#spooky season is nearly upon us

[kittyhasskittles]

It's almost spooky season, you know what that means?

Turning characters into furries (aka werewolf au's)

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with a (kinda late) spooky au! This is the monster-themed au that won the last poll, so here we go!

In this au, set in season 4 (post-Aithusa), where, after feeling Aithusa call to him from within her egg, Merlin could now sense dragon eggs.

Since dragons mated every year and laid multiple eggs each time, and there were only so many dragonlords around to hatch them, there were hundreds of dragon eggs hidden around Albion, waiting for a dragonlord to get close enough for them to call out to, yearning for the world outside of their shells. And since the dragonlords were nearly wiped out in the purge, those hundreds of eggs were still hidden, still waiting for a dragonlord to call them into life.

And now that Merlin can recognize their calls and knows how to call them forth them their eggs, he collects and hatches as many dragon eggs as he can, determined to bring the magical creatures back to their former glory.

And this goes fairly smoothly, except for one issue: he needs a place to hide all of them. They're all still so young, despite growing rather quickly, and the world is still hostile towards dragons, not seeing them as the majestic creatures of wonder that they are.

So, Merlin finds a hidden place for all of them to nest: an underground cave system beneath a mountain. It was near enough to Camelot that he could visit frequently, and the tunnels were large enough for all of them to have their own space, even as the number of baby dragons grew from five, to ten, to twenty, to well over seventy baby dragons took refuge inside the caves.

Aithusa was delighted by each new baby sibling Merlin brought to her in the caves, and she took care of them as best she could. (Kilgharrah, the rubbish babysitter, was not invited to the nests, as he would surely fill the babies' heads with all sort of nonsense about hating humans.)

And so, Merlin kept this up for well over a year, hatching dragons and bringing them to the nests, where he would be bombarded by baby dragons looking to cuddle with their egg-father. He loved spending time with all of them, but he worried about them too. What would happen when grew too large for the caves? Where would they go? Would they be safe?

But as the young dragons grew, they were content to stay in their hidden sanctuary, keeping each other company and eagerly awaiting their egg-father's sporadic visits. They especially enjoyed his stories of Camelot and his golden king. They loved to imagine the man their father was describing, a man with gold for hair and jewels for eyes. He must be the greatest treasure in all the lands! It was no wonder their great and powerful dragonlord kept him safe in his hoard!

And it went on like this for several years, up until Morgana heard rumors of strange growls and reports of terrible beasts coming from the caves underneath the White Mountains. Upon hearing these rumors and sensing with her magic that were was a small army of powerful magical beasts within the caves, she came up with the brilliant plan of luring Arthur, Merlin, and the knights into these tunnels and trapping them there. Those beasts, whatever they were, would surely make quick work of all of them!

Her plan, of course, succeeds. After all, she knew that using a knight as bait would lure all of them into the caves, and then using her magic to collapse all of the exits was simple work. As she walked away from the mountain, she cackled with furious glee. At long last, all of her enemies were doomed! Camelot was hers for the taking!

Meanwhile, underneath the mountain, Arthur, Merlin, and the knights were all trapped. While they hadn't run into any of the monsters Morgana had mentioned, they could hear growls echoing off of the stone walls, heralding their doom getting closer and closer.

(The growling, translated from dragontongue: Papa! Papa! Papa's back!)

As the sounds of the ferocious growling grew closer and closer, they could see the shadows of the beasts approaching on the walls of the cave. They were enormous, with wings and claws! Arthur and the knights all drew their swords, ready to fight to the end against a mob of these horrid beasts.

As the monsters came into view, the shocked gasp came from the group. Before them was an impossible sight, dozens of dragons, each as long as two men and as tall as Percival!

(Merlin gasped at the sight because his babies had suddenly hit growth spurts! They were so much bigger than the last time he saw them!)

Arthur and all his knights braced themselves for what would be a devastating attack from the monsters, when suddenly, to their horror, Merlin ran out in front of them!

"Merlin! This is no time for your sacrificial idiocy! Get back behind us!"

But Merlin didn't even glance back at them, h simply ran forwards towards the beasts!

Arthur gave out a heart-wrenching cry as the monsters pounced on his friend, their razor-sharp claws tearing through his skin and their horrid jaws opening to bite at his flesh.

(Merlin, meanwhile, was being cuddled and playfully licked by his dragons, who took great care to keep their claws and teeth away from their egg-father's soft human skin.)

With a savage and anguished war cry, Arthur ran forward, sword in hand, praying that Merlin was still in one piece. Jolted out of their horror by Arthur's cry, the other knights follow, ready to slay these monsters and save Merlin from their grasp!

The dragons, who recognize Arthur from Merlin's descriptions of him, dart forward, excited to finally meet the golden king that their lord talks so much about! The golden king was as radiant as their lord said he was, and he even gave a play roar and charged at them! He wanted to play and be their friend!

His strange gray hand-fang stung a little bit when it hit their scales, but it hurt no more than their siblings' claws when they were play-fighting together.

The young dragons had a great time playing with all their new friends, who gave play roars and hit them with those strange gray fangs. Their new friends were so fast too, not letting the dragons hit them easily.

This went on for a while, until Aithusa become too excited by all of the play fighting and accidentally knocked the golden king down too hard, knocking the air out of him.

Aithusa whined apologetically as she walked over to him, opening her mouth so that she could breath her healing breath on him, when he suddenly grabbed his grey-fang and aimed it at her open mouth, ready to strike. Aithusa flinched back in surprise, but the golden king's movement was halted by a call from her lord.

"STOP!"

Everyone, knights and dragons alike, froze at the order, even though the command had not been given in dragontongue. Aithusa whined in apology again. She hadn't meant to hurt her lord's king! She had just forgotten he was less sturdy than her siblings!

"Merlin! You're alright! Come quickly, we must leave before these beasts... why is that dragon nuzzling you like an overgrown housecat?"

Merlin gave Arthur his most innocent look, but it wasn't very convincing. Sighing, Merlin wrapped his arms around Aithusa's neck and hugged her, which caused her to start purring with joy, much to the knights' shock.

"Well, you see, I kinda... found a dragon egg out in the woods one day? And I couldn't just leave it all by itself, anything could have happened to it, so I put it somewhere safe! And then, it hatched! And I couldn't just leave the poor baby to fend for herself, so I brought her here, where I thought she'd be safe and not bother anyone. But then I couldn't just leave her alone here, so I came back to visit her and bring her food!

And then, I started finding more dragon eggs and brought all of them here and took care of them!"

Merlin finished his rushed explanation with a smile, hoping that Arthur would just buy it and not ask any questions, like how Merlin found any dragon eggs in the first place. By the end of his explanation, Arthur had gone from alarmed to completely exasperated.

"So what you mean to tell me, Merlin, is that you found dragon eggs, and, instead of killing them before they could become threats, chose to raise them like they were stray kittens instead?"

Arthur's tone indicated that yes, he had bought Merlin's lie, and yes, he also thought Merlin was a much bigger idiot than he did before.

Merlin just nodded, praying to anyone that would listen that none of the knights would possess any critical thinking skills and start poking holes in Merlin's hastily made-up story.

Merlin's fears were alleviated when Gwaine began laughing hysterically, walked fearlessly between the dragons, and clasped a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"My friend, I knew you were a special kind of crazy for putting up with Arthur all these years, but this! This beats any insane stunt you've done before! You've just tamed dragons, you madman! Hell, you've got them all wrapped around your finger by the looks of it!"

Gwaine, amazed and almost giddy, looked around at the dragons, who were contently cuddling up around Merlin now, tired from all of the play fighting.

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, nervous and slightly embarrassed at all of the attention. The other knights looked on in wonder as Merlin told the dragons to go off the sleep in the nest, and they all listened. He really had tamed them!

Merlin turned and gave Arthur, who was still looked at Merlin with frustration and disbelief, a nervous smile.

"So, uh, it's probably a bit late to be asking this, but do you think I can keep them in Camelot?"

And that's all for now! I had a lot of fun writing about Merlin army of baby dragons! Please let me know if you'd like a continuation of this!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings!

[noxturnalnymph]

The Hunted

SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader (8.2k)

DARKAU! POV will switch between Joel and Reader. This is dark compared to anything I’ve ever written before. I am a spooky girlie at heart and I wanted to give this idea some legs. If it’s not your thing, that’s okay. Spooky Halloween everyone!

Summary: This Ken is a Ski Instructor. This Ken is a Veterinarian. Well, this Joel is a Serial Killer. The canon Joel is actually kind of a serial killer too, if you think about it. But this version is No-Outbreak, 56-years old, and a Violent, Deranged, Serial Killing Loner. When a new victim practically falls in his lap, he doesn’t take the time to see that she could be his undoing.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. This is a little dark (for me). Murder, Dead Bodies, Sex, Kidnapping, Bondage, DubCon (they want it but they’re tied to a chair), creampie, blood, violence, semen, crime scenes.

A/N: This is: creepy plot with porn at the end. It’s my first posted tumblr story. Spooky Season is upon us!! Please be nice 💜

He’s been enjoying the silence of the cabin in the woods all afternoon. The only sounds surrounding him have been the soft bird songs and din of cicadas drifting through the open window from the outside, and the rustling of his own body moving about the small rooms inside. 

