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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months ago

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Kinktober day 24

Edddie Brock/Venom + Symbiosis

Just got back from the Venom movie, and sadly I didn’t enjoy it very much. But it did rekindle my love for Eddie and Venom. Readers got a symbiote named Whistle.

This probably has what counts as mild body horror in it? Just symbiotes being weird and bonding.

no spoilers for Venom: The Last Dance.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Date nights were an experience nowadays. Back when you and Eddie had just been the two of you, things had been much easier. You would go out for dinner, back when Eddie was a reporter and you a renowned professor at Empire State university. Back then you two could easily afford pricey dinners and way too expensive bottles of wine. Afterwards was a leisurely walk or drive back home, where you two would chuckle and sneak kisses as you pawed at each other. It regularly ended with you two barely making it to the couch before the passion took over.

Now though, with two symbiotes involved, having some privacy was hard. In the beginning it completely put a stop to your intimate life, even as Venom and Whistle both asked about it, or made raunchy comments.

But then the two symbiotes became involved in whatever you would call your relationship, Venom called it a polycule, Whistle called it a collection of passion and fornication. It did mean you and Eddie never got to kiss in peace, Venoms tongue always sliding into your mouth, or threads of whistles white body slithering against Eddies face and neck.

The symbiotes were a species that reproduced asexually, Venom and Whistle had both told you and Eddie that. But for two being from an asexual species, they sure were horny. Whistle more than Venom it seemed. Venom liked the slow game, slowly teasing Eddie over a day, where Whistle liked to milk as much out of you as possible until you couldn’t feel your legs.

Nowadays Eddie wasn't a reporter, and you weren’t a professor. Hed been pretty much banned from New York, and the people who had chased him out came after you too, going as far as making it seem like you had tried to take potshots at Tony Stark of all people.

Then came the whole thing with the symbiotes, a black mass of writhing black sinking into Eddie, as the slurpy tentacled white pile that was Whistle sank into yours. It felt like how you imagined being devoured must feel, from the inside out. You could feel Whistle slithering throughout your body, sinking into your veins and filling your veins.

Their being was thick but thin, everywhere but nowhere, all at once. Some semblances of reality told you that you were on the floor, arching and gurgling like a drunk choking on their own vomit, but all you could focus on was how Whistle seemed to fill all the empty crevices of your being, before they settled.

Eddie wasn’t faring much better, but he and Venom got themselves together first. You and Whistle had only bonded perfectly when you four were outside the facility, you thrown over Eddies, Venoms? Shoulder as they fled. Whistles voice was scratchier and higher pitched than Venom, it reminded you of those screamo artists whose voices were so raspy that it was hard to understand.

Many things happened after that, from other symbiotes to serial killers, there really was no way to put it all into words. It felt like you two, four, never had a moment of rest until it all was over, and you could slump down in the ransacked apartment you shared.

It was Venom and Whistle that wanted to go on a date night first, deciding that going out as the lethal protectors counted as such, you and Eddie mostly being dragged along for the ride. They swam and devoured fish, drank stolen alcohol even if it didn’t affect them, and settled on the bed to swirl their long tongues together like a pair of snakes.

It felt like an out of body experience, almost. With Venoms inky black hands rubbing up and down Whistles shiny white torso, their beings melting together before reforming again somewhere else, their black and white swirling together in a hypnotizing pattern.

The two symbiotes curled their mass from your faces, letting Eddie and you sloppily roll your much smaller and less flexible tongues together, filling the room with the wet smacking and sucking noises your kissing made. You could feel Whistle and Venoms masses sliding between you, swapping places yet staying at the same time, they were everywhere and nowhere, just like the first time you bonded with Whistle.

You could hear whistle purring in the back of your mind, strands of symbiotic mass rubbing against the surface of your brain, whether it was Venom or Whistle wasn’t something you knew, but it made you arch and gasp. The move was copied by Eddie, who’s eyes fluttered and flashed white for a moment, Venom bleeding through to the front for a moment before receding.

You didn’t even know where your cocks were in all that writhing mass. You could only guess Eddies thighs were pressed against your own, your two alien lowers rocking you back and forth, frotting you two together and smearing your torsos in your combined fluids.

Maybe it was all the cannibalism you had committed with Whistle inside you, but part of you wanted to devour Eddie. Like you could open up your chest cavity and pull him inside and become one, in the same way you did with Whistle and he with Venom.

The thought made all four of the beings on the bed moan, two human, and two alien, Venom conjuring that image to the front of your minds. Together you could be the greatest being. Apart you were all losers, but if you became one, then not even Knull could stop you.

It was hard to tell if you had cum during all of this, all pleasure centers of your body continuously stimulated by alien touches but inside and outside your body, Eddies arms wrapped around you, and you Eddie, trapped you in a moving cocoon of symbiote.

There was something fucking in and out of you, something Eddie must have been experiencing too from the way he moaned against your neck, Venom and Whistle pulling you harder together, as if they could somehow make you merge the same way they did.

Was it Venom or Whistle fucking you? or was it both? Which one of them had slithered a thin tentacle of symbiote down your cock, pressing cruelly against your prostate from the front and the back. Which one was massaging and sucking at your pecs at the same time? Which of your symbiote lovers was curled around your lungs and heart, squeezing them just enough to make your weak human body panic enough for it to become arousal.

Did it even matter? Together you four were something beautiful, something so inhumane it would be called demonic. But so many things were. When people didn’t understand, they feared, and God were Venom and Whistle worth fearing.

Eddie was keening against your neck, his sweaty face glued against your skin, his noises breathless and panicked, but so hot and aroused too. What were they doing? A mental flash of Eddies spine and ribs, intertwined by black and white symbiotic mass flashed before your minds eye, making you twitch and moan.

He had always been so needy and sensitive, even when it was just you fucking him. It was never enough, and back then you two just had to settle with the fact that you could never fill him enough for him to feel full. But now? Now it wasn’t just dirty talk or fantasy, it was so very real and fulfilling.

You could feel Venom sliding against your tongue from Eddies, like some strange thread of wiggling living saliva, Whistle meeting them halfway and coiling together into a knot. They had supressed your gag reflex a while ago, so you didn’t cough or gag as you felt symbiotic mass tickling the back of your throat from both the inside and outside. It all felt like too much all at once.

It was perfect, in its own sick unimaginable way. Something you couldn’t even have theorized back when you were still a respected professor, back when your days were filled with studying animals and humans.

The rumbling you could hear both inside and outside had to be your symbiotes purring, their intense rubbing, tugging, filling and emptying slowly ceased, instead starting to feel more like a full body massage. Your dick was aching and sore, honestly everything was sore in a way you couldn’t explain. Even your pores and blood veins ached pleasantly, like a muscle after a workout.

Eddie was limp and panting on top of you, arms still wound around you even as the symbiotes pulled back, focusing on cleaning you two up and getting watered and fed. “ever thought you’d be fucking aliens Brock?” you chuckle shakily, voice raspy from all the abuse your throat had been put through.

Eddie just grunted in reply, nuzzling his face a little further under your chin. “He has had many fantasies” Venom purred with a toothy smile, their pill shaped head hovering as tentacles rubbed you two clean. “But has he” Whistle hissed like an explosive, but a very pleased one at that.

You just huff a bit at the two, letting your eyes slide shut, ignoring how you felt Whistles mass run across your eyeballs to rub them clean before settling back against your spine, protecting your vital organs.

Venom and Whistle were still loosely draped over Eddie and you, acting more like a weighted blanket instead of a confining mass. Exhaustion was pulling at the edges of your mind, the purring of your symbiotes, Eddies slow breathing as he had fallen asleep almost immediately, and the influx of pleased chemicals in your brain acting like a lethal combination. Maybe date night wasn’t too bad, you did want a bit more of a warning next time…

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reidrum · 8 months ago

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two millimeters | s.r

a/n: this was literally born bc i saw reid lying on the couch in the jet at the end of demons and thought ‘i would literally sit against that wall to watch over him on the way back’ so i wrote it

summary: spencer gets hurt and you’re not leaving his side

cw: season 9 finale spoilers for angels & demons, cm violence, hurt/comfort, unestablished relationship

wc: 0.6k

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two millimeters to the right, and it would’ve hit his carotid.

the sentence replays in your head like a cursed mantra, rendering your other senses useless. you couldn’t hear the doctor say you could see him now, or feel penny tug your arm towards the room. and you certainly couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw spencer reid in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and iv drips, with a big fucking gauze dressage on the side of his neck.

you knew your line of work was dangerous, being a federal agent who hunts down serial killers should be enough to prove that. but it never surprised you seeing the panic that overtook all of you when one of your own was hurt.

the pure terror you felt in this moment though, was something without parallel.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

you’re not even sure how it happened. they were on the way to tell the preacher he was innocent, and instead he opens fire on federal agents? it was a cruel twist of fate, spencer doing what he could to protect his people and pushing blake out of the way but getting hit himself. it wasn’t anyone’s fault either, the preacher had military grade machine guns, and spencer would have done what he did for anyone. you made sure to tell blake that.

but your spencer was hurt. and all you wanted to do was take away his pain somehow, and toss it in a river to never be seen again.

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

“hey,” you hear a voice pull you out of your head. looking up you’re met with tired soft brown eyes lying down on the jet’s couch, “i’m okay, honey. please go sit on a chair.”

if spencer had all his strength he would lecture you on the dangers of not being properly restrained on an aircraft and the statistics of plane related injuries. but that was the problem, he didn’t have all his strength. and you were not going to let him out of your sight.

which is why you are sitting on the floor of the jet, perched in front of the couch where spencer laid, resting your head on the cushion his head was on, body leaning against couch’s frame. and you planned to stay right there until you landed back in quantico.

“looks like this flight is overbooked,” your section unit chief teased upon seeing you on the ground, “hopefully the brass sees our good work and gives us a bigger jet next year.”

morgan, hotch, even jj offered you their seats to at least get some rest, something you hadn’t had in days.

“i’m fine right here.” you spoke softly.

jj and penny looked at you in concern, but knew you wouldn’t be swayed to move anyway. your stubbornness always acted as a curse and a blessing.

spencer moved his hand to graze your cheek gently, “the doctors fixed me up really good, i promise i’m okay.”

you move your hand to rest on top of his, slowly rubbing your thumb into the curve of his palm, “and i promise i’m okay right here. i’m not moving.”

two millimeters. two millimeters. two millimeters.

two millimeters would haunt you for many years to come, but maybe right now you could use it to measure how much closer you can get to spencer till there’s only two millimeters between you.

spencer knew this was a war he was not winning, and let his hand intertwine with yours. if you weren’t so close to him you might’ve missed the faintest “thank you” escape from his lips. the jet takes off and the two of you are lulled to sleep almost immediately. the rest of the team unspokenly watched over you both, making sure you weren’t rattling around or spencer rolling around too much. and penny couldn’t help but take a few pics to show you later.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #mgg #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fic

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sci-fi-pony · 2 months ago

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No matter how many times I watch this episode, THIS. MOMENT. just gets me every time. Regardless of how I feel about Henry and his "parenting" skills, this is such a good moment between these two.

Because Shawn has just been through a horrifically traumatic day. In which, among other horrors, he found out that yet another psychopathic serial killer is obsessed with him, meaning everyone he loves is once again in danger. And he has to face his childhood stalker again for the first time since she tried to murder his mother in front of him. And almost lost two people who are very important to him, knowing he'll blame himself for whatever happens to them since they were only targeted to get to him. But, in typical Shawn fashion, he's going to play it all off as no big deal. In another minute, he'll be back to cracking jokes and snarking at Lassie and pretending that he isn't going to have nightmares for the foreseeable future because of this. He's just fine(TM). Like always.

But for this one moment — when everyone is busy elsewhere and he's still reeling from the relief of everyone being okay — the mask slips and he's absolutely not fine. Cue Henry, who's been struggling this whole time between his desire to protect Shawn, and the fact that he can't offer much actual comfort because their dynamic doesn't work that way (mostly through his own fault but anyway). But here's his son, sitting alone on the dock, soaking wet, shivering, and looking absolutely wrecked. Their guards go down and Henry pulls him into a fiercely protective hug. And Shawn, who so badly needs someone to reassure him that everything is going to be okay (even though it's not, since Yin is still out there and will definitely be back for more and they both know it), just melts into that hug. He clings to his dad's reassuring presence and Henry holds onto his son like he'll disappear if he lets go. And you can see how desperately they hold onto each other for just that one brief, heartbreaking moment.

I have some issues with this episode (even though it's overall a work of art and so so beautifully made) for reasons I won't get into, but this scene gets to me every time. This scene is beautiful. Also, extra kudos to Corbin and James for absolutely nailing the emotions, and without using any dialogue to do it.

