassed.

Grabbing the freshly filled ice buckets, you lug them back behind the bar, your arms burning slightly from the weight, but you’re not complaining. Between lugging buckets and keeping the bar stocked, who needs a gym membership?

“I’m so jealous. I can’t even remember the last time I slept with a guy and actually enjoyed it,” She says with a dramatic sigh, leaning her elbows on the bar.

“Trust me, I was in the same boat for the longest time. Then Frankie just… showed up,” you say with a small, satisfied smile. It’s true, he kind of did swoop in out of nowhere, and it’s been surprisingly easy with him since.

But, of course, there’s that brief hiccup in your mind that involves Javier. 

You push the thought of him away, like you’ve been doing for weeks. What happened earlier in bed with Frankie was just a slip-up, your subconscious messing with you.

“Well, I need a guy to just show up and fuck me so I can think straight again,” she half-jokes, and the two of you burst into laughter, the kind that shakes your shoulders and draws a few curious glances from nearby patrons.

As the night picks up, the bar gets busier, and the usual rhythm settles in. You and Connie move in sync, the crowd buzzing with energy.

Costumes, chatter, and the clinking of glasses surround you, but you’re in your zone. It’s not until about two hours later, as you’re pouring someone’s vodka soda, that you catch sight of a familiar face sliding into a barstool in front of you.

“Long time no see, stranger,” you greet Steve over the music, already reaching for his usual piss beer and uncapping it before sliding it across the counter.

“Work’s been fucking ass,” he replies, taking a long, much-needed gulp from the bottle. You can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“Robbie still being an asshole, I presume?” You ask, shifting away to take another patron’s order while keeping half an ear out for whatever fresh hell your ex-boss has put Steve through now.

Steve’s attention, though, is fixed on something—or rather, someone—else. His gaze locks on Connie, who’s busy putting on a little show for a group of birthday girls. She’s expertly pouring a line of shots, lighting them on fire, and sliding them toward the group, who erupt into cheers.

“She seein’ anyone?” He asks, leaning in closer, like he’s trying to keep the question discreet. Between the thumping music and the lively chatter, Connie wouldn’t hear him even if he shouted.

You raise a brow. “Like I told you last time—and like she told you the time before—no.”

“Then why’s she always shuttin’ me down?” He frowns, frustration creasing his face.

You shrug, wiping down the perpetually sticky counter. “Probably because you only approach her here, when you’re halfway through a six-pack. Connie’s not looking for bullshit—she deals with enough of that here and at the hospital.”

Steve scoffs, taking another hefty swig of his beer. “Right. You bartenders are tough to crack.”

You smirk, knocking your knuckles on the wooden bar top. “Maybe, but we’re worth the effort.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Now, spill. I’ve barely seen you since I quit.” You’re curious, and maybe just a little petty.

He groans, tipping his head back as if the memory of work physically pains him. And a part of you—maybe the slightly vindictive part—waits eagerly to hear about how Robbie’s screwing up, still secretly wishing for your old boss’s downfall.

“Longer shoots for lesser pay. And the fucking guys he’s been hiring— Christ Almighty. S’been a fuckin’ shitshow since you walked out,” You feel pride swell up in your chest at the remembrance, how good it felt to stick up for yourself. “But especially since Javier kicked his ass to the curb. I’m the last one standing.”

You barely have time to absorb this before a rowdy group of frat boys descends on the bar, demanding drinks with the enthusiasm of toddlers in a candy store.

You want to wring their necks for interrupting your train of thought, especially since curiosity about what happened with Javier is gnawing at you.

Why do you care? That small voice in your head questions, but you put her on mute and focus on fulfilling the orders of these insufferable college students.

Noticing you’re tied up, Steve hops down a few barstools, positioning himself in front of Connie, trying to charm her again. You can’t help but catch snippets of his pickup lines as you whirl about behind the bar. To your surprise, Connie seems receptive this time, laughing and engaging with him instead of brushing him off like before.

Good for her—she deserves a bit of fun, especially after just saying she needed to get laid. You hope Steve has learned a thing or two from all those shoots.

Amid the chaos, you break through their flirting when Connie has to prepare another round of shots. “So, Javier quit?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can hold them back.

Steve, clearly happy as hell that his advances have finally worked, shoots you a smug grin. “Yup. Him and Robbie were arguing more and more then he pulled a you and stormed off set. It’s just him and his agent now. He isn’t signing on to just one production company anymore. Don’t be surprised if you see him sellin’ tricks on Figueroa.”

A frown tugs at your lips, the bittersweet news settling in your chest. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Javier.

“Why are you askin’? You miss him or somethin’? Thought you were still bangin’ it out with that camera guy from Malibu.” His tone is teasing, reminiscent of a little brother trying to get under your skin.

You snort, rolling your eyes and collecting the empty glasses into a plastic bin. “ I’m just surprised. This is like, his whole thing.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, he hasn’t been working as much. I’ve never seen the guy be this… still. Told him maybe it’s a good thing—he can finally chill the fuck out and give his dick a break.”

You can’t help but laugh, handing him another beer. “I can’t even imagine what else he’d do. Can you seriously picture Javier Peña working a 9 to 5?”

Steve grins, scratching his chin as if pondering the idea. “I dunno, he could be a good car salesman. Maybe even insurance?”

You both chuckle, but as you excuse yourself to put away the dirty dishes, your mind lingers on Javier. It’s like a weird domino effect: your departure had shaken things up, and now a small part of you feels somewhat responsible for this mess.

No, you shouldn’t feel this way. He’ll figure it out. You really shouldn’t waste this much time ‘worrying’ about him. He means nothing to you. End of story.

The rest of your shift flows smoothly, and you end up pocketing more tips than you anticipated. Even the late hour—almost four in the morning—doesn’t faze you as you and Connie finish cleaning up and closing.

“You can stay the night if you want. I’m sure you don’t want to wait for the bus this late,” you suggest, watching her mop with a satisfied smile.

“Actually…” She pauses, wringing out the mop head. Your brows raise at her tone, and she bites her lip. “My ride is waiting for me out front.”

You piece it together in an instant, halting mid-count of the twenty-dollar bills. “No way, you finally gave in to Steve!”

Connie’s face lights up with a sheepish smile. “I thought he was cute since day one. I just couldn’t let him get to me so easily. Play hard to get, you know? See if he really wanted me as badly as he said he did.”

You hum, shaking your head with a grin as you resume counting. “Atta girl. Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”

As you finish up, you hug Connie goodbye, watching as she excitedly jumps into Steve’s Jeep. You trudge up the creaky stairs to your place, feeling a bit lonely now.

The remnants of Frankie’s presence linger in your cramped apartment: his side of the bed still mussed, a crumpled T-shirt on the floor, and takeaway containers from earlier scattered on your small kitchen table.

With a sigh, you take off your cat ears and head straight for the shower, hoping to wash away the lingering thoughts of both Javier and Frankie before slipping into the quiet of your own bed.

Frankie stands in your living room, his expression serious but soft, while you sit on the couch, staring up at him.

You foolishly didn’t think this would happen—at least not this soon, only two months in. His words are steady, measured, like he’s practiced this. “Elliana’s mom and I… we’re trying to work things out.”

The lump in your throat rises, but you refuse to let it crack your voice. You won’t give in to the urge to cry. It’s not like you didn’t expect this on some level—dating a man with a child meant his ex would always be in the picture. And now, she’s front and center. 

“I understand…”

He exhales deeply at seeing you like this. He sits next to you, close but not invasive, and his presence—still so familiar—only sharpens the ache. You don’t pull away, though everything inside you screams to. Even if this is the right way to end things, you have every right to feel a sting. 

You weren’t serious-serious, but you’d gotten used to him. His easy warmth, the random dates that brightened your week, the small slice of domesticity you didn’t realize you’d grown to like. And the sex… God, you’re not ready to give that up, either. 

“I didn’t mess around with her while we were together. You have to know that,” he adds, his voice low, calm, as if trying to make sure you’re not left with any doubts. He rests his hand on your knee, grounding you in the moment, though you wish he wouldn’t. 

“I know you’re not that guy, Frankie. It just sucks being broken up with,” you say, forcing a smile, lightening your tone as if to keep the tears at bay.

He sighs again, his big brown eyes—those damn puppy eyes—locking onto yours. “I really enjoyed my time with you,” he says, sounding sincere. “It was great. You’re great.”

You nod, just wanting this to be over so you can sink yourself into your sheets and rot for the rest of the day. 

“Likewise, Frankie. Now go make sure your daughter’s got a stable home to grow up in.” You try to smile again, but it’s weaker this time. He can see through it, you know, but he nods anyway.

You walk him to the door, making a quick detour to your bedroom to gather the few t-shirts he’s left behind. When you hand them to him, he grins, trying to lift the mood. “So that’s where these went.”

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a t-shirt hoarder,” you joke back, your voice hollow.

He pauses at the door, his eyes lingering on you longer than you’d like.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too, hermosa,” he replies, the affection in the word making your heart squeeze.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you let yourself collapse against it, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest. The tears come silently at first, just a slow trickle, but soon they’re streaking down your cheeks as you curl into yourself.

You hate dating. You’ve always hated it. It feels like a cycle of disappointments: either you’re stuck with some dud or, worse, you find someone worth a damn, and they leave anyway. 

After crying it out for a few minutes, you force yourself to wipe away the tears. The ache in your chest lingers, but you’re determined to distract yourself, dragging your feet over to the entertainment center. Your hand glides over the familiar spines of DVDs and VHS tapes, searching for the right kind of escape, something to pair with the bottle of wine you’ll snag from downstairs.

You reach the end of the row and stop on Pretty Woman, about to pull it out, when your fingers brush against a few unmarked DVDs shoved haphazardly in the back. Curious, you pull them out, and your breath hitches.

They’re your old shoots—the first ones you ever did with Javier. The raunchy titles leap out at you, and suddenly, memories of being on set with him flood back. The chemistry, the heat, the way he looked at you when the cameras weren’t rolling.

Your pulse quickens. You should put them back. But you don’t. You weren’t prepared for this— especially not today, freshly dumped, on the verge of a sexual drought, and with your head all messed up.

Fuck it, you have nothing to lose, so you randomly pick one. Pretty Woman gets shoved aside as you clutch the DVD case, a weird thrill running through you.

As if possessed, you march to your bedside table in your bedroom, frantically rummaging for your long-neglected vibrator. It’s been gathering dust since Frankie showed up, but now… now you’re hoping, praying it still works. When you finally find it, you flip it on, and the gentle hum tells you it’s fully charged.

Thank you, past me. You have no idea how much present me needs this.

With a deep breath, you return to the living room and pop the DVD into the player. The screen flickers to life, and you settle onto the couch, heart pounding in your chest as the film begins. 

The anticipation builds as the usual no-piracy warning flashes on the screen, followed by the production company’s intro. Finally, the familiar jazzy porn music kicks in, setting the mood for what’s to come.

You can already feel your pulse racing, knowing what’s next. This one, you remember—it was one of the first outdoor scenes you shot.

The setup was simple, classic: a woman stranded on the side of the road due to car trouble, waiting for a tow truck to save her. The main star, gorgeous as ever, is dressed provocatively in a tiny miniskirt, platform flip-flops, and a tube top that screams easy access. The camera lingers over her, capturing every curve of her body as she fakes helplessness, playing her role perfectly.

Then comes the rumble of the tow truck, and Javier steps out, looking rugged and sexy in dirty jeans and a rumpled denim shirt with a generic towing company patch stitched onto it. His presence alone is enough to make your skin prickle with heat.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be stuck out here like this,” his voice fills the room. God, you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed hearing him—his smooth tone, the way he used to make every line sound like a promise.

Maybe it’s the leftover emotion from Frankie’s breakup that’s doing this to you, making you feel too much.

“Thank goodness you’re here to help me out. I just... I don’t have any money on me right now to pay for it,” the woman pouts, lips glossy, eyes fluttering up at him like she’s the most innocent thing alive.

Javier cocks his head, eyes traveling over her like she’s a piece of candy. “Don’t worry,” he says, that signature smirk appearing on his face. “I think we can figure something out.”

And just like that, they’re fucking. Raw, desperate sex. He has her spread out on the hood of the car, and her tits bounce with every hard thrust. Javier holds her legs wide open, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he slams into her.

The scene is pure, animalistic lust, and it has your head spinning.

A whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your moans mix with theirs from the TV, and the steady buzz of your vibrator pulses deep inside you. You match the rhythm of Javier’s thrusts, watching as he pistons his cock in and out of her, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your living room.

You remember that day on set vividly. You’d been sick, your body still sore from the remnants of a cold, and you’d been eager to get it over with so you could go home and collapse into a warm bowl of pho.

But now, watching the scene play out in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing it for the first time—every detail heightened, every movement burned into your mind.

Javier’s fingers dig into her skin as he holds her in place, his hips grinding into her with force. Her face twists in bliss, and you can’t help but imagine what that must feel like, that deep, toe-curling sensation as he hits just the right spot. You let out another moan, the vibrator buzzing relentlessly as you try to keep up with the scene, your hips rocking in time with theirs.

When he leans down, wrapping his lips around her nipple, it’s like you can feel the phantom of his mouth on your own skin. You bring a hand up to your chest, pinching and twisting your nipple, slicking your fingers with spit to heighten the sensation. It’s almost too much, but you can’t stop yourself.

Your breathing quickens as you turn up the setting on the vibrator, the pleasure building, your back bending off the couch. You close your eyes and let your imagination take over, the image of Javier on top of you searing into your mind—his body, hot and heavy, pressing against yours, his teeth grazing your neck, his hands everywhere at once. You can feel him, hear the grunts and groans from the screen, but in your mind, it’s all for you.

“Nena, look at you,” Javier’s voice murmurs, low and rough in your mind, as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, his words melting into your skin like liquid heat. “Told you you’d look so beautiful spread out like this, taking my cock so well.”

A sharp gasp escapes you, your breath catching in your throat as your pussy clenches tightly around the vibrator, which suddenly feels less like a toy and more like him—big, thick, and filling you completely. You can almost feel the weight of him pressing against you, the way his cock would stretch you just right. Your lips part, another whimper escaping as the scene in your head becomes even more vivid.

“And those noises you’re making?” His voice, rich and dripping with desire, keeps echoing through your thoughts. “Baby, you drive me fucking,” his hips snap forward in your imagination, rough and unrelenting, “crazy,” another thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your neck arches back, exposing your throat like you’re inviting him to claim you, his mouth finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, marking you, biting you. His lips would feel so good, so possessive, leaving trails of heat wherever they touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispers against your skin, his breath hot in your ear. “Even after not seeing your pretty face for two months, all I see when I close my eyes is you.”

His teeth graze your earlobe, and it sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your hand moves from your breast down to your clit, fingers rubbing the tender nub with an urgency you can’t hold back any longer. You’re so close, so fucking close. 

“Oh, J-Javi,” you cry out, your voice breaking. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

The orgasm slams into you, cutting off your words, drowning your thoughts in white-hot pleasure. Your body spasms uncontrollably, juices dripping down as your vibrator hums between your legs. You’re shaking, utterly spent, your breath ragged, skin on fire.

“Good girl, nenita,” his voice purrs, the Spanish rolling off his tongue like honey. “Mira que belleza. It’s okay, I got you.”

It takes a moment for reality to snap back into place, the haze of pleasure lifting just enough for you to realize that he didn’t say it at all. It was the Javier on the screen, whispering sweet praise to the actress as he fucked her.

You lay there, boneless, too tired to care as the movie continues to play. But something feels off now, a strange sense of emptiness replacing the satisfaction you usually feel.

You pull the vibrator from between your legs, the wetness from your climax glistening on it as you flick the switch off and toss it carelessly onto the coffee table. You’ll clean it later.

Your body slumps against the cushions, head falling into your hands. “What the fuck did you just do?” You whisper to yourself.

Watching porn to get off? That’s normal, right? It’s what it’s made for. Lots of people do it. So why do you feel so… guilty? Is it because it was Javier? Of course it is. No matter how hard you try to push him out of your mind, he always finds a way back in—whether he’s there in front of you, or haunting you in the fantasies, you can’t seem to put him to rest.

And the timing? Not even an hour after being broken up with, and already you’ve let him worm his way back into your head, back into your body. It’s like he’s got you tangled up, literally and figuratively, even when he’s not here.

Unable to take any more of their exaggerated moans and whimpers, you reach for the remote and switch off the TV, the screen going dark as you eject the disc and shove it back into its case. You finally grab Pretty Woman, tossing it into the player without much thought, your head still spinning.

It’s only then that you remember the wine, the one thing that might actually help clear your head. You stand, sluggish and sore, pulling your clothes back on and heading downstairs to fetch that much-needed bottle, your thoughts still racing, still trying to untangle the mess that is Javier Peña lodged firmly in your mind.

“Just know, I didn’t plan this.”

Steve’s words make you squint in suspicion as he slides onto the barstool next to you, his usual spot. You’re about to ask what he means when your heart plummets—there he is. The familiar broad frame of the handsome man you’ve been trying—and failing—to scrub from your mind ever since your breakup two weeks ago. Hell, before then too.

“What’s he doing here?” you hiss, shooting Steve a glare so sharp it could cut glass.

“He caught me off guard, okay? Basically invited himself. Don’t make it weird,” he mutters, clearly trying to avoid your wrath.

You bite down hard on your tongue, trying to keep your frustration in check. But then your gaze collides with Javier’s, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of you.

Those deep brown eyes, glinting beneath the dim lighting, pin you in place, stirring up everything you’ve been trying to bury. It’s infuriating how he seems even more attractive than the last time you saw him, like life just decided to up the ante on making him impossible to forget.

Clearing your throat, you force yourself to look away, frantically trying to busy your hands. Anything to keep from talking to him. But it’s hard to focus when every cell in your body is hyper-aware of his presence just a few feet away.

“I’m going on break!” Connie’s chirpy voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you don’t miss the way she winks at Steve before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back.

Ah, so that’s why he’s here earlier than usual. 

“Thirty minutes!” You shout after her, but your heart’s not in it. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that you’re now alone at the bar with Javier and a few of the happy hour regulars.

He leans forward on his elbows, casual but impossibly magnetic in a jean jacket and a cream-colored shirt. His sunglasses hang from the unbuttoned portion near his collarbones, and you can smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne that’s been seared into your memory. “So this is the illustrious Lucky’s,” he says, his deep voice wrapping around you like a slow burn.

“The one and only,” you manage to reply, keeping your tone clipped.

“Been doin’ okay?”

“I’ve been managing.” Your words come out a little too quick, a little too defensive, but you can’t help it. 

He tilts his head, his gaze steady. “Still seeing that guy?”

There’s an unmistakable tinge of jealousy laced in his voice, and your heart skips a beat. You meet his eyes for a moment before going back to drying the cheap chalices your boss insisted on for an upcoming theme night.

“That guy has a name,” you correct him coolly. “But no. That ship sailed two weeks ago.”

A low hum escapes his throat, and he drums his fingers lightly against the countertop. “A shame.”

“Can I get you anything?” You ask, a little too forcefully. The question feels like a challenge, and from the way his eyes glint, you know he feels it too.

He lets the tension simmer between you for a moment before finally answering, “Just a Corona.”

“Lime?” 

“Of course, nena.”

That fucking term of endearment hits you like a punch to the gut. It’s what he’s always called you, ever since the very first time you met. And damn it, it’s the same name he whispers in your ear when you imagine him thrusting balls deep inside you, filling you with every inch of his cock.

Your breath hitches before you can stop it, the heat rising in your cheeks as you fumble for a lime. You slice it, hands shaking ever so slightly as you wedge it into the bottle, sliding it across the bar to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you, his gaze burning with the unspoken tension that always builds when you’re around each other.

You can feel it too—the weight of all the unsaid things hanging in the air. All the desire. All the frustration.