The sound catches him so off guard, that at first he looks around the inside of the cabin, trying to figure out where the hum could be emanating from. The cabin is not hooked up to electric, so what could be making that sound? Then he realizes it's coming from outside. He looks out the windows and sees a figure hunched in the bushes, a stone’s throw away from his front door. 

He steps to the front door and quietly opens it, watching her at the wood’s edge. It’s definitely a woman, he can tell by the double braids winding down the back of her head, ending in pigtails. She is wearing dark wash blue jeans, a green jacket, and has on a rust-colored backpack. He can hear her humming even clearer now, the melody traversing the short distance to his ears.

He watches as she stays hunched over, reaching into the bushes and rustling the leaves. Nearly a minute passes before she finally stands, wiping her hands off on her thighs. He notices a small wooden bowl at her feet, stuffed full with berries. She is sucking on her fingertips, stained a light purple, when she turns and meets his eyes.

“Oh!,” she says, startled by his presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in this ol’ thing.”

She gestures towards the cabin. She has a point. Even at first glance, the woods surrounding the cabin appear to be putting forth their best effort to reclaim it. The roof is covered in fallen leaves, moss and lichen cling to every surface, and the front steps - made of flattop logs - are sinking down, seeming to retreat back into the forest floor. And what he knows that she doesn't - yet? - is that the musty smell of the forest has permeated every square inch of the old log cabin’s interior, and everything inside of it. 

He puts on his warmest smile, softening the way his eyes are squinted, and blinks slowly. “Yeah, she’s not much but she keeps me honest,” he says, and he notices the way her body relaxes at his gentle, comforting tone.

“I’m guessin’ I’ve wandered too far. Sorry, I didn’t notice any signs posted.” The gentle lilt of her southern accent hits his ears like a sweet melody. 

“Yeah, state land ends at the treeline at the bottom ‘a that hill,” he gestures to the distance, her gaze following where he points. “But I don’t shoot or bite or nothin’, so don’t worry about steppin’ on my property,” he chuckles. He can see her continuing to relax under his welcoming reception. 

“I appreciate that. I’ve got one ‘a those little vans in the clearing down there, ‘n I expected more people to be around if I’m being honest.”

He notices she’s said I, not we.

“It’s gettin’ the end of camping season, so there’s fewer ‘n fewer out here, I think,” he waves his hand, hoping to convey how little he even notices the campers on the adjacent land.

“Well I’m sorry about stealin’ your berries. You want ‘em?” and she takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them, holding the small bowl in her outstretched arms. 

The pigtails make her look young. So does the innocence in her eyes, which are partially hidden behind her thick-framed glasses. She stops short of the steps, still about six feet away now, still holding out the bowl. 

“No, ‘course not,” he gives her a sideways grin. “Those were gonna get eaten by birds before they got eaten by me. You enjoy ‘em little bird.” His guts twist at the smile that breaks out on her face. The way she looks down, almost bashful.

She turns to walk away and then stops, turning back to look at him. He watches her as she gives the outside of the deteriorating cabin another once-over, and then looks him up and down. “Can I ask you somethin’?” and before he can even respond, she continues. “Is it safe around here?”

His stomach clenches. He gently furrows his brows, “yeah, sure it is, why?��

“I’ve heard a couple things recently about people going missin’. Hikers and campers near here,” she gestures in a circular motion with her finger. “You heard anything about that?”

She is worried. He can tell because she looks worried. God, every emotion she has is playing across her face right now. He can read her like a book. She is so vulnerable. She’s a young woman camping all alone in the woods and she is worried. She should be.

“I haven’t heard anything myself, no. But that happens every year. People underestimate it.”

“Underestimate what?” she interjects, her doe eyes scanning his face.

“Nature,” he replies, and now he gestures around with his finger.

He gives her another soft smile and blinks his eyes slowly. She lets a genuine grin break through her worried features and she nods, taking in his response.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, there’s no one out here to cause ya trouble,” he offers, hoping she notes that he is clearly not a danger. “Besides, if anything happens, you can come back here.”

This time her smile falters a bit. He’s pushed too far. She’s worried. She’s alone. She’s not looking to seek refuge in a stranger’s cabin. He backtracks.

“I’m sure the worst thing that’s gonna happen is ya find a spider in your van,” he continues, “But please don’t come back here for that!” 

He gives a low chuckle and is glad to see she does the same, good humor returning to her now relaxing face. She gestures to the bowl of berries and flashes a toothy-smile as a thanks, before turning to retreat down the hill. He hears her call out a goodbye after she turns and he calls one back in response. 

He goes back inside and finishes watching her leave until the trees hide her departing figure. He has about seven more hours until dark fully takes hold. Seven more hours until he can seek her out in the clearing with the safe knowledge of remaining undetected. Plenty of time for him to finish prepping the cabin and get himself some dinner.

*****

He thinks he might be getting too old for this. His lower back is aching, his thighs are on fire, and he’s had a stabbing pain in his neck for the last twenty minutes; all due to the fact that he has been hunched against this tree for over an hour. Usually he wouldn’t still be here. He’d have made some observations, taken some mental notes, and planned for additional reconnaissance later on.

But he doesn’t know how long you’re going to be here. You haven’t unpacked anything - not even a folding chair - to indicate that your campsite setup will be anything more than a one-night stay. If you’re gone tomorrow and he has missed his opportunity, he’ll regret leaving now. He has spent the last eight hours thinking about nothing but you. 

He’s thought about the way your delicate lips wrapped around your fingertips and the gentle melody you hummed before you knew he was there. He has thought about the kind way you offered him the berries you picked and the way your jeans hugged your ass as you sauntered away. What would your eyes look like if he took your glasses off, if he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, if he wrapped his big hands around your delicate throat?

No, he has to do it tonight. He can’t wait any longer. 

Your van is all black. Besides the windshield, there are windows only at the two front seats and the rear double doors. However, you have all the windows covered with blackout panels. Smart. You’re a young woman camping alone, keeping your privacy is a smart thing to do. And keeping peeping eyes out of your space is probably important to you.

You’ve been playing music inside the entire time, though he doesn’t recognize any of the songs. Sometimes he thinks he can hear you humming along. He imagines you’re eating the berries you picked from the bushes outside his cabin. Maybe you’ve changed into more comfortable clothing, maybe you’re sitting on your bed, maybe you’re reading a book. Maybe you’re even thinking about him. He tried not to make an impression earlier but part of him hopes he did.

He really can’t wait any longer.

He moves slowly, not just because his body is quite literally creaking, but because he has to keep his head on a swivel and continue to make sure there are no eyes watching him. He makes his way towards the van, choosing his steps carefully. His head moves back and forth, checking in front of and behind him, watching for any movement. The night is so quiet all he hears is the gentle wind rustling the tall grass and the constant cricket song.

He finally reaches the side door of the van. The music inside is louder from here but he still doesn’t recognize the song. He pats his pockets, obsessively triple-checking he has the supplies he’ll need. He pulls a small tool out of his shirt pocket and sticks it in the door lock. He feels rather than hears the soft click that he knows means he now has full access to you. 

He puts his hand on the door handle and inhales a breath, holding it with full lungs. He closes his eyes and imagines what he’ll see when he opens the door, warm light spilling onto him from the inside. What will you be wearing? Will you look excited to see him? Frightened? Will you scream?

“Hey there little bird,” he says quietly as he throws the door open. Confusion falls across his face. He looks down onto the floor of the van, where a single bluetooth speaker sits, still playing music. The single overhead light from the van’s interior barely illuminates the inside, but it doesn’t matter, since there isn’t anything to see. 

The inside of the van isn’t a camper. It’s an empty utility van. There are no seats and no wall panels. In fact, the entire inside of the van is covered in thick plastic sheeting, which vibrates a strange buzz from the reverberation of the bluetooth speaker.

He has barely taken it all in when he feels a pinch in his neck. He grabs at it with his hand but there is nothing there and before he can react further, everything goes black.

*****

You hear a couple deep breaths and then some grunting. Maybe this means he’s finally waking up. You walk around in front of where he sits bound naked to a chair, and bend over, hands on your knees, face close to his, cooing gently for him to wake up sleepyhead. 

Standing up straight, you watch as he slowly opens his eyes, bit by bit, working to focus. He is blinking long, slow blinks, and his eyes raise to your face. His pupils start going big and then small, his eyes start rapidly blinking as his swirling thoughts begin to come back to him. 

Then you see it - recognition.

He crinkles his brows, the crease between them going so deep. His mouth begins to form a question but only a short, dry croak comes out. You can’t help yourself, you laugh at him. A quiet, melodic chuckle.

“Sorry, I think I gave you too much back there,” with two fingers you brush some hair off his forehead that has fallen forward. “I thought you were fatter under all these clothes, but you’re doing alright for yerself there.”

His eyes fall to your shirt - well, his shirt - and then to his own lap. He’s just realizing he’s naked. Then his eyes trail back up your body as he takes in the fact that you’re wearing all of the clothes you stripped off him.