#currently rewatching all my favorite eps #this show is so good #psych #shawn spencer #yin-yang #meta stuff

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

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In the Wolf's Maw

Werewolf John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild dubcon, knotting, mating bonds, accidental mating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, dominance, protectiveness, possessive behavior, werewolf!Price, shifter!Price

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Requested by @glitterypirateduck for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Werewolf AU)

Walking home on Halloween night, you’re accosted by three strange men. From the dark emerges a stranger, but one that has been haunting your steps for months. He might be your savior, but there is a deeper hunger within him that needs to be satiated, and only you can satisfy it.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Something walks with you amongst the trees.

It is always near—always close—but never enough for you to glimpse it between the towering bark.

When you first felt the strange presence, you believed it to be human. Your senses awakened in expectation of threatening intent, but now, with the passing of the months, you no longer believe it to be so.

Whether for good or ill, a human would have revealed themselves in some capacity. This must be animal. It has to be. Either curious or cautious but it clearly does not see you as a threat. It is always there though. A phantom. A figure. You've never seen who or what but you sense it.

"You should really take the main road. I don't understand why you insist on cutting through the forest."

"It's peaceful," you reply. "Gives me time to think."

Your friend arches an eyebrow. "You know the stories."

"Myths," you correct. "Not stories."

"Myths always carry a bit of truth."

There are wolves in the forest. But they live deeper, away from the human population. Wolf sightings are extremely rare, and those that claim to see them are often known for being terrible gossips and liars.

The myth that walks with them is that the wolves are not wolves at all.

They are cursed men. Shifters. Werewolves.

It's nonsense.

Scientifically impossible.

The wolves are only wolves. Maybe the one that watches you is one of these wolves?

Possible, but unlikely.

For all you know, you're being watched by a curious scurry of squirrels.

The myth is history drenched, from a time when people needed to explain natural phenomena they didn't understand. It is only stories.

Or so you believed.

It's late in October. Halloween night.

You stayed far too late at the local library, browsing shelves and losing track of time until the librarian, Mrs. Dean, came scouting for you in the basement archive. Down there, you went searching for what hadn't been digitized, seeking stories about these wolves.

Most of what you uncovered were old newspaper articles of missing women and mauled men in the forest. The details were few and relatively unhelpful, but like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe, there was one consistency in all of them.

The myth, mentioned at the end of every article. Cursed men that shift into wolves. Men in the skin of a predator that hunt women and slaughter their menfolk. You'd think the town had a serial killer, but the articles go back far enough in time that it simply couldn't be the case. Many of the articles cite historical records and reports of the same thing happening over a hundred years ago.

It plagues you on your walk home.

Staying late at the library and taking the path through the forest home takes you away from the roaming families and the angsty teens ready to terrorize anyone who steps in their path. The streets are alive with movement, but you need to collect your thoughts, to consider what you've found and figure out where to look next.

A gentle wind brings a chill with it, sneaking underneath your coat to tease skin. Shivering, you bundle up tighter, the cold bite of air adding a kick to your step. You feel eyes on you, but not your anonymous phantom.

These eyes feel cruel. Malicious.

"What's this?"

Three tall figures in masks emerge from the dark. Like a whisper of wind they appear, skulking toward you, fanning out in a half-moon directly in front of you.

"Cute thing like you shouldn't be out here all on your own." The voice is masculine. Deep. Not one of the local teens. This is someone much older. "There are...wolves about."

The trio saunters forward, the two on the ends splintering off from the man in the middle, slowly boxing you in. There is nowhere to go but behind. Turning tail and running means a chase. You scent their excitement. That is what they're itching for.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern," you reply in the blandest voice you can muster.

Don't show fear.

"Need an escort?"

He's not taking the hint, but what did you expect?

Missing women. Dead men.

"No. Thank you."

Squaring your shoulders, you charge forward, intent on walking through the two on the right. In sync, they close ranks, blocking your path.

"Sure about that?"

"We insist."

Your lips part. "I'm—"

A low growl reaches your ears. It is laced with warning, and a sudden surge of energy rushes up to greet you, wrapping around and between your limbs like invisible rope. You know this sensation. It is familiar and unwaveringly comforting.

The two men standing in front of you glance over your shoulder. From behind their masks, their eyes widen with abject terror. Their shoulders tighten with tension, and they freeze like a deer sensing danger.

The growl comes again, and that sensation bleeds into you further, becoming more than just comfort.

It is...ownership.

Possession.

"What the fuck is that?" whispers one of the men.

They're not focused on you anymore. They're looking beyond you. Behind.

"Fucking run, mate. Run!"

The three men stumble backward, becoming small and insignificant before your very eyes. They shove at each other, not for encouragement, but for distraction. If one should fall, it might distract whatever it is that lurks behind you.

At first, you do not turn. You wait for the pounce—for the growl. But there is nothing. Only silence. Yet those invisible ropes still cling to your body. They still hold tight.

With a baffling sense of calm, you slowly swivel.

There is a wolf. Not a normal one you might see in a wilderness documentary. This one is large, nearly as tall as you on all fours. Its fur is a deep brown. It watches you intently, gaze fixated on nothing else. Even as you take a step away, the creature does not waiver.

It's unnerving, at least, it should be. Yet that comforting familiarity shuts out everything else. It chases away fear and doubt. You know that the natural instinct of any animal facing down a larger predator is survival, but there is nothing that beats within your body that suggests your fight or flight response is on.

It is eerily peaceful. Serene even.

If this sensation did not encompass you as completely as it did, you suspect that you'd be like the trio. Afraid. Terrified.

But just because your sense has left you, that doesn't mean your brain has. It is loud and it is talking.

Do not turn your back. Do not break eye contact. Make yourself big. Make noise. Move backward slowly.

You stretch your arms out wide, puffing your chest, attempting to make yourself bigger. Not like you could ever compare to this beast. You step back, breathe in, preparing a yell.

But just as you do, the wolf shifts. It's not showing its fangs or quickening its haunches. It only watches on, alert and curious. Not aggressive.

There is no submission, though. The wolf does not seem intent on simply walking away. That sensation hugging your body brightens, and a flare of possession surges through you, stiffening your muscles as if you've been turned to stone.

The wolf shifts again. Shakes. Takes a step toward you.

As it does, you hear bones pop and snap. Beneath the wolf, its legs twist and bend beneath it, staggering its forward progress. Its nostrils flare and then the neck snaps as if lurched to the side by some invisible force.

"What the fuck," you mutter, that sense of calm slipping.

The connection is still there, but it's slightly weaker than before. A drop of fear creeps in, and the need to escape starts to bloom in your chest. It widens, that familiarity leaking away to bleed into the earth as the broken wolf shakes and twists some more.

It is just a mass of fur and tangled limbs.

And then, from the pile, the fur splits open, and a human arm emergers, the fingers reaching out, tearing at the dirt.

You need to go, to fucking run.

The phantom threads release you, and your feet find their purchase. You launch yourself backward and away, sprinting as fast as you can. The cold, October air bites at your cheeks. Everything burns.

You know this is just adrenaline. It will fade and you will crash.

Boot slipping on dead leaves, you go stumbling forward, the ground coming up fast. You're jerked to a stop. Halted. Face inches away from smashing into a rock. Glancing down your body, you see...arms. Human arms. Wrapped around your torso. They are muscular and marked with protruding veins, with a dusting of hair along the forearms.

Slowly, you are lifted upward and onto your feet, but the arms remain. Warmth greets you, pressing into your back to chase away the October chill. With it comes a honey-laced scent. It is sweet and lulling, seeping into your pores to flood your senses. This is like before—the awareness of familiarity and possession, but there is a difference in its tone. Beneath it is a wicked teasing, a promise of dominance and pleasure. Like the invisible ropes, it overpowers, wrapping around you to hold you like a blanket.

It is enticing. A pull that calls to you. Something within you reverberates its call, answering back.

The arms around you tighten until you're firmly pressed against the man holding you. That is who it is. Not what. The wolf is gone. This is solid flesh.

This is myth made life.

The lulling sensation settles in, calling to you, telling you to submit.

It would be so easy. So simple.

No.

You push at the man's arms, twisting in an attempt to break free. But your savior turned captor holds firm, allowing nothing.

"Let me go."

"No."

The no is a rumble deep in his chest. It vibrates through the pull and into your bones. This is a command, and your body promptly responds, coiling tight.

Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with the man holding you in his arms. You're staring at the face of a man. He is handsome. Older. His skin is lightly coated in sweat and dirt. But the eyes. They are wolf eyes. Completely animal. The rest of him is completely bare. No clothing in sight, and yet he doesn’t appear cold.

His chest heaves slightly, nostrils flaring. This man burst forth from the wolf, but there is still a beastly quality that sings along the pull. This man is somewhere between, lingering between the wolf and humanity.

How you know this isn't entirely clear. There is a link somewhere. A tether. His closeness only makes the awareness grow in strength. Confusion and concern twist together even as the comforting familiarity attempts to soothe your nerves.

"Please," you murmur, not entirely understanding yourself what it is you're trying to say.

The man only sighs. His head dips, and then he inhales deeply as if—

Is he…scenting you?

"What are—"

The question disappears from your lips. Taken from your mouth. The stranger nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeper. One hand descends as the other rises. Along the pull you feel heat, it floods outward from him and into you, going straight to your pussy.

The descending hand slides between your legs, cupping your sex. The other roams up your stomach to your chest, gently learning the curve of a breast through your sweater.

He groans low, and that too reverberates within you. A tingling blooms in your core. There is your own desire, but beside it is another. His.

The stranger's hand slides further between your legs. Back and forth, the pressure building so suddenly and intensely that your pussy clenches.

He inhales again. Growls. "Mine."

That one word is like a slap to the face and a comforting caress. Along the pull, it is a dominating serenity. Outwardly, your freedom rebels, pushing against the idea.

As if sensing the unease, his hold on you releases, but only for a moment. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms, clutching you tightly, strutting forward with purpose in every step. You sense it through the pull, this taut string that has woven its way inside.

"Let me go," you murmur, pressing against his firm chest.

Be calm.

The command comes not from his own throat, but from within your head. It is his voice. Clear and resonate. The moment your brain processes it, all your limbs soften like jelly.

Are you trapped? Have you been possessed?

A part of you firmly clings to this idea while the other part remains completely calm as if this is supposed to happen.

He walks deeper into the forest, and time stretches, the stars through the canopy your only light. The trees thicken, and then the stranger comes to a stop before a group of jagged rocks that juts upward from the ground.

Within the rock, you spy darkness.

An opening. An entrance.

Instinct flares, and the need to escape comes rushing back. Be calm, he says again.

This time, there is no instantaneous softening. Along the pull, something tightens, as if adjusting a belt buckle. A wildness stirs, and the earlier arousal returns, tinged with desperation. Eagerness settles in your chest, but it feels more like his emotions than yours.

The man walks toward the rock. He tilts forward, stepping inside, submerging the two of you in utter darkness. Yet, you do not feel frightened. Each step of his is confident and steady, and as the two of you steadily move forward, a soft white glow begins to appear. It is faint at first. Soft.

Another opening emerges, and before you is an antechamber. In the middle of the rock-laden room is a massive slab of solid, black stone. It stands at waist level, the surface worn from age. Above it is an opening in the cave ceiling. From it, moonlight falls upon the rock slab. An acrid odor fills your nostrils. A brief brush of wind slides against your cheek. Something magical and old stirs. Something primal.

He stops at the rock slab, and then gently brings you down to your feet. Solid ground is comforting. Stable and strong.

The wolf eyes stare back at you. A fire swirls within them. As your gazes’ lock, memory surges down the pull. That familiar feeling returns, and with it, memories of you.

He is the one who has walked with you amongst the trees. He is the one who has been the presence at your back. Keeping you safe. Protected. A sense of duty follows the memory along with a flare of purpose. At the end is dominance and possession. It all slithers around the pull until you feel it in every part of you down to the tips of your fingers.

Maybe all those missing women aren’t missing at all. Maybe they went willingly. Maybe they had wolfish protectors of their own.

You are at ease, your limbs responding of their own accord. You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. Its beat is strong beneath your palm. He places his hand over yours, gently grasping it. Stepping forward, his head dips, forehead pressing to yours with an intimacy that somehow feels…normal. Like you've known it all your life.

Along the tether, you taste a name.

John.

His name is John.

"John," you breathe, and his hand upon yours tightens.