He thanks you softly. “So, Steve finally got himself a girl.” He tries to continue the mundane conversation, amused as he leans in, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You try not to notice the way his neck muscles work when he takes a sip of his beer, but it’s impossible not to. You hate the way your body responds, the small flutter in your stomach that you wish would just stop.

“Yeah, he’s been chasing her for months, and she finally gave in. Probably the best thing that could’ve happened for both of them.”

A patron calls for your attention, and you gladly take the opportunity to escape the moment, throwing yourself into mixing a drink with practiced ease. But even as you pour and stir, you feel his eyes on you.

“You look happier here.” His voice breaks the silence when you return, the words almost lazy as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Fake happiness. It’s what gets the tips.”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he says, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing. “But the way you’re moving back there—you know what you’re doing. I don’t think I ever saw you crack a single smile while we were on set.”

“I did,” you shoot back, feeling your pulse quicken. “Just none of them were directed at you.” The animosity in your tone surprises even you, and you catch the way his brow furrows, a flash of hurt crossing his face.

You quickly smooth it over with a smirk. “Besides, not much to smile about when people are getting fucked stupid in front of a camera.”

“Back to the familiar song and dance, huh?” His voice is steady, but there’s a sharpness beneath the surface.

You scoff, shaking your head as you wipe your hands on your apron. “What are you doing here, Javier?” This time, the question comes out more straight to the point.

He looks at you for a beat, partially confused, “Drinking a beer…”

“At this specific bar, where I’ve worked for two years and you’ve never once showed up until today. Why?” 

For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, locked in a silent standoff. He’s reading you just as you’re trying to read him, both of you too proud—or too scared—to make the next move. Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You want the truth?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“I’ve missed you, nena.”

Your stomach drops and you force yourself to keep your face neutral, but it’s hard. “I regret asking,” you mutter, glancing at your watch. Connie has fifteen minutes left on her break, then you’re done for the night. You’ll be free—at least from the bar, if not from the weight of this conversation.

“Ever since you left,” he continues, not giving you the out you desperately want, “I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so standoffish. You say it’s because you don’t like me, but I just don’t think that’s true.”

“Well,” you bite out, “assuming has never gotten you anywhere worth being at, right?”

He rubs a hand over his mustache. He’s thinking, trying to find the right words.

“Right,” he finally agrees, tone softer now, more thoughtful. “Listen, I’ve never been good at the whole… talking thing. It’s been my downfall for as long as I can remember.”

Despite yourself, you give him a look that encourages him to keep going.

“And the shit between us? It’s weird. I’d like to move on, but I can’t. You’ve somehow managed to get into every fucking corner of my mind, and no matter what I do, I can’t shake you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the wooden countertop. His words hit too close to home because they echo the feelings you’ve been wrestling with since you walked away from him.

Do you admit it? Do you tell him that he’s been haunting your thoughts just as much? Or do you keep it all locked up, close to your chest, where it’s safe and won’t blow up in your face later?

“What do you really want, Javier?” You don’t have time for games, and if he’s here to throw another curveball into your life, you’d rather snip it before it gets any worse.

He pauses, running a hand through his hair, then looks back at you with an expression you haven’t seen in a while—one that’s sincere. “I just want a moment to talk to you,” he says softly. “No bullshit this time. Just you and me.”

You wrestle with yourself, unsure if you want to give in. You’ve heard him talk like this before, but something feels different. He seems like he’s laying all his cards out, but you’ve been hurt enough to know better than to let your guard down too quickly.

Your eyes flick to the clock on the wall, counting the minutes until your shift ends. You chew on your lip, deliberating with yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you try to make a decision.

Finally, after a beat, you let out a long breath and nod. “I’m off in twenty minutes,” you say, voice steady. “We can talk at my place, but this is the last time we have this conversation, Javier. No more of this back and forth.”

His face lights up, unmistakably relieved, and for a second, you see that glimmer of hope in his eyes. He sits a little taller, less tense, and his smile is soft but genuine. “Thank you,” he says, almost under his breath, like he wasn’t sure you’d agree. “I parked a few blocks down. I can come get you—”

You cut him off, pointing upward. “I live upstairs.”

Javier blinks, then chuckles, the tension between you easing slightly with that simple realization. “Oh,” he says, a little sheepish. “Okay.” For some reason, that small exchange makes both of you laugh—genuine, real laughter, the kind you haven’t shared in a while. It’s a brief moment of lightness before the weight of everything settles back in.

But before either of you can say more, you’re pulled back to the present as the place picks up with a small rush. The door swings open, and a few regulars take their usual spots, dragging you back into your role behind the bar. Javier moves out of the way, leaning back against his stool, watching you as you work.

It doesn’t take long for Connie to return, looking slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from whatever she and Steve were up to in the back. You raise an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smirk as she approaches. “Thirty minutes, huh? You sure you didn’t need forty?” You quip, poking fun at her the same way she did to you on Halloween night.

She narrows her eyes at you, but there’s a playful glint in them. “Shut up,” she mutters, straightening her apron. “You know I could’ve dragged it out longer if I wanted.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you hand over the bar to the guy coming in to replace you. Your shift is finally over, and you can feel the tension easing from your shoulders. With one last glance at the clock, you turn toward Javier, who’s still waiting, watching you with that familiar intensity.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice more casual than you feel.

He nods, pushing off the counter to follow you out. Thankfully, Steve had left, but as you pass Connie, you don’t miss the way her eyes widen when she sees the sexy guy trailing behind you. She gives you a look—half amused, half impressed—and you can practically hear her thoughts.

You give her a small wave, shrugging off her knowing smirk as you push through the door, stepping out into the cool evening air.

He follows behind you silently as you climb the narrow staircase to your apartment, the low hum of the bar fading with each step. You can feel his presence like a warm current, that quiet intensity that always seems to wrap around you when he’s near. The proximity makes you hyper-aware of every sound—the creak of the steps beneath your feet, the soft rustle of his jacket as he moves, his shaky breaths from his lungs working overtime due to his constant smoking.

When you finally reach the top and push the door open, you step aside to let him in. He takes a slow look around, his eyes sweeping over the small but cozy space. Despite its shabby appearance—the chipped paint on the walls, the secondhand furniture—it’s undeniably yours.

The throw blankets on the couch, the mismatched mugs on the kitchen counter, the books scattered about. It’s lived-in and comfortable, and you catch the way Javier’s lips twitch in what might be a smile as he takes it all in.

“Okay,” you say, arms crossing as you stand by the kitchenette, keeping a reasonable distance between you. “What now? We’re here. It’s just me and you. What do you have to say to me?”

He hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair like he’s bracing himself. Then, he just… spills his guts. “I want you to give me one chance. Just one date,” he says, the words tumbling out faster than you expect. “I know I’ve screwed up before, and I know I’ve been cocky, but… I like you. Like, really like you. More than I’ve let on.”

You blink quickly. You weren’t expecting this—certainly not Javier Peña, of all people, to stand in your apartment and confess to having a legitimate crush on you. “No way,” you mutter, in time with your thoughts, a nervous giggle escaping before you can stop it.

It sounds ridiculous in your head, and even more absurd out loud. He likes you? He doesn’t even know you!

His frown deepens, his jaw tightening as if your reaction stings. “I’m serious,” he’s insistent, his dark eyes locking with yours.

You shake your head, still struggling to process this. “You just got tired of screwing around with all the pretty stars, so now you’re going after someone different. Trying a new flavor of the month by chasing after a girl on the crew.”

“Technically, you’re not on the crew anymore—” he starts, but cuts himself off when he sees the daggers you’re sending him.

He steps a little closer, his tone quieter but more earnest. “You told me earlier that assuming has never gotten me anywhere worth being at. So take your own advice, nena, and stop assuming I’m chasing after you for all the wrong reasons.”

There’s no trace of his usual bravado, no cocky grin or smooth line to disarm you. Just sincerity. And it’s that, more than anything, that makes you pause. For real this time.

“So I’m not just someone to scratch off your list?” You ask, daring him to lie.  

“Wha— no.”

“You really mean it?”  

“Do I need to get on my knees to convince you I’m serious?”  

“That’d be the least serious thing you could do.”  

His mouth twitches up into a half smirk. “So? Will you let me take you out?”

This feels like if you so much as blink, the moment will dissolve—nothing but smoke and mirrors. 

“Okay,” you breathe. “But if it doesn’t work out… then that’s it. You don’t come around here again. You leave me alone. For good.”  

His eyes narrow, but he nods, accepting the ultimatum.  

“Fair enough.” His voice dips into something dark and velvety, a timbre that’s all too familiar. It’s the same voice you’ve heard behind the camera, in the tape that you got yourself off to—low, coaxing, a caress in itself. And damn him, it’s working on you again. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”  

“When?” You ask him.

“You’re the one who works weekends. You tell me.”

“Next Saturday?” You offer, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a date.”  

A flutter of nerves skitters through your chest and you almost laugh again, so giddy, but you clamp down on it.

“Alright... I’ll walk you out.” Your voice sounds awkward to your own ears, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. So does he.  

His gaze sharpens. “You know,” he starts, rubbing his jaw in that infuriatingly familiar way, “Robbie kept saying you ‘broke’ me after that Malibu shoot with Mariella.” He air quotes broke and your expression turns confused.

“Well… he’s an idiot.”  

“He’s not wrong, though,” Javi murmurs, stepping closer, the space between you vanishing.  

Your breath hitches. “Javi…” you warn, but it sounds weak—like a plea dressed as a protest.  

“You were right.” His voice dips again, softer now, but no less dangerous. “Sleeping with barely-legal girls felt... wrong. The whole scene was just fucked. It took me too long to realize it.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But that’s not what broke me.”  

Your pulse stutters. “Then what?”  

“You,” he whispers, moving closer, until the heat of his body presses against yours. “Your voice. Your eyes.” His gaze dips to your mouth, and your knees threaten to give out. “Those soft lips you won’t let me kiss absolutely fucking broke me.”

Your lower back presses hard against the counter, pinned by the sheer gravity of him closing in. His scent is dizzying.  

Your nipples harden, tightening with each shallow breath you take, the heat between you wrapping around your body like a fever. Now that you’ve stopped fighting it, the tide of lust pulls you under, dragging you into the undertow.

He can’t just say these things to you and expect you to remain sane. Especially not after all your wet dreams he’s been the star of.

“The others don’t do it for me anymore and I’m not popping a pill to get fuckin’ hard.” He cages you in, planting both hands on the counter at your sides. His arms flex, his body crowding yours, then he leans in, his nose brushing the tip of yours in the kind of touch that feels both too soft and too intimate.

“Just standing here with you…” His hips roll forward, pressing against you. The solid ridge of his cock rubs against your stomach through his jeans, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You gasp, lips parting as you go weak.

“Oh…” you breathe, shakily, your voice barely more than a whimper. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but his gaze locks onto the movement.

“I want to take care of you, nena. Por favor.” His voice drips with need, every word laced with intent. “Let me make you feel good again. I need to make you feel good.”

Memories flash like lightning—the way his mouth felt between your thighs and how it left such an impression that you quit your fucking job (okay maybe not because of that necessarily but it was a butterfly effect)

“Javi…” Your voice is a strained warning, as you press your hand to his shoulder, ready to push him back if you needed to throw some metaphorical ice on this heated moment to chill both of you the fuck out. “I’m not going to fuck you right now.”

“I’m not asking you to…” His hand comes up to take yours at his shoulder into his, bringing it up to his lips to give it a gentle kiss.

God, you just about come right then and there.

“You want to go down on me again?”

He groans, his mouth grazing your knuckles as if tasting you again. “I’ll always want that. Always.” His voice is strained. “But tonight, pretty girl, I just—fuck—I need to feel you.”

“But you just said—”

“I know baby,” he cradles your face and you let him, horny out of your mind and absolutely under his spell. “Just let me put the tip in.”

“What?” You ask, moving back from him to stare up into his eyes.

“The head of my cock. Let me put it in and feel how wet and warm you are.” 

Your thighs clench instinctively, the ache between them growing unbearable. Images of his cock flood your mind—thick, veined, and heavy, flashing like a montage you can’t shake.

The thought of him, so close, pressing inside just enough to tease, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I-I’ve never done that before... isn’t that—” You shake your head, struggling to wrap your mind around the idea.

“It’ll feel so good, I promise. If you don’t like it I’ll pull out and leave.”

His eyes still hold that sincerity from before, and it tugs at your heart, which has moved its pulse downstairs at the thought of feeling just a little bit of him.

It’s intoxicating, giving you the power to decide just how much of him you’ll take. How deep he’ll bury himself. How much you’ll let him fuck into you. 

A moan slips from your lips, unbidden, and his eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the sound. He’s holding back, but barely—waiting, craving, needing your consent like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality.

“Fuck,” you whisper, already lost. “Whatever, just do it. Do it before I change my mind.”

You squeal as he spins you around, your hands coming up to steady yourself against the counter.

You went out and bought a mini denim skirt after seeing it on the pornstar he fucked in the tow truck scene because you thought it was cute, and now you’re sort of living out that fantasy here with him as he pushes it up high on your hips, exposing your very lackluster underwear.

“Damn…” His hands are all over you, kneading your ass, the rough squeeze of his palms making you whine, back arching instinctively for more. “These are hot as fuck.”

Your cheeks heat up, because no way he thinks your mauve colored hipsters are hot.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down your legs, letting them pool at your ankles. You step out of them, still in your sneakers, feeling utterly exposed. But the way he looks at you makes you feel desired.

With a firm hand, he presses against the small of your back, coaxing you into a deeper arch. His hands glide down your thighs, strong fingers gripping where your knee bends, lifting your leg and placing it on the counter. The shift spreads you open for him, your slick, swollen folds glistening in the dim light.

“Fuck...” His voice is pure gravel, rough with need, as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he drops to his knees, right behind you, and buries his face between your legs.

“Oh my—fuck!” you cry, jerking forward against the counter, totally unprepared for the onslaught of his tongue.

He doesn’t hold back—doesn’t ease you into it—just dives in like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with fervor. The obscene sounds of his tongue dragging through your wetness and the desperate groans vibrating from his throat make your head spin. You’re shaking, trying to catch your breath, but it’s useless with the way he devours you.

He licks every inch of your pussy, his tongue flat and broad one second, sharp and focused the next, flicking across your clit with precision. When he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, the wet suction sends sparks shooting through your body.

Your forehead thuds against the cabinet in front of you as you babble out his name in breathless, broken curses, pleasure building in tight, pulsing waves. Your legs tremble under his relentless attention, and it feels like he’s not just eating you out—he’s worshiping you, savoring every moment like a man starved.

“Javi—oh my—fuck!” You can barely string two words together, the intensity of it dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he buries his face deeper, groaning like he can’t get enough of you. And god dammit, you love it. You love the way he’s lost in you, the way his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to pull you apart. It’s filthy, messy, perfect.

He pulls back after a few minutes, reluctantly breaking away from the warmth of you, even though every fiber in his body begs him to stay—tongue, nose, and fingers lost in your sweetness for hours, watching you unravel again and again. He forces himself to move, savoring the way your breath stutters in frustration at the loss.  

The soft metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone makes your heart race, and your pussy clenches reflexively, aching to be filled.  

“Mmm, she’s ready for me, isn’t she?” He’s so smug, watching the way your cunt flutters at the mere thought of his cock sliding inside you. Even just the tip.  

You don’t answer—you can’t answer. The anticipation has stolen every word, every coherent thought from your brain. All you hear is the pounding rush of blood in your ears.

Javier steps in closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. His hand snakes around you, rough fingers brushing your chin before hovering just beneath your lips.  

“Spit,” he commands, his tone low and firm.  

Like the desperate thing you are, you part your lips without hesitation, letting a hot thread of saliva drip into his waiting palm.  

A deep, approving grunt rumbles from his chest. “Good girl.”  

Your cheeks burn at the praise, and you clench again as he takes your offering, wrapping his wet palm around the thick length of his cock. He strokes himself slowly, hissing through his teeth, the slick sound of his fist dragging over his shaft making your breath hitch.  

Then, without warning, you feel the velvety head of his cock glide through the slick folds of your cunt.  

Both of you shudder—your soft whimper mingling with his guttural groan.  

He drags the swollen tip along your slit, gathering your arousal, and when he nudges it against your throbbing clit, your hips jerk instinctively.  

“Relax, bella,” he warns, his hand tightening on your waist to steady you. “Unless you want me to bust my load all over this pretty clit right now.”  

That filthy mouth of his makes you want to slap him—and kiss him—until you both can’t breathe.  

He keeps teasing you both, swirling the sensitive head over your clit again, tapping it lightly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your thighs tremble with need, and your pussy clenches again, desperate to take him inside.  

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice gravelly with restraint as he lines himself up with your entrance. “So fucking wet…”  

He tilts his hips just enough to press the head of his cock against your dripping hole, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him.  

“¿Lista?” he whispers, his voice softer now, more intimate. He leans in, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck, trailing gentle kisses over your skin between ragged breaths.  

You nod frantically, not trusting your voice to form words.  

Then, slowly—achingly slow—he pushes the tip inside.  

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear.  

A sharp, breathless moan escapes you as he stretches you open, your cunt greedily sucking him in. The sensation is electric, overwhelming—just enough to tease, just enough to leave you craving more.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Why the fuck does this feel so good?

Javier groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep from plunging deeper. “Puta madre nenita, this pussy esta tan rica.” 

He stills, savoring the way your tight heat wraps around just the tip of him. His blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your hips as he struggles to keep his hips from moving.

But you can’t help it. Your hips move on their own, rolling back just enough to take more of him inside, the smooth slide of his length sending sparks through your body. A whimper slips from your lips as your walls clench around what little of him you have, the stretch so good it has your eyes fluttering shut, your head tipping forward.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move,” he growls, low and dangerous, and the sound of it shoots straight to your cunt.

You whine softly, biting your lip, as he drags the inches you stole back out, leaving just the swollen head nestled at your entrance. The tease is unbearable, like dangling water in front of someone dying of thirst.

“Javi, I can’t help it,” you moan, the frustration bubbling over into a pout. Your hand drifts down between your thighs, fingers brushing your slick, needy clit. You need something—anything—to relieve the pressure.

His hand is lightning fast, grabbing your wrist and yanking it back to the counter. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He sounds almost offended.

“I need to feel something,” you whimper, shifting your hips desperately against him.

He clicks his tongue, as if scolding you, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re already feeling the head of this cock, aren’t you? And you’re still being greedy, trying to touch this pretty little pussy after I told you I’d take care of you.”

His hand slides from your waist, gliding lower, fingers hovering just above where you need him most. The promise of his touch makes your thighs quiver, and you let out a desperate little whine, arching your back in a silent plea.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his voice low and rough, thick with control barely held in check.

You know exactly what he looks like—jaw tight, eyes burning with hunger, teeth gritted as he holds back from sinking all the way into you. And it makes you ache even more.

“Touch me, Javi, please,” you beg, your voice a breathy, needy little mewl. You throw your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, batting your lashes shamelessly.

A low, satisfied hum vibrates from his chest, and his fingers finally press against your slick, swollen folds. He groans softly as he feels how you’re stretching around the head of his cock, his fingertips tracing the puffy lips before circling lazily over your throbbing clit.

“Ohhh, just like that,” you moan, the sound slipping from you naturally, raw and unfiltered—nothing like the exaggerated performances he’s used to. This is real, and it only makes him harder.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his breath hot against your neck, “I can’t wait to ruin this pussy, nenita. Gonna make you feel better than any malparido before me.”

His fingers keep working your clit, slow and steady, each stroke dragging you closer to madness. Your hips start to grind against his hand and the blunt head of his cock, desperate for more, for everything.

And the way he’s talking—like you’re his to wreck, his to please—makes you feel like you’ll lose your mind.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling the jealousy dancing on his fingertips as he works your clit faster, his movements switching between precision and wild hunger.