His mouth opens again but you don’t let him even try to speak this time. You grab his face and his eyes snap to meet yours. “Remember when I asked if you knew anything about those campers and hikers goin’ missing?” You drop your hand from his face and step to the side to reveal a folding table set up behind you. Along the table you have laid an array of different souvenirs he had plucked from his victims. 

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” you continue, as you watch his eyes grow larger as they rake across the table, taking in the items he had hidden away in his cabin. “But honey, I think you know a lot more than you said you did.”

His eyes slowly come back to yours and you can’t hide the smile you now have plastered across your face. “I don’t-” he starts. You quickly shove your finger overtop his mouth in a shush motion.

“Don’t even try that honey, we’re way past denial now. I already found all yer little trophies.” 

Now he flexes in the chair. Your finger drags down his neck and across his shoulder as you walk around the chair, circling him. You watch him continue to strain, testing the ropes, checking to see for himself if you knew what you were doing when you tied him to the chair. You did.

“So what is this?” he mutters, “One a’ them yer friend? Your brother or sister or somethin’?” He continues to push against the unforgiving ropes. “This some kinda revenge plot you got brewin’?” 

You can’t help it, you laugh again. “Oh honey, is that what you think?” You place your finger at the top of his forehead and slowly run it down his face, “You think you’ve hurt me?” over his nose, “Think I’m your victim?” over his lips, stopping on his chin. You lean in and ghost your lips right over his. “I’m not your victim honey,” you whisper against his lips, “you’re mine,” pressing into him with a kiss.

You stand up and take a step back. “I know what you are. I know exactly what you are because I’m the same. Well, almost the same,” and you laugh again, breaking eye contact. “When I was young, my adoptive father recognized it in me n’ taught me how to direct it. He called it my dark passenger and I-”

“Y-yer what?” he interrupts.

“What?” You’re back to looking him in his eyes.

“Did you say your dark passenger?” He looks past the folding table strewn with his trophies and sees the ‘camper van’ parked with the side door still wide open, inside still covered with plastic sheeting. “Dark passen- isn’t that from that fuckin’ TV show? Dexter?”

“What the fu-,” you slap your arms against your thighs in frustration. “Don’t tell me you get fuckin’ Showtime in that piece a shit cabin. There wasn’t even a fuckin’ TV in that shithole.”

“Well I don’t fuckin’ live there sweetheart that’s just where I-” he stops short but just rolls his eyes at you. Then he gives you a look like he’s embarrassed for you. 

“Oh well excuse me for wantin’ to add a little flair to this situation!” you yell out to the ceiling. “I guess we can’t have any fuckin’ fun around here.”

“So what’re you gonna do now Dex, chop me up and take me out to the ocean?” a cocky fucking grin settles on his face.. 

“Jesus Christ what’d you watch the whole fuckin’ series?” You look down at his smug face. He thinks he has the upper hand again. This motherfucker. Naked. Tied to a chair. Still thinks he’s smarter than you. 

“You know how much fuckin’ work it’d be to chop your fat ass up?” and you watch his grin get wiped off his face. “Think I’m gonna take the time to dismember you? You? I could leave you just like this in a shallow ditch ‘n not one person would even miss you honey.”

“Then whatcha’ fuckin’ waitin’ for, huh?” He snarls, his smugness gone. “Get it over with, let’s go.”

You walk behind him and grab a second chair, dragging it noisily across the floor until it’s parallel to his own chair but facing the other way. You plop down in the chair and lean closer to him.

“I really don’t know how you’re still not gettin’ it,” you say quietly. You drag your finger along the ropes across the front of his chest as he lowers his chin to watch you. “But you are not in charge here.” He lifts his head and his hard eyes meet yours.

“Now… I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re gonna answer me honestly.”

“And why would I fuckin’ do that?” he says calmly, quietly.

“Cuz otherwise I’m gonna call 9-1-1 right now. When they get here they’ll see I’ve done all their work for ‘em.” you hitch your thumb back to point it towards the table behind you. He sighs a deep breath and - growls? - under his breath.

You point to the table again and ask, “How do you choose your victims?” He shakes his head, tries to shift in his chair but the ropes are tied too tight to allow for much movement. You really do know what you’re doing. He still doesn’t seem to believe it, flexing his arms and chest against the ropes yet again.

“I don’t.” You give him a beat to add more to the sentence but he just stares at you with black eyes, mouth closed and tight-lipped.

“You’re gonna have to do a little better n’ that honey,” you gently coo. He suppresses another growl. You can tell that your little nickname for him is finally starting to grate on his nerves. 

“That’s my answer,” he grumbles, refusing to elaborate, staring ahead at the folding table.

“Okay hun, no problem,” you reply as you lean forward and pull a cell phone out of your back pocket. You punch in the lock code and begin to dial. You type in 9 and you see him watching you out of the corner of your eye. You quickly type in the 1 and then hover your finger over the button, ready to repeat the motion. You pause and look up, meeting his eyes.

“You wanna call my bluff or you wanna start talkin’?” and then you smile as you hear jesus fuckin’ christ muttered under his breath and watch him spend some more time straining against the ropes. “Get it over with, let’s go,” you repeat his words back to him in a bad impression of his gruff voice. His scowl deepens.

“I don’t,” he repeats. “I don’t choose ‘em.” He sighs, and you open your mouth to protest that he’s still holding back but before you can speak he continues, “I just take what’s there.”

“You don’t have a type?” 

“You seem to know everythin’, look at ‘em,” he nods towards the table where you have placed cut out photos from the missing posters next to the trinkets you found in his cabin. “Does it look like I have a type?” You remember the photos of men and women from all backgrounds on that table.

“So you just take whatever… whoever you can get?”

“Easier that way. Don’t have to go findin’ something specific.” He’s not making eye contact anymore, even though you have leaned in so far your faces are just inches apart. “Less suspicious that way too. Looks less like one person is pickin’ ‘em all off.” He shrugs, then quiets.

You lean back in your chair now, thinking over what he’s said. He’s been doing this for years. You could connect some of his souvenirs to known missing people but he had more items stuffed in his floorboards than you had pictures. So who knows how high his number really is.

“Is that all of ‘em?” nodding your head back towards the table again. His head is still down, seemingly very interested in a freckle on his left thigh. But you see a smile tug at one side of his mouth. He tries to hide it before you can see but it’s too late.

“Yeah,” he lies, unconvincingly. He doesn’t see you roll your eyes. God he’s shit at lying. 

You raise the phone up and wave it in front of his face, showing the 9-1 still dialed in. “Is that your final answer, honey?” He lets out a big sigh, like you’ve spoiled his fun. That’s right, we can’t have any fun around here, can we?

“Not exactly,” he grumbles. “Camping season is short ‘round here. Winter comes on quick. I have somewhere else I go sometimes,” he vaguely adds. He doesn’t elaborate further.

“Do you have sex with ‘em before or after you kill ‘em?” you ask, not even taking time to absorb his previous answer. His head snaps up to yours, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Do you have se-”

“I don’t fuckin’ do that,” he spits, face contorted in disgust.

“Yeahhhh. But that’s what they all say. And, spoiler alert,” your voice goes high and teasing, “they ALL do it.” His face is still tight, mouth curled into a frown. 

“Well I fuckin’ don’t,” he looks back down at the freckle on his thigh, continuing to curse under his breath how disgusting you are for asking. “Killin’ doesn’t get me hard,” he snarls.

“Oh honey, I don’t know why you’re goin’ all shy on me now,” you coo, he’s still looking down, shaking his head now. “I’ve been in your little hidey-hole, ya know. It smells like fuckin’ loam ‘n body odor. I took a black light. That place is truly fuckin’ disgusting.” You adjust your glasses on your nose and continue, “I didn’t find a single cleaning product in the whole place. And now you’re gonna act like you’re not in there sprayin’ blood and cum all over the walls?” He doesn’t raise his head but his eyes meet yours under his eyebrows to scowl at you. You lean in till your noses almost touch. “A black light,” you repeat.

“That’s a huntin’ cabin sweetheart, and it wasn’t always mine. So I can’t tell you what yer little black light saw but it wasn’t me doin’ - that - with any ‘a them,” he nods to the table. 

Now you consider what he’s said and decide if you believe him or not. He’s a terrible liar, right? Maybe. Or maybe he’s just been playing you this entire time. You don’t give a shit that he’s a murderer. Anyone would murder under the right circumstances. But sexual assault? That’s a line you’d never cross. In fact, most of the men you’ve killed have been guilty of it themselves. Pigs, all of them, who’d stick their dicks anywhere for a moment of pleasure. They deserved what they got. Is this guy one of them?

“Well like I said, that’s what they all say, n-”

He interrupts, muttering jesus fuckin’ christ again, and more curses follow in whispers. “Is there fuckin’ evidence that I did any ‘a that? Any… sexual assault?” he spits the last two words out with particular venom, speaking the term for the first time.

“You’re askin’ if there’s any evidence on the months-old decomposing body parts found half-eaten in the woods?” You poke the freckle on his thigh he’s been seemingly obsessed with. “Surprisingly, no, there was not any evidence of sexual assault found.”