The distance closes, a radiating heat bursting within your chest as John’s other hand falls upon your hip. It flows outward, warming you down to your toes and into your fingers. John's lips find yours, and it is perfectly blissful. This stranger is not unknown to you. Your soul sings with longing and want.

There is a connection here. Why not seek it?

You return the kiss, grasping the back of his neck, moving in to consume just as he does. John's answer is a deep growl, one that vibrates in his chest. A sharp spike of arousal shoots through the tether, slamming into you at full force.

You gasp. Draw back.

John is partially transformed, fingers morphing into claws. With a groan that is more animal than human, John tugs at your clothes. They surrender under his touch, like a knife through softened bread. There is no ceremony to it. No ritual. You are laid bare before this man. At his mercy. The chilly October air rushes in and then immediately departs, John's body heat chasing it away almost the moment it arrives.

His hands are on your waist, lifting you, planting you atop the stone slab. You want to say something—anything, but all words escape your head and tongue as John spreads your legs wide and places his mouth on your pussy. Sudden surprise becomes languid pleasure.

He is ravenous. Hungry. John leaves no part of you untasted. Your moans echo in the small cave, filling the space with your ecstasy. His tongue delves inside, and then languidly slides upward to swirl and tease your clit. Everything in you tenses, anticipating release.

John's arms hook over your legs, hands splayed wide, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his mouth. With your pleasure comes his, rolling across the link in waves. It comes in flashes of images. You glimpse yourself as he sees you, not only in this moment, but in all the moments he's watched you.

Between the desire and need is a hint of loneliness, of an unfilled connection that burrows in his chest and eats away at his heart. This current moment isn't what he intended, but it has all unraveled.

Your grasp for him, fingers threading through his hair, tugging hard as your orgasm burns bright behind your eyelids.

Look at me, comes the command.

You do, and your gazes lock. His nails are still elongated, still claw-like. One pointed tip pierces your skin just as your orgasm bursts. He growls low.

Mine.

The voice. His voice.

Mine.

A sense of ownership and dominance enters your consciousness. You feel as if you're incomplete. only a portion of yourself, yet the end is near. It will all end, and you will be fulfilled.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm John's tongue traces up the beads of blooming blood. You shiver, blinking to clear away some of the euphoria. John stands between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs, keeping them wide. In full view is his erect cock. There is a slight curve to it, and at the base is a swollen bulge. John squeezes one thigh and your gaze returns to his face. They are still all wolf.

When the wolf fades, what color might they be? The question pops into your head and then quickly fades. His wolfish features are starting to bleed in again. Nose elongating, fur returning, claws lengthening.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice a tangled snarl.

With a quickness that startles you, John flips you onto your stomach. His hands are everywhere, spreading you wider. You briefly glimpse him between your legs before he lifts himself up and onto the stone slab, settling behind you. Above you, one half-transformed hand presses against the stone just next to your head. His other finds rest against your waist.

While your own body buzzes with anticipation, you sense an excitement along the tether. John's excitement. Of the act itself but also of a sense of peace.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance. You exhale, relaxing your muscles, welcoming him in. You're wet, and your pussy accepts him with only the slightest resistance. He holds himself there for a moment, simply breathing. Like this, you feel entirely full. It's a snug fit, but it feels amazing, like his body was made for yours and yours for his.

Mine.

"Yours."

At your admission, John thrusts in earnest. There is nothing slow and sensual about his movements. It is only primal need and utter hunger. His arm hooks under your stomach, and then you're pressed firmly into the rock by his body. You are trapped beneath him, completely at John's mercy.

Each stroke is perfect. Cleansing.

You pant beneath him, almost in time with his own needy groans. The swell at the base of his cock slaps your pussy with each thrust. It doesn't seek entrance, but deep down, you know it will, but for what purpose is unclear.

John's movements become sharper. More intense. His panting increases, and you feel his mouth at your throat. There is a soft press of his lips, then a gentle tease of his tongue. You cannot see him, but you feel the transformation above you.

John is no longer human as his maw opens wide and holds your throat in it as he ruts. His cock swells in your pussy, stretching. The swell at the base prods, and with a final thrust, it pops in. John holds there, growling. His sharpened teeth pierce your skin. You feel the little rivers of blood trail down your throat. With the bite comes understanding. That tether becomes a solid, unbreakable thing.

Mine. She is mine.

Forever mine.

Mate.

Memories and emotions crash into your skull. You see all of John for who and what he is. A wolf. A shifter. The alpha of his pack.

Within your pussy, you feel a flood of heat. Now you know what the knot is for. His pleasure becomes yours, and you shiver, another orgasm creeping up suddenly and without warning. You clench down on his cock and on his knot. His answer is a pleased growl.

Ever so slowly, the wolf’s massive maw releases your throat. The transformed paw above your head disappears, followed by the weight of him. His cock and knot remain where they are. You feel him shiver. Hear a cracking of bone. You remain perfectly still until the ragged breathing of an animal becomes that of a human.

You turn just enough to glance over your shoulder. Behind you is John. The man, not the wolf. There are no sharp claws. No pointed teeth. The tips of his fingers brush over your skin, becoming full hands that gently caress. There is no harshness. His head tilts up, and for the first time, you're seeing him as he truly is.

Blue eyes. John has blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, exhaling deeply, a nervous flutter to his lashes.

"You're still inside me," you reply softly.

He glances down and groans. "Fucking hell. Forgot about that." He flushes slightly. "It'll be a minute."

"A minute?"

He grimaces. "The knot. Still swollen. It'll hurt you if I pull out now."

"Oh."

There is a stretch of silence. John sighs, his hands gentle tapping a rhythm against your ass. "This is...awkward,” he murmurs.

"Is it?" you ask, arching a single eyebrow.

"John," he says sheepishly, extending his hand in introduction.

"I know your name. I heard it through the—"

"The bond," he finishes. "I know." He drops his hand, and places it on your lower back. Using the position, John tests the knot. You wince. It doesn’t want to budge. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for...this."

"It's fine,” you reply, because it is.

You feel light. Content. This man is a complete stranger and yet not. Between you is the bond. There is strength in it, and a comforting embrace that you’ve always wanted but have never found.

"It's not." He sighs. "It's not how I wanted to do this," he mutters. Gripping your hips, John tests the knot. There is resistance but it’s significantly less than before. "Relax your muscles," he says softly.

You inhale, and on the exhale, John withdraws. You whimper from the brief flare of resistance but it isn't painful.

“I forget myself when I’m changed. You were threatened, and I couldn’t resist the impulse to protect you. For the wolf, that meant stealing you away. Completing the bond. But it’s not an excuse.”

You draw your knees up, suddenly realizing how exposed you are.

“You didn’t harm me. Except—”

You reach up and touch your throat. There is no blood or puncture wounds. Just a couple raised bumps that weren’t there before.

“What is this place?” you ask, glancing around.

John’s gaze scans the room, and then returns to you. “A ceremonial space. It’s been here for thousands of years. The wolf brought you here because it knew it would be safe.” He licks his lips in agitation, and then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at them in irritation. “Could we begin again? Start over?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He places both hands on the stone slab, leaning in close. “I’ll…take you home.” His muscles bunch with tension when he says it. Along the bond, you sense the wolf’s firm refusal of the idea. “I’ll come to you during the day. We can talk.”

You scoot down the rock slab, moving closer to him. The middle of John’s brow furrows with confusion as he watches you. As you cozy up to him, you sense his calm—the relaxing of his muscles. John’s head dips, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyelids close in pleasure.

“My scent is all over you,” he purrs.

A mix of deep desire and contentment wraps you up in its embrace.

“How do you plan on taking me home? You did shred all my clothes.”

John chuckles. “Discreetly.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

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@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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multifandomfanatic02 · 11 months ago

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"My Little Partner in Crime."

pairing : father!Alastor x daughter!reader

synopsis : you spent nearly 80 years by your father's side without him knowing who you truly were. Don't you think it's about time you told him the truth? Would he despise you?

warnings : weep bitches.

word count : 3,106

It had been 76 years since she had passed. Yet she remained in the body of a 15 year old girl. In hell, of course no one aged. Not many child sinners were often found in Hell but she was special. While she wasn't an overlord, she was a brilliant mind behind one.

In life, [Y/N] felt she had been misplaced in the world. So many terrible things had happened at such a young age. She got by though. Through learned methods and maybe a little bit of her genes had helped too.

She was orphaned at the age of 10 years old. Father died before she was born and mama fell severely ill when she was 10. It was an unfortunate circumstance for such a young child to be in, however it only got worse from there. After both parents had died, she ended up in a very poor fostering system. In which none of the children were treated right. It was so much worse for her.

[Y/N] was the daughter of an infamous serial killer in Louisiana. Which did not look good to potential foster parents. If her father was a fucking psychopath, what would she be like? In a way, they weren't far off in their speculations. And they proved to be right later on.

Her mother didn't find out about the love of her life's deeds until he was pronounced dead one eventful night. Gunshot to the head in the midst of burying his own victim. Regardless of what was said about the man, she still loved him all the years after before falling to her own demise. It wasn't like he was a crazed monster, in fact, he likely saved more people than he killed. He only went after the worst of the worst.

It was obvious that the man loved his wife more than life itself. More than his job. It saddened her knowing that he would never get to meet his daughter. Children were never planned or even talked about between the two considering sex was kind of a sensitive topic for the both of them and for different reasons. So the one time they decided to 'experiment' she ended up conceiving. Funny enough, 6 weeks later was when he died. Neither parents had knowledge of [Y/N] presence yet.

[Y/N] was scorned throughout the entirety of her foster community. Not for anything she did, no no. But for something her father did. No one wanted her. Regardless, she was happy that she was on her own in a way. Her 4 years in foster care were quite peaceful.

It wasn't until she was 14 that she had been finally picked out of the system. An old man, maybe in his fifties, had come to get her. The fostering system, not wanting her to continue her stay any longer, kept their dealings with him under wraps so everything stayed out of legal documents. [Y/N] wasn't adopted, no, she was to become his wife and to bear several of his children. Figures. What else would a man like him want in a child. Women were still known as the caretakers at the time. Nobody in this day and age was evolved like her father whom treated her mother like a queen when they were alive.

Thankfully it never got too bad before she decided to take her fate into her own hands. She was an avid reader. Her favorite things to read were the medical books found in her room when she was in the system. So she eventually learned a thing or two. It started off with a crushed pill in his drink every morning to stave off his libido. So he was never in the mood to touch her. (Don't ask where she gets the medication, it's a secret.)

Wearing him down slowly every day and night for the next year before his untimely death. An insulin overdose. It'd be like he died in his sleep. During an autopsy, no one would even know. She grinned ear to ear, feeling the man's pulse disappear from his neck. She took a breath before calling 911 in a faked panic tone. Convincing actually. "Hello? I n-need help. My husband isn't b-breathing, I think he may be dead. Please come save him! He can't die! I love him!" She managed to force tears from her eyes.

Ultimately, he did indeed pass away and she was finally on her own. I guess it wasn't a totally bad set up since his property, belongings, and money went to [Y/N]. It was short lived, unfortunately. All that money that went to ballrooms and jazz music. It was paradise and worth every penny she thought. Only to die at the age of 15 from an infected fox bite. (Random, right? Just like dad's lol)

[Y/N] had been in Hell for 76 years. She wasn't well known unlike her companion. Sticking to the man like glue after all this time. She worked well with the Radio Demon. Their minds complemented each other very well. Almost to a point of familiarity. When she first arrived in Hell, it was like she had made a big boom in the talk of the town. She was a mastermind and very talented at killing and pranks. It sparked a lot of the overlords' interest, especially since she wasn't interested in becoming an overlord herself. All she wanted was to enjoy her dark and very humorous afterlife. [Y/N] of course declined all their business proposals, even the famous Vox.

There was one she couldn't turn away from. He was charming and the two immediately had an unbreakable connection. The connection itself was unreadable but it was there nonetheless. He made a deal with her, promising absolute protection from the exterminators and other overlords and in turn she would help with his dealings. It was a fair trade, the Radio Demon was a bit impulsive with his actions while [Y/N] methodically planned all her own dealings 30 steps ahead. And with her being 15, well, she was thought to be an easy target.

It was actually strange, they look alike too. The same color scheme, same nose and eyes. Both shared that constant shit-eating grin and composure. The only difference between them being that he's an elk demon while she, a fox demon. It was literally just the tail, antlers, and hairstyle that set them apart.

Overtime, the radio demon, opened up to her piece by piece. Alastor, that was his name. It didn't take to long for her to come to the realization that he was in fact her beloved father that her mom talked about oh so much. It was clear. It wasn't just their appearance but mannerisms that were so similar. Her name being the same as his mothers surely didn't help either. He thought nothing of it. Alastor didn't know, he was too oblivious to anything that wasn't himself. And up to now, it never felt like the right time to tell him, so it's been a secret.