He rolls the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it just hard enough to make you gasp. Then, his touch softens—soothing circles, spreading your slick everywhere—before he tugs at your swollen nub, sending shocks of pleasure deep into your core, like fireworks are exploding down there.

“Tell me,” he growls, voice rough with possessiveness. “Did he fuck you good?”

The blunt tip of his cock stays snug at your entrance, and every pinch, every flick of his fingers makes your walls clench greedily around it, desperate for more.

“W-Who?” you whimper, genuinely lost in the haze of his touch. Your mind has melted, everything but the sensations he’s feeding you slipping away like vapor.

That answer pleases him—makes something wicked curl in his chest. His grin presses against your neck, and the wet heat of his tongue drags a slow, deliberate stripe along your skin. Then, he bites down, sucking hard, marking you in that one spot you’ve only ever dreamt of him nipping at.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your hand finds his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your neck. The heat swirling in your belly tightens to a near-breaking point, your orgasm creeping up on you with every flick of his relentless fingers.

“Javi—fuck—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, voice breaking, sounding needy and pitiful.

“I know, baby,” he rasps. “I can feel her gettin’ all tight and messy for me. C’mon, nena, let it happen. I’ve got you.”

He keeps his pace steady—no sudden changes, no wild moves—just the same focused rhythm he’s built up, making your nerves sing, each flick and stroke a perfectly calibrated promise of release.

Your body responds like it always does for him: beautifully. His name falls from your lips like a sweet song. Your hips grind instinctively, chasing the steady friction of his slick fingers.

“More, Javi—oh, please—more,” you gasp, knowing exactly what you need, what only he can give you. You’re ready for him to shove deep inside, to fill you, stretch you, ruin you with the thick cock still teasing your entrance.

If you had said this maybe five minutes ago, he would have obliged, but he’s got a point to prove now. And that point is restraint—his self control.

“Not tonight, pretty girl,” he murmurs darkly, laden with lust and dominance. “You’re gonna come just like this.”

Then, without warning, his hand shifts, and he slaps your pussy—once, twice, three times. The sound is wet and obscene, and the sharp sting sends a shockwave straight to your core.

That’s what breaks you. Your orgasm crashes over you like a violent, unstoppable wave, ripping through your body with terrifying force.

“Fuck—Javi!” you scream, your walls fluttering and pulsing wildly around the head of his cock, soaking his hand in your release as your legs threaten to give out beneath you.

He groans, watching you unravel for him, every twitch and spasm feeding his ego. His fingers don’t stop—stroking you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

Your vision swims, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the euphoria leaves you floating, weightless. And even though he hasn’t buried himself inside you like you wanted, somehow, this feels even more intimate—like he’s branded himself into you without needing to fuck you at all.

The way your pussy grips him sends a shudder down his spine, and with a strangled curse, his balls tighten, his climax hot on the heels of yours. 

“Fuck—” he groans, yanking his cock out just in time, the thick spurts of his cum painting your slick, swollen pussy, making a filthy mess.

Both of you pant, trying to catch your breath, the room heavy with the scent of sex. A sharp hiss escapes your lips as his fingers slide lazily through your soaked folds, mixing the remnants of both your pleasure. When he gathers the sticky blend on his fingers and brings them to your mouth, the hunger in his gaze makes your heart race.  

“Have a taste, baby.”

Without hesitation, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them with obscene enthusiasm. You moan at the heady, salty taste—like liquid sin on your tongue. It’s addictive, and you suck greedily until his fingers are spotless, releasing them with a wet pop that makes his eyes darken further.  

You glance up at him over your shoulder, lips slightly swollen from your efforts. 

“You okay?” he asks, his tone soft.

You nod, still dazed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Better than okay. That was... wow.”  

His soft grin blooms into a cocky smirk, and he helps clean you up before gently moving your leg off the counter. As he tucks himself back into his jeans, you adjust your skirt, smoothing it down with shaky hands.  

“Where are my panties?” you ask, glancing around, still floating in the afterglow.  

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling them out with a sly grin. “Oh, these?”  

You reach for them, but he swiftly lifts them out of reach.  

“I think I’ll hold onto them.”  

Heat rises to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes at him, but the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips betrays your mock indignation. “Why? Perv.”  

His grin widens, unabashed. “A little memento… to remind me of this. I’ll give them back next Saturday.” He slips them back into his pocket.

You roll your eyes, too blissed out to care. “I can’t believe we just did that.”  

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, the warmth of his embrace catching you off guard. After all the resistance you’ve given him, letting him hold you like this feels foreign.

“Told you it’d feel good,” he murmurs smugly, his lips brushing your temple. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to cave first and beg for the whole thing, though.”  

You scoff, giving his hip a playful pinch. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay? You might’ve scored a date and... a semi-fuck, but I’m still sticking to those boundaries. For now.”  

“Does that mean I still can’t kiss you?”  

Oh, hell. He’s already been inside you—well, kind of. What’s one little kiss? But no. You’re trying to make a point here.  

“Nope,” you reply, stopping him with a finger pressed lightly against his lips just as he leans in. “Not until you buy me dinner first.”  

His smirk deepens, and instead of protesting, he kisses the tip of your finger. 

“Deal.”

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories

@greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl .

🏷️ : @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch

@xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @yxtkiwiyxt . @guelyury . @itwasntimethatdidit40 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @thundermartini . @correapunk .

[honeysickledream]

Who's Who, Darling? Part 2 | Poly141 x F!Reader

Tags / cw: NSFW (Smut) fivesome (F/M/M/M/M), fingering (f!receiving), p in v, protected sex, blindfolds, finger sucking, a bit of spanking, light pussy slapping, edging (ig?), orgasm denial of sorts, birth control (IUD) mention, Reader is referred to as Pet a handful of times (mainly by Price), offscreen masturbation, polyamory discussions and agreements, no use of Y/N, no descriptions of reader | if i missed anything, let me know! MINORS DNI (18+) w/c: ~3.4k Pt. 1 | AO3 A/n: this whole thing got away from me, it’s a long one. I’ve been slowly writing it as life hits me upside the head with a new pan every other day. If parts feel rushed, that’s predominately why. Proofread in the middle of the night so ignore typos, please. Also, happy Halloween! divider by @/saradika-graphics

The guys are making coffee and tea when you manage to pull yourself out of the bed and stumble into the kitchen. You’re flashed a smile by each and given pecks on the cheeks as you rub the sleep from your eyes and try to adjust to being alive and having them in your house—last night seeming like some mouthwatering fever dream. Soap suddenly proposes that he make breakfast for everyone and you whine, knowing just how inept he is in the kitchen. The little kitchenette in the break room on base has been closed down more times than anyone can count because he manages to set something on fire.

Price quickly banishes Soap to the living room and sends you along with him, but not before he hands you a warm mug filled with your favorite drink doctored just the way you liked it. There’s not much room on the couch, not with Soap sitting on the middle cushion with his legs spread out as far as they’ll go. He gives you a look—the ‘come sit on my lap, I don’t bite’ look—and you give in. It’s too early in the morning to be stubborn, to be standing honestly, and you’re chilly despite the heat being on.

His thick arms wrap around you, pulling you as close as they can, and he turns on the TV. You notice as you take small sips from your mug that Soap’s eyes are trained on your throat as it bobs with each swallow. He gives you the sweetest look as he asks—begs almost—to give your throat a kiss. Tells you he’s been wanting to do it for ages now and that he promises not to bite.

Fucking liar he is. One peck to the center of your throat turns into another, then a dozen more with faint nibbles between each one. He licks your throat, too, which causes your breath to catch and thighs to press together. The throbbing in your clit worsens when he noses at your pulse point and whines, hips jerking lightly against your ass.

Ghost’s voice cuts through the faint buzzing in your ears and you wince as your arousal dissipates. He tells you breakfast is ready, but you’re not released from Soap’s intense hold. Ghost gives him a glare and Soap’s hips buck once more in response. You’re given one last nip before Soap lets you push off him. He trails behind you, the hem of your sleep shirt caught between two fingers.

Your place at the table has been set elegantly, as if you were royalty. Price pours you a glass of juice while Gaz pushes your chair in and lays a napkin (really it’s just the second cheapest kind of paper towel you could get) in your lap. Ghost places your plate before you and awkwardly gives your head a pat when you thank him. It’s awfully charming being treated so well by them, but there’s a bit of suspicion lurking in the back of your mind.

It’s not your fault the men you’ve entertained in the past have be lackluster in…well, just about every way.

They all sit on the other side of the table, crammed together like sardines in a tin as they dig into their own omelets and hash. Your omelet was the prettiest that’d been made: no tearing along the seam, perfect gold spots across the outside. The seasonings used were light and complementary. Ghost had been the one to cook it, you reasoned. He was a maestro in the kitchen, always bringing in little bits of what he’d cooked the night before to team meetings or sharing his food during breaks in the rec room when it wasn’t under repair because of Soap.

Your appetite quickly fades as you wonder when the topic of ‘Round Two’ will be mentioned, or if Ghost and Gaz’s hints of things turning into something more will be touched on. Both have been sitting in the back of your mind since last night to the point you recall vague dreams regarding them. The anticipation of a talk makes faint nausea build in your belly as your heart keeps wondering and hoping, hoping, hoping—

Price clears his throat and your fork skids on the plate. The screeching of metal on porcelain makes your skin crawl and your teeth ache. All four of the guys look at you with concern and you wave them off, quickly taking a sip of juice. The anticipated conversation begins once you swallow, no chance of any spit takes or choking.

He puts it all very plainly: the four of them do want you. They’d been keen on you for the longest but had all agreed to refrain from making any moves to preserve camaraderie but then you’d gone and complained about your workload and not being laid. The perfect opportunity for them, for you. He tells you they’d talked about how things would go afterwards, the proposition of some kind of…situation or legitimate relationship between you and all of them.

It’s stressed that there’s no pressure, no true expectations of anything—the military’s funny that way sometimes; the expectation for anything to work out often squashed without realizing once it begins to grow. Soap becomes a little pouty when Gaz assures you they’ll all be okay if you decline round two of the bet, or if you ask them to just forget anything ever happened.

That’s when you ask if you can say your piece and you’re given the floor. You find it flattering, and jarring, that they’ve all had their eye on you for a while. You admit you can’t help but pay close attention to them as well. Sometimes you think you know their personalities, talents, and appearances better than your own. And you express that round two is something you desperately want to have happen. But, the prospect of a relationship of any kind between the five of you makes you twitchy despite the last twelve or so house of constant dreamy pondering.

You explain, not in too much detail, that your past relationships and dynamics haven’t been the healthiest. Each one adding a new boundary and expectation to an already long list. Anyone you get with in the hopes of something serious is quickly met with said list because you’ve learned to never assume that people will be good and faithful. You tell them that you’re willing to explore things with them if they’re amenable to be respectful of that list—and of course, you would be be respectful of their limits.

They hear you out when you tell them you’d want something closed, just the five of you. Everyone intertwined in various pairings if that’s what they wanted, but no outside people. Too complicated, too risky in some circumstances. No one throws a fit or even looks the least bit bothered by the boundary which settles your nausea significantly. Slow and steady is your next big point. You want to explore things with them as they come up naturally, be it kinks or troubles or life in general. Rushing to force an experience, you have found, cheapens it and leads to some form of relationship burnout that you don’t want to experience with them or have them experience with you.

It’s all quite formal, their agreeing to what you want and stating their own boundaries—no secrets, the relationship still exists but becomes second place when on a mission or otherwise at work, communication remains at the forefront of everything—which you’re happy to agree to. You’re half-tempted to get some pens and paper to really seal the deal, but you settle for pinking-promising with Soap which seems to be enough for the others.

Breakfast is through not long after, and you work with the guys to put away leftovers and clean up the kitchen. You get a kiss on the cheek or shoulder, a firm hand pressing your back whenever they pass by you. It makes your skin heat, your stomach and heart in some mild flux at the constant sweet attention that is all yours. They receive their own affections from you, a peck in return for a peck, a gentle lean into their side when their shoulders brush yours.

Soap mentions needing a change of clothes—toiletries, too—and the others echo him. They’d be gone for a while, base was a healthy distance from your home which is just how you like it, but you didn’t want to be alone while getting ready for round two. You ask if they can grab some of Price’s stuff to bring back while they’re on base so he can hand around to take part in the prep since he got so little time with you last night.

And that’s exactly what led to you trying to tune out the grating voices of sports casters while being prepped on the couch.

Price has been idly fingering you for the last hour while watching a rerun of a football game he missed during the last deployment. He slowly presses two of his thick fingers into your cunt, keeps them still for a moment or two before he crooks them and you tense around them. Then he pulls them most of the way out while spreading them bit by bit, only to push them back in.

Occasionally he’ll get a text, sometimes multiple at a time and you know it’s from the others because of the little text tones. Whatever they send him has his hips bucking, causing his hard cock to rub against your stomach for a bit of friction before he settles.

You want to bite him for being such a fucking tease but you can’t find much purchase to do so given that you’re draped over his lap and pinned there, face buried in one of your fluffy throw pillows that Soap teased you for owning. You also remember that it was you who asked him to stay behind to prep you and to do it his way.

The front door opens and you perk up to the best of your ability. You try to squirm a bit so you can go greet the others and find out what they’d been up to, but John’s hold on you tightens. He gives your bare ass a light slap, soothing over the spot as the faint burn of pain faded. The others come into view and you whine at them, but they don’t pay you any mind, leaving you to your fate with Price as they go to the bedroom, shopping bags and luggage in hand.

“I didn’t know they were going to the shop, too. What did they get?” you ask Price.

“You’ll find out when we’re ready for you to,” he says as he slowly presses a third finger into you. The stretch is bordering on uncomfortable. His free hands soothes your tensing back. “Three’s all we’ll do—that’s what we agreed on. Relax for me, pet.”

You huff, feigning annoyance while relaxing to the best of your ability. His three fingers are about as wide as your biggest toy. The same one that sits at the back of your nightstand drawer, used only when you have a fully uninterrupted day off, something you haven’t had in ages. It simply takes too long to prep yourself and when you’re ready, you’re too tired—annoyed, too, sometimes—to do more than cockwarm it for a while. It was also hit and miss if penetration did much for you.

Something thuds in the bedroom and you bang your head against the fluffy pillow. “If they break something up there—“

“Nothing’s broken, pet. Gaz probably tripped on Soap’s damn boots, or Ghost’s turned one of them into a pretzel for being annoying,” Price said.

Price gets a text and he pulls his fingers out of you slowly. He’s gentle as he grabs hold of you, a wall of muscle for you to lean on as the shaky muscles in your legs remember how to work. The bed’s been stripped down to the fitted sheet and mattress protector under it, a lone pillow is at the foot of the bed. Water bottles and a variety of snacks have been laid out on your desk, the lights dimmed and tower fan turned on to manage the temperature. Ghost hands you a lilac satin blindfold, a definite upgrade to the sleep mask he’s now tossing in the trash bin under your desk.

A quick refresher of the dos and don’ts and safe words are had before Ghost helps you lay the strip of fabric over your eyes and tie it in place. You casually drop that if the others want to toy around with you while you try to determine who’s fucking you, they should go for it.

Four sets of hands guide you onto the bed and put you on your knees, the pillow secure under your elbows. Belt buckles clank and fabric rustles, you hear whispers before a box is opened and foil is crinkled—condoms. Condoms had escaped your mind but not theirs, and you’re glad. Sure you’ve got an IUD that’s going to need replacing in a handful of months, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. None of you could afford the scare that came along with not using condoms.

The bed dips as one of them kneels behind you and you try not to flinch when a firm hands rests on your hip. You arch your back as his tip presses against your slit with the slightest bit of pressure. It’s when he slowly presses into you that you realize just how necessary Price’s three fingers were. The stretch makes you shudder and clench, your inner voice reminding you relax as he massages your hips.

You give him a quick thumbs up when you feel situated enough. His movements are slow at first, he pulls out halfway before guiding you back until your ass is flush with his hips. You feel unruly hairs scratch your cheeks and shake your head, knowing full well who it is: Soap. You may or may not have caught a few glimpses of his bush, at least the top bit, during the times he stretches his arms over his head after unbuckling his belt post-mission or training.

He reaches around and between your legs to toy with your poor clit that had been ignored by Price for a whole hour. You whine into the pillow as your body shudders with pleasure and your hips jerk to chase his teasing fingers, pulling you out of the steady pace that had been set. You hold off on saying his name because he’s at least trying to be a giving partner, but it stumbles from your lips when his pace gets faster and jostles you closer to the edge of the bed.

Per the rules of the bet, his turn is over. He slips out and carefully pulls you from the edge. You feel a little bad that he didn’t come, but then he groans softly across the room and you know he’s taking care of himself just fine. And probably sitting naked on your leather desk chair at that.

Someone gently turns you onto your back and settles between your legs, cool hands guiding them to hook around his hips. You’re given a bit of time to adjust to him before he’s leaning on his left forearm and thrusting into you firmly. There’s no way to identify him by his manscaping, or lack thereof, and he hasn’t started using his hands or making sounds, which quickly frustrates you.

Patience isn’t your main virtue, you’re learning.

You scrunch your nose and move your brows, trying to get the satin blindfold to shift so you can get a glimpse of something but you hear someone ‘tsk-tsk’. Then a hand slaps your cunt lightly—Price’s hand, it felt the same when he spanked your ass earlier. You writhe and moan as Price occasionally pats your clit while you’re getting fucked, the stimulation causing that dizzying tension in your belly to coil tighter and tighter.

Those thinner, longer fingers that tormented you last night ghost over your lips and you part them. You lay your tongue out flat and then lick the finger that prods at the pointed tip of your tongue. Your lips wrap around two of his fingers and suck lightly, moving your tongue against the undersides. The man doubles over, hips stuttering as he comes. He pulls his fingers free and you wipe the spit from your lips as you say his name—Gaz—softly. He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away and hopping off the bed.

Either Price or Ghost take Gaz’s place quickly, resuming his pace to keep your arousal from dissipating. You’re hoisted up by four hands and you quickly wrap your arms around the man’s neck. He guides your hips to rock with his as he whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Ghost lays you back down as you do what he asks and say his name. He wanted Price to have the final go, to have his fun and to make you come.

You latch onto Price like a leech when he hovers over you. That hour of prepping you taught him exactly what to do, where to press and when. As he pulls out, his thumb moves faster against your clit before slowing as he thrusts in, your back arching and body burning. Sweet praise comes at you from all sides, filling your brain with cotton as you try not to let go too quickly but when Price calls you their ‘sweet pet’, it’s all over. You’re coming around his cock, crying out brokenly as hands move across your body to limit the jerking of your limbs. For a moment everything’s quiet, then a heavy and hot weight is on top of you, panting in your ringing ears.

Price pushes off of you and helps you sit up against a bunch of pillows that are shoved under you. A water bottle is shoved in your face right as the blindfold comes off. You sip at it while you watch Soap, Gaz and Ghost bumble naked around the bedroom to find the wet wipes the apparently bought, and your backup sheets and mattress protector. Price is half holding you as he asks how you feel and if everything was done to your liking. You tell him you’re good but tired, and that it was quite enjoyable. You check in with them, as well, getting smiles along with affirmative answers.

The next thing you know, all four of them are filtering in and out of your shower, quickly washing up and helping you do the same before they tap in the next one. Dinner consists of five different pizzas, a shabby blanket fort in the living room, and a campy horror film that puts you to sleep across their laps halfway through it.