“Well then, there ya go,” he grunts out, as if that settles it. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. You can’t tell if it’s from shame, discomfort, or disgust. He’s doing a good job pretending it’s disgust. Is he pretending?

You try to ask another question but he is done talking. He won’t look up from his lap now. You even hold up the cell phone again but he doesn’t flinch. He knows by now you’re not going to dial the police. He’s shut down. So you get up and pull your chair away, disappearing behind him for a moment. 

When you come back in front of him you sit on his lap, facing him, straddling his legs with yours. He looks up at you with cautious eyes and opens his mouth to say something - but say what you’re not sure. When he feels the sharp poke just under his ribs he stops short. He looks down and sees the 5” knife you have pressed into the soft spot where his sternum ends.

“I guess it’s time then, honey,” you hum. The hand not holding the knife traces the side of his face. He looks almost sad for one singular moment before his eyes turn hard and all the muscles in his face pull tight.

“If ya expect me to beg, you’re wastin’ yer time.” His pupils are blown wide. “Just do it.”

“How about you stop bein’ so bossy on our first date?” You lean in and kiss him on the nose, then the right cheek, then the left cheek. “Well…..  Our last date,” and you kiss him on the mouth.

You press your lips hard into his and wait. When he doesn’t relent you take your free hand and squeeze his cheeks, hard, forcing his mouth open. Risking him biting your tongue, you push it into his mouth. Your gamble pays off when he doesn’t bite but instead pushes his tongue back and forth along the length of yours.

You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, bracing yourself and grinding your body down into his naked lap. You press your chest into his as your hand moves to the back of his head and fists in his wild curls. You continue kissing him, tongues wrapping around each other, lips moving sloppily across each other’s mouths. 

You move your wet kisses down his jaw, mouthing at the patches in his graying, scruffy beard. You grab a handful of his hair and squeeze your fist, tugging gently at the roots. He grits his teeth and groans, attempting to buck his hips up. 

Of course he can’t move against the restraints, but you grind down again, and you can finally feel that he’s gotten hard through the baggy jeans you’re still wearing. You let a low chuckle slip out.

“I thought killin’ didn’t get you hard,” you smile against his mouth.

“Who am I killin’?” he mutters, still simmering with anger at the topic.

Oh yeah, you giggle, your breath ghosting across his neck. “I guess I’m the one who it’s gettin’ hard,” you whisper. 

You can’t help it. The anticipation of the kill is thrumming through your veins. It’s always like this, the energy, the electricity. Killing makes you feel more alive. You usually aren’t making out with them though. Never, in fact. This time feels different. You’re not sure why.

You lick a stripe up his neck, rolling your hips over his hardened length, and now he bites, nipping gently at your jaw. You squirm and the knife pokes harder into his abdomen. He inhales a sharp breath through his nose at the contact. You silence any additional protest by kissing him hard on the mouth again.

You pull back, face flushed and panting. He is looking at you with wild eyes and puffy lips, his hair pulled at strange angles from your hands running through it. Do you want to fuck this guy? You just brought him here to kill him but now you think you want to fuck him. This is a morally gray area. He’s bound to a chair and you have a knife at his ribs. Can he consent?

“Why’d ya stop?” he huffs out, bringing your attention back to him. “Are we doin’ this or what?”

“It feels kinda fucked up,” you say meekly, the first time he’s seeing any hesitation from you. You look down, twirling the knife against the rope crossing his chest. “It’s not gonna change my mind ‘bout what happens here ya know.”

“I didn’t say it would,” he says quietly, and you look back into his eyes. His eyes are dark, like fresh brewed coffee. They’d be kinda nice if they weren’t about to be on a dead guy.

“You…. you want this?”

“Why not?” he immediately answers.

“Because I’m gonna kill you after,” and even though you’re sure he doesn’t need the reminder, you poke him lightly in the ribs with the knife again, leaving a little red dot from the tip. He doesn’t react this time. He just lets a small smile ghost across his face and his eyes soften as they land on yours.

“What a way to go.”

It’s all you need to hear. You get up and uncinch the belt that is the only thing holding his pants up around your waist. As soon as it’s loosened, the pants fall to the floor, the belt buckle tinkling as it hits the concrete. You’re not wearing any underwear but the view of your cunt is obstructed by the long flannel shirt draped over you.

You take the knife and stick it in the edge of the shirt about breast-high, just above where you have the first button done up. You slowly drag the knife down the placket, cutting each button off easily with the very sharp blade. The buttons clatter to the floor one by one and when you’ve reached the last one, the shirt opens up a bit.

It’s just enough to see the valley between your breasts, a line of your soft stomach, the patch of hair on your mound, and your pink folds peeking out between your legs. You watch him looking you up and down, devouring the sight of you. His brown eyes now black with hunger. Now you can finally take the time to admire his body. 

Yes you had stripped him naked and then tied him to the chair. The whole process had taken nearly thirty minutes. Your hands had been all over him, this grown man you had to maneuver while he was unconscious. But that wasn’t about sex. That was just a body. And you’ve had your hands on plenty of bodies. It’s not sexual. 

But now…. now you can really admire him. He has a long and muscular neck, a broad chest, and freckle-dotted shoulders with strong muscles that continue down his thick arms. He isn’t very hairy but he does have soft arm hair, a little chest hair, and a trail of hair that starts beneath his belly button and continues down to a large patch around his cock.

His cock. Now you can appreciate what you were feeling on his lap. Why does it look so good? Cocks shouldn’t look this good. It’s fully hard, leaking precum and leaning against his stomach, his balls pulled tight at the bottom. You’re surprised to notice his pubic hair isn’t growing wild, it looks as if it was trimmed but has grown out a bit. His cock is both a little larger and a little thicker than what you know to be average. It’s not the biggest you’ve ever seen but that’s alright. In this context you aren’t looking for something that’s going to destroy you. You need to be able to walk later, you’ll have a body to dispose of.

You look back at his face and his eyes are meeting yours. You wonder if he can see the same hunger in your eyes that you saw in his. He’s smiling again but this time it’s not the same cocky grin as before, this one is genuine and filled with excitement. Your heart is pounding. You feel intoxicated. Is this the thrill of the kill or the sex?

Double ropes make an X across his chest, fastening his torso tight to the back of the chair. His arms and wrists are also bound to the back of the chair, causing his arms to be extended stiff at his sides, hands dangling towards the ground. Another X of the double rope crosses his thighs, attaching him to the seat of the chair, and his ankles are tied to the chair’s front legs.

You consider for one brief moment if untying any part of him would increase your enjoyment but quickly decide that’s not a good idea. Even if you might want his hands on your body, if you find them on your throat, it could all get very messy very quickly.

You give your shoulders a slight shrug and his flannel begins to fall off your shoulders, brushing down your arms as it falls to the ground. Now you stand before him completely bare. You don’t miss the fuuuck he silently mouths. Jesus christ what is this guy doing to you? You swear you just felt your clit twitch. 

It is now obvious more than ever the effect he’s having on you, as your unobstructed cunt is so wet that the cool air hitting your thighs makes you realize you are a fucking sopping mess down there. Not wanting to wait any longer, you straddle his thighs again. This time you don’t put your legs on either side but rather rest your legs on top of his. Your feet rest inside of his thighs right under his balls and your ankles and shins lay on top of his thighs. This position is you going give you the best leverage to raise and lower yourself, since you know he can’t help with driving his cock into you.

You can see his arms straining against the ropes. By now he should have learned that they’re too tight for him to move but you think this might just be out of habit. He wants to touch your body, you can tell by the way he moves his head forward - the only thing he can freely move forward - and laps his tongue anywhere he can reach.

You grab his face with one hand and crash your mouth onto his, a mess of teeth and lips and tongues. With your other hand, which is still holding the knife, you carefully use two fingers to tilt his cockhead directly under you and you slowly sink down on it.

You both let out wanton moans into each other’s mouths at the sensation. You continue to press down until he’s seated all the way inside you, and then you pause to let your body adjust. He feels bigger than he looked. Maybe it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone but this feels borderline painful. You don’t move up and down but rock forward and backwards ever so slightly, giving yourself some more time. He groans a little bit, maybe impatient but you don’t care, and you just smile against his mouth.

You feel your own wetness dripping out of you, down around him, and you feel like you’re ready to go. Pulling your face back from his, you look in each other’s eyes, almost tenderly. You put both hands on top of his shoulders, careful to have a good grip on the knife but not have it too close to his skin. You don’t want to be the one to do anything prematurely in this situation. 

You start slowly at first, ignoring the quiet groans coming from him. He’s not whining but he doesn’t sound or look pleased with the pace you’ve set if the pained look on his face is any indication. You continue moving but grab his face to ask you good? The pained look immediately disappears from his face as his eyes snap open. He grunts and mutters a quiet it’s been awhile before he closes his eyes again, trying to focus.

“Don’t you end this early on me,” you warn. It’s a little funny to you when you realize that his punishment for doing that would be death. It shouldn’t be funny but it is. Probably because you’re fucked in the head. He barely reacts and just mutters I won’t between clenched teeth.