Turns out she wasn't the only one to have this realization. Carmilla Carmine along with many other overlords figured it out before even she. Carmilla being a mother herself felt empathy for her and talked to her whenever she needed it. Rosie found a deep love for [Y/N] herself, acting as a mother figure as well. The little darling was just like her bestie, Alastor, how could she not? Other overlords weren't as reasonable and often threatened to use the knowledge as a weapon against her. What would Alastor think? Did he ever want a child? Would he stray away from her if he found out? Often enough, the overlords who threatened her ended up without their lives by her hands by the end of the day.

Seventy-six years, Alastor had kept [Y/N] by his side every step he took. It wasn't until his powerful fight with Vox that he decided to step away. He disappeared for 7 years without notice. It broke her heart into a million pieces but just like before in life, she marched on and kept her promise to him.

It wasn't until news arrived in Pentagon city about this Hazbin Hotel that she'd heard Alastor's name after so long. He was working as the host of the hotel. It wasn't often [Y/N] showed emotion but this time she couldn't hold it in, tears streamed down her face. Her sturdy smile began to slowly break apart. It seemed her father was her weakness. While he didn't want to admit it, it was mutual. He left without saying a word to avoid seeing her disappointment in those little eyes of hers. He didn't want her see him so weak. In a way, he subconsciously felt he had some kind of responsibility over her.

The walk to the hotel was nerve-wracking for [Y/N]. Seeing him after all this time felt bittersweet. She was excited of course but she was awfully upset about his random disappearance.

Knock, knock, knock

The Princess of Hell had opened the door, to her surprise to see a red and black fox demon with a huge smile on her face. Charlie was suddenly having a flash of deja vu. Where else has she seen this before? In any case, it wasn't the most obvious thing to pop out at her. This girl was a child. There shouldn't be a child in Hell, whose cruel idea was it to send her down here Charlie thought.

"Princess Charlotte, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is [Y/N]." She bent down pulling her dress between her fingers to greet her.

"Just call me Charlie! It's nice to meet you too! Are you here to stay in the hotel? If so we would love to have you here with us. Especially someone as cute as you." Charlie reached out to pinch the young demon's cheeks before composing herself.

"I actually am, among other things. I was hoping I could be of service to you." Charlie sat questioning her proposal for a second.

"I'll gladly accept any help I can get but love, you are a child, don't you want to focus on going to heaven and get out of this place?" Charlie bent down to her level and took the girl's hands in her own.

"Don't let her age fool you, my dear. She is a very capable demon. In fact, better than most overlords I know." The familiar radio static voice tickled [Y/N] ears as Alastor materialized behind Charlie. He smiled genuinely as he held out his arms, waiting for her embrace. Tears suddenly streamed down as she ran into his arms. The two holding onto each other as if one of them would disappear forever.

"I apologize for my sudden departure, darling. I hope you know that I would never leave you willingly. It was the only way I could keep my side of the deal." He stroked her hair in attempt to calm her sobbing. She couldn't say anything, she had already forgiven him a while back. Alastor couldn't do anything to make her hate him.

"Alastor aren't you going to introduce us? Who's this sweet thing?" Angel dust walked to the doors to join him and Charlie. The rest of the sinners in the lobby following suit.

"I guess you could say she is my partner in crime. This little darling has been by my side for nearly 80 years. I owe a lot of my victories to her truth be told." Everyone stood around confused, expecting a different answer. There's absolutely no way she could JUST be his partner they look too much ali-

"Al, is that.. is that all she is?" [Y/N] sent vaggie daggering eyes as a warning not to continue her statement. Getting the hint, Vaggie backed off and went to sit on the couch in the center of the room. "Nevermind, forget I said anything."

"Hey [Y/N], it's been a few months. How you holding up. Still getting into trouble I hear." Husk gives the fox demon some pats on the head.

"It's nice to see you again Husker, I would like to thank you for looking out for me these past few years." Her grin grew looking up at the fluffy demon.

"Just doing what the boss told me." Alastor often had souls he was contracted with look after her in his absence. There wasn't much he could do, but knowing she was safe and sound and thriving eased his cold heart. It wasn't often he found himself tied to someone. But there he was, worried for the safety of someone else. A child no less. It took a while to understand his feelings but he eventually did accept it. He cared about someone other than himself.

Introductions to the residents went smoothly, all of them having such lively personalities she thought. What an amazing new family to have. Besides missing Mama, this was much better than what she had in life ironic as it is.

The times were changing and everything felt still, peaceful. [Y/N] had an amazing new family and business. Angel Dust being like an amazing big brother and Charlie like an amazing older sister. However the biggest change was how close she got to Alastor. He insisted her bedroom be near his radio tower so he could watch over her. It was so out of character for the residents that have only known him since he joined the hotel staff.

She was back to being glued to his hip. Her charm helping to gain more residents with her adorableness. It brought on a whole lot of business deals for the feared radio demon as well. Everything was perfect. Something still weighed on [Y/N]'s heart. Alastor needed to know the truth. Why the two of them have such a strong connection. And why they can't seem to ever let each other go. It's not something easily brought up in conversation. Thankfully, luck was on her side one day during one of their business outings.

"So.. do we have a deal?" Alastor held his hand out to damaged overlord. The enemy's eyes flickered over to the fox demon, causing a distraction. Long enough for his partner to sneak a gun to the young girl's temple. Her composure stabled, a smile creeping on her face.

"Before I agree to this deal, you are going to hear me out. Or my partner here will end the little girl's life. And you'll be pickingup brain matter off the ground." Alastor's eye twitched, returning his hands to the top of his cane. His expression eased back into his typical smile, seeing her unfazed by the imminent threat.

"Fine. What do you want?" The man smiled seeing Alastor accept his conditions.

"[Y/N]. I want the girl." The Radio Demon's breath hitched in his throat upon hearing the request. Never. Never in a million years, he thought. "You see that BITCH had me killed. Secretly drugging me for a year. Didn't think I would have noticed, huh? She never payed for it, she never had to answerfor her crime. Got her out of that shithole of a foster care and this is what I get?"

He forcibly grabbed the collar of her prim and proper dress, picking her up to his face. Her ears folded to the back of her head, scowling at the man now. "You were going to make me a child bride."

"You are a woman. You do what I say. If you don't accept my proposal, I'll tell daddy here your little secret. Won't he be surprised." Her eyes turned red at his words, both her and Alastor, in his demon form, shoving an arm through the man's chest in unison. All he felt in that moment was fear, dying for a second time.

It took a second for the man's words to process in Alastor's head. Secret? What secret? He didn't want to pry but it was obviously tearing [Y/N] up inside. Her expression said it all. All he wanted was to know she was okay. It was time to let him know. And whatever decision he made, she was going to be okay with.

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Darling, you don't have to tell me anything if you are not comfortable. That fuck was just trying to get under your skin." And it worked.

"No. You need to know." [Y/N]'s lip began to quiver in fear. Scared she was suddenly going to be a disappointment. How could she keep this a secret for so long. He had the right to know. Now. "My name is [first name] [Shared last name]. I.. I am your daughter."

The gears in his head turned as he tried to process the new information. When something suddenly clicked in his head. The love of his life just before he died, was constantly sick and had been for a few weeks. Alastor had just thought she had a cold and constantly doted on her, trying to provide the best medicine he could.. hm.. find. She never took it thankfully. She was pregnant.

He hadn't thought about it before now but it has come to his attention that the reason why he cared for this child so much was because she reminded him of his wife. She was careful with every decision, she was always calm in every situation she's been in, and they both had that beautiful fire in their eyes. The fire that let everyone know that they weren't going to submit to nobody. The dynamic between him and his wife wasn't much different from the dynamic between him and his daughter.

Why hadn't Alastor seen it before. [Y/N] was obviously named after his mother. The girl was literally his mini me. He couldn't help but let a tear or two drop from his eyes before bending his knees to look at her at her level.

"Tell me... what uh. What happened to your mother?" Alastor held the girl's cheek in his hand caressing it gently and wiping away her own tears, slightly smearing the blood on his hand.

"Mama died of the influenza virus when I was 10. I'm sure she's in Heaven, having the time of her life." Alastor pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, never wanting to let go.

"After all this time, I've had a precious piece of her with me. And I won't ever leave you alone again."

A/N: Yall let me know if you liked this concept, this was fun to do. I know it's kind of out of character for Alastor but I hope it healed something in y'all with daddy issues 🙏

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rttnz0mb · 2 months ago

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⦻ Creepypasta Headcanons pt. 1 ⦻

Warnings: sfw, fluff, Mentions of gore, slight nsfw, slight angst, Multiple characters

Disclaimer: these are just a few head cannons I have for some of the creepy pastas, i'll probably make more head cannons on these characters again sometime!!

Jeff The Killer

🔪 very impatient and hotheaded, making talking to him not the easiest

🩸 has a bit of a southern accent - more noticeable when he gets mad and starts yelling

💀 never really apologized to liu but they still talk a little bit but he wishes they could be as close as they were when they were younger

🫀 Prop has many one night stands an isn't really interested in having a serious relationship with anyone

🔪 Doesn't like people arguing or loud noises so he always has headphones on him just in case he needs to cancel noise out

🩸 doesn't like people touching him especially when hes overwhelmed and if people do he usually get very triggered and flips out on people leaving him feeling guilty especially if its liu

💀 sometimes asks liu if he could sleep in his bed with him because his nightmares get really bad sometimes

🫀 favorite slasher movie is scream and one-time he dressed up as ghost face for Halloween and went out scaring little kids

🔪 he's actually really into the gyaru and y2k fashion but he will never admit it

Toby Rogers

🪓 Likes painting his nails different colors - its something he used to do with Lyra so he likes having his nails painting almost constantly

💀 Doesn't like the nickname "ticci toby" because hes insecure of his tics especially when hes meeting new people and he has to explain his tourettes to them

🔥 Has more of a western emo type of style

🗝️ Doesn't like to be around people who are drunk because it reminds him of his dad

🪓 Has to cut his hair very often because it grows super fast and it gets super curly and out of control

💀 likes when people he's close to pat his back or caress his hands when he's stressed to calm him down

🔥 wears a bunch of Lyra's old jewelry even though they are girly he doesn't really care

🗝️ Sees Tim and Brian kind of like father figures and is really close with them and often comes to them for advice

🪓 LOVES tim Burton films like he watches them year round, his favorite one is Edward Scissorhands

Ben Drowned

🎮 Has a terrible water phobia and gets mad when anyone jokes about it

💧 Doesn't really enjoy energy drinks to much but he does drink them if he wants to have extra energy (like he needs it)

🕹 Really misses his life as a normal kid and wishes he could've experienced a normal teenage life

👾 Loves um gardening if yk what i mean

🎮 Smokes with Jeff a lot so there kinda close

💧 Doesn't really sleep because he's a ghost and because he has nightmares of drowning so he usually doesn't unless he's mentally exhausted which is a lot of the time

🕹 he definitely bully's kids on Roblox and then hacks there account once they say something rude back

👾 HATES the perv allegations like so what if he has pictures of woman in his drawer like.. ( no I'm joking please don't get mad :) )

🎮 Sometimes hides in different electronics when he needs a break from everything

Bloody Painter

🎨 very soft spoken and doesn't really enjoy having conversations with others unless there close which it takes a long time for him to open up to people

🩸 Doesn't really see himself as a serial killer only as an artist

🖌️ gets aggravated easily with the other pastas so he usually traps himself in his room until hes hungry and needs to eat which he sometimes forgets to do if hes really into a painting hes working on

🎧 He likes more classical music especially when hes painting he also really enjoys jazz music

🎨 He doesn't like when people use his name because he doesn't like thinking about his past which his name reminds him of it

🩸 Not a huge fan of screaming so he Usually cuts his victims throats first so they cant scream plus he also gets a lot of blood for his paintings this way

🖌️ He enjoys drinking wine every now and then

🎧 The thought of having a partner scares him a lot since he probably has really bad attachment issues

🎨 can come of as rude and cold but he really just doesn't want to come of as sensitive and soft

Okay that's it for now hope you enjoyed!! I'll def do more of these with other creepypastas just request any if there's anyone you want me to do cuz I'll probably do the more popular ones first but I def wanna do the more underrated ones too!!

OKAY BYE BYE!!!

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #toby rogers #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #headcanon #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter x reader #marble hornets #creepypasta scenarios

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0mg-bird · 4 months ago

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Look Of Love~ S. Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: All the moments you had to tell him exactly how you feel, and yet it comes down to this one, where the words ‘I love you’ might save his life.