What if I put reader on leave with in an array of dildos and a new vibrator while the guys go on a mission…? I’m thinking some thoughts. Anyways, poor Soap. He hasn’t even come close to making reader come and it makes me so happy. He’s the character I love to be sadistic towards. Last time it was Ghost x Gaz who got her off, now it’s Price. He’ll get his turn eventually…

[penkura]

I'm late! But in honour of spooky season what would some of the One Piece guys reactions be to y/n dressing up as them for Halloween? 🎃

Aww this is such a cute idea! I didn't have anything planned for today since I had to work, but I got some ideas for a few OP guys! 👀

Sanji would be so flattered! He might be confused when you ask him, weeks in advance, to borrow a shirt and cigarette, worried he's rubbing off on you but he still agrees. You don't tell him anything when he tries to ask, so he eventually forgets about it for the time being. Then you run into the kitchen on Halloween with such a bright grin he just can't believe it. Your hair over one eye, cigarette in your mouth, and his blue dress shirt with your own dress pants, Sanji just thinks you look so wonderful! He's impressed you kept it a secret and pulled it off so well, can't help himself and he hugs you so tight, kissing your face and telling you how great you look!

Law would be so confused, his previous hat is missing without a sign of where it could be, and when he asks you, the only other person who goes into his closet, you claim you know nothing. Of course he doesn't believe you, especially when be notices his yellow hoodie is gone too, it's your favorite to wear so he knows something is up, but no one else seems to know anything. When Halloween comes around and you surprise Law by running into his room, dressed in the hoodie and hat, with permanent marker tattoos on your hands as you yell "Room", Law just stares at you for several moments as you smile at him. After a bit, he finally starts laughing, something you rarely hear, and it makes your smile widen, knowing you've gotten your beloved boyfriend to laugh at you. It wasn't really your intention, but when he presses a kiss to your forehead, telling you that you look great, you don't think there could've been any better reaction.

Zoro would absolutely laugh at you at first. You know better than to sneak any of his items, so you secretly buy anything that matches as you can on whatever islands you stop at, keeping it all hidden away in your dresser. Once the day arrives and you show off your costume to him, Zoro just starts laughing to the point it embarrasses you, you think he's being mean and doesn't get it, you're doing ti be cause you like him and thought it'd be fun to match for the day. You got a white shirt and dark pants, three fake swords and earrings to match, you thought he'd appreciate it and think you looked cute. Before you're able to run off and cry to Nami or Robin about how your plan failed, Zoro pulls you into a hug and makes a comment about how a cute pirate hunter found him, he might be willing to get caught just cause it's you.

Shachi would just absolutely adore seeing you dressed like him! Granted yes, if you're a Heart Pirate too, you already wear the requires boiler suit, but if you're not, the second he sees you wearing it with his old hat on top of your head and matching sunglasses, he's a happy, giggly mess who can't stop showing you off to everyone you come across! Shachi won't able to stop hugging you, giving you little kisses on your cheeks and nose, you just look too cute to him, no matter how simple your costume might be.

Penguin might laugh like Zoro, but not because he thinks it's funny, because he's just as flattered as Sanji! You're just wearing his old hat, but it fits and looks so cute on you that he's showing you off just as much as Shachi would! He might even start calling you his 'mini Penguin' since you two are matching for the day now. He'll most likely let you keep his old hat to wear whenever you want after Halloween, but for the day, he'll keep you close and share whatever candy is around the Polar Tang with you.

[kobunnie]

fall activities

ft. kageyama + oikawa + akaashi + astumu

⤻ summary ; it's fall time, so what activities are you doing with the hq boys?

⤻ word count ; 1.6k

⤻ genre ; fluff

⤻ cw ; none

⤻ pronouns ; none mentioned

⤻ a/n ; my favorite season is fall (and halloween is my favorite holiday) - so since it's september already, it's practically that time so here's a self-indulgent hc ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

𝜗𝜚 KAGEYAMA TOBIO

his favorite fall activity to do with you is pumpkin carving

it's an intimate activity without being too high maintenance or energy

he enjoys going to the pumpkin patch and watching as you grab various different sized pumpkins, trying to find the perfect one for your newest carved pumpkin

kageyama also likes just being around you, listening to your stories from the day as you scoop pumpkin guts out of a giant pumpkin

he likes this activity more than others because he just likes to watch you and your concentrated face as you carefully carve your design into your chosen pumpkin

he thinks you're cutest when you're concentrated on something

besides, he also likes to put your pumpkins outside next to each other where they stay for the entirety of their lives, imagining that it's you and him together

you slammed your too-large pumpkin onto the table, preparing your tools as kageyama already began on his own. he watched as you carefully traced your design onto your pumpkin, admiring the way your face scrunched up as you scratched out a mistake you had made.

"ew, i hate this part." you scooped the pumpkin guts out of the top of your pumpkin, cringing from the texture coating your hands.

kageyama watched you intently as you carefully carved around your stencil, careful to avoid accidentally cutting your own hands. he was barely even focusing on his pumpkin, to caught up in watching you perform what you would call a mundane task. but he didn't care, he liked watching you.

"what are you thinking of carving?" he asked, scooping out the insides of his own pumpkin.

you looked up and winked at him, causing a flutter he felt in his chest and stomach. "it's a surprise."

he smiled to himself as you got back to work, humming your favorite song. the silence was comforting, and kageyama felt content watching you work.

when you slammed your tools down he looked up, almost done with his own. "what do you think of this?" you asked excitedly, spinning your pumpkin around with a flourish.

kageyama stared at the loopy grin and mismatched eyes of your pumpkin, a smile growing on his face. it suited you perfectly. "i love it, y/n."

"eeee!! look, it's winking at you, tobio!"

𝜗𝜚 OIKAWA TOORU

loves to take you to the local fall festival whenever it opens each season

his favorite part of the festivals are the games - he likes to win as many prizes as possible and give them all to you

even when you say you've had enough prizes, he'll want to keep going because he thinks the games are fun and he likes to shower you in gifts

it gets to the point where a few parents give him dirty looks because not only is he hogging the games, he's winning all the prizes

but he also enjoys the atmosphere of being at the festival with you

the smell of food is in the air and there are so many opportunities for things he can get you, whether it be in food or physical gifts

he also enjoys going on the hayride with you at sunset, turning it into a too-romantic event between the two of you despite the kids sitting across from you on the ride

"and that's another win for me!" oikawa gloated, claiming his small teddy bear prize and a free voucher for one caramel apple.

"you're stealing these from the kids, you know," you said, grabbing the teddy bear from him and putting it into your bag where three others already sat.

he shrugged. "i'm just too good at the games. let's go to the pumpkin toss next."

you sidled next to him, grasping his hand in yours. "what about we go into the corn maze instead?"

"uhm, that's how we go missing, y/n."

you laughed. "ok then, tooru, what do you suggest we do?"

he pretended to think for a moment, adopting a thoughtful expression. he grinned down at you. "let's go on the hayride."

"that's perfect!" you looked up at the sky, watching as the sun began to recede behind the curvature of the earth. "it'll be perfect to watch the sunset on!"

when the two of you boarded the ride, you sat close to oikawa and he held your hand tightly in yours. as the cart jumbled along uneven roads, you admired the landscape of the area. nature was always prettiest in the fall. you felt oikawa staring down at you and you looked up at him.

he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "you are so beautiful, y/n."

"ewwwww!" the kids across from you exclaimed, faces morphed in disgust.

oikawa grumbled, "beat it, kids!"

𝜗𝜚 AKAASHI KEIJI

can't get enough of bingeing horror movies with you

loves the way you cuddle into him when you're frightened, and how cute your face is when you try to act brave

uses it as an excuse to be close to you

he also likes to talk about the movie contents with you

he likes to hear you gush about what you liked and didn't like, and your theories for the plot and which characters were your favorite

he always admires the way your face lights up when talking about something you enjoyed

he also just likes having nights in with you - ordering food and cuddling under blankets and pillows together

half of the time he spends watching you and your reactions instead of the movie

"i don't like this, keiji," you murmured from behind a pillow. akaashi glanced at you as you held the pillow tighter, attempting to use it as a shield between you and the screen.

he moved closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "it's just a movie, y/n."

"yeah, but it looks so real." you cuddled into his flank, peeking above the pillow as the characters on screen discussed what to do about the mysterious figure chasing them in the dark.

akaashi smiled slightly at the look on your face. sure, you were terrified but you just looked too cute to him. your eyes were wide and watching, and your lips were parted in an "o" shape, ready to let out a squeal of surprise when something would inevitably jump out at the scream. he honestly rarely actually watched the movie playing, much preferring to watch it through your reactions.

you laid your head into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath of his scent - it calmed you. you felt his hands rub your arms, a silent notion that he was there and protecting you. something jumped out of the screen suddenly, causing you to screech and hide your face in akaashi's shirt.

you felt his low chuckle stemming from his chest. "i've got you, y/n," he said, his breath blowing over the top of your head. "nothing is going to get you."

you nodded into his shirt, not yet daring to look away. he was like your knight in shining armor, you're very own protector. "can we change the movie to something less scary?"

"of course, baby."

𝜗𝜚 MIYA ATSUMU

will always be up for baking fall-themed desserts with you during the season

isn't that into baking himself, but likes to do things that you like to do, so he cooperates with excitement

plus, he enjoys eating what you make

also finds it fun when you experiment with new flavors and different sweet treats so he often sends you recipes he finds on the internet that you guys can try together

doesn't do that much baking himself, but is basically there just to be your assistant

he gives you ingredients, tools, reads the recipes, and taste tests everything you make (also everything at each step - raw batter fears him)

and more often than not, something tends to go wrong

"i'm thinking we make pumpkin spice cookies," you said, pulling out a large mixing bowl.

atsumu nodded, watching you grab all the ingredients you needed from the cabinets. "can we shape them into little pumpkins?"

you whirled around, an excited look on your face. "tsumu! that's an amazing idea, it'll be so cute!"

atsumu flushed at the tone of your voice, watching as you pulled out the recipe. he leaned over your shoulder, pressing his chin into the crook of your neck, leaving a light kiss on your skin. you giggled and pushed him back. "ok, so first, we need to get the flour and sugar."

"on it!" he said, saluting. you laughed at his antics as he went to grab the flour. however, his enthusiasm might've been a little too much because as he moved, flour poured over it's container and splattered all over the front of his clothes.

you stared at your boyfriend covered in flour, trying your hardest to hold back a giggle.

"are you laughing at me?" you shook your head, covering your mouth. "because if you are . . ."

atsumu reached into the container, grabbed a handful of flour and flung it at you. you screeched and covered your face. "atsumu!"

"take this!" he flung a little bit more at you, making sure you were covered in the substance from head-to-toe. "can't laugh at me if we look the same."

"stop it! you are ridiculous!" you exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed but it didn't work so well when you had a giant smile on your face.

atsumu grinned and pulled you into a hug, rubbing even more flour onto you. you squealed and punched his shoulder. "tsumu! stop messing around, we need to make our cookies."

"we have enough flour on ourselves to be the cookies," he piped.

you rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "whatever, now get me the sugar."

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Spooky Season | Halloween Event 2024

Demon With A Heart | Hongjoong

🧡 Pairing: Demon!Kim Hongjoong x Human!Reader

🖤 Requested by: @staytiny2000

🧡 Prompt: 20 - He's a demon with a heart.

🖤 Warnings: Italics is what Y/N is dreaming. Hongjoong threatens a child at the beginning. Murder. Alludes to domestic violence. Hongjoong watches Y/N sleep. Nightmares. Past Lives AU. A small plot twist at the end. This is definitely not as spooky as I wanted it to be. I'm sorry if these have been disappointing.

🧡 Word Count: 1,432

🖤 Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form. Please note that the halloween event taglist is included in the general taglist.

Spooky Season 2024 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Yu-Jun, stop!” A voice shouts over the bustling noise of the street Hongjoong finds himself on. Looking in the direction the voice came from, he spots a young boy, no older than five, sprinting towards the crosswalk without any intention of slowing down, while a woman races after him. There’s a mix of bystanders ignoring and watching the scene play out in front of them. None of them bother to help stop the runaway boy. 

Hongjoong looks at the road, seeing an oncoming car and gets a quick flash of a vision where the approaching car collides with the boy. It's not until he looks back at the woman and sees her outstretched arms and pleading eyes urging him to do something. It causes something in his chest to flutter. Instinct kicks in, and he lunges forward, reaching out just in time to grab the child by the scruff of his neck. With a swift move, he pulls the boy back. The car zooms past, the driver oblivious to the near tragedy that could have just happened.  

The boy wriggles in his grip, but Hongjoong holds onto him firmly, crouching down to meet his gaze. His eyes darken, becoming pitch black. “Do that again, I’ll drag you straight to hell myself, got it?” he warns the kid. The kid’s eyes widen with fear as he nods his head. “Good,” he finishes, patting the kid on the head and stands up to his full height just as the woman approaches. “You should really listen to your e-” he cuts himself off now getting a good look at the woman. She’s familiar. A little too familiar. “Y/N,” her name falls from his lips in a soft whisper as he watches her scold the boy. 

At the sound of her name, she turns her attention Hongjoong, grasping Yu-Jun's hand tightly, making sure her doesn’t make another escape attempt. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asks, trying to recall if she’s seen him before. 

He shakes his head, the fluttering in his chest replaced with something he hasn’t felt in over a century - heartache. “No,” he replies, his tone firm as he shifts from shock to a glare, looking at her and Yu-Jun with disdain. “Get your kid a leash or something,” he mutters before turning away and walking off. 

“What was all that about?” San asks his superior when he joins him and Seonghwa again. The two demons had just witnessed what had happened. San, who hasn’t been around as long as Hongjoong and Seonghwa is clueless about how significant what just happened was for his captain. Always the curious one, Hongjoong couldn’t blame him for having questions. 

“My past,” is all Hongjoong said as the head inside the club they often frequent. 

“I thought they stopped giving her more lives,” Seonghwa says, thinking back to when he last encountered one of Y/N’s lives. 

“That’s what they told me,” he says ordering a drink as they sit at the bar, “70 years ago.” 

Later that night, Y/N is plagued by nightmares she can’t wake up from. 

The darkness envelops her like a suffocating cloud and amplifies her racing heartbeat. The seeming human forms of the people around her twist and transform into hideous monsters, their forms shifting in ways that are unnatural and their eyes glow a blood-thirsty red. As she stands frozen in place, the ground beneath her begins to shake as the creatures encircle her, their deep growls mixed with the piercing screams of her son and deceased parents, echoes in her ears. 

"Please, no," she whimpers, filled with fear as she desperately attempts to flee. Every step she takes is feels like a battle against an unseen force that pulls her back. The beasts close in, their claws scraping against the ground, leaving deep gouges in the dirt.  

“STOP!” a deep, authoritative voice commands from behind her. Y/N turns around, her heart racing, scared of what could be there. As she searches for the source of the voice, the creatures part reverting back to their human form and reveal a figure draped in a black cloak. The figure imposing, with an aura of authority. “Leave,” the figure orders again. The creatures hesitate, their eyes darting between their master and Y/N, uncertainty flickering in their expressions. “NOW!” He yells causing the monsters and Y/N to flinch when they made no move.  

He lowers his cloak and Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat seeing the man who saved her son standing there, a dark and menacing look on his face. A few of the creatures let out a disgruntled growl as they slinked back into the shadows, leaving the man with her. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice softer now as he holds his hand out towards her.  

Y/N hesitates, her instincts screaming at her to run, but something holds her back. It’s a sense of familiarity that she can’t quite grasp. She's sure she hasn't seen this man until today. "Who are you?" she questions, placing her hand in his. 

“Let me show you,” he says and waves a hand in front of him. 

Suddenly, images begin to swirl around them. A young faceless girl and boy are seen running through the fields, playfully chasing each other.  

As the scenes shift, they appear older; the girl is twirling to the melody played by a man with a guitar, while the boy sits nearby, completely captivated by her. The way he looks at her tells Y/N that this boy may have loved her more than he let on.  

The next scene reveals the boy’s heartbreak as he watches the girl interact with a wealthier suitor, confirming Y/N’s suspicions.  

The atmosphere shifts dramatically as the scene shifts once again. The boy, now a man, encounters the girl, now a woman, with her face marked with bruises and a deep sadness in her eyes. Y/N’s heart races as she watches the man’s reaction. An anger overcomes him as he reaches out to her, his expression a mix of concern and determination. 

“What happened to her?” Y/N finds herself asking, her voice barely a whispers as it trembles with emotion. 

The scene changes one final time, leaving Y/N horrified. Before her lies the woman on the ground, her body covered in bruises, with blood staining her chest and stomach. This time, she can clearly see the woman’s face. It’s her. 

She stumbles back, her eyes widening in horror as her heart pounds in her chest. The man manages to steady her as the same man kneels beside her, his hands shaking as he cradles her head, tears streaming down his face, a raw expression of grief and helplessness.  

“You were never supposed to marry your husband,” the man speaks, his lips close to her ear as they watch the scene in front of them unfolding. “We were supposed to run away together but we never got the chance to.” 

Tears start to stream down Y/N's cheeks, feeling the overwhelming sadness and heartache coming from him in the scene that’s still playing.  

“I found out that you had chosen him to save me,” he continues, his voice bubbling with rage. “But then I saw you in the market that day and something switched. We could no longer deny what was between us and we started making our plans to run away again, especially after you found out you were pregnant.” 

Hearing the last part, her hands instinctively went to her stomach. She feels the phantom ache of a child she never had. 

"He found out and had you murdered," he tells her. “And then I made a deal with the devil to make sure he will suffer an eternity in hell.” He turns her around to face him. “And now I’m making damn well sure the devil is keeping to his side of the deal.” Lifting a hand to her face, he cups her cheek and presses his lips softly to hers before pulling away before she could respond. “I really hope you remember this,” he says before waving his hand in front of her face and sending her into a dreamless sleep. 

Hongjoong stands up straight as he watches her relax in her sleep, free from her nightmares. He brushes away a tear that has slipped down her cheek and takes a step back as she begins to stir. Before she can awaken, he slips out of her bedroom and enters the little boy's room. As Hongjoong looks down at the boy, there is no denying that the boy is his son. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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[darnell-la]

Season 1 duo Bellamy & Murphy kinda give me ghostface vibes.

note: two ain’t too bad…

———

Halloween was a thing on the Ark, but this year, it had gotten out of hand. All the kids were drunk, fighting, smoking, or doing something that wasn’t allowed on the Ark.

Y/n, Clark, and Wells decided not to participate this year and maybe sleep in this camper they found a little while from the camp Bellamy ruled.

“It’s not too dark, guys. I’ll be back in thirty,” y/n said as she opened the door of the camper. “If it gets too dark by the time you get there, just stay with Monty and Jasper,” Wells said, and that was exactly what she was going to do.

After walking for what felt like too long, y/n could hear the music coming from the camp. She sighed, knowing Monty and Jasper would beg her to stay, but she couldn’t.

“Hello!?” Y/n jumped as she heard something behind her. Laughter echoed through the woods, making goosebumps form on her arms. She knew she wasn’t alone when she began walking, but now she felt like these people could be someone other than the 100.

“How’s your night goin, princess?” A familiar voice asked, but y/n couldn’t say anything. It was darker than she had thought. “Look- I don’t know who you are, but my friends are looking for me,” Y/n said as another person laughed.

“I don’t think they are,” as soon as the person spoke, she knew who it was. “Murphy!? Bellamy!?” Y/n shouted, upset that they were playing some kind of prank on her.

“I’ll have Monty and Jasper kick your ass if I don’t make it back to make more moon juice for them,”

It went silent for a good few minutes, making y/n roll her eyes before continuing her walk. She only took a few steps before she saw Bellamy in front of her.

“They’re drunk right now, and I got their walkie,” Bellamy showed Jaspers walkie that she thought she signaled her on. “What the fuck is your problem? It’s late and dangerous out here,” y/n turned around to leave, but Murphy walked in her face.

“Yeah, we know, and you were just so stupid to come out here alone,” the smile on Murphy’s face made her feel uneasy. He always looked at her like this, but tonight, she felt different.

“What do you guys want?” Y/n asked as she backed up, and to the side, but a tree stopped her from getting further away front them.