Your pace starts to pick up and you alternate between quite literally bouncing up and down on his cock, and grinding forwards and backwards on it. Each time you switch movements he lets out a strangled groan, clenching his eyes tighter. You can feel your orgasm start to build as a little ball of energy deep in your torso.

You picture what it would be like if he could put his hands on you. You take your own hands off his shoulders and run them up and down your thighs, careful to not let the blade hit either of your bodies. You run them across your stomach and up your ribcage, grabbing your breasts, the cold blade of the knife pressed against one of them. You cry out at the sensation and notice he has opened his eyes now and is watching you intently.

You throw your head back, squeezing your breasts, and bring two fingers to pinch each nipple until they’re over-sensitive and stinging. You look back down and watch his face, inches from your breasts, mesmerized. Without warning you shove one of them right into his mouth and he greedily accepts it, tonguing and biting your nipple. 

You continue to move on his lap, driving his cock in and out, up and down, filling you up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. Your bodies are sliding against each other, lubricated by the sheen of sweat covering them. The sounds of your skin slapping echoes off the walls. The slurping noises of his mouth are turning you on even more. You can feel your orgasm now just below the surface. You know you’re close. 

“I’m gonna come honey,” you moan. Jesus fuckin’ christ you hear him grunt beneath you, mouth still full of your breast.

You push yourself closer to him, pressed up against his chest, his mouth popping off your nipple. You wrap both arms around his neck and pull him tight, rutting hard and deep on his lap. It’s just there, so close. Then he latches his mouth onto your neck just below your jaw, and he sucks. 

A white-hot release immediately hits your body, spreading from the core out. It hits you so hard that you actually scream. Your movements stutter and slow as you work through your orgasm, feeling your pussy contracting on his cock.

Seconds later you hear him against your neck, a long and drawn-out moan, as you feel him releasing repeatedly inside of you. You continue gentle rocking motions against him until you feel his cock still. His mouth is still against your neck, breathing heavy breaths in between curses of jesus fuckin’ christ, and holy shit.

You push yourself up off him using the leverage from your shins on his thighs just enough for him to slip out of you, your combined release dripping out onto his lap. You lay your head down on one of his shoulders, gently kissing his neck. At the other shoulder, your arm rests with the knife dragging up and down along where his carotid artery lies.

You sit like that for a while, both of you catching your breaths, getting your bearings back. You are vaguely aware of the mess on his lap you’ll have to clean up later. It’ll have to wait. You think that orgasm made you dizzy. You’re pretty sure your legs will be jell-o for a bit. You haven’t felt like this in a long time. Fucked out and cockdrunk.

He is the first to speak.

“Can I ask you a question?” he says tentatively, “before ya….  ya know.”

“You have a question for me?” you scoff, “I’m flattered,” which is true, even considering what you’ve just done.

“Were ya serious about doin’ this before? The killin’ part?”

“Well yeah, what makes ya think I wasn’t serious?” you lift your head to look him in the eyes just in time to see him roll his.

“Probably the part where ya pretended to be Dexter-” he starts.

“Oh my god I can’t wait till you stop breathin’ so I don’t have to hear about that again. I was just trying to- ya know what? Nevermind,” and you push the blade forward into his neck a little. It’s hard enough to pierce the skin. It draws a couple drops of blood but you’re mostly just teasing him, since you have no desire to clean five liters of blood off the floor of this rented garage. But you can’t help the thrill that shoots into your stomach at the way he clenches in fear.

His body relaxes after a few seconds when he realizes you haven’t pushed the knife in any further. He had clenched his eyes shut, not letting you see the panic in them. Now they flutter open and meet yours, barely able to focus, your faces are so close together.

“My question was somethin’ else,” he mutters, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat whooshing in your ears. You say nothing, just continue to stare at him wide-eyed, unblinking. “My question was… why. Why do ya do it?”

You are taken aback. Literally and figuratively. You physically pull back from him, resting on your heels back where his knees are. Your hands remain on his shoulders, one still clutching the knife against his neck. Someone is looking for the answer, you think to yourself. It’s almost sweet that he thinks you have it.

“I do it for the same reason you do it.” You scan his face, searching for that smug smile, waiting for deception to play across it, for something. For anything. It doesn’t come. He genuinely doesn’t know. “I do it because it fucking feels good, honey.”

He just keeps your gaze, nodding his head slowly as he takes in your answer. He doesn’t ask anything else or add to your answer. He’s just considering it. You get up off his lap and fold up the knife in your hand, dropping it on the floor on top of the discarded flannel. You walk behind him again and grab the pre-filled syringe you set up. This is the way you like to do things. Clean. Efficient. No stains or smells to deal with later.

You walk up behind him, standing so you are pressed to the back of the chair, his head resting against your bare stomach. You put your hands down on top of his shoulders, the syringe in your dominant hand tapping against his skin. He looks down at it and then tilts his head back to look up at you.

“Why me?” he asks. Not whiny, like most people are. Just a curiosity. Why him? Why did you pick him? Out of everyone in the world, why is it him? It’s almost romantic.

“I thought it’d be fun. I mean, it’s always fun. But I thought it’d be more fun than usual, huntin’ someone like me. Well, almost like me. I’m better at it,” and you tap the syringe against his clavicle a few times, “obviously.”

“Well you weren’t exactly playin’ fair, were ya sweetheart?” he says in an accusing tone.

“How do ya mean?” you ask, your eyes going wide, insulted by the implication. “You knew people would be lookin’ around and askin’ questions, maybe even the police.”

“Yeahhh,” he concedes, “but the police‘re idiots.” He keeps his eyes on you, watching you nod your head in agreement. “I didn’t think I was up against someone like you.” He pauses and then flashes you a cocky grin. “Someone smart.”

“Oh stop, now you’re just tryin’ to flatter me,” and you swat the syringe on his shoulder.

“I’m not,” he says, still smiling.

“Kinda seems like you are, ya ol’ flirt.” and you wink down at him.

“No, what I’m tryin’ ta say is…” and he finally looks away, staring straight ahead before he delivers the next sentence. “I bet you couldn’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” You continue to look down at him but he’s still looking straight forward, not meeting your eyes.

“Catch me.”

Now you’re annoyed. “Honey it really wasn’t that fuckin’ hard the first time. I highly doubt th-”

“But,” he interrupts, “I bet you couldn’t do it again.” His cocky smile is back, head thrown back staring up at you again. “You couldn’t do it now that I know you’re lookin’ fer me. 

You push off his shoulders and walk around the front of him. Bending over, you pull his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans laid on the floor. You’re gonna wipe that smug grin off his face once and for all. “Well Joel Miller,” and you read off his home address in Texas, “I really do think I could find you again.”

“Then do it.” His smile is gone. His face is expressionless. He’s just staring at you. “Find me again,” he taunts.

You drop the wallet back to the ground and sit down on his lap, almost considering what he’s saying. You run your hand on the side of his stupid smug little face, syringe still in the other hand. You lean your face to his and gently pepper his face with kisses.  

“Honey, I don’t want you sufferin’,” you coo between smooches. “Yer gonna miss me too much if I let you go.”

“How long you think I’d have to suffer?” he counters, “Hmm? How long you think it’d take you?”

“It took me less than a week this time honey. So probably not long,” you continue the kisses down his neck.

“Then come find me,” he growls, stilling your motions. “End my sufferin’.”

You pull back from him. Fuck. The thought of it made you undeniably excited. You were practically vibrating with anticipation and you weren’t even thinking about killing him anymore. This was about a chase. An honest-to-god chase with someone that might be something close to a challenge.

He had a point. You didn’t want to admit that to him, but he didn’t know you were looking for him. He had no idea there was someone like him in the area, whereas you had begun to suspect last summer, and had spent the last year putting pieces together and planning your trip this way. 

It did take you less than a week of moving around to different areas of the state land with your van, finding different places to camp, until you ran into him and his filthy little cabin. But you had spent much longer than that reviewing his victims, studying his patterns, and getting yourself into his mindset as best you could. 

He has confirmed your suspicions that he moved on after the summer to hunt somewhere else. But where else? Where he lives in Texas? Another off-the-grid cabin? It could be anywhere. It doesn’t matter. You’ll figure it out. 

The phone you’ve been threatening him to dial 9-1-1 with is actually his phone. You'd used his fingerprint to gain access while he was out cold and then changed the passcode to something that only you know. You can gather a lot of information on him from his cellphone. That will help and he doesn’t even yet realize you have it. 

You already have an upper hand on his little proposition. You’re already outsmarting him.

You press your lips to his one last time and stick the syringe’s small needle into his neck, pressing the plunger halfway down. With open eyes kissing him you see his eyes go wide and then shut. His entire body goes limp under yours, including his lips. His plush lips. You feel his heart still beating strong under your hand so you take the time to indulge, holding his head up and stealing a few more kisses before you have to start cleaning up.

*****

Joel wakes a while later, how long he’s not sure, but the room he’s in looks very different. The van is gone, as is the folding table covered in trophies and photos of his victims, as are you. In fact, very few things remain in the room. 

His clothes are folded in a stack on the floor in front of him. Next to them are his wallet and truck keys. Finally, there is a folded note stuck to his leg. It’s pinned to him with your five inch pocket knife having been driven into his thigh.