Warnings: Violence, angst, Reid being a kicked puppy, blood, tw! Tobias Hankel!

Season 2 Reid x Fem! Agent! Reader

Everything was going fine, wasn’t it? Well, about as fine as you can consider a case about a serial killer who believes he’s doing the work of God, to go.

But he was fine.

And that was what made things fine.

Well, until the whole thing crumbled and there was a sharp pain in your lungs that isn’t about to cease. JJ and Spencer left to find the location of Tobias Hankel’s home, that was about an hour ago. You had watched as he holstered his gun, preparing to get into the car and leave you.

“You’re still not coming with me.” He says towards your silent pining.

“Spence.” You argue, though he just turns to look at you amused.

“We’re just going to talk to this guy, he’s just a witness. They need you here.” He reasons, reassuring you with a smile.

His words always seemed to calm you down, it’s like magic, the Reid effect. So you nodded and rolled your eyes as he tucked your hair behind your ears, a quirk he’s always done because he knows how much you hate your pointy ears.

There was no argument, you and Spencer were the closest ones out of the rest. It’s a kind of peaceful friendship, the two of you just played in harmony so well. He knew all of your secrets, you knew almost all of his, and you weren’t shy to tug on his arm or secretly join your hand in his under the table during meetings. Spencer was more than okay with it, learning that’s just how you act with people you are comfortable with.

And while the two of you were convinced it wasn’t a relationship the team would bat an eye at, your friends often had secret discussions in regard to you.

“This whole ‘friendship’ scheme…do they really buy it?” Emily asked one morning as she watched you take a drink of coffee and cringe at the too sweet taste, then give it to Reid and take the one he had been drinking.

Reid isn’t a fan of germs.

But in his mind, yours aren’t so bad.

“Oh no, they’re still convinced they’re just close friends.” Morgan chuckled, answering the woman’s question.

“She loves him.” JJ added in a matter of fact tone. “It’s honestly a little sad…she doesn’t want to admit it out loud.”

“Why?” Emily’s brows furrow.

“Afraid she’ll ruin the friendship.” Morgan simply says.

At that, the female agent scoffs. “Reid’s obviously in love with her, no friend looks at another friend that way.”

They watch intently at the eye contact being shared, and how expressions change when Reid walks away from you.

“They look like kicked puppies.” JJ frowns. “Morgan, go talk to him, I can’t stand this anymore.”

The man looks at her in confusion. “And say what? I can’t just tell a man how he feels.”

Emily argues. “Reid doesn’t know what he feels, he’s confused, put him out of his misery.”

As Morgan goes to open his mouth, Hotch appears with his signature scowl and the conversation was dropped and done with.

Though it was never forgotten.

The entire team saw the lovesickness between the two of you…and yet, you couldn’t fix it.

There were plenty of times you could have confessed, many perfect moments that were ruined by your fear of the feeling not being mutual.

And after a while, the words seemed to try and escape on their own accord. Like in the moment he goes to leave and you call to him one last time.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit?” He said, scanning your face intently like he always seemed to do.

“Yeah, see you soon, I lo-”

Your heart beats loudly in your ears and you seal your lips, feeling betrayed by your own words. He looks at you, puzzled, then leaves.

You should have told him.

You should have just told him.

Because now, gun drawn, searching Hankel’s house, Spencer is no where to be found.

JJ was in the barn out back, looking rather disheveled and scared when she was found, but she was safe and unharmed and Spencer was gone.

“We thought he was just a witness, I swear. Then Reid figured out he was the UnSub and...” JJ said to you over and over, feeling guilt in her bones, blaming herself for his abduction. She swore that she should’ve stayed with him, not split up like he said to. She means well…you just can’t think straight.

The team stayed inside the house overnight, working off of minimal hours of sleep, and daybreak came and you were sitting on the couch with your head in your hands, thinking of some plan on how you were going to find him.

“Hey.” Penelope greeted as you walk into the room with a multitude of computers she was searching for any clues.

“Hey.” You sigh, leaning on the desk beside her. “Anything yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, sweet pea.”

You watch the videos of war and destruction on the screens, the right kind of fuel for a split personality maniac like Hankle.

“If Tobias is living as three people, and his father is the one that’s the evil side of his brain, then I think that’s who has taken Reid. We’ve been thinking like Tobias, we need to be thinking like his dad, right?” You question, turning to Morgan as he walks into the room.

He nods. “It’s a good idea, yeah.”

Suddenly, the computer screens in front of the three of you go black.

“What happened?” Morgan asks.

“I don’t know…” Penelope answers…

She tries to get the screens back up, but to all of your surprise, the live stream that comes on is something more horrific than what you were previously watching.

“Spencer.” The name leaves you as well as all the air in your lungs.

There he was, your pretty boy, sat in a chair, bloody and bruised and out of it.

Morgan yells for the others, but you’re frozen in place.

“Track him, Pen.” You say in a panic.

“I can’t, Hankle is only streaming this to his home computer.” She says in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” You worry. “This is some kind of joke? This is just for us to see?”

She nods slowly.

The team watches closely, listening to the way Hankle forces Reid to choose an innocent couple to get murdered.

You seriously think you’re going to be sick.

He struggles on the screen, choosing someone to be spared torture instead.

And as fast as he was in front of you, he’s gone from the live feed even faster. You stare at the blank screen with red eyes, then leave the room completely.

A full day wasted, you weren’t close enough to find him. You go back to couch and prepare for another sleepless night.

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep, because you wake with a start at the feeling of something being different.

You make your way to the computer room where everyone is hunched over, looking at a map Penelope brings up.

“Good, you got some sleep.” Hotch says, barely sparing you a glance as you enter.

“What’s going on?” You ask, leaning into Morgan’s side.

“We think we found him.” He says to you, watching your eyes widen.

“What?” Your voice cracks and any lingering feeling of sleep is gone.

“We’re heading out in five.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Tying your hair up and rubbing your face, you pull a kevlar vest on and cinch the velcro shut. The entire car ride to the little shack, you’re twitching.

Everyone shares a look, because the way you act now is the whole reason they didn’t wake you when the live feed was back up. If you were to watch the way Reid was being beaten, Gideon isn’t sure you could handle it.

The team storms the shack, and you try hard not to lose hope when you come up empty handed yet again.

You curse to yourself. “They were here.”

“They couldn’t have gotten far, they’re on foot.” Hotch nods, immediately turning back out to search the cemetery you were in.

On high alert, you search through the dark, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“We’re gonna find him.” Morgan promises, but you can’t focus on anything besides locating Reid.

Closer and closer, you can almost feel it in your bones, the way your instincts guid you in a direction.

The only thing that halts your step is the sound of a single gun shot.

No.

No, it wasn’t going to end like this. It couldn’t.

Quickly, you head to that noise with your partners following after you.

“Spencer!” You shout, voice raw. “Spence?”

He looks up from Tobias’ body, and it’s like the entire world stops spinning. He’s there, he’s alive, he’s breathing ragged breaths and it’s all okay.

Hotch is there to help him to his feet, guiding him to stumble forward until he gains his footing. His head is dizzy and his hearing might be a little echoey but in a single moment, you’re there.

He grips onto you like you’re his lifeline, and you wrap your arms around him, stumbling to support his weight. A hand in his dirty hair, he feels your touch and knows you have to be real. That it’s your real form here that’s fighting to hold back tears and not the visions he’d see when he was out of it.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” You promise, knowing he might not realize he’s shaking and mumbling.

Pulling back just a few inches, he’s leaning his forehead to yours and breathing too quickly.

“Hey, hey.” You say softly, gently cupping his face. “Look at me, Spencer, look at me, sweetheart.”

He sees the deep look in your worried eyes and tries to form a sentence, but for once, his big brain can’t figure out what to say.

You do though.

And for once, you aren’t scared to say it. Actually, you’re afraid of not saying it.

“Spence.” You breathe out, he breathes in like your air is what matters. Your hand gently smooths blood soaked hair back, trying to get him to calm down.

He says your name in reassurance to himself.

“Hey, I’m right here.” You say. “I’m right here, and I love you.”

His brain fog seems to clear, his confused brown eyes are searching your face like they always tend to do, and those three words are making a small smile pull on his cracked lips.

The hospital trip is almost too brief, just enough for him to get checked out and cleaned up, then you’re back on the plane to head home.

Curled in the corner of the small couch, you are barely asleep like the others, listening to music, head leaned against the wall. That’s before gentle hands pull your headphones off your ears.

Your eyes open and turn to see Spencer, sitting down beside you.

“Hey.” You whisper.

He sets the headphones down. “Hi.”

“You feel okay?” You ask, noticing the way he pulls your knees away from your chest so you sit normally.

He nods. “I feel about as good as someone who just got beat up would.”

You smile at his humor.

He tucks the hair framing your face, behind your ears, as always. “I was in and out of consciousness when you found me, I think, so I need to make sure that you actually said it and I wasn’t just lucid dreaming.”

You reach up to grab his hands. “Said what?”

He takes a deep breath. “That…you love me?”

His eyes are hopeful and wide, that’s what makes you nod.

“You weren’t imagining it…I love you, Spence.”

A smile forms on his face. “That’s good then.” He says, sure of himself.

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

That when he flips your hold of his hands and joins one in his. “Because I love you too.”

There it was, the confession you’ve wanted for so long. There’s a moment of silence, then your free hand cups his jaw and he moves so close, your lips part just to breathe out slowly and then he’s there. Kissing you.

It’s soft, like you’ve been doing this for years.

He licks his lower lip after he pulls away, trying to savor the taste. Brushing your forehead to his for a second, you lean back and motion for him to follow. There’s no words that need to be spoken as he makes himself a bed in your lap, lying on his side that hurts the least and presses his face into your stomach.

Out like a light, the both of you.

Morgan nudges Emily a while later when they both wake, and he motions over to the lump on the couch. The woman grins.

“It took no interference at all.” She says.

Morgan smirks. “Nope, just a near death experience.”

Hotch scowls as usual. “We’re going to have to talk to HR about this.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #spencer reid fluff #matthew gray gubbler x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #fem reader #spencer reid x fanfiction

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master-of-junk · 1 month ago

Text

Mine (🔞MDNI🔞)

🩸Mr. Scarletella x MC

You walked down the street, it was already dark out. Your eyes trailed up towards the sky. You hadn’t found any suitable target to kill so you just took a day off. Even serial killers needed some time alone.

You stood at a stop light, mindlessly waiting for the light to tell you to walk despite there being no cars on the road. You looked around slowly, wondering why it was so quiet today- but your eyes widen when you saw a man in red standing farther away from you, he held an umbrella that was also red. You looked up at the stars briefly noting that there was no rain coming anytime soon- not even a cloud in the sky. You looked back down and saw the man was gone!

You huffed out slightly and continued walking. Of course you remembered him, he was obsessed with getting your name in the other world. Eventually, you gave in when he had cornered you and gave him your name. However, you were surprised to find yourself alive and well, back in your home world. Of course- occasionally you’d see him behind you in a passing reflection or in the corner of your room at night watching you with glowing red eyes. Though, it was a lot more underwhelming than you cared to admit.

Sure he got the drop on you sometimes and scared the shit out of you- but he was more like an annoying gnat that kept buzzing in your ear no matter how many times you swatted at it. He kept his distance for the most part and you were fine with that. He also didn’t seem to mind your ideology when it came to make sure people got what they deserved.

You made your way home, hands shoved into the pockets of your raincoat. Sometimes, it even felt nice when you saw him. It made you feel safer? If that was the correct term to describe the sense of comfort you found in the demon’s ghost’s presence. You entered your home discarding your things for the day and went about your usual business, showering, eating, being lazy-

You flipped through the channels on the dark room, a glass of wine on the table. Without the stimulating company of another human or entities like Mr.crawling, you found yourself often bored, what else would pass all the time if not alcohol.

Though you tried to not drink too much because that pesky little gnat would become more active. You supposed that Mr. Scarletella was smarter than the average ghost and understood human nature to a larger extent than others. Especially since it appears he, like Mr. Gap, could travel between worlds at will.

You grabbed the wine glass and leaned back breathing out as you settled back into the couch. Though just as you expected, it didn’t take long for the entity to appear in the corner of your living room. Of course you ignored him, knowing that your attention would only make him act more aggressively. You sat silently in the tense atmosphere with the wine glass pressed to your bottom lip as you contemplated the ghosts behavior from your peripherals, eyes still trained in the screen.