“You said you’d party with us, princess what groomed with that?” Bellamy asked. “Her friends happened. Didn’t want her drunk out of her mind,” Murphy reminded him.

“Oh, yeah — Maybe they knew what we were up to,” Bellamy said as one of his hands rubbed her cheek and the other gripped her waist. Flirting wasn’t new to y/n, but doing all this at night was.

“Guys, it’s too late for this, okay? I need to get back with my friends-“ y/n tried saying, but Murphy cut her off by pulling out a knife and pointing it at her neck. “They’re not expecting you, baby, and you know that,”

“Murphy, what the fuck-“ y/n was cut off again, but this time by Bellamy. “Ssh ssh — Don’t cause a scene. Just comply,” y/n got confused until Murphy backed up and Bellamy pushed her to her knees.

“Hey- What are you doing?” Y/n tried pushing the grip of her hair away, but he was strong. “I see the way you look at me. Always teasin, but never do anything. Well, tonight, I’m going to do somethin’ about it,”

Y/n’s eyes instantly widened at the length of Bellamy. She went to move, but Murphy quickly flashed his knife again. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but she kept their small fantasy going. She knew they knew she wanted this as much as they did.

“Be a good girl, and open up,” Murphy said as he tugged on his jeans. Y/n did as told and allowed Bellamy to fill her throat. Y/n instantly gagged, collapsing her throat around Bellamy’s cock, only making him feel better about what they planned.

“Fuck,” was all Bellamy could say before Murphy moved closer to y/n’s face. Bellamy pulled out only a little to allow Murphy to fit in her mouth as well. All he did was laugh in disbelief. She looked so good like this. “Pretty girl gonna take us out here, ain’t she?”

“Hell, yeah she is,"

[louloulemons-posts]

Hi! I love how much fluff is in your fics 💜 So comforting

Can I request Eddie and reader having Halloween date at home?

A lot of cuddles, pizza, classic horror movies and themed food? 🥺

Have a nice day!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I hope this fulfils what you were hoping for 🤍

Spooky Date Night

Eddie Munson X Reader

Summary : Eddie plans a date for him and his girlfriend.

Word Count : 1.5k

Warnings : Pure fluff, mentions of horror movies, swearing, knives (pumpkin carving), use of Y/N, pet names, not proofread.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You couldn’t wait, Eddie had invited you over to the trailer for a date. One that he had not let you know anything about whatsoever. All he said was dress comfy, pack an overnight bag and come over at 6:30.

All of those things were done, dressed in some sweatpants and a long sleeve tee with a jumper and jacket over top, you tried to hide from the chilly October air.

Pulling up to the trailer and parking next to Eddies van. Grabbing your bag from the seat beside you you climbed out and knocked on his door.

You heard his voice, “Coming!” Soon enough the door was pulled open and there stood Eddie Munson, a grin on his face. “Hey Angel! Come on in.”

You did so, sliding off your beat up shoes and leaving them next to Eddies favourites. Looking up the trailer looked a lot different to how it normally did.

There were fake cobwebs everywhere, candles lit, the room was dark but cosy. There were pumpkins on the counter, pizza and Halloween candy on the table. A high pile of videos to watch.

“What do you think?” He asked, stepping from one foot to the other nervously. “It looks great! You did all this?” You asked him. He nodded, “Yeah thought we could have a spooky night, as we’re going to that party on Halloween night.”

“You’re something else Munson, just the sweetest guy,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. “I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you go put your stuff in our room I’ll get us some drinks and plates for food.”

You nodded and went to drop your bag off in his room, you did have spare clothes at Eddies, even then you borrowed his. It was very likely that by the end of the night you’d end up in the worn Black Sabbath shirt he was wearing currently.

You went back to join him on his couch, as he put a couple slices of pizza on your plate.

“It’s so cozy in here, should convince Wayne to keep it like this.”

“It was hard enough to convince him to let me do this,” you both laughed at that.

“So what movies have we got?”

“I got a selection, classics, Halloween, Jaws, Nightmare on Elmstreet and The Shining. Some less scary ones cause I want you to get some sleep, so Rocky Horror.”

You hummed, there were a couple more in the pile too, you assumed that’s why he asked you over so early. “Got us some pumpkins to carve too, cause you know, best part of Halloween.”

You could only smile at him, he thought of all of this. You both loved Halloween, that was one of the things you bonded over when you first met. People freaking out over Christmas when you were already waiting for the Spooky Season to roll back around.

So the pair of you tucked into your pizza, chatting away and giggling ready to start your spooky evening.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After you’d cleared up your plates and Pizza boxes, Eddie and you grabbed some knives, pens and a big bowl for your pumpkin carving. Rolling up your sleeves, you pulled the orange veggie towards you.

“Damn getting serious babe,” Eddie laughed. “You know it, want me to tie your hair back?” You asked him, he nodded, and held out his wrist. A hair tie sat there, it was for either you or him, depending on the situation.

Pulling his curls out of his face, you tied them in a low pony that sat at the base of his neck. Kissing the top of his head you sat back next to him. “Thanks Angel.”

Picking up a pen you began to draw your design on your pumpkin. Planning on doing a some what traditional one, triangle eyes and nose and a toothy grin.

You could tell Eddie was going the opposite route, assuming something with a fearsome face, that could potentially scare trick or treaters away.

Once you were both happy with your designs, you picked up your knives and began to cut off the top. Making lid for the little guys, pulling it off you smiled, proud of how even it was.

“Nice work babe,” Eddie smiled, soon pulling his own off. “Thanks, you too.” Placing it down you stood up. “Where you off too?” He asked. “To get spoons, we forgot them.”

“We don’t need spoons!” Eddie said before shoving his hand in the pumpkin. It came out covered in seeds and stringy insides. “Gross pumpkin guts!” You exclaimed.

“Dare you to try some.”

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s just pumpkin.”

“It’s grim Eds, look at it!” He grinned at you. “Don’t you dare.” You took a step back and Eddie stood up.

“Stay away!” He lunged for you and you squealed, running through the kitchen, the boy cackling as he chased you. “Edward Munson go away!”

You could feel him behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, you screamed. He rubbed his sticky hand on your face slightly.

“Get off!” You shouted. He laughed again, dropping his head to your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “You’re a terrible boyfriend, did you know that?” You asked,turning to face him.

He couldn’t help out laugh, that was until you got your hand and wiped some of the pumpkin off your face and onto his lips. He spluttered, “Ew gross!” He exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Your jack o lanterns now sat on the side with candles in. “Can’t believe I knocked his tooth out, he’s all gappy now!” You whined, dropping your head on to Eddie.

“I think he’s cute Angel. We got a cute one and a scary one, it’s like me and you.”

“You calling me gappy Edward Munson?”

“Who said you’re the cute one?” He cocked a brow.

You went to retaliate but he pecked your lips, “Pick a movie, I’m going to the bathroom.” He stood from the couch and walked away.

Looking through them, you decided that Halloween was the best one to start with.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was almost 12pm and you were now watching Nightmare on Elmstreet, pushing yourself closer to Eddie. “You okay?” He asked.

“Mhm, he’s just creepy,” you said. The boy wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest and his own on top of yours. He pressed a kiss to you and smiled.

Freddie Kruger popped up on screen making you jump and hide your face in Eddies chest, squealing as you did so. “Oh sweet girl it’s okay,” he spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

“Want me to turn it off?” You shook you head, no. “Okay but after this, Rocky Horror okay?”

“‘Mkay.” Pecking the top of your head once more, you moved your eyes to the screen once more.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You were about half way through Rocky Horror when your eyes grew heavy. It was nearing 1am, and you hadn’t moved from your position, snuggled in Eddies chest.

Relaxing fully, you let your eyes fall close, comfy and calm. No fear of Freddie Kruger or Michael Myers or even a giant Shark coming to get you.

Soon enough you were asleep in Eddies arms. Huffing a laugh, he gave you a light squeeze, allowing himself to relax too.

He was nervous this date wouldn’t be something you liked, he just wanted to make you happy. He knew he’d done that, from your laughter, to the play fighting to now, you snoozing in his arms softly.

Eddies became drowsy himself, he’d been up early to clean and decorate the trailer to make everything perfect for you. He didn’t mind, he’d do anything for you.

The boy soon followed your actions and drifted off himself, the sound of Tim Curry’s voice lulling you both.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A firm hand shook Eddies shoulder, making him jump awake. He met the eyes of his uncle Wayne. “Oh hey,” he said voice thick with sleep.

“Hey, sorry to wake you, but you’re in my bed,” he motioned to the couch.

“Shit sorry Wayne.” Eddie slowly slid you off him, resting you softly on the cushions.

Back cracking lightly as he stretched, he reached down for you, pulling your sleeping figure into his arms. “We’ll get out of your way, and I’ll clean up in the morning.”

“It’s 5am it’s morning. Just keep it down okay, it’s been a long shift.”

“Sure, do you need anything?” The boy asked his uncle.

“Just some sleep, you get yourself and Y/N to bed Son. So get outta my room.”

“Night Wayne.” He grunted back at Eddie, turning off the TV, that had a static screen, and grabbed his blanket from the back.

Eddie held you close to his chest as he wandered to the bedroom, keeping you as comfy as he could. Laying you down gently, you whined lightly.

“It’s okay Sweet Girl go back to sleep, ,” he hushed, stroking your hair. Laying down next to you, he pulled the blanket over both of your figures.

Soon enough the room was full of your snores, reaching for one another even in your sleepy state. It had been a great night.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[therealmsdelulu]

Frights and Fractures☆

Prompt☆: Character accidentally gets hurt in a spooky attraction and a scare actor breaks character to help. From this: prompt list

Summary☆: When Spencer Reid gets hurt during a haunted house, the scare actor is more than willing to lose their job in order to help.

Pairing☆: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Warnings☆: Injury (fractured ankle). Physch major hate(jokingly)Mentions of gaslighting(in a humorous way though)

A/N☆:: Guys be warned, a lot of my humor is shown through Y/N and I think I'm a comedian 😀 Also first Spencer fic!

W.C☆:1.3k

Halloween was always a favorite of yours. You loved everything spooky and you adored the fall season. Once you were 'too old' for trick or treating, you decided to sign up as a scare actor at the nearest haunted house.

You got paid a decent amount and it was a really fun job. You got to make people's day all while giving them a small scare.

Your character was a fan favorite. You played one of the nurses in the abandoned asylum. Most visitors liked you because you were attractive but there was a small fraction of visitors who appreciated your humor.

You were creeping around the long and eerie hallways searching for your next victim when your eyes fell upon a tall and slender brunette who was obviously lost and desperately searching for whoever he came with.

He was dressed in a black, oversized sweater scattered with spiderwebs and pumpkins. He was actually pretty cute from what you could see. You smiled to yourself before remembering that you were on the clock.

You followed him around for a few minutes before you decided to strike. You pressed a button on your remote which was supposed to cause a wheelchair prop to slowly roll across the floor, a tame spook to get started.

However, when you pressed the button it prompted the wheelchair to roll out onto the floor at a faster speed than it was programmed to, causing the man to topple over before he could even register what was happening.

You gasped quietly and covered your mouth contemplating whether you wanted to laugh or go help. Technically you weren't allowed to break character or interact with visitors outside of scaring them, but once you heard the man groan in pain you quickly approached him.

"Hey, you okay?" you asked kneeling down next to him.

"What just happen?" he looked around searching for the source of his injury.

"You got wiped out by a run-away wheelchair," you said quietly, biting your lower lip to stifle a laugh, not being able to say that seriously.

"How ironic," he half-smiled before attempting to stand up but he winced quietly.

"Don't move," you insisted and began to reach out to inspect his ankle but quickly retracted your hands. "Do you mind if I check it out?"

"Do you have any actual medical training?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm CPR certified," you shrugged flashing him a small smile.

"Knock yourself out," he said and you gently squeezed his ankle watching his face for any signs of discomfort. You pulled away your hand when you saw his small flinch.

"Sorry," you apologized softly. "It might be broken," you concluded even though you had no way of knowing for sure.

"Actually, it's probably a lateral malleolus fracture. That's the most common type of ankle fracture," he corrected you.

"And what exactly is a lateral whatever you just said?"

"It's the outer part of your ankle," he clarified flashing you a small smile.

"Are you a doctor?" you wondered how he diagnosed himself without even giving it a second thought.

"Not the medical kind, but yes,"

"Ooh, that's impressive," you said in genuine amazement. "So what do you do for work? Are you a professor or something,"

"I'm a profiler," he informed you.

"Really? I've always hated phsych majors, this is even worse,"

"How so?" he inquired, searching for even the slightest bit of context.

"I feel like psych majors are just training to be professional gaslighters." you explained, you were joking but there was a small hint of seriousness in your tone

"But you play a nurse in an asylum" he pointed out.

"True," you smiled, "I should ask to play a different character,"

"Did you know that clinical psychologists make up the single largest specialty area in psychology?" he asked you and you smiled at the way his eyes lit up as he spoke.

"Clinicians are psychologists who assess, diagnose and treat mental illnesses," he elaborated with a bright smile and you listened attentively as he spoke.

"Many individuals study psychology because they want to better understand themselves or those around them. Through learning psychology, you gain a deeper understanding of the many factors that affect human behavior." he added, moving his hands in dramatic motions as he spoke. You looked into his eyes as he spoke, genuinely paying attention to what he had to say, and as he finished talking he looked into your eyes as well maintaining the eye contact for a moment before looking away shyly.

"I'm rambling aren't I?" he asked with a shy smile.

"A little, but I don't mind." you flashed him a sweet smile. "Your voice is actually really calming."

"I'm not used to hearing that," he said quietly and flashed you a small smile of appreciation.

In the brief moment of silence that followed, you took the moment to take in his features.

He was the prettiest guy you had ever seen. He had soft, hazel eyes. A warm honey color with a slight hint of green. Your eyes traced the outline of his plump lips that were tinted a soft pink and he finally realized that you were checking him out.

"Were you flirting with me?" he asked, his cheeks a faint pink hue.

"For a profiler, you really suck at picking up social queues," you teased with a sly smile.

"I get that a lot" he said smiling sheepishly when your moment was suddenly interrupted by the sound of shouting

"Spencer!" you heard a deep, masculine voice yell.

"Reid?" you heard a more feminine voice yell.

"Over here!" he yelled and you discovered his name was Spencer. Suddenly, a group of 2 women and a man approached the two of you.

"We lose him for 5 minutes and he somehow manages to get hurt," the dark-haired woman said to the bald man.

"I think pretty boy did it on purpose," the bald man said gesturing towards you and the brunette man and a red-headed woman, wearing the most flashy and unique outfit you had ever seen, ruffled Spencer's hair.

"Looks like he's in good hands," the redhead said smiling at you.

"Well unfortunately, I'm not a real nurse." you smiled at the woman.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"Lateral malleolus fracture," you and Spencer said at the same time and shyly smiled at one another.

"Right," the brunette woman deadpanned sharing a look with the man next to her. "And you are?"

"Y/N, and you three are?"

"Penelope Garcia," the red-headed woman introduced herself.

"Emily Prentiss," the darker haired woman said flashing you a small smile.

"Derek Morgan," the bald man introduced himself with a small, playful wink and Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Do you flirt with every one you see?" Emily asked with an eye roll of her own.

"So, I'm assuming you guys are profilers too?" you asked the group.

"Those two yes, I'm a technical analyst," Garcia explained.

"I feel extremely unsafe right now," you joked and Spencer shook his head with laughter.

"Unsafe?" Morgan asks tilting his head visibly confused

"Inside joke," you and Spencer said at the same time and began laughing even harder.

"You guys have been alone for like 5 minutes and you already have an inside joke?" Prentiss asked sharing a look with Garcia and curling her lips in a small smirk.

"My man," Morgan said with a smile patting Spencer on the back and you watched as his cheeks turned a faint hue of crimson.

"Are you done?" Spencer asked pretending to be irritated with the man even though he was biting back a smile.

"You should probably go see an actual nurse now," you suggested with a half-smile gesturing towards his ankles.

"Right," he said with a slight pout and it took everything in you not to kiss it away. Morgan and Prentiss began to lift him up making sure he didn't put any weight on his ankle and you blew Spencer a kiss as they walked towards the exit.

"Wait, Y/N?" Spencer blurted, he turned around and flashed you a small grin,"Could I possibly get your number? You know, In case I need a second opinion?"

☆My submission for the CM Meet Cute (or not) Challenge 📚☕️ by @imagining-in-the-margins

[winchesterszvonecek]

hii can i request “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.” from the autumn prompt list with mike dodds?🥺 yk like it's halloween season and the precinct gets a lead to some house but when they get there it's decorated like a haunted house (with jumpscares and stuff) so reader is jumpy and mike laughs at her at the time but afterwards he's worried and hugs her and they have a moment and there's fluff etc

Haunted House - [ Mike Dodds ]

Prompt: “I’m not scared.” “Your face says otherwise.”

Word Count: 4654

Warnings: female!reader, use of y/n, mentions of jump scares, brief mentions of dismembered limbs

A/N: this is my first Mike work so please be nice lol

Masterlist | Mike Masterlist

Ever since it fell abandoned back in the late 1800’s, the old Sunnydale Asylum had easily grown legend to many a spooky tale.

From sightings of disoriented patients still clad in their dirty, white gowns, and left to wander halls forever as ghostly apparitions seeking peace. To the spine tingling story of the doctor who once ran the hospital still eager to lobotomise anyone he deemed fit, the asylum had grown to be quite the destination for those with a thrill for scares.

In fact, it became so popular for tourists and city dwellers alike that on every Halloween since before you were born the owners would set up the most intense haunted house inside, leading those who were brave enough to enter on a terrifying, bloodcurdling journey throughout history.

“God, there is nothing sunny about this place,” You muttered, feeling easily unsettled as your eyes landed on the moulding, degrading sign of the asylum.  The very sight of the smiling sun above the name, sent a fierce shiver rippling down your spine and you ran your hands up and down your arms, following Mike reluctantly, yet quickly, down the path before he ended up too far away for comfort. 

You never would have come here willingly. You hated anything even remotely scary and a haunted asylum, filled with actors waiting to pop out on you, was the very last place you ever could have wished to spend your Halloween. You’d wanted to spend it at home, watching something light and fun, but unfortunately for you duty had called in the shape of a case and for some reason…For some, the universe hates me, what did I do to deserve this? Reason, it had led you straight to the very asylum that you never wanted to see with your own two eyes. 

“I hate this already,” You complained, tailing Mike towards the ticket booth that had a line way too long for your liking as who would ever put themselves in such a situation as this if not under threat of immediate death? “Why is this place even allowed to be open? I thought some guy died in it last year.” 

“He fell down the stairs,” Mike replied casually, glancing briefly towards you. “He wasn’t murdered by a ghost.” 

You scoffed, “Yeah, that you know of. But who’s to say a ghost didn’t push him?” 

Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at your dramatic nature as the two of you weaved your way through the crowds of people waiting for their turn inside, many of whom were actually dressed as asylum patients and had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up already. 

Why, oh why, hadn’t you just gone to the landfill site with Carisi? 

“Excuse me,” Mike said as you approached the ticket counter, gaining the attention of the rather young looking man, dressed as an orderly, who sat behind it. “I’m Sergeant Dodds, this is Detective Y/L/N of the NYPD. We’re looking for a James Santos, we were told he works here.” 

With his mouth hanging open, the ticket guy said nothing for a split second before his reddened eyes widened in realisation and he nodded, “Oh, you mean Jimmy.” 

Okay, so he was high. Great. 

“Yeah, he works here,” The guy continued, yet he didn’t bother to elaborate further until Mike snapped him back into reality with a click of his fingers, startling the kid terribly and causing him to shuffle in his seat. “But, uh, he’s inside. He's one of the actors down in the South Wing… Look for the guy in the straight jacket and the muzzle.” 