The restraints around his wrists have been cut so that he can reach forward to take the knife out of his leg. When he does, the note drifts to the floor a few feet away. He ignores the searing pain and blood now streaming from the wound on his leg and manages to work himself free of the rest of the ropes. 

He moves to stand up out of the chair and immediately his legs give out, collapsing him unceremoniously onto the floor. He is free of the chair for the first time in - judging by the physical state of him - what has probably been half a day. With shaky hands he reaches out and picks up the paper where it had fallen, unfolding it.

In pretty, looping handwriting it reads: ‘Catch ya later!   xoxo’ 

*****

READ THE NEXT PART HERE (THE CHASE - PART 1)

[the-summ0ning]

𓉸ྀི Linger 𓉸ྀི PART ONE

Roomie!Nick Folio x Fem!introvert!Bookworm!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Awkwardly avoiding your hot roommate after him walking in on you listening to your guilty pleasure was easy enough, you thought, until it wasn't. Not when you had all the same friends, and you were all in a cabin in the woods for Noah's birthday, and Nick shows up looking like said guilty pleasure.

!!!THIS PIECE IS PURE FICTION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE, NOT YOUR THING TURN AWAY. BUT AGAIN IT'S JUST FICTION AND NOT HOW THESE PPL ARE IRL!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS: swearing, recreational drug and alcohol use, awkward romcom moments, fluff, yearning.

A/n: hahah spooky season is upon us and I wrote this after I had insomnia for over 24 hours after the wildest week of having the flu a few weeks ago, and have been sitting on it debating if I wanted to post this. This could be a totally considered self-indulgent, maybe cringe, but oh well it's my digital footprint & I have to live with. But welcome to my first fic on this blog, and my first piece posted at least for the BO guys in general, had to show the cinnamon roll Folio love first. thank yewwww and enjoy

⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。 °⛧⛧°。°⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。

The universe had a painfully ironic sense of humor. Noah Sebastian and his friends, with their twisted embrace of clichés, unknowingly played right into its hands.

After years of running in the same circles, Noah had grown to resent sharing his birthday with Halloween—except for the rare occasions when he leaned into the theme completely. This year was one of those times. A slasher-themed party in a huge cabin in the woods for the weekend. Cute. Real fuckin’ cute.

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d promised months ago to make all the baked goods—long before you knew the party theme—and that his closest friend and bandmate happened to be your roommate, you would’ve bailed. But you were a good friend, one who loved your friends and kept your word. Even if it meant enduring the mortification of being around Folio, said roommate, fighting the urge to disappear into the woods every time he glanced or came in your direction.

Because Folio knew your dirty little secret.

One you hadn’t even shared with your closest girlfriends. A secret you’d intended to bury in the deepest corners of your feral little brain—until Folio, of all people, unearthed it. He’d come home early from a fishing trip because of a storm and found you in your natural state of debauchery: high, sprawled on the couch, blasting a dark romance smut audiobook through the living room’s soundbar to a concerning decibel. To make matters worse, it was during the most graphic part, and not just any audiobook—this one had sound effects. And masks. And filthy, filthy things.

You’d nearly combusted when you saw him standing in the doorway for who knows how long, looking bemused, at you giggling and quietly squealling into a throw pillow. You scrambled to pause the audio, but of course, the universe wasn’t on your side, and your phone took its sweet time. Long enough for him to hear everything. 

It’s not like you were about to do anything. You weren’t physically aroused, just mortified that he now knew what you listened to when he wasn’t around. Mortified as if his living room had been christened by your smut. Mortified he probably assumed you touched yourself to it when he wasn’t there—or worse, that it was some deep, dark fantasy of yours. No that totally wasn’t your guilty conscience projecting or anything.

You’d only lived with Nick for four months. Four months of being around him more than you ever had since meeting him through mutual friends years ago. Before this, you could count on both hands the number of times you’d been alone together. Not that there wasn’t any issues with him, you just considered the two of you as polar opposites to think he’d actually want to be around you or you’d have enough in common to pass the basis of ‘acquaintance’ or ‘mutual friend’.

He was funny, the kind of guy who made your cheeks hurt from laughing at his corny jokes. He was charming, with that Southern hospitality that always seemed to melt your insides, and his country twang made you melt just that much more. You hated how easily he could make your social anxiety melt away at parties, offering you a hit of his joint or a cigarette and small conversation when he noticed you hadn’t your usual friends you clung to. Confident, magnetic, always ready to be rowdy, a through and through extrovert, everything you were not.

You were an extroverted introvert–at best. A pessimistic optimist. An awkward rain shower on a sunny day. The house cat who only craved attention when it suited you, having zoomies when no one was watching.

That’s exactly what the embarrassing night felt like—your version of a cat caught in a burst of energy when it thought no one was looking. Except Folio was looking. And all he did was give you that dopey smile, the one with the gleam in his dark chocolate eyes, and made some smart-ass remark before disappearing into his room.

“So, this is what you do when I’m not around. Cute.”

As if he were the amused owner, catching his pet in the act.

He never brought it up again, but you both knew. And it gnawed at you. Maybe you were again projecting and he hadn’t thought much of it, but still!

And now, of all the costumes in the world, famous slashers, any other character from a horror movie, or crashed out and went with a basic t-shirt in the same vein of the theme of the party. No. He had chosen to wear a Ghostface mask. You, meanwhile, were dressed as a cheesy, slutty Casey Becker from Scream. It wasn’t planned. You’d done your best to avoid him the last two weeks, conveniently ever since the theme had been known to you. Quick hellos and goodbyes, or hasty exchanges with those days.

But tonight, at the party, there was no escaping him. Between leaving early before he even woke, helping with decorations, and playing the mom friend throughout the night for your own friends, you made yourself scarce. Dodging him became an art form. Until, of course, he cornered you.

You were about to refill Matt’s drink when Nick approached, his Ghostface mask pulled up. He tossed Matt’s empty cup, and handed you a cup of red jungle juice (with gummies shaped like body parts floating the mix of fruit of course), his hand casually settling on the small of your back, guiding you wordlessly toward the quieter part of the yard by the small shed by the brush of woods. The touch sent an unexpected chill through you, even though you tried to ignore it. You turned to protest, but he tapped his ear, signaling the blunt tucked behind it.

You rolled your eyes, laughing under your breath, and let him lead you to the shed. As much as you weren’t ready to talk to him, you hadn’t taken a break all night, and the excuse to get away from the crowd and babysit your friends was tempting. Your social battery ticking away faster than anticipated.

“Didn’t realize you were such a great party planner,” he said, leaning against the shed as he lit the blunt, his eyes catching under the faint glow of the solar lights.

You shrugged, struggling to keep your voice casual as your heart raced and cheeks warmed. His presence was overwhelming, making you hyper-aware of everything—the slight brush of his fingers when he passed you the blunt, the way his lips curled when he smiled. Even the music felt like it was conspiring against you, with Deftones' haunting melodies filling the background, stirring things inside you that you wished would stay buried.

“It was a group effort,” you mumbled, staring at your shoes to avoid his gaze. The warmth of his hand on your back lingered, leaving you unsettled in ways you weren’t prepared for. But when you glanced at him, his eyes were fixed on you, his brow furrowed like he was trying to figure something out.

“Nah, I didn’t do anything. I’m just here to boost morale and be the life of the party,” he chuckled, though the sound felt a little forced. As if he was trying just as hard as you to keep things light, keep things normal. 

He passed the blunt back, and you took a hit, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn’t help but wonder if he thought about that night too. It had been weeks, but it still felt raw in the fiber of your being, especially now with the tension hanging between you.

“And I know half of these ideas were your asshole suggestions, after searching kid halloween party on Pinterest.” He added, smirking. “But they love it. Noah loves it.”

You smiled despite yourself, taking another hit quickly to hide it, the warmth of his compliment stirring something soft in your chest. “Glad to hear it. Sometimes I worry my trolling gets taken a little too seriously.”

“They thrive off it,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. He gestured for you to keep the blunt, taking a swig of his drink instead. “All for you, bub. Roomie blunt.”

The nickname hit you harder than you wanted to admit, a surge of affection mixing with the ever-present tension. His voice, low and soft, carried a weight that made it feel more intimate than it should have. You swallowed, trying to push the feeling down. Deflect, deflect, deflect.

“Matching costumes and now roomie blunts?” You teased, though your voice sounded breathier than you intended. “Are we hitting new roommate milestones?”

He laughed, but it was quieter this time, almost shy. “Didn’t mean to steal your thunder.” He said almost apologetically, there was still an edge of smugness maybe arrogance. “I tried to wear a t-shirt with just Michael and Freddy on it, but Jolly told me to ‘piss off and I wasn’t wearing that to our best friend’s birthday party.’ Drove me to a Spirit before we picked Noah up, it was like the only thing left close to the theme.” He explained. “I didn’t even have a plain black shirt. Had to flip this inside out.”

“Oh Jolly said ‘fuck you thought’ for real.” You giggled, the effect of the cannabis hitting you as you rubbed the rough inseam on his shoulder that you failed to notice when he walked in tonight. It was comical and relieving to know this wasn't a jab at you now, and just a half-ass last minute idea--typical Folio fashion.