Maybe he wanted a reaction out of you? You grunted a bit not sparing a glance but turned off the tv and walked away “You’re terrible company.” You put away whatever needed to be put up before walking into your bedroom. You only had a lamp on, making Mr. Scarletella appear in the darkest and furthest corner making you roll your eyes.

You glanced at him briefly as a rather devilish thought crossed your mind. What if this was like a game of cat and mouse? If he wanted to kill you, he’d of done it by now. So what did he want?? Another glance at him made his head perk up as your eyes connected. You looked away quickly once again thinking ‘He was once a man right?’

Without much other thought you decided ‘Fuck it- let’s see what happens…’ you stood at the edge of your bed your back facing the ghost, you pulled your shirt over your head leaving you in nothing else expect for your underwear. You stood there for a moment before slightly looking back over your shoulder seeing that he was watching you intently, his eyes looked wider than usual as if to intently study you.

You hummed out “Let’s see…” acting oddly unbothered by the growing intensity of the atmosphere, maybe you liked being watched a lot more than initially thought.

You bent over slightly reaching into your night stand grabbing the small vibrator before sitting back onto your plush bed, for the first time in a long time you acknowledged him “Ever see one of these before?” You giggled, a tease to your tone, you placed it between your legs and turned it on, ignoring the eyes peering at you intently from across the room. You bit your lip closing your eyes, a hand moving to pinch your own nipple as you pleasured yourself.

You briefly opened your eyes, looking through your eyelashes towards Mr. Scarletella. Your eyes met as he hadn’t taken his gaze off of you since you acknowledged him. After only a few seconds of the eye contact you threw your head back feeling the rush of warmth wash over you in waves making you grip the bed and breath out shuttered breaths. You eventually turned off the toy and sighed out catching your breath until you opened your eyes and flinched when he was next to your bed looming over you “Ah!” You relaxed upon seeing he was just staring at you, breathing harshly.

You were a little off put though “U-Uh-“ you began sitting up “What?? Never seen someone get off before-“ you were suddenly cut off when he grabbed you and trapped you against the bed “Hey!” You yelped but you grew silent when his hand cupped your breast and a thumb glided over your nipple making your gaze flicker downward. You looked back at his face seeing his eyes staring at your face intently like usual, but there was a curious air about him.

You looked further down and saw his bright red jacket already unbuttoned and his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. Your eyebrows shifted up in surprise “You want to…?” He didn’t bother to wait, as he grabbed your hips and positioned himself in front of you “Mr.Scarletella, w-wait-“ his breathing picked up hearing his name roll off your tongue. He slammed into you making you gasp! He kept his thrusts even as he pinned your legs back against your body keeping you pinned as his grin grew wider seeing your resolve crack to deny his advances.

You could see the excitement building in his expression as he stared at your face intently as he fucked you. It didn’t even seem like he was trying to please himself, it was like he wanted to see what you’d do under his touch. He leaned closer to your face, you looked at him questionably, almost wondering if he was going to kiss you.

However his hand wrapped around your throat and held you back down to the bed as he kept mercilessly thrusting into your velvet-like walls. He enjoyed seeing you wrapped around him, he liked claiming you in all ways. He liked being the only one you did this with, albeit it’s the first time you’ve ever let him this close. But he would take any crumb of attention you’d give him. You were all his, all his.

He felt you clench around him making his grin widen “You! You mine!” He breathed harshly watching your eyes connect with his, you swore you could see the hearts in his eyes as he claimed you “All mine! Only mine! Never leave!” You let out a sudden cry your hand flying to his as you came, your legs shaking. He grinned seeing you collapse back against the bed- his hand retreating.

You panted looking at him, your face decently red as you hadn’t expected that to happen…

Maybe you should have teased him sooner?

#mr scarletella #mr scarletella x reader #homicipher #homicipher x reader

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darkmatilda · 3 months ago

Text

╰┈➤ HALLOWEEN TRADITION

in which one you and reid match your outfits every year for halloween

tw: mention of shoo!ing, dea!h of an animal

contents: spencer reid x fem!reader, they're both obviously in love with each other, time skips

words: 7.5k

a year ago

“Oh, I already ordered. Caramel cappuccino, almond milk, double amount of vanilla syrup and cinnamon sprinkled on top, am I right?

“Your photographic memory is sometimes just terrifying”

“Thank you. By the way, are you still afraid to order this coffee in front of Rossi?”

“Yep. I always take regular macchiato. The last thing I need in work is his judgemental, Italian look…”

Meanwhile, as Reid let out a short laugh, you quickly took in your surroundings: the brick walls and oak tables, the decorative pumpkins by the entrance, and the menu hanging above the barista’s counter, adorned with (artificial) leaves. Just like every corner of this trashy coffee shop was trying to remind you about autumn.

One thing about you — you were an extreme autumn lover, who unfortunately was allergic to pumpkins, so you couldn’t fit the autumn white girl stereotype completely, by ordering a pumpkin spice latte. And you would rather die than wear a sweater. All of them were scratchy.

“So” started Reid, hitting a notebook cover with a pen. "I spent all of last evening and more than half of this morning writing down ideas for our Halloween costume this year. I made sure none of them were too similar to our last year's outfits or anything our friends have ever worn to make sure we’ll be the best-dressed people at the party”

“God, Reid, you really took it seriously this year” you raised your eyebrows, shocked and full of admiration at the same time. “And how many ideas did you find?”

“143”

“143?!” you repeated, assuming that he was just joking. Spencer was looking at you with a deadly serious face. “Are fucking crazy? How are we going to choose between 143 ideas? I can’t even choose what socks to wear in the morning…”

“144” he corrected. “When you were saying that I came with another one, Tyler and Marla from Fight Club…”

You had this tendency to forget the names of fictional characters (though, somehow, you could name every American serial killer who ever existed and everyone from your high school class. It was both funny and slightly terrifying that, in two cases, those names overlapped) so it took you a moment to realize who Reid was talking about.

“A guy with a red leather jacket? And this woman who was always smoking?”

“Their names are Tyler Durden and Marla Singer. I don't mean to sound rude, but you made me watch this movie and claimed it was one of your favorites, yet you don’t even remember the main characters' names?"

You shrugged your shoulders. You could say nothing in your defense, that was just the way you were. A subtle smile danced on your lips.

“When I started working with you” you meant the whole BAU “I couldn’t remember all of your names. About two months later I slowly started to recognize them because of how you were addressing each other but because everyone was calling Hotch by his surname I didn’t know his actual name for, like, years…”

Disbelief showed on Spencer’s face but then got replaced with amusement.

“Years?”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me because of my memory problem, mrs. I know the moon signs of everyone around me…”

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“How could I dare, ms. I don’t remember my boss's name even though we’ve been working together for five years…”

“I couldn’t remember it back then! Shame on you, Reid. I shared my secret with you and you immediately started laughing…”

“And what did you want me to do? Make you an appointment with a neurologist?”

That's what our usual conversation looked like. Like a professional ping pong game. Year after a year, month after a month, day after a day you were just becoming better and better players.

Waitress came along your table, setting your orders on the table. You always had to smell your coffee first, cinnamon aroma ticked your nose.

“"Not that it means anything, but my memory problems have worsened since I met you." you said, taking the first sip of a coffee.

“What do you mean by that?“

“Well, I don’t have the need to remember anything when you remember literally everything that comes your way. You've spoiled me a bit in this regard."

Spencer smiled softly, with a little bit of pride, caused by your words.

“ Always at your service” he declared. Suddenly his back went straight, as he probably reminded himself about something. ”Did you call your brother today? It’s his birthday…

“ No way” you jumped on your seat and immediately started looking for your phone to check what day it was. 14 October. “God, Reid you’re right. I completely forgot…Have I already told you how much I love you?

You standed up, ready to leave the coffee, declaring that you’ll be back in a moment. People around were having their lunch. The whole place became too noisy for a birthday phone call with your older brother, who lived in a different state.

“Not today” He replied shortly.

“So, I’m telling you now, Spence. You’re the best friend I could ever imagine…”

As you were busy with dialing the right phone number and trying to wear your coat at the same time, you couldn’t see how his smile faded after the last sentence.

a week later

“It cost me like half of my salary” You said, tossing your dark hair back so it wouldn't accidentally catch fire while lighting the candle. A damn expensive candle, as you mentioned. “Another half goes for that little shit”

With a nod, you indicated the ginger cat that had already settled comfortably next to Spencer. He didn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen, checking something with a furrowed brow. With one hand, almost automatically, he gently scratched Mr. Cinnamon Roll behind the ear.

“It’s made only with fully natural ingredients. Vegan friendly. People with migraines friendly. Almost everyone friendly, except of your wallet” You continued your speech, agitated, recalling the guy in the store who refused to sell you a simple, cheap autumn candle, explaining its poor quality, and convinced you to buy the most expensive one he had.

Finally, the wick caught fire.

“So, you’ve got something?“

It was a late evening after work when you both felt exhausted, yet you decided to meet at your apartment to search online for essentials for your Halloween costumes. The idea of going as a couple from Fight Club had won.

You were supposed to be Marla, and he was to be Tyler. You weren’t a couple or anything like that, but for the past five years, it had been your tradition to wear matching outfits for the halloween party organized by your team. Usually, various other friends would join, and having more people allowed for a best costume contest, which you nearly won every year.

“Yeah, but you probably won't like that, considering that you’ve just confessed to spending your entire paycheck”

You set the candle down on the small coffee table in your living room and joined him on the couch, almost crushing Mr. Cinnamon Ball. He didn’t look offended by that — this cat would rather be crushed than leave Spencer’s side. Somehow, he loved him more than the hand that fed him.

Sitting so close to your friend, your head nearly touched his shoulder, but neither of you minded.You had known each other for four years. You met regularly to watch movies or just to chat, and more than once, you had fallen asleep with your head resting on his arm, that was way more comfortable than any pillow. The rest of your team sometimes joked about your close relationship, but in your opinion, it was only because you were almost the same age! And maybe a bit because you felt the most comfortable in his presence, you understood each other the best, and he made you laugh the most…

For God's sake, why did you start thinking about that at that moment? When you were so close to each other and his gentle scent was slowly enveloping you...

Okay, you’ve thought of him as more than just a friend once or twice. Like that time he stayed over at your place, and you didn’t want him to sleep on the uncomfortable couch, so you shared your bed. You felt so good waking up next to him and regretted that it was just a one-time experience…

You realized he must have said something to you, but you were too lost in thought to hear it.

Instead of repeating himself, Reid pushed the laptop closer to you. On the screen was a website featuring an auction for….the original red leather jacket from Fight Club! You almost screamed. If you had won her over, the victory would have to be yours...

Your enthusiasm faded like a blown-out candle when you saw the final bid amount.

“What the fuck? That's more than the total of our annual salaries…”

"Actually, it’s twenty thousand less than..."

You both fell silent in disappointment. Then, a very silly idea came to your mind.

“Reid” you started slowly.

“"Oh no, I know this tone. You're either about to say something extremely absurd or something inappropriate, and I don’t know which one scares me more."

"But listen. We'll wait for the auction to end and for someone to buy that jacket. Then we’ll talk to Garcia and convince her to track down the buyer. We'll go, knock on the door, and when they open it..."

"We’ll politely ask to borrow it?"

"No, sweet boy, we’ll show our badges and say the auction was illegal, and we need to confiscate the jacket."

Spencer burst out laughing.

"Your ideas are brilliant. But how are you going to explain this to Hotch afterward?"

“He won’t find out”

“He find out”

“Okay, you’re right. He’ll probably find out”

A silence full of smiles fell between you.

Spencer closed the auction page and started browsing something else when you let out a laugh at your own thoughts.

“Okay, I have another idea that won’t cost either of us our jobs,” you said, capturing his attention. He tore his gaze away from the laptop and focused completely on you and your trembling lips, which hinted that you weren’t going to say anything serious “The beginning of the plan sounds the same but instead of showing our badges, you’ll give him a blowjob… “

“Fuck you!” he shouted, unable to stop himself from laughing. At the sight of his expression, a wave of laughter hit you so hard that Mr. Cinnamon Roll jumped off the couch and ran away from his sick owner. “I’m not giving any random guy a blowjob in exchange for a jacket. In exchange for the original diaries of Einstein, well, I wouldn’t say no; I would think about it, but not for a jacket!”

“But it’s the jacket from Fight Club, Spence. Brad Pitt was wearing it” you encouraged him, amused. "Besides, how do you know some guy will buy it? It could be a woman.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and was ready to continue arguing on the topic, but suddenly it seemed as if he changed his mind. His expression grew more serious.

"Actually, it doesn't change much, but that's not the point. What worries me more is that I've lost my touch. Maybe you'd want to replace me in this? The buyer might not be satisfied."