“Muzzle?” Mike repeated, curious.

“Yeah, you know… Like Hannibal Lecter,” The guy said, watching as Mike narrowed his eyes a little before shaking his head and the whole thing off entirely. 

It was too late, too cold, and he was far too eager to close this case to bother dumbing himself down anymore by talking to a stoned twenty-something year old. 

“Is there any way you can get Jimmy out here?” Mike asked, yet to you it seemed more like an order than a question. Something you were extremely thankful for as you did not want to go inside there and have to look for a guy impersonating a cannibal.

“Sorry, dude, I wish I could help. But once they’re inside and in costume they’re off the grid as cellphones kinda ruin the vibe.” 

“Well, is there any other way for us to get inside?” You asked hopefully, as you were already twitching minutely at the faint screams you could hear from inside the asylum, therefore you didn’t even want to imagine what you might look like should you be forced to walk through them. “Maybe an unlocked fire exit somewhere?” 

“No, we keep all the fire exits locked from the outside to stop kids from sneaking in,” The ticket guy replied plainly, only tightening the thick rope building in your stomach as if kids weren’t allowed inside…then what the hell kind of horrors lay beyond those doors?

“What about a back door?” You questioned toughly, finding yourself in sudden interrogation mode from the fear you had over venturing inside. “This is an old asylum, there’s bound to be other entrances.” 

“Look, lady…”

“It’s detective,” Mike corrected harshly, his teeth gritted together so hard you were surprised he had any left. 

“Detective,” The ticket guy corrected nervously, his attitude easily shifting as he became all but sober under the weight of Mike’s heavy glare. Even you were taken aback by his sudden harshness, and if it hadn’t been for the gentle, yet brave, pat on the arm you gave him to help him relax, you were afraid he might have launched himself over the counter and supplied the haunted attraction with an extra body to display. “The only other door is all the way around back.” 

“Great,” You said happily, tapping the desk with your knuckles before stepping back. “We’ll go that way then, you mind showing us?”

“It’s a fifteen minute walk through the forest,” The guy added, his eyebrow raised questionably. “Are you sure you want to? I mean… I don’t know if you know this but there’s stories of those woods being haunted…” 

“We’re not walking through the woods,” Mike stated, causing the guy to snap his mouth shut instantly and look away. You did the opposite though, in that you twisted your neck so quickly to look up at him you could have starred as a special performance of Regan from The Exorcist. He saw you easily from the corner of his eye, your mouth gaped like a fish and your eyes hard. “What?” 

“I’m not going in there.” 

“Why?” Mike asked, puzzlement sitting deep in his features until they slowly began to loosen. You, yourself, stiffened, as a smile etched its way onto his face at the sudden realisation of exactly why you would rather walk around through woods than use the front door. “Wait a minute… Are you scared to go inside?” 

“What?” You chuckled delusionally, your tone an octave higher than usual as Mike studied you, nothing but an annoying doubt plastering his otherwise handsome face as he saw right through your facade. You drew your tongue awkwardly over your back teeth as you added, unconfidently, “I’m not scared.” 

“Really? Because your face says otherwise,” Mike replied bluntly, humorously, causing your aforementioned fear riddled face to shift instantly into a frown that he couldn’t help but find ridiculously adorable. He always loved seeing you get all riled up like this. 

“Fine, you wanna go in?” You asked, a newfound wave of bravery coursing through your veins at his obvious smugness. He nodded, his hands on his hips as you stared up at him, your arms folded and your stance firm. “Then let’s go in, sergeant.” 

“Happy to,” Mike said wittily, knowing damn well you did not want to go in and that you weren’t happy with him knowing it either…otherwise, you wouldn’t have called him sergeant. He stepped aside, dropping his hands and motioning for you to go first as a smug smirk rose to his lips, “After you, detective.” 

A disgruntled huff left your nose as you strolled past him, keeping your shoulders high as you put on a brave face in hopes that he couldn’t tell how truly scared you were to go inside. Which wasn’t much, you know, your bones just practically shook beneath your skin as you ascended the steps. Each flickering light that caught your eye or ear piercing scream that met your ears caused your stomach to lurch inside you and if you weren’t careful, it was likely going to force its way up and land in front of you, but other than that you were just peachy. 

“Well, good luck,” The ticket guy called cheerfully after you, causing you to almost spin back around and arrest him. 

However, luckily for him and tragically for you, Mike’s large frame following behind you easily stopped you from turning around, meaning you had no choice but to carry on towards the building. You already felt uneasy. From the mere sight alone of the large double doors that were peeling away and rusty, you knew that what lay beyond was going to be ten times worse than what was outside.

Nevertheless you carried on, reaching the top of the steps far quicker than you’d have liked. You lifted your shaking hand reluctantly, curling it around the handle and sucking in a sickly breath as you mustered up all the courage you had in you to push it open. You could feel Mike lingering behind you, the heat of his body so close to your own yet it didn’t allow you to feel nearly as much comfort as it might have done, not with the horror that stood beyond the door you still hadn’t opened. 

“Oh, you are so scared,” Mike laughed, nudging you playfully with his elbow and finding even more amusement when you shoved him away to the other side of the step. “Do you want me to open it?” 

“No,” You replied, your word a little choked that it caused you to clear your throat roughly. “No. I can do it.” 

You heard Mike hum sceptically as he retreated back to you, yet he did nothing. He just lingered beside you patiently, watching as your focus grew distant and you forced the fear to momentarily leave your mind just long enough to allow you to power through. You took a deep breath, pushing open the heavy door as the air left your lungs in a shudder. 

God, you were already regretting this. From the eerily wailing sound of the hinges creaking open, and the pitch black darkness that engulfed you from the second you stepped across the threshold, you knew this was a bad idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle. But at the same time, you were also stubborn. You didn’t want Mike to win…whatever game it was that you two were playing and even if you hadn’t you still wouldn’t have been able to turn around, not when Mike had already closed the door behind him and was now hidden…somewhere amongst the shadows around you.

You couldn’t sense him. You couldn’t hear him, not with how hard your heart was pounding inside your chest and all the way up to your ears. You couldn’t even feel his usual presence around you either and that worried you. It terrified you, rather, as if there was one thing worse than being in a haunted asylum…it was being in one alone after Mike decided to be a dick and stay outside. 

“Dodds?” You whispered, swallowing thickly at the echo of creepy laughter that swept through the room around you. 

Against your better judgement you then stepped further into the foyer, hoping that at least hearing Mike’s footsteps follow you in would give you a general sense as to his position. But when you heard nothing, not a single peep besides distant screams of those further inside, you began to sweat…Both from your body, and from your eyes.

“Mike, I’m serious,” You said…seriously, and both of you could tell you were as you’d never once had you called him by his first name. “Where are you? This isn’t funny.” 

At the moment a hand clasped onto your shoulder and made you jump so hard you might have cried had Mike not appeared from within the darkness, a knowing, amused, smile tugging at his lips, “Come on, it’s a little funny.” 

“God, you’re such a dick sometimes,” You muttered bluntly, a very real anger towards him building inside you as you shrugged out from under his hand. 

Only, when you went to walk away from him to emphasise that you were huffing with him and would rather go alone, a skeleton swung down from the ceiling right in front of you. You screamed, your heart leaping in your chest as you stumbled back, feeling the firmness of Mike’s chest behind you as he caught you, his hands holding your outer arms gently before you ended up tripping over your own eagerness to run.  

“So, you’re not scared, huh?” He whispered tauntingly into your ear, causing an entirely different sensation to tingle down your spine. You shrugged out from within his grasp again and stepped away, hearing a pleased chuckle leaving his lips as he followed suit and placed his hand back on your shoulder. Only this time, as a way of comfort. “Come on, I promise I’ll keep you safe.” 

With a reluctant, heavy sigh you nodded and allowed him to lead the way as you mumbled, “Great, just a fun trip into an asylum to get killed.” 

Mike laughed, “We’re not gonna get killed.” 

“Maimed.” 

“Y/N/N.”

“Stabbed.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Beaten.” 

“Y/N.” 

“Burned.” 

“Y/N.” 

“What?” You said innocently, watching as Mike struggled to hide his smile at your incessant rambles of the danger that would likely never succumb to you in here. He kept quiet though, as no matter what he said to you about you being perfectly safe with him, he knew it wouldn’t sink into your stubborn mind until you were back in the true safety of the precinct. 

Instead, he simply continued to lead you further into the asylum, constantly checking to make sure you hadn’t passed out behind him each time an actor jumped out to try and startle you both. He was fine with it, a small twitch of his shoulders every now and then but you… You hated every single minute of it. 

It didn’t matter that Mike was at the front and was the primary target of the scare, you still seemed to take the full brunt of it and each time a disturbing, how did he even manage to make himself look like that? actor would pop out from within a locker or lunge out from behind a door, you would scream like a little kid and lurch forward to cling to Mike’s arm. Not that he minded, though. He kind of liked having you this close to him, and each time he’d feel your face press against his bicep as you hid it from view, his heart would literally skip a beat. 

However, as the two of you delved further into the asylum and had yet to come across another jumpscare actor in the last five minutes, you grew uneasy and on edge, and because of that, you did something Mike wasn’t the least bit prepared for… Nor did he even know how to react when you did. 

“Y/N,” Mike said quietly, almost nervously. He heard you hum from next to him, your pitch a lot higher than it should be as he came to a slow stop. You glanced up at him questionably, your eyebrow raised where his was dipped and the way he kept dropping his gaze between your bodies only heightened your sense of intrigue, and so with a partial widened of your eyes you urged him to speak his words. Something you’d regret the second they slipped past his lips. “You’re uh… You’re holding my hand.” 

With your face dropping, you instantly snatched your hand back and looked away from him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as your stomach began to flutter furiously. Oh God, you hadn’t meant to do that. You hadn’t meant to… Shit. You’d only meant to take a subtle hold of the cuff of his jacket with your fingers just to make sure you didn’t get separated, but you were literally so scared of something popping out in front of you that you held his hand.  

“Sorry,” You mumbled, tugging your sleeves down over your hands as you sucked in a shaky breath and tried to force yourself to look back at him. 

You didn’t want to, not by a long shot. You didn’t want to see the cringed look in his eyes over having you hold his hand but you knew you had to. Not only did you want to keep what remaining dignity you had left but you had a job to do and you literally couldn’t stomach where your eyes were facing now… as there was a concerningly realistic decapitated head sitting in a pool of blood next to you and it was making you want to reach out and take Mike’s damn hand again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike replied as casually as he could, watching as you turned around and smiled at him…a proper, genuine smile that could strike a man smitten had he not been so already. He could have kissed you. Hell, he was going to, had he not spotted the opportunity of a lifetime sitting just off to his right. “I get that these things can be scary and if you really want a hand to hold, I’d be more than happy to provide you with my own.” 

With your heart literally skipping beats inside your chest, you were about to happily take him up on the offer before he slowly raised a severed hand, wiping your smile away far quicker than it had formed. 

“Or if you’d rather… I can offer you this one instead,” Mike said, rolling his lips as he struggled to not laugh at his own cheesy joke. 

You simply deadpanned him, folding your arms across your chest and refusing to even acknowledge the hand he held out towards you.

“Oh come on, lighten up…” Mike chuckled, wiggling the hand a little to gain your attention — which failed. “It’s funny.” 

“You and I have very different definitions of the word funny,” You muttered, spinning on your heels and deciding to venture further into the asylum by yourself. 

You made it a few steps before you heard a soft thud from behind you, no doubt from Mike tossing the hand aside as it was quickly followed by his hurried footsteps as he caught up to you. He fell in line with you easily, continuously peering at you out of the corner of his eye and when you kept glancing around you anxiously with one hand placed firmly on your churning stomach and the other hanging loosely by your side, he reached out his own and slipped it back into yours without so much as saying a word. 

The two of you stayed like that, with your hands clasped firmly together and your chests fluttering furiously beneath your skin, until you finally reached the room you needed to be in — the operating room. It was basic. As stereotypical as any hospital room in any horror movie could be but there was something about the lonely hand trolley that stood in the middle of the room, with a single man dressed like Hannibal Lecter strapped to it, that very deeply unsettled you.

“This is not a good use of this room,” You whispered, hearing a brief, almost amused…maybe, breath leave Mike’s nose as he slipped his hand out from yours and approached the Hannibal wannabe. 

You stayed behind, not wanting to go anywhere near him just yet until it had been established that they were not there for the scares, and were in fact cops who were investigating a brutal double homicide…Otherwise you simply wouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, as Mike came strolling back over to you with a deep look of guilt sitting heavy on his face. 

“That’s not him,” Mike said, swallowing thickly as he had no idea how you’d react to the news. You squinted questionably, prompting him to elaborate even further. “That uh, that’s not James.” 

“What do you mean? He’s the only guy in this whole place dressed like that!” You exclaimed, gesturing angrily towards the guy who had better turn into James before you got a hold of him. 

“They swapped shifts,” Mike explained, placing his hands on your shoulders to gain your attention and feeling as they rose rapidly beneath them. “James was never here.” 

With a frustrated groan, you shoved Mike’s hands away from you and made for the exit. He followed after you swiftly, jumping more at the way the door banged against the wall as you threw it open than he did at the countless horror actors who’d just spent the last twenty minutes popping out at him.  

“You’re telling me that I just went through all that…” You pointed furiously towards the asylum as your turned in the dirt with so much pressure put on your heels, that it made little dents in the dirt. “And the guy wasn’t even fucking in there!” 

“Wow, hey…” Mike exhaled, taken aback by your sudden swearing as he approached you carefully, your hands on your hips and your chest heaving with every breath you took. 

At first, he thought it was from nothing more than anger at the entire situation. Having your Halloween ruined by work… Having to drive here so late at night… Having to venture through a ridiculously cheesy haunted house set up in an otherwise creepy asylum, but the closer he got to you… the moment he saw the first glisten of the moonlight in the fresh tears that brewed in your eyes, the more he came to realise that you weren’t angry. 

No… You were scared. You were really, truly terrified that whole time and he had no idea. He thought… He thought you were just messing around. He thought it was all a game, but he literally couldn’t have been farther from the truth and honestly, it made him feel like such a dick for all but making fun of you for it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Mike said softly, his lips pressing together regretfully as he closed the gap between you, his brow pinched together with worry. “I had no idea, I thought… I thought you were just messing around. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” You sniffled, feeling like such a pathetic child for almost crying over a stupid haunted house. “You didn’t know. You… It’s fine. Really, Mike, I’m okay now.” 

“Are you though?” Mike questioned doubtfully, watching as you nodded your head with uncertainty a few times… before shifting and immediately shaking it as you were not okay. Not by a long shot. He then raised his hands and cupped your face instantly, his heart warming at how easily you seemed to relax under such a small gesture. 

At that immense softness that shrouded your features as you smiled tearfully up at him, Mike couldn’t stop himself from dropping his hands and pulling you into the safety his arms, allowing you to feel as they wrapped around you so tightly…so comfortingly that the last twenty minutes became nothing but a distant thought in your mind. Your own slipped under the warmth of his jacket and around his waist, holding him equally as tight and as close to you as you could as you all but melted against him.

You weren’t aware of just how long he held you like that. Time seemed to tick idly by without you having so much as a care in the world, not when you were here in his arms where he allowed every ounce of fear and worry to leave you entirely. It was strange… Unrealistic almost, how one simple touch from one specific person could make you feel so much better than ever thought possible. But he did. Mike made you feel better. He made you feel safe…like nothing would ever happen to you again and it was because of that…because of that sudden realisation that kicked in in your mind that you did what you did next. 

When he inevitably pulled back from you, just enough for him to glance down at you, you slipped your hands out from around him and curled your fingers tightly around the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer to your face so that you could do the one thing you’d been dying to do for weeks, and might never have found the courage to had he not hugged you. 

You kissed him. 

You pressed your lips so tenderly, so sweetly against his own that his knees almost gave out from under him even despite how quick the moment had come and gone. But it was slow enough to get Mike going and he steadied himself easily, his arm slipping securely around your waist as he brought you closer to him. You could already feel your heart racing as he placed one hand on the side of your neck and brought you towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a way that had you seeing stars, and not those that you could see in the sky just above him. 

You tightened your hold on the front of his jacket to keep him close to you, feeling the way his hand slid slowly round to the back of your head where his fingers began to weave their way through your hair as he cradled it. His tongue traced eagerly over your bottom lip as he did so, pushing them apart as it delved deep into your mouth, causing such sweet sounding hums to leave the back of your throat as he easily deepened the long, overdue kiss that the two of you never wanted to end.

“God,” Mike breathed out, when the two of you inevitably had to pull apart due to a stupid thing called oxygen, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“There was nothing stopping you, sergeant,” You said flirtatiously, dragging your bottom lip through your teeth as there was nothing causing you to be shy anymore. Not when he’d just stuck his tongue down your throat and answered all the lingering questions you could ever have about whether or not he’d have ever liked you back. “You could have kissed me like that any time you liked.” 

Mike chuckled, drawing his thumb down the softness of your kiss swollen lips, “I don’t think the guys would have liked seeing me kiss you like that in the middle of the squad room.” 

“Maybe not,” You murmured humorously, leaning up to press another gentle kiss to his lips. “But then again, we’ve all seen worse.” 

“True,” Mike replied, pecking another kiss to your mouth as it curled against him. “But I’d rather not have the whole team watching us as we did.” 

“You’d rather have an asylum full of freaks instead?” You questioned, your eyebrow raised playfully as Mike glanced towards the building and shrugged. 

“If that’s what it takes,” He said, drawing his eyes back to you and trailing his knuckles down the side of your face. “As after all…had it not been for that asylum full of freaks then I might have had to wait a whole other year for sometime to scare you badly enough to make you kiss me.”

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[gliphyartfan]

With all this Halloween talk and the holiday season coming up, what do you think are the Chain's favorite holidays? Like maybe they definitely go crazy over Valentine's to impress (Y/N), or they enjoy dressing up with her on Halloween, or want to get the best presents for December?

The Chain getting to react to (Y/N)'s modern day world is what makes the Mafia AU so much fun sometimes.

the Chain would ABSOLUTELY go all out for any holiday if it meant impressing (Y/N). Like, these boys live to make her smile (or lowkey fluster the hell out of her, let’s be real).

For Wild, Halloween. You cannot convince me otherwise. This man gets way too into the spooky season. (Plus have you SEEN the number of outfits he gets during his journey?? And I thought Legend was the hoarder.)

He’d make crazy detailed pumpkin carvings, handcraft his costumes, and definitely try to scare the others with ghost stories.

Wild would also be that guy begging (y/n) to entering a costume contest with him. insisting they’d win.

—

Four gives me Easter vibes. Like, he’s all about spring festivals, decorating eggs, and planning scavenger hunts. (Definitely would have fun with scavenger hunts)

He’d make the cutest little handmade gifts for (Y/N), and his attention to detail would shine.

He’d love the quiet renewal vibe of spring, maybe even taking her out to see the blooming flowers or just enjoying nature together, maybe look around for Minish stumps.

—-

Wind lives for loud, vibrant holidays, so Independence Day. But honestly, it’s just the fact that summer festivals are totally his thing. So maybe he’s a summer solstice type of guy? Or just a festival guy.

He’d drag (Y/N) through every booth, share festival snacks, and challenge her to games just so he can show off.

And the fireworks?? He’d point to every single one like, ‘See that? That one reminds me of you, totally explosive and amazing.’

…or (y/n) would say that to him. It’s always a toss up on who says it first.

—

Warriors? Oh him?

Mr. 🎄 Christmas King 🎄 himself.

He thrives during Christmas because it’s all about being generous and thoughtful.

Wars would make sure (Y/N) has the perfect present.. like something she mentioned wanting once six months ago and totally forgot about.

He’s got the ‘cozy holiday movie + hot cocoa + subtle arm around her shoulder’ game down. The guy’s just a pro.