“Wait for it, wait for it,” he pointed a finger up. Balancing the cup rim between his teeth, his drink splashing on himself as he pulled his t-shirt up exposing his torso as he clumsily tugged his shirt toward you to see a print of Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger holding hands in a meadow.

Through puffs of smoke, you full out cackled, now holding his shoulder for support. “What? Did you think you were too tough to dress up for Nowah’s birthday party?” Mustering your best baby voice in between your wheezing, the tension breaking for a moment. But even as you laughed, your eyes lingered on him a second too long. On the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the way his dark ochre eyes seemed to trace your every movement, as if he were studying you, waiting for something. But then he pulled the mask down, breaking the easiness of the moment.

He smoothed his shirt down, mocking your laugh. “The fuck am I gonna do with this after?” 

Well…

Even with his shirt inside out, with alcohol spills staining it, and ash from your blunt speckling his clothes, the look did things to you--he looked good. The mask, the way he carried himself, all of it stirred something deeper. Your mind flashed back to that audiobook, to the night he caught you—and suddenly, the faceless man from the story wasn’t faceless anymore. It was Nick. It had always been Nick, lurking in the corners of your thoughts, even when you tried to deny it for several months before. You had buried the attraction you felt towards him well enough, denying that maybe your harmless crush was something more. Letting the term roommates be your boundary for him, not wanting to make an arrangement of living with an attractive acquaintance that you had festering feelings for even more awkward.

Despite your best efforts, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. And even though your mind screamed at you to say something, to make a joke, you were too caught up in the moment—the way his presence pressed into yours, the unspoken tension crackling between you like static.

You handed the blunt back, your fingers brushing a second too long with his, the touch jolting something within you. “I’m sure you can find other uses for it, Bub,” you said, but the words came out softer than you intended, almost like a promise.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His hand lingered near yours, his dark eyes searching your face, as if he was waiting for something—waiting for you to break the silence. The air between you felt heavy, charged, like the moment could tip in any direction. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming a little too fast. You were standing so close now, the night’s sounds fading into the background. 

Your lips parted, wanting to say something, anything—but the words caught in your throat. Maybe this was your chance. Maybe you could make sure things weren’t as weird as you imagined it to be. Or maybe you could take that small step forward, close the gap between you, and see where it led.

But instead, you took a step back. 

“Thanks for the morale boost! Gonna go beg Ruffilo to play something less whiny and horny now!”

The moment stretched, taut and unspoken, as you turned away, nerves rattling inside you. You felt him watching you as you sauntered off, the weight of his gaze burning into your back, the unspoken tension still thick in the air.

Deflect! Deflect! Deflect!

But as you walked away, your heart still pounding, you knew the moment between you wasn’t over. Not really. It lingered, hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to break. And you couldn’t help but wonder if next time, you’d have the courage to step into it.

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

Nick let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he watched your denim skirt ride up slightly with each step you took away. He swallowed hard, the familiar pang of frustration settling in his chest. Admiring you from afar had become second nature to him, an unspoken routine he’d never quite managed to shake.

You perplexed him, right down to his core.

Every time he felt he was getting closer to understanding you, to unraveling the mystery of what made you so magnetic—you were gone. Slipping through his fingers just as quickly as you’d come into focus.

It had been that way since Matt and your friend first introduced you all those years ago. At first, he found your quietness cute—a stark contrast to the loud energy of your other friends. But as you started coming around more, he saw there was so much more beneath the surface. The dry wit, the easy charm you showed only to those closest to you, the way you seemed to light up in the right company. And then there was the obvious—he had been attracted to you from the moment he laid eyes on you.

But the more you intrigued him, the further away you seemed to drift, casting him aside without even realizing it. It gnawed at him, deeper than he liked to admit. Nick Folio wasn’t used to this—he could get anyone to open up, to be themselves around him with little effort. But you? You were a challenge he couldn’t crack, and it was driving him crazy.

It baffled him how Matt had convinced you to be roommates in the first place. Living together hadn’t helped his case at all—if anything, it made things worse. Since the moment he’d walked in on you listening to your smut audiobook, he could feel the shift, how you’d started shutting him out. He wasn’t oblivious to the way you avoided him now, keeping your distance, as though that moment had broken some invisible line between you.

But it hadn’t, not for him. If anything, he loved that glimpse of who you were outside the parties and hangouts. Seeing you comfortable, in your own space, high out of your mind, letting your guard down enough to geek out over something you clearly enjoyed.

Did you think it made him see you differently? Did you think that knowing your private little quirks would change how he felt?

If anything, it made perfect sense. A girl like you, attractive, smart, with a mind that clearly wandered far beyond the surface—you were bound to have something like that. Hell, now he understood why your nose was always buried in your Kindle. He’d probably be the same way if he had something that compelling.

He had hoped the blunt he’d offered earlier would serve as an olive branch, something to ease the tension between you. But now, watching you skitter away, retreating from him again, he wasn’t so sure.

“There’s the kingpin,” Noah grinned lazily, coming up beside him clapping him on the shoulder as Matt trailed behind.

Nick tried to muster a smile, but it was clear something was weighing on him, his usual carefree demeanor dulled by the conflict that tugged at him deep inside.

“What’s wrong Folio?” Matt was the first to ask.

“Nothing, just clearing my mind a bit.” He lied.

“Yeah, okay.” Noah snorted, trying to tug the mask on top of his head down. He was clearly tipsy, enjoying himself. “If you don’t want to talk about it, whatever—but I know what will really help clear your mind.” The lazy grin turned sinister.

The drummer merely raised his eyebrow waiting for an answer.

“Manhunt—slasher style.”

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

Would it really be a slasher-themed birthday party if Noah hadn’t forced the remaining guests into a game of manhunt, despite how dark it was and how most people were borderline drunk? No, only Noah would think this was still a good idea. You didn’t mind, though. It distracted you from your exchange with Nick—finding hiding spots, giggling quietly, getting chased, and chasing your friends around. It felt cathartic, especially in your tipsy, cross-faded state.

Noah was too far gone to establish real ground rules anyway. The only rule was that nobody hid past the brush of the woods, and he was always the seeker. Brush, cabin, shed, backyard—fair game for your large group of friends. It was the third and final round now, and most of you were out of breath, legs aching, too close to rolling an ankle in the dark. The adrenaline was wearing thin, and the nostalgia for childhood games had run its course. You were all gonna feel the aftermath of this in the morning.

“Once you're found, head to the fire pit, pop a squat, and call it quits for the LOVE of god,” Matt groaned, hands on his hips, out of breath.

With all the cabin’s lights off, the vast space was hard to navigate. Maybe calling it a cabin was underselling it. This was a huge luxury lodge, a weekend splurge to comfortably fit the group with several bedrooms and rooms to hide in. You’d found a bedroom on the second floor at the end of the hall, away from everyone else, deciding to hide alone instead of pairing up like some of the others. You didn’t want to change your spot like you had the other two rounds you played outside. This was it, and you’d let whoever come to you to find you.

You weren’t sure who’d claimed the room earlier in the night when everyone arrived, but it didn’t matter now. The large bed in the center had ample space underneath for you to squeeze under. The bed skirt fell perfectly, hiding you completely as you curled up, knees pressed against your chest, mouth against the sleeve of your knitted sweater to stifle any sound.

Your heart pounded as you heard the seekers stomping clumsily through the halls, doors creaking open, followed by screeches of defeat from your friends as they were found. Finally, Noah and Davis's triumphant laughter echoed through the house, growing distant as they led the captured outside.

For a moment, you thought you were safe. You let out the breath you'd been holding, relaxing slightly. The steady thrum of your heartbeat began to slow, and you debated slipping out the back door to claim victory, imagining the disappointed faces of Noah, Davis, and the rest when you emerged triumphant telling them to suck it.

But then you heard it—a single set of footsteps at the end of the hall. You froze. Your pulse roared in your ears as a familiar laugh echoed down the corridor.

“You guys suck at this game!” Nick’s voice rang out, smug and teasing. Faint bickering followed from outside, Noah and Davis shouting back that they were done, ready to drink by the fire.

Nick scoffed. “Fuckin’ amateurs didn’t even check my room. There’s still people hiding!”

You tensed, silently praying, Please, don’t be in his room. Please, don’t let this be his room.

But your luck had run out. You heard the door handle turn with an agonizing slowness, the door creaking open.

“Bryan, I swear, if you’re making out with your girlfriend in my room instead of hiding—” Nick’s voice trailed off as he stepped inside. You could hear his confusion as he scanned the seemingly empty room. It was his room, of course. The one place you’d somehow ended up hiding.

You bit your lip, heart pounding in your chest as he walked around. His footsteps were soft, deliberate. The room was dark, but you could see the faint glow of his phone’s flashlight as he swept it around, peeking under the desk, inside drawers—absurd places no one could possibly fit.

You started to hope he might give up. His footsteps retreated toward the door, and you exhaled softly, relaxing ever so slightly, your body tense from being curled up so tightly.

But then you heard the closet door swing open with a creak. “Got you!” he shouted abruptly, his voice playful. You jumped, your head hitting the wall behind you with a soft thud. You bit down harder on your sleeve to stifle any sound, praying he hadn’t noticed.