He said it in a tone as if he were talking about a truly serious, real transaction, which only amused you even more. Also pretending to be serious, you patted him on the shoulder.

“Don't worry, Spence. I'm sure you'll manage just fine.'"

"Really? What makes you think that?"

You considered making a joke, but then you realized what you were talking about while studying him. After a whole day at work, he looked... surprisingly... attractive? With slightly tousled hair and two buttons of his shirt undone…

"‘Nothing,” you replied. For the first time in his presence, you felt slightly embarrassed to continue the topic. Your closeness on the couch didn’t help at all, and you regretted scaring off Mr. Cinnamon.

“No, something makes you think that”

The tension between you escalated to the point where you weren't sure if he was still joking. You realized that in this silence, every change in your breathing would be audible, so you tried to control it.

What makes you think that? Spencer just seemed that way. I mean, you often talked about your relationships, and you assumed that his potential partner would lack nothing.

Embarrassed, you wanted to say something when he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jesus, we were talking about blowing somebody for a jacket. Why did you get so scared?

You hit him on the arm so hard that he let out a groan.

"I didn't get scared! You just suddenly became so weird that I didn't know if you were joking or what”

"‘Of course I was joking. Why would I ask you that seriously?” he asked, and you noticed that he also carried a hint of embarrassment.

"I have no idea. Maybe you wanted to know my opinion or something” You desperately tried to return to the atmosphere that had existed between you just a moment ago, one that felt more friendly.

Spencer swallowed hard. It was clear he also preferred to drop the topic.

“I don’t know why you would have any opinion on that, but let’s get back to what we were talking about before you switched into perverted weirdo mode...’"

After his words, you had to hide your face in the sleeve of his shirt, unable to contain your laughter. He seemed surprised by your reaction.

“ What? What did I say this time?”

“Perverted weirdo” you blurted it out, almost choking on your words.” You called me a perverted weirdo…”

“Well, considering your recent ambiguous comments…”

“I'm going to tell Emily about this. Hey girl, you know how Spencer called me last time? A perverted weirdo…Oh no, I got your shirt dirty with my makeup… “

Spencer looked at the sleeve of his shirt and shrugged, saying, "It's nothing."

"No," you shook your head, trying to rub the stain off his shirt with your fingers, but of course it didn’t work. "I spilled coffee on your pants last time. Take it off; I'll wash it today."

"It's late; you’re not going to deal with washing my shirt right now. Let's get back to looking for our costumes."

You agreed and once again found comfort leaning on his shoulder. He still held the laptop on his lap, and whenever you wanted to type on the keyboard, you had to rest your elbows on his body, on the lower part of his stomach. Why were you even paying attention to that? You shaked your head and leaned over the laptop when you found the perfect shoes for Marla's costume.

In that position, you couldn't see Spencer, but you felt he was almost completely still. After a moment, however, he slowly reached for your hair, gently brushing it with his fingers as if checking its texture.

"We don't need to buy you a wig, right? Your hair will do just fine."

You murmured in agreement as he continued to play with your hair, probably unaware of how much he was distracting you. You had been staring at the picture of the shoes for five minutes and couldn’t remember what you wanted to check. Ah, the size!

"Reid, we have a problem," you said. "They don't have my size. I checked to see if a larger size would be available, since I could stuff them somehow, but the smallest is a 10!"

"Your shoe size is 7; in such large ones, you'll either look ridiculous or kill yourself before even arriving to the party…Do they have to be those specific ones? Maybe you can find some others..."

"They have to be those! They're identical to the ones Helena Bonham Carter wore."

Spencer sighed thoughtfully. His breath tickled the back of your head, which distracted you slightly once again. Anyway, this one time, you came up with a solution faster than his brilliant mind…

You turned your head toward him — after he stroked your hair you were very, very close to each other. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes, filling the area with the scent of cinnamon that had lingered for a while. When your face unexpectedly came just in front of him, he looked at you with a surprise and a gaze that he had never given you before. It was as if he were trying to stop himself from doing something, while at the same time, a voice in his ear incessantly urged him to go ahead.

You looked away to avoid doing something foolish. You could feel warmth on your neck and cheeks. Finally, you remembered what you wanted to ask.

"Spence, what’s your shoe size?"

5 years ago

It all started when the rest of your team found out about Penelope and Morgan's Halloween tradition. Every year, the two of them held a movie marathon of the scariest films they could find, watching them until sunrise.

"Why didn’t you invite any of us? I love watching horror movies with friends!" Prentiss exclaimed indignantly.

You were on board a private jet. You had been working with this team for only a few days — in fact, this was your first trip with them to work in the field.

The prospect of solving the case had you feeling stressed, and you were also wondering if you would find common ground with your team. You lagged slightly behind, pretending to read a book while actually listening to all the conversations around you. You wanted to get to know everyone better. Someone sat down beside you, leaning in to read the title of your book.

"Rebecca. Have you gotten to the part where it turns out Maxim killed his wife?"

You looked shocked at the second youngest member of the team. You had a serious problem with remembering names, so you only knew his last name. Reid was a tall man with longer hair, dressed in a vest with a shirt peeking out from underneath. Until now, you hadn't formed much of an opinion about him, but that was about to change — he had just spoiled the ending of the book for you.

“No, I haven’t gotten to this part! “

An older man in a black suit chuckled quietly to himself.

"Guys, listen up," said the brunette with bangs, wearing a tight red shirt. "It just came out that Morgan and Penelope have their own secret Halloween tradition."

The woman mentioned was present only on the laptop screen. She was working with you remotely and seemed really nice to you.

"Sweetheart, we weren't trying to hide anything from you; it just happened that we didn’t mention it..."

"That’s exactly what hiding is," Reid added, giving you an apologetic look for spoiling the book.

"What do you say to all of us getting together this Halloween? The whole team?" asked a muscular man dressed in gray, sitting across from Prentiss with his elbow casually resting on the table. "With a special invitation for you, newbie."

Saying this, he winked at you. You were surprised, but still smiled. Are there better circumstances for getting to know your team than a party? Everyone around you approached this idea.

a week later

You stared at your phone in fear after just ending the call. JJ said something came up and she wouldn’t be able to make it to the party. You knew her best out of the whole team and had hoped that with her there, you would feel more at ease. Most importantly, you were supposed to wear matching outfits. You realized your breath had quickened slightly. You weren't sure if anyone else besides you planned to dress up. After all, they were mostly older than you — maybe they weren't into that anymore?

Back in high school, you were the only one who showed up in costume, and you felt embarrassed the whole evening walking around in a zombie farmer outfit while all the other girls wore mini skirts and beautiful, subtle makeup. You didn’t want to go through that again, but making this costume had taken you a lot of time. Recently, you and JJ had been enchanted by the animated movie Corpse Bride, and you planned to dress up as the title character and her rival, Victoria. Since you loved dressing up for Halloween, you chose the more challenging costume. You bought a cheap white dress that you styled to look more tattered. You applied pale blue makeup and heavily contoured your cheekbones. You even managed to get a veil.

In fifteen minutes, you were supposed to be at Morgan's house. If you removed the makeup, you wouldn’t have time to do anything else. You contemplated what to do. Ultimately, you decided it would be a shame to waste your hard work, and soon you found yourself in the car, heading to the address you were given. As you parked, you felt stress start to take control of you.

You needed to sit in silence for a moment, so you turned off the engine and stared at the empty sidewalk in front of you. Morgan lived in a large house in a quiet neighborhood, where all the homes were spaced far enough apart to host small gatherings without bothering anyone.

Suddenly, someone appeared by the driver's window. You screamed in surprise, your thoughts racing back to all the cases when women were killed in their own cars.

You quickly realized that it wasn't another UNSUB. That one wouldn’t have screamed alongside you.

“Damn it, Reid, you scared me!”

“You scared me too” he managed to say, placing a hand on his chest. He glanced toward the house. "Weird that Morgan hasn't come out to help yet."

“Maybe the music is too loud and he didn’t hear. There are quite a few cars. Did they invite that many people?” you wondered as you got out of the car.

Reid glanced at your costume. He wasn’t dressed up at all, just wearing a plain dark gray blazer and a shirt.

"Is that some fashion trend, or are you dressed as a zombie bride?"

“Neither, actually,” you replied, feeling stressed about being the only one in costume. “It’s from the cartoon Corpse Bride.”

“I haven’t seen it,” he admitted as you both headed toward the entrance of the house.

“It’s a great animation,” you recommended. “You should check it out. Although, from what I’ve noticed, you prefer reading more.”

“Not entirely. I like movies too, but I rarely choose cartoons,” he said, ringing the doorbell.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” you replied.

A very short girl you'd never seen before opened the door. She seemed slightly tipsy, confirming your suspicions that people from outside the team had also been invited.

"Oh, you dressed up! How cute!" she said, delighted to see you both, even though she didn’t know you. "Wait, I think I even know who you are. Emily and Victor from Corpse Bride?"

She pointed at the two of you, at your dress and his gray blazer. You exchanged glances, realizing she must have mistaken his usual clothes for a costume.

"No, we’re not…" Reid began to explain.

"Actually, I was supposed to match costumes with JJ…"

But she wasn’t listening. She let you in and shouted through the whole house,

"Look at their matching outfits!"

Everyone gathered around to see you, and you endured the whistles and applause with growing embarrassment.

Penelope appeared right beside you, placing her hands on your shoulders and inspecting your makeup closely. "Oh, sweetheart, you really went all out. This must have taken you ages."

"Which is more than I can say for you," joked Prentiss, holding a beer bottle and pointing it at Reid. "You decided to keep it a secret for a better effect, I assume?"

Reid tried once more to explain that it wasn’t intentional, but you stopped him with a nudge. He looked at you, puzzled.

"Let’s go get a drink," you suggested.

Not waiting for a response, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

"I’m not going to be the only one in costume, so you’re going to stick with me and pretend we planned this all along."

He let out a surprised laugh, thinking you were joking at first.

"Wait, seriously? So… I’m Victor now?"

"Yes, you’re Victor, and you accidentally proposed to me. By the way, I’m dead."

"Okay," he blinked, processing the information. "I definitely need to watch that movie."

You spent almost the entire evening sticking close to each other. Without you by his side, Spencer looked like he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. And without Spencer next to you, you felt a bit awkward.

A few hours later, the two of you were sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking non-alcoholic cocktails and talking about… psychology. Not exactly a party topic, but somehow that’s where your conversation about favorite sodas had ended up.

“Next year, we have to do this again. I mean, plan a costume together. On purpose this time."

Spencer nodded.

"I think I even have an idea."

And that was how your tradition began.

now

He said Halloween is for kids.

Starting from the beginning, everyone always asks how you met Travis. Well, your story has some potential for a romantic comedy — if only you were a bit more attractive and funnier to make it more watchable on screen. And maybe if there were some breathtaking plot twist. But real life has little in common with a romantic comedy, and you didn’t meet under any crazy circumstances. You only had potential. It happened during your rehabilitation.

Perhaps we need to go back a bit further. Six months ago, Emily passed away, and you weren’t even there for the funeral because, in the rescue attempt to free her from Doyle’s hands, you were shot. Seriously wounded. You spent two weeks in a coma. That might not seem like a long time, but when you woke up, it felt like years had passed. Everyone around you seemed so distant, changed, almost as if you’d suddenly appeared in an entirely different reality.

The following weeks were even more blurred, like rain hitting fiercely against the window with such frequency that the droplets slowly merged into a single cohesive stream. You weren't accepting visitors while in the hospital; something was wrong with you. Perhaps it was due to the grief and shock from Emily's passing, along with the trauma. You didn't want to return to that job; you were too afraid of the risks. Of dying yourself or losing someone from your team and having to relive it all over again. Fortunately, you quickly received an offer for a transfer. An office job, terribly boring, but there was something in that monotony that filled you with a sense of safety. You hated it, but you were afraid to engage in anything else.

Before you took the job, you had to go through rehabilitation. It was led by Travis, eleven years older than you, which stunned your older brother when you introduced them. “You’re dating a guy older than me?” he asked, shocked. They didn’t hit it off, but you didn’t worry too much about that. Everything in your life had changed, and being in a relationship with an older, more mature guy made you feel more stable. And since so many things had changed, why not go all in? You moved in with him. Just as you were starting to climb out of the pit, another tragedy struck. Mr. Cinnamon Roll was diagnosed with stomach cancer and passed away despite treatment.