(Also, especially cause it messing with Wild, would be the guy who’s start openly planning Christmas decorations right after Halloween ends. Like midnight on the dot he is talking about Christmas Decorations and Wild is frothing at the mouth.)

—

Legend was a toughie, but honestly? He’s is the biggest troll, so it’s April Fool’s Day for him. (Cause I love the idea that he’d enjoy such a day.?

He’d prank (Y/N) but in like, the most harmless and clever ways possible. And if she got him back? He’d actually respect her for it.

…i mean he’d still prank her back. But he’d respect her for managing to get him.

but he secretly loves seeing (Y/N) laugh, even if it’s at his expense.

Don’t worry folks, his pranks always delight her.

(…the others on the other hand…~)

—

Dear Hyrule? Winter Solstice. Rulie’s a soft boy who loves those quiet, magical moments of that time.

He’d take (Y/N) out to stargaze, wrapping her in blankets, have hot cocoa or tea and telling her the most heartfelt stories about constellations, his fairy sisters. and ancient magic.

His gifts would be small but meaningful, like charms or trinkets he made himself. (He’s got cozy solstice energy, fight me on this.)

—

Twilight equals AUTUMN KING ALERT.

Harvest festivals, any holiday that involves cozy vibes and homecooked meals? That’s all him.

He’s also got big ‘pile on the couch after dinner’ energy, and if it also involves wrapping (y/n) in a blanket and watching her fall asleep next to the fire/tv, he’s very up for it.

—

Imma be predictable here and say it’s gotta be Valentine’s Day for Sky. He’s hopelessly romantic and absolutely shameless about it.

He’d be the one to plan some epic, heartfelt day, handmade gifts, surprise picnics, and probably one of the Loftwing feathers he’s kept with him tucked into a letter about how much he loves her.

Bonus: He’d 100% serenade her under the stars with his harp.

—

Time was easy to think about. New Year’s is such a Time holiday. He’s all about that reflection, making quiet resolutions, and having meaningful moments. (I’d like to this it may or may not remind him about Termina’s festival, after he beat Majora. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

He’d sit with (Y/N) somewhere peaceful, watching the stars or fireworks, and subtly slip in how much he’s grateful for her being in his life. Soft vibes but romantic because it’s Time.

Also? He’d be the one to give her some small but meaningful gift like a bracelet or charm, something to keep her safe in the new year.

—

As for as a group? The boys would be INSANE during any modern holiday. Valentine’s Day? All out war to see who can impress (Y/N) the most.

Christmas? They’re fighting over who gets to be with her on Christmas Eve vs. Christmas Day. The presents have to eventually have rules. As conditioned by (y/n)

the gifts HAS to be simple, cheap, or handmade, because if she didn’t have that rule, the gifts would be ridiculous.

Halloween? Matching costumes would be a whole thing, and they’d all try to partner with her.

(Y/N)’s like, “No, I’m going solo this year” and they’re all collectively pouting.

[owl-falls-au-gravity-falls]

Hi! More questions about your au :D

1. How does Fiddlestan happen in this au? Will there be an intervention from the Hexsquad (+Mabel and probably Ford)

2. How does Eda’s Requirm episode go? Will Stan be with Eda and Raine, or be with King and luz

3. How will Ford find out about the curse?

Oki thanks byeeeee!

IN ENGLISH

Thank you so much for asking, I love answering your questions!

1. How does Fiddlestan happen in this au? Will there be an intervention from the Hexsquad, Mabel and probably Ford?

In this AU, Fiddleford and Stan meet during the events of the final season of The Owl House, here, Fiddleford was helped by Stanford (driven by guilt over losing Stan), and Fiddleford was gradually restored through therapy to a functioning man and helper in the lab.

Their dynamic would be similar to the comics where Stan and Fidds look for how to open the portal to bring Ford back, here, Fidds would be reluctant to help Stan, but when the Hex Squad uses the power of emotional manipulation, Fidds agrees and from there, everything goes naturally.

Of course, the dynamic between the two has so much chemistry that Stanford notices, is shocked by the situation and doesn't know if he wants them to be together or not, since the chaos could be caused by either of them.

And of course, the children would help make this couple a reality, especially Luz and Mabel.

2. How does "Eda's Requiem" episode go? Will Stan be with Eda and Raine or will he be with King and Luz?

For me, personally, I think Stan should be with the kids, more than anything because he is also one of the most important people for Eda, he is her best friend and accomplice in crime, but Eda knows that after hiding the truth about the portal from her, he will not want to be with her and will want to go home, just like Luz and King.

Besides the fact that I really like the idea of Luz seeing Stan as her foster father or life mentor, it would be nice to do some scenes where Stan and Luz share weird anecdotes and chat, or see them training their magic, with King it would be something similar, the three of them feel like they must return to a home that doesn't feel like their home, but at least they have each other.

And clearly Stan would know about the nice surprise King had for Eda, what he didn't know is that King saw Stan as a father too, much less that he also had papers lined up, and since he's still technically married to Eda, the rest is history.

Let's just say that tears were not lacking that day...

3. How will Ford find out about the curse?

Now we come to the most delicate question...

It would be during Halloween night, during the events of chapter 1 of the third season of The Owl House, where Hunter is possessed and the children begin to fight against Belos.

Stan would be filled with anger and helplessness to see one of his children suffering something so horrible, and of course, he would not allow something like that.

And everyone already knows what happens when Eda gets angry... So what happens next is logical...

When Ford first sees Stan's transformation, for a moment he thinks he's turning into a werewolf, but when he sees the way Stan has control over his movements and dodges Belos' attacks, he understands that this isn't something new, much less something like a normal werewolf curse, it's something more...

During a moment of the battle, Stan manages to get close to Belos/Hunter, and manages (somehow) to make Belos transfer into his body, perhaps Belos thought that controlling him would be easier, But he was wrong...

Stan had already faced his curse head on, facing Bill in his own mind, so facing Belos was not difficult.

"The only wrinkled zombie harrases my family is me!"

En español

¡Muchas gracias por preguntar, amo responder a sus preguntas!

1. ¿Cómo sucede Fiddlestan en este au? ¿Habrá una intervención del Hexsquad, Mabel y probablemente Ford?

En este AU, Fiddleford y Stan se conocen durante los eventos de la última temporada de The Owl House, aquí, Fiddleford fue ayudado por Stanford (impulsado por la culpa de haber perdido a Stan), y Fiddleford se fue recuperando con terapia hasta ser un hombre funcional y ayudante en el laboratorio

Su dinámica sería similar a los cómics donde Stan y Fidds buscan como abrir el portal para traer a Ford de vuelta, aquí, Fidds estaría reacio a ayudar a Stan, Pero cuando el Hex Squad usa el poder de la manipulación emocional, Fidds accede y desde ahí, todo marcha de forma natural

Por supuesto, la dinámica entre ambos tiene tanta química que Stanford se da cuenta, está sorprendido por la situación y no sabe si quiere que estén juntos o no, ya que el caos podría ser causado por cualquiera de los dos

Y claro, los niños ayudarían a hacer está pareja una realidad, en especial, Luz y Mabel

2. ¿Cómo va el episodio de "El Requiem de Eda"? ¿Stan estará con Eda y Raine o estará con King y Luz?

Para mí, personalmente, creo que Stan debería estar con los niños, más que nada porque el también es una de las personas más importantes para Eda, es su mejor amigo y cómplice del crimen, pero Eda sabe que después de ocultarle la verdad sobre el portal, no querrá estar con ella y querrá volver a casa, igual que Luz y King

Además de que me gusta mucho la idea de que Luz vea a Stan como su padre postizo o mentor de la vida, sería lindo hacer algunas escenas donde Stan y Luz comparten anécdotas raras y charlan, o verlos entrenando su magia, con King sería algo similar, los tres sienten que deben volver a un hogar que no siente como su hogar, Pero al menos se tienen entre si

Y claramente Stan sabría de la bonita sorpresa que King tenía para Eda, lo que no sabía es que King veía a Stan como un padre también, mucho menos que también tenía papeles preparados, y ya que técnicamente sigue casado con Eda, el resto es historia

Digamos que las lágrimas no faltaron ese día...

3. ¿Cómo se enterará Ford de la maldición?

Ahora vamos con la pregunta más delicada...

Sería durante la noche de halloween, durante los eventos del capitulo 1 de la tercera temporada de The Owl House, dónde Hunter es poseído y los niños empiezan a pelear contra Belos

Stan estaría lleno de ira e impotencia por ver a uno de sus niños sufriendo algo tan horrible, y claro, no permitiría algo así

Y ya todos saben que pasa cuando Eda se enoja... Así que lo que pasa después es algo lógico...

Cuando Ford ve por primera vez la transformación de Stan, por un momento llega a pensar que se estaba volviendo un hombre lobo, Pero cuando vio la forma en la que Stan tenía control sobre sus movimientos y esquivaba los ataques de Belos, entendió que esto no era algo nuevo, mucho menos algo como una maldición de hombre lobo normal, era algo más ...

Durante un momento de la batalla, Stan logra acercarse a Belos/Hunter, y logra (de alguna manera) hacer que Belos se traspase a su cuerpo, tal vez Belos pensó que controlarlo a el sería más fácil, pero se equivocó...

Stan ya había enfrentado su maldición frente a frente, encaro a Bill en su propia mente, así que enfrentar a Belos no fue difícil

"¡El único zombie arrugado que atormenta a mi familia soy yo!"

[spinningwebsandtales]

The Shape Of Your Heart (A 'The Shape Of You' Valentine's Special One-shot)

Michael Myers X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, past bad experiences on Valentine's Day, steam (somebody get me a fan and turn it on high), mentions of cannibalism (jokingly I promise), shirtless Michael (deserves a warning in itself)

Word Count: 4.2k

(A/N:) Hello and welcome to my own little pit of insanity! It's supposed to be Valentine's Day today but I and my very bestest friend all agree that it needs replaced with second Halloween! So far that has yet to happen, so we take it upon ourselves to celebrate a second spooky season while everyone else drowns in a sea of pink and red. I wanted to do something very Countess-y for the day and this idea came to me while at work and it's just too perfect not to do! This is a special one-shot set in my The Shape of You universe and you shouldn't have to read my fanfiction to read this. But to all of my people who are following my fic please know that I am still working on it and I haven't forgotten! I just got an idea on what to add to the chapter today cause I don't just want to rush to the end it wouldn't be fair to the story and my readers! So keep your eyes open you don't know when the Boogeyman will appear! 😉 So keep it spooky and to all the fellow Michael Myers lovers Happy (second) Halloween!

Valentine’s Day was just another day for you, nothing special and nothing exciting. You’d been on the normal dates that everyone went for this particular day, with whoever you were dating at the time going all out. Flowers, chocolates, expensive restaurants. All the works, anything that would make a normal girl swoon. But none of those things really mattered to you and it didn’t take long for them to grow bored with you and leave you not long after. So you didn’t get excited about the holiday like all your other co-workers do. So today had been stressful trying to avoid all talk of Valentines with everyone, even Julie who gushed about the flowers on her desk to anyone who would listen. You were happy for her and everyone else and it wasn’t that you disliked the holiday, old wounds just ruined it for you. So when it came time to finally leave you rushed out the front door towards your car.

You felt all the pressure and anxiety leave as soon as your car door slammed shut and you turned the key over starting your car with a roar. After giving yourself a few moments to collect yourself (you knew Michael would worry), you put the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. While the traffic of Haddonfield seemed to be on your side, the radio was a different story. What once had been your friend just yesterday had quickly turned into the enemy. Every love song and ballad that existed in the world seemed to be playing on the local station, so you changed the channel. Just for the other station to treat you just the same. And the next one and the next one, same story same old song and dance. You finally just turned the knob off shutting off the whole radio in an angry huff. So you just enjoyed the silence on the remainder of the ride home.

It wasn’t lost on you when you pulled into your little neighborhood of all the happy couples that lived close to your house leaving their houses hand in hand. Most likely going on dates planned weeks or months in advance. All you truly wanted today was a hot delicious meal with Michael and a sweet night cuddled together on the couch with him as you both watched a movie. Something action packed or even a comedy, just as long as it wasn’t something disgustingly romantic. You’d even order pizza or something, cause now you didn’t feel like cooking anything. Finally pulling into the driveway of your little home, you couldn’t help but feel that you were finally free to act like yourself. While you fumbled for the front door key, you waved at your neighbors before heading inside.

Michael had never celebrated Valentine’s Day in the special ways that everyone talked about. He could remember a few of the parties that would be held at school, with cupcakes smothered in bright pink frosting and covered with heart shaped sprinkles, or cookies cut out in various shapes to convey love and all things sickeningly sweet. Michael could only remember the treats tasting like ash and the little thin cardboard cards a lie. No child wanted to celebrate with someone like him and no one wanted to be his valentine. All he could remember back at home was his sister gushing about her new boyfriend and all they were going to do that night to celebrate. It made him hate everything even worse, especially when he was left home all alone with the babysitter that his parents had conned into watching him.

Then that fateful Halloween night had came around and then Michael knew nothing else of Valentine’s Day or any other holiday that normal people celebrated. No barbecues on the Fourth of July, no more trick-or-treating on Hallows Eve, and no presents sitting under a beautifully decorated tree. He gripped the handle of the chefs knife he held tighter, knuckles turning white as a blinding fury built in his chest until he breathed deeply, calming himself. It was getting close to time for you to come home and he wouldn’t let the past ruin this for him or you. He loved you too much and he knew that you had had some bad experiences linked with Valentine’s Day and now that you both had each other he didn’t want this time of year to remain that way for you or for himself. So he had planned in secret to treat you and surprise you with a Valentine’s Day to remember.

It had been difficult for him to keep everything quiet as he was a little excited to share such a special occasion with you. Though it was far from the normal things couple did on the day, he couldn’t just go out and buy you flowers and chocolates. He knew you didn’t mind but for some reason it bothered him more than it should. You didn’t let such material things judge how much you love him, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel and show you just how special you are to him. So everything had to be perfect. You were the light that saturated his darkness and if he couldn’t convey that with his actions he couldn’t help but feel like a failure. So with a few extra touches Michael finished his work before going up the stairs to change into the clothes that he had laid out after you had left. He didn’t want to greet you at the door in food stained clothes that smelled of his sweat and the seasonings he used. So he made his way up the stairs, trying to hurry himself when he heard your car pull into the driveway.

You turned the knob and stepped inside, but something felt off. Michael always kept the living room lights off so nosy neighbors couldn’t see inside when you finally made it home, but having all the lights off was unusual. And it had become a routine that he was always waiting to give you a welcome home kiss and hug, to make the tension ease away as soon as you got home. But Michael was nowhere to be seen and it made your heart drop before racing in your chest. You couldn’t help but worry that something had happened to him as you searched all the shadows.

“Michael,” you called. When he didn’t answer you felt a lump form in your throat and tears prick at your eyes. It had been a rough day and to not have him here to make everything better seemed to be the last nail in the coffin. You dropped your bag and keys to the floor.

“Michael,” you sobbed, feeling pathetic as you started to panic.

Michael had just finish changing when he heard the mournful sound of your voice. His heart shattered and he started to panic as he raced down to you. The sight of you standing in the dark, still in your work clothes with tears streaming down your cheeks and smearing your makeup, shattered him. He was in front of you in just a few strides before swallowing you into his strong embrace. This was definitely not how he wanted to start your evening together. Kissing at your tear soaked cheeks, Michael gave you as long as you needed to calm down to greet you in the way he wanted to.

“I thought you left and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry it’s been a rough day and I didn’t want to come home and make you worry.” Michael hushed you softly continuing to dry your tears carefully, smearing your makeup worse in the process. He cursed himself for not being faster, but it had taken him a couple of tries to get dessert just right or he would have been at the door and had the candles on the table lit before you could have walked in. So far his plan was not going perfect like he wanted. But it had yet to explode into terrible just yet. He could and would salvage the situation.

Once your tears had dried and your breathing had calmed, Michael finally was able to get things to start rolling. First he kissed you deeply, like he always did when you finally made it home from work and then he started the shower so it could warm up. He didn’t want the work day to stay on your skin and weigh your shoulders down. With another quick peck he left you to relax for a few moments while he laid out the clothes he wanted to see you in before going back to the kitchen. Making sure the food was staying warm while he heard the shower running, he cleaned up the rest of his mess until he heard the shower stop and the bathroom door open. Your wet feet pattered against the floor as you walked to the bedroom to dress and Michael dried his hands on a dish towel. You took in the sight of the dress draped across the bedspread, Michael could read you like a book as it was one of your favorite more comfortable dresses. It was beautiful without being obnoxious and the black always flattered your frame. You threw the towel in the dirty basket before slipping into the dress and as soon as you got it zipped up halfway, you could hear Michael’s footsteps come up behind you.

His larger hand replaced yours, finishing zipping up the dress before he kissed the back of your neck sweetly. He brushed at your still wet hair while taking little nibbles against your skin. You shivered as you allowed Michael to explore. It was moments like these that you could only feel comfortable with Michael. He never pushed you and took his time. Savoring every second he could from your taste or the little motions and sounds that he elicited from you. When he had his fill of your taste for that moment, he gently brushed your hair before braiding it simply and lead you by the hand to the main attraction of the night. It wasn’t until this moment that you finally realized how Michael was dressed. Wearing his finest pair of dark jeans and a deep red button up shirt tucked in with the leather jacket you had bought for him months ago.

His boots thudding against the carpet as he continued to lead you towards the kitchen that was dark except for the two candles that burned brightly on the table and the small light that was above the sink. You gasped before looking up at the dark haired man that cared for you so deeply, it made you feel like your heart could soar above the Earth. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and kissed your temple before taking you to the table. He pulled out the chair for you, letting you sit down before he pushed you towards the table. You took in the atmosphere of your normally plain kitchen. Michael had dug out the tablecloth that you had bought years ago, draping it across your little table where he had placed your finest dishes for you both to dine on. The candles were from your emergency stash, for storms that would knock the power out. But those were replaceable, letting Michael do the things he needed was too special to worry about some cheap candles that were easily replaced.

While Michael worked you watched him, enraptured at his movements and the broad back that just begged for you to touch. A splash of red on the kitchen floor caught your attention and at first you thought Michael had cut himself. But as your gaze began to trail further towards the table and out of the doorway to the kitchen into the living room did you finally realize that it was a trail of rose petals. You laughed at yourself for not noticing it until now, until another thought overtook that one. Where did he get roses from? Shrugging to yourself, deeming it unimportant, you turned your attention back on the gorgeous backside that Michael Myers owned. Michael turned around and you quickly looked away, trying to act innocent but he had known you were staring, Michael didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he never caught himself staring at you. Carrying two plates he set yours down before taking his seat across from you at the table.

Michael hadn’t known the first thing about cooking until he had came into your life. You had lovingly and patiently taught him several things and now he had taken to it easily. You were a good cook and knew how to cook many things, but with work you hardly felt like making more of the extravagant dishes you knew, so a lot of times you would bring home something from the local restaurants, but with Michael around he made sure to either have something cooked by the time you got home or you both cooked together. But this was a significant occasion where he wanted to branch out and really impress you. The kiss was to greet you, the shower to relax you, and dinner was his chance to wow and woo you. Like you weren’t already head over heels from him. Your jaw dropped at the sight of the steak, cooked perfectly; medium rare, baked potato, and carrots carefully cut into little hearts. You beamed brightly at Michael, making his heart skip a beat before you held up one of the carrots, just in awe of his skills and attention he took with the meal. You grinned slyly before popping the vegetable into your mouth. Savoring the flavors bursting on your tongue and the slight crunch of the carrot.

“Y’know Michael it’s really unfair how good you are with a knife,” you said while stabbing another carrot with your fork.

He just shrugged his shoulders, returning your grin with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I’ve carved up enough stuff to know how to wield a knife.”

“Let’s not talk about your occupation before dinner,” you scoffed teasingly. “This is beef steak right?”

“Whatever you had in the freezer,” he took a big bite of steak, chewing thoughtfully. “Unless,” Michael paused, “you’re hiding a cannibalistic hobby from me.”

“You don’t know how delicious next door neighbors can be when cooked right.”

You both laughed before you grimaced at the thought and tucked into your plate, the instant the steak hit your tongue you let out a moan. Michael looked up a vivid red tinting his cheeks at the sound you just made.

“This is sooo good,” you took another big bite. Every horrible moment that you had experienced today melted away every second. Michael forgot his plate for just a second as he watched you enjoy the food he had painstakingly made for you. Every mistake and cut was worth it as he witnessed the bliss on your face and the laughter you both shared about minor details of each others’ day. After finishing up your whole steak and sides you didn’t think another bite of anything was possible but then Michael cleared away the plates and brought back a huge chocolate cake. Layered with a thick coat of chocolate buttercream and a shiny dark chocolate ganache on top. Wiping a droplet of drool at the sight of the decadent dessert, you suddenly dredged up the mental room in your stomach for a piece of the delicious looking cake. Michael served you once again, cutting a big enough slice it would take you two sittings to get through, but you didn’t mind. Your mouth watered seeing all the beautiful layers and chocolate goodness. But Michael didn’t move away and you suddenly got nervous. Was he feeling ornery? Was something bothering him?

But he only stepped away with no explanation, until he grabbed his chair and dragged it over closer to you. Though he was just sitting across the table from you it felt so far away and he couldn’t take a second longer being that far from you. He wasn’t too hungry for cake at the moment and there was just something about watching you enjoy every bite that had him feeling more full than he had in years. You seemed to curl into yourself at him being so close while you ate. You weren’t a very clean eater, especially when it came to chocolate cake, but he didn’t want you to feel that way around him in anything. Michael took your fork, his eyes leaving yours just for a second to get you a decent bite before bringing the fork up to your lips. Carefully you took the bite before your eyes rolled and sighed loudly at the wonderful flavors hitting your tongue.

“It’s absolutely delicious,” you chewed. “Michael you have to try some.”

His expression intensified pinning you to the back of your chair as he loomed over you. Dark locks of his wavy hair shadowing his dual colored eyes. He tilted your chin up, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb before capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. He didn’t keep it gentle for long as he forced himself into your hot mouth. The tastes of chocolate hitting his tongue mixed with the unique taste of you. It was his turn to moan as he explored, taking his time and stealing your breath. You clung tightly to his jacket, trying not to slip out of his embrace as the strength melted from your limbs. The chocolate cake was sweet but the motion of Michael against your tongue was even sweeter. Placing his hand on the back of your head and tangling his large fingers in the locks of your hair he pressed you closer as if he couldn’t devour you enough, before he finally pulled away. You gasped for air but still held tightly to him, cake suddenly forgotten. Pupil dilated in the brown of Michael’s one good eye, he sat back down.

“Delicious,” he smirked and you blushed deeply. You were thinking that he wasn’t talking about just the cake.

You both didn’t speak for several moments until you cut the silence by cutting one piece off of the cake and offered it to him. Michael took it, chewing thoughtfully as he watched you cut another piece, his eyes never missing a movement or the fact that your breathing was still rapid from his passionate attentions. It took every sliver of control to keep himself seated while you shared the rest of the cake together.

With stomachs close to busting from the amount of food, this time you took the initiative in the next part of the plan. Michael had thought that both of you could watch a little TV before calling it a night, but if there was something in particular you wanted to do, he wasn’t going to argue. Though he was confused as you lead them both outside through the back door. Shutting off the lights and not turning the outside light on, you opened the door a gentle breeze stirring the hairs that slipped out of your braid when Michael had kissed you. Stepping outside Michael didn’t hesitate and stepped outside with you. You sat down on the top step before patting right beside you. Michael took a seat keeping a tight grip on your hand. It didn’t take long for you to lean your head on his shoulder and Michael wrapped his arms around you, trying to cling to you as tightly as he could, to keep this moment from ever slipping away.

As you sat outside on the step with Michael his arms wrapped around you, you noticed your bald rose bushes you had planted a couple years ago beside the back door. You snorted loudly, stifling a laugh now that you finally solved the mystery where your lovely rose petal trail came from. (Hey Countess here, yes I know February is still winter and rose bushes won’t have flowers on them, but just shhhhh enjoy the story and let me have this! Okay back to the fluff!) He looked at you in confusion but you just shook your head. You didn’t want to embarrass him or make Michael feel bad that he had taken advantage of your beautiful rose bush. Blooms could grow back and it probably helped the plant anyway. You watched the world go by as the stars flickered in the midnight blue colored sky. For once the neighborhood was peaceful and you breathed in deeply. The chill in the air had you shivering a little as you didn’t grab a jacket to go over your sleeveless dress. Michael untangled himself from you to shrug off his leather jacket and drape it over your chilly shoulders. You curled into the warmth, sighing as it cut the chill from reaching you.

“It’s nights like this that really remind you that everything will be okay,” you whispered. “That things in the past don’t matter when the present is involved. I’ve hated Valentine’s Day personally for so long that just hearing that it was just around the corner always made me cringe. But I think you just changed that for me in the span of just one single night.”

Michael lifted you easily from the steps, placing you in his lap where he could hold onto you better. He buried his face in your warm neck, breathing in your calming vanilla scent as he tried to find the words. It was hard to explain how much he adored you and how he felt about every moment that he got to spend with you. He had thought that terrorizing Haddonfield had been his one purpose, to make them pay for the way that they treated him, ever since he was a child and then that fateful night had brought you to him. Now it seemed like the puzzle pieces were fitting right into place and he didn’t want to lose you when everything was finally going so right.

“I didn’t get to experience much of Valentine’s Day and I didn’t really get to experience much of anything normal that others have. Until you. I remember the parties held at school but that’s just barely. I want to have so many more firsts with you,” he kissed your shoulder, “I want to experience life with you.”

You gently brushed your hand against Michael’s rough cheek, relishing the scratch of his stubble when you kissed him on the forehead. “I want to experience life with you too. And eat more chocolate cake.”

He chuckled burying himself deeper into the crook of your neck and shoulder. His warm breath stirring against your skin, tickling and setting your nerves on fire. So you sat there on his lap, just holding onto him tightly while he held you, you both just relishing the silence. The words unspoken, not needing to be vocalized to understand. Time passed by slowly until Michael could feel you starting to get cold and shivering slightly against him. Without effort he stood up, still holding you in his arms and carried you inside. With another small kiss he sent you on your way to change into some comfortable pajamas so you both could enjoy a movie before bed. You didn’t argue but tugged him along wanting him to change into something more comfortable too. Though it pained you to see him get out of that gorgeous shirt that only hugged him in all the right ways. You teased him all the way to the closet where you somehow talked him into forgoing a shirt entirely.

That’s how you found yourself sprawled out on the couch on top of Michael, your legs tangled with his as you traced lazy circles into the skin of his chest. His breath hitching and finding it hard to concentrate on the movie with you touching him so tenderly. He grabbed your hand bringing it up to his mouth where he bestowed sweet kisses to each digit, in turn making you squirm. He grinned triumphantly, enjoying the way that he could turn the tables on you. You had an effect on him and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he could see that he did the same to you. So with one little sentence he finished the night quickly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured huskily in your ear. You sucked in a quick breath, never believing that anyone saying that sentence to you could hold so much power, but when he did it in that tone, it was like kryptonite.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Michael,” you whispered back, voice failing. He chuckled deeply before switching off the TV and scooping you back up to carry you back to the bedroom. The movie was boring anyway as he closed the bedroom door and all memories of past Valentine’s Day melted away on the taste of sweet kisses that tasted of chocolate cake and hushed giggles that sounded like calming wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

[snufflepup]

Yeah! From what I've seen of his game play on the cn server (about 4 updates ahead of mine [global server] because the global release was about 5 months after the cn release), he's super meta^^. Yeah honestly I wish I could go back in time and just stop her from breaking up with me cause I mean I loved her like death. Still do, but I'm trying so hard to move on cause atp I can see she lied when she said she'd love me forever and never break up. Yeah it's a white sugar stick and you lick it and dip it in green powder that turns blue^^ it tastes tart and like blue rasberry^^. I don't like suckers much cause they make my mouth feel wierd, but i love cherry suckers a lot. What are moams? Like marshmallows or something? Oh I liked once upon a time! Idk anyone my age who's seen it too lol. I watched it off my mom's DVDs up to season 5 I think. Sucks you can't really watch it. I'll start watching it tonight if I have time^^ I'll probably watch it with my sister cause she likes watching stuff with me^^. I can get that, I was like that with My hero academia before I fell out of love with the series. It was my first anime, so maybe I would have liked it more if I didn't hear so much hate for it lol. Konosuba is a comedy issekai, it's pretty funny and the mc is cool too^^. Hes hot and pretty funny and stupid. That sounds hillarious, im for sure watching it^^. I'm glad you like something so much^^ It's okay, sorry for being a bit of a bother about it -_-', I mean my asks are long lol. my days been okay, apart from trying to still work things out with my bitch of an ex. How's yours been? You said in my other asks tags that it wasn't the best lol. Do you not like cussing or something? Cute^^

-ike<3

That's cool then !!! ^–^ That's fair, I would probably feel the same if it haooened to me ! ooo ! I see ! I think there are similar things here !! It sounds good ! They are sort of like, chew-y things that come in a couple of different shapes ! A thin slab like shape, balls that have a harder shell, long rectangular sticks and little cubed packets that have a couple squares of them !! They come in a couple different flavours, but I think the sour ones are the ones I like the best ! I only tried them last halloween I think and since then I've always looked for them ! but there are always only like three of them if you buy the packet (◞ ‸ ◟' ' ) but the others are still good ! They are a similar texture to starbursts, if you know that ! They are pretty common where I am !! I watched it a lot when I waa youbger, but I stopped being uo to date with it for a while ! but I decided to watch everything but then . it happened . and then I just . can't do it . Maybe if I wasn't watching it by myself I could, or if someone wanted me too, but I get all . fjdhkfd /neg by myself ! Fairy Tail was my first anime, that I knew was an anime, at least ! I liked ponyo and stuff when I was younger ! Seeing all the dislike about it didn't make me dislike it, it just made me not really like a lot of people . It made me really sad epecially because a lot of the criticisms didn't actually . make sense, or at least then I didn't think so ! Like how people don't like the power of friendship stuff, to me it makes sense because of course they're emotional and their magic is fueled by emotions !! but I can understand more now, back then it confused me to no end ! Even if everyone dislikes it, I still like it a lot and I don't think that will ever change lol It's okay ! Don't worry, you weren't !!! I also used to be super into mha too ! I actually saved half of class 1-A's birthdays on my phone, only have because I . gave up halfway though, and still sometimes get alerts on my phone for them ! oooh !! cool !!! Is the water girl from that ? I saw a lot of her a couple years ago. . . aqua ? I'm . not sure . but I have been meaning to watch it, I think ! If it is a isekai then it is probably on one of my lists somewhere . I got really really into isekai animes a couple of months ago, more so the villainess ones but !

I'm glad your day has been alright, apart from that I mean ! Mine has been pretty good !! ( ≧ᗜ≦) nono I meant like . I have had a day were I am bad with words ! I don't know if that makes sense, but I can be a little . weird like that sometimes, like words are just . difficult to use !! I get bad hearing days too. . . I'm not really . sure why sometimes it just happens ! I can swear a lot sometimes, to be honest . I think my most said word for a while was shit

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Spooky Season | Halloween Event 2024

Ghost Stories | Jongho

🧡 Pairing: Choi Jongho x gf!Reader

🖤 Requested by: Anon

🧡 Prompt: 18 - Telling ghost stories.

🖤 Warnings: Ghosts. This one involves babies, midwives and a matron (chief or head nurse). The ghost story Jongho tells is inspired by one of the many experiences I had as a kid. I tried to make it spooky but let's face it as much as I love spooky stuff, I suck at writing it.

🧡 Word Count: 1,783

🖤 Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form. Please note that the halloween event taglist is included in the general taglist.

Spooky Season 2024 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Y/N and Jongho were finally enjoying their first date night in what felt like months. This Halloween, they opted for a cozy evening at home, ready to dive into a marathon of scary movies while indulging in takeout and snacks they bought the day before. They’d politely declined all their friends' invitations to Halloween parties and events and placed a bowl filled with candy outside the door so they weren’t interrupted by trick or treaters. However, they were caught off guard by an unexpected power outage caused by a drunk driver crashing into the transformer that supplies electricity to their block. 

"How about instead of scary movies, we tell scary stories instead," Y/N suggests lighting her last candle so they have a little bit of light. 

"Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend," he chuckles, not quite believing the words coming out of her mouth. This is coming from someone who only watches scary movies on Halloween with the compromise that they keep the lights and a promise to follow up with something lighthearted afterwards. He thought she’d be relieved to skip the scary stuff altogether. "Are you possessed or something?" he joked, leaning in closer to her face as if to inspect her for signs of a takeover. "Hello, Y/N? Are you still in there? Blink twice if I need to find an exorcist."  

"Stop," she chuckles, rolling her eyes and gently pushing him away from her. "I assure you I have not been possessed," she says. "I just thought it would be fun to keep it somewhat spooky, ya know, without the jump scares." 

Jongho raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her unexpected suggestion.  I guess that could work. But you have to promise me one thing," he says agreeing to it. "Remember that this was your idea. If you get scared, you can't put the blame on me." 

"Deal! But if I do get scared, you have to hold my hand," she counters with a cheeky smile. "Let’s play rock, paper, scissors to see who goes first."  

They both lifted their hands, "One… two… three!"  

Jongho goes with paper, while Y/N picked rock.  

"Ha! I win!" he cheers, clapping his hands in excitement. "Looks like I get to start. I promise the first story won’t be too scary."  

"Alright," she rolled her eyes again, a grin on her face as she settles into the couch.  

"A friend of mine told me this story. It really happened to him," he began, also getting cozy on the couch. "So, my friend’s dad worked as a security guard. His job was to check on old buildings to ensure they hadn’t been broken into and that no one was squatting inside. Some of these places had alarms, so he would just walk around a few times, making sure there were no one suspicious hanging around," he continues. "One of the buildings he had to check was an old maternity hospital on the outskirts of town. After being closed for years, it had reopened as a temporary doctor's office. The locals often whispered about it being haunted, claiming it felt cold even in the summer and that they heard babies crying or the sound of heels clicking down the hall," he explained, his eyes widening as he recalled the eerie details. Storytelling has always been something he's always been good at. "My friend's dad often did night security at this building. After his shift he would come home and tell my friend about what he experienced that night. My friend was so excited to hear his stories. He's really into the paranormal." 

"You've told me about this friend," she says recalling the times he talked about him. "He does ghost hunting on YouTube now, right?" 

"That's him," Jongho nods before continuing his story. "One night his dad promised to take him to the hospital with him. His mum reluctantly agreed but since it wasn't a school, she allowed him to go. Of course he was over the moon about it. This is his first time going to a real haunted building." 

He leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the very walls of the room might be listening. This causes Y/N to instinctively lean in closer to. 

"It's dark by the time they get to the old maternity hospital. My friend said he could feel the eerie feeling before he even saw the building. It sent chills down his spine. After they get out of the car, his dad hands him a flashlight, and they made their way to the entrance. The door creaks as his dad pushes it open, revealing a dark hallway that seems to stretch for miles. The air thick and heavy as they walk inside, so much so that it’s almost suffocating. My friends could feel his heart racing, both excited and terrified at the same time." His eyes gleam with mischief as he recounts the details. "They stepped inside, and then, bam!” he shouts causing Y/N to jump, “The door slammed shut behind them. My friend's dad chuckles trying to lighten the mood. He’s been there many times so he should be use to all the activity by now, but my friend could tell he was a bit on edge too.”  

"What happened next?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.  

"They began to walk down the corridor, making sure all the doors were locked and secure. My friend can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched the entire time,” he replies. “They get to the room at the end of the hall and as his dad makes sure its locked, the door swings open. It was unlocked. His dad reassured him that perhaps one of the doctors had forgotten to lock it, so he closed the door, the keys clinking loudly in the stillness as he locked it. After confirming it was locked, they turn to head down another corridor, which was much shorter than the main one. But as they walk, checking the doors, the temperature drops, and the sound of babies crying fills the air. It’s a haunting sound and it sends chills down my friend's spine. He glances at his dad, who’s gone pale, his usual bravado replaced by a look of fear. He may have checked on this building so many times that he should be used to it but it still scares him." 

"I would still be scared too," Y/N confesses. He nods in agreement, even though the only thing that truly frightens him is bugs. A haunted place doesn’t faze him at all. "What did they do next?" she asks. 

"They kept on going," he replies, his tone growing more serious. "But with every step, the atmosphere thickened and crying grew louder and more desperate. My friend wanted to turn back, but his dad insisted they keep going, he has a job to do after all."  

"That sounds terrifying," Y/N interjects, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did they find anything? Were anymore doors unlocked."  

"Not at first," he says, shaking his head. "They reached the last door, and his dad paused, listening intently. The crying had stopped and it was replaced by an unsettling silence. My friend felt a knot in his stomach and heard his own voice in his head telling him to run. His dad, on the other hand, had to brave it and went to push the door open."  

"What was inside?" Y/N asks, her curiosity piqued.  

"I don’t know. The door was locked," he tells her before continuing with the story. “So, they end up walking back up the corridor, the eerie silence, following behind them. When they got back to the main corridor, that’s when the loud clicking of heels on the concrete floors begins and it only grows louder as the sound grows closer to them. But, it eventually stops when the sound reaches the end of the corridor and is quickly replaced with the sound of a door unlocking and the creak of the door swinging open." 

"Fuck that, I'd be out of there as fast as my legs could take me," she shivers. 

"My friend said the same thing. He would have bolted if he wasn't frozen in fear," he says. "His dad, though scared, walks the few feet to the door, pulls it shut and locks it again before calling out to the spirit he believes it is. 'Matron, you can't be unlocking doors that are supposed to be locked. I don't want to lose my job because someone thinks I'm not doing it properly.' he calls out to the old chief nurse, his voice trembling." 

Y/N's eyes widen, captivated by the unfolding story. "Did the matron respond?" 

"No. But the sound of babies crying started again," he says and shakes his head. "After making sure the door was locked once more, they bolted out of the hospital as quickly as they could. They got in the car and my friend's dad started the drive back to the next location. As they were leaving, my friend heard a voice telling him to look back, so he did." 

"What did he see?" Y/N asks, her interest clearly piqued. Jongho can't help but smile at her fascination; usually, she hides behind a cushion during scary stories. 

He leans in closer again, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "He saw a figure of a woman wearing an old nurses uniform standing in the doorway of the hospital. Her face is pale and gaunt, with eyes that seem to pierce right through him. He couldn't bring himself to look away." 

Y/N's breath catches in her throat, her heart racing as she imagines the scene. "What happened next?" she urges, leaning forward, her eyes wide with anticipation. 

Jongho takes a moment, savoring the suspense. "As he stared, the woman raised a hand, slowly started waving to him," he says lifting his own hand and waves it at Y/N. "As the terrified feeling inside him starts to dissipate, he couldn't stop himself from waving back to her. She was the first ghost he'd ever seen." 

"Did he ever go back to the hospital?" she asks. 

He shakes his head. "No, he had all the evidence he needed to believe that hospital is haunted. He didn't feel the need to go back." 

“I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t go back either,” she says, moving closer to him.  

“It’s your turn to tell a story,” he teases her and pulls her into his arms. 

Just as she’s about to say something, the lights flicker back on. “Let's watch something instead,” she suggests picking up the remote and starts going through the movies on netflix. 

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

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