Since that moment, you almost stopped talking to your old team. You still loved them — they were like family to you, but whenever faced with life's struggles, you felt that burning need for isolation. On the day Mr. Cinnamon Roll died, you received a message from Spencer, asking how you were doing and suggesting a meeting. You stared at your phone for hours, and ultimately replied to him only the next morning with a brief, "Sorry, I didn't notice you wrote." He responded just as briefly. He was also suffering due to the circumstances and probably didn't have the energy to chase after his friend who openly refused to give him any attention.

You pushed him away because you weren’t ready to confront what you were feeling. Something had happened between you during that Halloween party, shortly before Emily's death. After that, you acted as if nothing had occurred, but both of you knew that you needed to talk about what to do with your relationship. But before you had the chance, there was Doyle, your accident, then Travis, and it seemed that everything that had ever been between you was lost. A new agent, Ashley, joined the BAU. You knew her — you were around the same age, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering if something might blossom between her and Reid.

You thought that if you accepted the loss of your previous life, it would be easier to move on. It was the opposite. Day by day, you felt more and more depressed, empty inside. This morning, you went into a café to buy coffee. While waiting for your order, you looked at the tiny pumpkins on the counter and realized it was Halloween—the holiday you used to love so much. This moved you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of life within you. You felt like you wanted to do something. Dress up as a character from a cheap horror movie, have a few drinks. Maybe even go trick-or-treating, hiding behind a mask like kids do. You did that with Spencer two years ago, but no one wanted to give that tall guy any candy.

You shared this idea with Travis.

And he said that Halloween is for kids.

a year ago

“How the fuck I’m suppose to walk in these….”

As soon as you saw him in a black dress that reached mid-thigh (it should have been longer, but you bought it when you still assumed you would be the one wearing it), a short fur coat of the same color, and sunglasses, you nearly choked on your laughter. And when he added black heeled ankle boots and started cursing their practicality, you fell onto the couch, unable to stand on your legs any longer.

Mr. Cinnamon Roll watched his antics with curiosity.

“Run away, little one,” Spencer advised him. “Those heels are so sharp I might accidentally kill you.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I wear shoes with higher heels every day.”

“Your spine will thank you for it in ten years.”

“Alright, mom.”

The deadly shoes landed on the floor. You were planning to leave in an hour and a half, once you finished perfecting your costumes. Until then, Spencer had no intention of risking his life by parading around in them. He lay down on the couch next to you, the dress ungracefully riding up.

“Now it’s your turn to change,” he said, pointing to the Tyler Durden costume lying on the table. “And mine to laugh.”

“First, I wanted to do makeup.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Are you kidding? What kind of Marla Singer would it be without a bold smokey eye?”

“Fine by you,” he muttered, looking at the watch on his wrist. “One hour and thirty-three minutes. Will we make it?”

“Relax. Remember, for a better impression, we need to be a little late.”

You disappeared for a moment into your bathroom, only to return with a makeup bag in hand. You had bought a new eyeshadow palette specifically for this occasion. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at your friend, wondering in which position you would be most comfortable working on him.

“Okay, lean against the couch,” you instructed, feeling like a professional makeup artist. “And don’t look at me like I’m a mad scientist trying to perform some dangerous operation on you.”

“From my perspective, that’s exactly what it looks like. A mad scientist and a dangerous operation. Just don’t accidentally poke me in the eye.”

“God, Reid, I’m not going to do this with a knife…”

You stood in front of the couch, facing him. Following your instruction, he rested his head, but as soon as you tried to apply the first product on his eyelid, you felt that you weren’t doing it precisely. You sighed.

“It’s uncomfortable for me to work this way. I have a better idea. Lie down.”

Reid looked at you with raised eyebrows but obediently lay down on the couch. You sat on a free spot next to him, leaning over his face. You were glad he closed his eyes. It would be awkward to be this close and still have to endure his sharp gaze. Your hair brushed against his neck. A gentle smile appeared on his face as soon as the brush touched his skin.

“This is quite nice,” he said.

You didn’t respond, focused on turning him into a doppelgänger for Marla Singer. You would sooner die of embarrassment than admit it out loud, but you deliberately prolonged the entire process. You felt as if you were working on a painting. Additionally, you enjoyed the awareness of having him beneath you, so defenseless and completely unaware, that you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

You would simply press your lips together to see what would happen. There was a possibility he would push you away, but even considering that, you were ready to do it. You didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. They had completely dominated your mind, and you were just observing them from the sidelines, wondering where they came from. Throughout your years of friendship, you had never experienced them. Or rather, you had experienced them so rarely that you didn’t consider them significant. After all, everyone sometimes feels like kissing their friend. The problem was that for quite some time, the only thing you had been thinking about was his lips on yours.

Spencer opened one eye. You felt as if he had caught you doing something wrong.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.

You brushed aside the one strand of his hair that had strayed onto his forehead.

“About one of my friends.”

“You look worried. Can I ask why thinking about this person makes you feel that way?”

You let out a quiet laugh. You wondered if he knew you were talking about him. He should have.

“I doubt you want to hear about it,” you replied evasively. However, after a moment, you broke down and added something more. “Do you ever feel like you want to do something stupid so badly that you feel like you're physically shaking, even though you know it’s wrong?”

He frowned slightly. You accidentally applied too much eyeshadow, licking the tip of your finger to wipe away the excess product from his skin.

“Can you give a specific example of such behavior?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Kissing a friend, for example.”

He smiled gently.

“Well, in that case, yes. All the time.”

You exhaled through your nose, feeling a painful tightness in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening to you.

“Done,” you said, abruptly rising from the couch. “I need to change. We don’t have much time.”

“There’s still an hour and eighteen…”

You grabbed your costume from the table and hid in the bathroom, not hearing the end of his sentence.

one hour and eighteen minutes later

Usually, nighttime drives had a calming effect on you, but this time it was completely the opposite. You were in a small space with Spencer, with whom you had just had… let’s call it a complicated conversation. You felt every part of your body tense.

You hated yourself. You hated that you didn’t understand what you were feeling. You hated that you didn’t know what you wanted. You felt like banging your head against the steering wheel. Maybe the sound of the horn would bring you back to your senses.

Reid just stayed silent, inscrutable.

“I’m afraid we’ll be right on time,” he said after clearing his throat. “And you wanted to be a little late.”

“So what should I do now, drive around the city for the next ten minutes?” you asked, slightly irritably.

He shrugged stiffly.

“Or stop and wait. It’s a much more environmentally friendly option.”

In the end, you pulled up outside Morgan’s house, where the annual Halloween party was set to take place for the fifth year in a row. You sighed with nostalgia and turned off the engine. You might have been in the middle of an emotional crisis, but you still intended to win that contest. And that meant waiting out those ten minutes.

You adjusted the sleeves of your red leather jacket.

“Remember when we dressed up as Harry and Voldemort?” you asked suddenly. That had been your first intentional costume pairing.

Spencer let out a short laugh.

“For the next two days, I couldn’t wash off all that white paint,” he muttered, reaching into the black purse you had lent him. Spencer had been outraged that mini dresses had no pockets, leaving him with nowhere to keep his things. You frowned when you noticed he had taken out his wallet. From it, he pulled out a photo taken on that memorable day, showing the two of you standing in front of the fireplace at Morgan’s cabin. You had your arms around each other, Voldemort and Harry Potter.

“You carry our photo in your wallet?” you asked, touched, admiring the picture with delight.

Slightly embarrassed, he nodded.

“And not just ours,” he reached into his wallet again, this time pulling out a photo of Mr. Cinnamon Roll curled up on your lap. You leaned closer to Spencer to get a better look, almost forgetting about your earlier conversation.

You extended your hand, but instead of taking the photo, you just grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tightly and briefly kissed the back of it.

“It’s been ten minutes,” he announced, letting go of your hand. “We can go inside now…”

He trailed off as you suddenly grabbed a piece of his fur and pulled him as close as possible. You felt as if someone stronger had taken control of your body and finally did what you had wanted to do for a long time. You were kissing him.

At first, he froze as if spellbound, completely surrendering to the pressure of your lips. You pulled back a little, unsure if you should continue.

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

He laughed right into your mouth and resumed the kiss in a hungry way.

“I wanted to do it earlier,” you admitted after a moment. His eyes were shining, and yours probably were too. “When I was putting on your makeup. You had your eyes closed, and it was all I could think about.”

His hand rested on your neck, his thumb gently drawing circles on your sensitive skin. You had your arms around his neck, entwined like strands of hair in a braid.

“Good thing you didn’t,” he said. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I’d venture to guess we wouldn’t have even made it to this party.”

“Don’t get too bold with your assumptions. I wouldn’t let such good costumes go to waste…”

He kissed you one more time, pulling you close by the chin. Okay, he was right. If you’d done this earlier, you’d probably still be at your apartment, entirely wrapped up in each other. In fact, you’d lost all interest in going to that part

You spent a good few minutes smiling at each other, foreheads touching. You felt the need to talk to him — to make sure this wasn’t just a release of the tension that had been building between you recently, but something more. Before you knew it, though, you were walking arm-in-arm toward Morgan’s house.

“This year, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he commented as he finally came out of his shock at seeing Spencer in heels. He, too, was in costume. For the past four years, it was almost impossible to find anyone there without one. You could say you were the ones who started the trend.

Without letting go of his hand, you encouraged him to spin around in a circle. All evening, you wondered if people noticed that something had changed between you or if they just assumed it was all part of the act. His hand almost never leaving your waist, your conversations with faces close together, the prolonged disappearance in the bathroom under the pretense of fixing his makeup.

“Have you thought about what we’ll dress up as next year?” he asked, pinning you against the upstairs wall, his hand slipped under the fabric of your loose shirt.

You looked into his eyes thoughtfully.

“I liked the idea of Mia and Vincent from Pulp Fiction.”

“Mia and Vincent. White shirts and fake blood. Don’t you think it’s a bit too simple? We should raise the bar each year.”

You rolled your eyes.

“So, what is your suggestion?”

now

You lay in bed next to the sleeping Travis, staring at his bare back.

Every day, he started with a run around six in the morning, so he didn’t let you drag him anywhere in the evening, despite it being Friday. You tried to fall asleep, but you knew it was useless. You’d always been a night owl. Besides, it was Halloween—your favorite holiday, and for the first time in years, you were spending it with your head on the pillow at 10 p.m.

You sighed and quietly, so as not to wake him, went to the living room to watch some show on TV and maybe have some ice cream. Sitting on the couch, you constantly felt the urge to reach out and pet Mr. Cinnamon Roll, who used to keep watch by your side. Each time, it ended with you touching the cold leather of the couch instead. You buried your face in your hands, stretching the skin on your cheeks.

You couldn’t live in this emptiness any longer.

It happened so suddenly. One moment, you were curled up on the couch, and the next, you were slipping back into the bedroom to grab one of Travis’s plain white shirts from the closet. Just regular black jeans. The only thing missing was fake blood, but you decided you’d just be a more polite version of Mia.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest as you drove. Doubts crept in, and the absurdity of your behavior caught up with you. It was highly likely that your previous team had stopped organizing those events due to circumstances. And even if they were still happening, why would you feel invited? You had limited your contact with them, almost cutting it off in recent months.

Your breath was painful as you pressed your hand against your side, where a scar from a gunshot wound marked your skin. The red light of the traffic signal turned into the flashing lights of an ambulance. You were inside, bleeding, the whole world blurring around you.

You tried to calm yourself so as not to accidentally cause an accident. However, that tragic feeling didn’t leave you even when you found yourself there again. For the fifth year in a row, on Halloween night, at Morgan’s doorstep.

Derek opened the door for you, wearing a plain t-shirt. No music was coming from inside, and no cars were gathering around. He blinked in surprise at the sight of you.

You greeted him sadly, ready to throw out some excuse, though none came to mind. You had shown up unannounced, unwelcome, when he was probably spending the evening at home working or resting. A flush of embarrassment covered your cheeks.

Before either of you could say anything more, Penelope appeared behind him. She wore a headband adorned with little pumpkin decorations.

“Morgan, we have a serious problem with picking a movie because Hotch…”

She stopped, stunned by your presence. But a moment later, she shouted your name and swept you into her embrace.

“Oh, why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming!”

Over her shoulder, you could see Derek’s gentle smile.

“We went back to basics, and instead of throwing a party, we’re just watching movies,” he explained, eyeing you closely. “But costumes are always welcome. You’re not even the only one who thought to dress up.”

Both of them pulled you into the living room, where the rest of the team was arguing about which movie to watch. As all eyes turned to you, you felt like someone had forcefully shoved you onto a stage and blinded you with a spotlight aimed directly at you. Lost, you didn’t know what to say.

Then your gaze landed on that one person sitting alone in an armchair. Dressed in an identical white shirt and a black blazer draped over the arm of the chair.

You managed to smile at your Vincent.

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