The door closed again, and there was a long silence. Then his voice dropped lower, a teasing edge creeping into it.

“I knew there was a little mouse in here.”

Your eyes flew open in shock, blood rushing to your face. No way. Was it just coincidence? Or had he somehow found out—about the pet names in your books, about your... tastes? Did he find your Goodreads somehow?! You screwed your eyes shut tighter, wishing you could disappear.

Suddenly, a warm hand grabbed your ankle and yanked you out from under the bed. You shrieked as you tumbled out, blinking into the blinding light of Nick’s phone. He was doubled over, laughing, thankfully with no Ghostface mask on.

“Where the hell did you get that from?!” you demanded, fed up, voice hushed but furious.

He was still chuckling, genuinely confused. “Get what from?”

“‘Little mouse?’” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his bare chest since he discarded his shirt after the first round. “What the hell is that?”

He raised his hands in surrender, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I don’t know! It just seemed fitting.”

“You didn’t snoop through my bookshelf?” you accused, heart racing for entirely different reasons now.

His brow furrowed. “Why would I go through your bookshelf? Where’s this coming from?”

“You know where!”

“I don’t, though!” His voice softened, growing more serious. “You really think I would go through your stuff?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “I don’t know... you caught me listening to my smut—”

Nick had the audacity to huff a laugh, and it sent your blood boiling all over again.

“It’s not funny, Nick!” You glared at him, horrified by how quickly this night was spiraling out of control. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go tonight.

“It’s not,” he agreed, but his grin remained. “But it kind of is. Because that just confirmed everything I thought.”

You crossed your arms, defensive. “What did you think?”

“That you got weird about me seeing you... be yourself.”

You scoffed. “I did not.” You did.

He said your name quietly, and it made you look at him, caught by the softness in his voice. “I don’t care that you were geeking out over some dirty audiobook. I thought it was cute.”

“I was not.” Your face burned. “And it’s not cute.”

“What would you call it then? Fangirling?”

You grimaced, crossing your arms tighter. “No.”

Nick exhaled, leaning against the desk. “Look, I’m not trying to make this a thing. Relax, okay?”

But relaxing was impossible with him standing there, shirtless, casual like he hadn’t just crawled into your head. He was so nonchalant, while you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous.

Finally, he turned on the lamp in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. His eyes softened as they met yours, and he gestured to the bed. “Can we sit? I’m not trying to argue, and my legs are tired.”

You stared at him, defiant for a moment longer, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed. He rolled the desk chair up to you, knees nearly brushing, close enough that the warmth of his skin made the air between you thrum.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he teased, his voice low.

“I’m not a brat,” you muttered, looking down at your lap, “I’m just... embarrassed.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy, until Nick broke it with a sigh. “I said the wrong thing. But I called it cute because... let’s face it, I know you, but I don’t *know* you.”

You glanced up at him through your lashes, his face softer now. The tension in his shoulders had eased, and his eyes held something you couldn’t quite name.

“I could say the same,” you admitted quietly.

“Yeah, but I’m a simple guy.” Chortling to himself. “Half my body shows almost all my special interests.” He gestured to his tattoos, the ones you’d seen countless times but never really looked at until now, trying to avoid finding yet another reason to be drawn to him. “You? You’re a mystery to me. I’ve known you for years, and lived with you for months, but I’ve never seen you just... let your guard down. Sure, in rare passing moments that I wished I could see more of, because I love seeing you light up when you talk.”

Your heart twisted at his words, warmth creeping up your chest, but before you could respond, he added, teasing, “Now I know you’re the quiet girl who secretly geeks out over porn—”

“Nick!” You groaned, immediately burying your face in your hands, the heat on your cheeks unbearable.

Nick laughed softly, tugging your hands away from your face, his grip warm and grounding as his thumbs traced gentle patterns over your knuckles. "Relax, relax, it's our secret," he murmured, his voice softening into something almost tender.

Your heart raced, pulse quickening as the air between you thickened with unspoken tension. His laughter faded into a quiet intensity, and for a moment, the space between you felt charged, like you were both standing at the edge of something neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

"I like it... that we have a secret just between us," he confessed, his voice quiet and uncertain, as if he wasn't sure how you'd react.

His words hung in the air, and you froze for a beat, the weight of them sinking in and nearly taking your breath away. When you looked up at him, his brown eyes-usually playful-were filled with something deeper.

There was a warmth there, an affection that made your stomach flip as you watched him nervously lick his lips.

Your face felt hot, and you weren't used to being in such an intimate moment with him, your hands still held in his. But despite the closeness, you weren't uncomfortable. If anything, you realized how close the two of you actually were when his eyes dropped to your lips, and your pulse fluttered even faster.

When he started to lean in, your body moved instinctively, meeting him halfway. His lips brushed against yours-soft, tentative, and a little chapped from the night's activities, but sweeter than you could have imagined. The faint taste of jungle juice lingered on both your mouths, and his hands stayed gently on yours, as if he was afraid to push further.

Hesitant, like he thought you'd pull away any second.

But you didn't want to run this time.

The kiss, as surprising as it was, had a way of grounding you-settling the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling in your mind.

You found yourself pulling your hands free from his and sliding one up to the nape of his neck, your fingers grazing the buzzed part of his hair, while the other rested on his shoulder, gently tugging him closer. Your touch seemed to ease his hesitation, and he responded with a firmer grip on your waist, his hands warm against your skin as he deepened the kiss.

The tension of the past weeks, all the uncertainty and confusion, melted away in his touch. His lips fit perfectly against yours, and as he grew more confident, the kiss became less restrained, his hand gripping your waist tighter as he gently guided you back onto the mattress. You both smiled into the kiss, the weight of his body pressing down on you, though he propped an arm by your head to keep from crushing you entirely.

In that moment, with the world outside fading away, you were in a kind of bliss you hadn't felt in so long. The feel of his lips, his warmth, the way his tongue softly brushed against yours-it was all-consuming, and you could have stayed there all night, wrapped up in him.

"Did Y/N kill you, Nick?!" Noah's drunken laughter rang through the wooden door, followed by the sound of Davis and one of your friends giggling along with him. The sudden intrusion startled you both, and you froze, your breath catching as the door handle rattled.

Nick groaned quietly, reluctantly pulling away from you, the absence of his touch making you ache in a way you hadn't expected. You quickly sat up, trying to smooth your hair and fix your sweater, your cheeks still flushed as you glanced over at him. He, on the other hand, seemed unbothered, walking casually to the desk to grab the half-smoked blunt from earlier before making his way to the door.

"We were just deciding if we wanted to finish this," Nick said coolly, holding up the blunt as he opened the door, playing it off like the two of you hadn't been making out just moments ago. His calm demeanor caught you off guard, while you were sure guilt was written all over your face-your hair messy, your cheeks still warm, and your sweater slightly askew as much as you made yourself presentable.

Your friend peered over Nick's shoulder with a playful smirk, narrowing her eyes at you.

"Without us? How rude. You're now officially obligated to share-let's go."

Nick shot you a sheepish smile before offering his hand, extending it toward you as the others started to head back down the hall, unaware of what had just transpired between the two of you.

You hesitated for a second, your heart still racing, before taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. The moment might have been interrupted, but the charged energy between you was far from gone.

The universe did have a painfully sick sense of humor after all.

。⋆༺♱༻⋆。

A/n: pls lmk your thoughts as writing this I had so many ideas of how I wanted this to go, and the ending was weaker than intended but this is what I got after being up for over 24 hours 🤷🏼‍♀️ but I will be writing a part two 👹

[ekbelsher]

Spooky season is nearly upon us, and I'm so ready

[kaciidubs]

✧ Kacii's Stray Kids Spooktober 2023 Masterlist ✧

Boo! Welcome to my Stray Kids 2023 Spooktober masterlist! Below you will find the breakdown of each fic including their trope and a short summary in honor of spooky season finally being upon us! As a reminder, all of these will be smut featuring a spooky/fall theme or AU. Happy Spooks!

✧*̥˚ Week One *̥˚✧

Precious Jewel - Dragon! Changbin | 10/2

✧ You were his precious jewel, and as his jewel, you were to be treated with the same care as the other jewels in his collection - even if the process was slightly different.

Solely for You - Hyunjin + Foot Kink | 10/6

✧ It’s always the ones with the pretty faces who have the filthiest kinks, and Hyunjin was not an exception.

✧*̥˚ Week Two *̥˚✧

Unexpected Alpha - Werewolf! Chris | 10/9

✧ When an overworked Chris forgets about his rut, you're quick to help him through it.

Trick or Treat - Jeongin | 10/13

✧ Ever since October started, Jeongin had been prompted with the same, simple question from you nearly every day; trick or treat.

✧*̥˚ Week Three *̥˚✧

Two Too Much - Naga! Minho | 10/16

✧ It was rare for Minho to allow you to engage in anything sexual while he was in his half-serpent form, but, with time came trust, and with trust came experimenting.

Pumpkin for my Pumpkin - Seungmin | 10/20

✧ It was just a simple pumpkin picking date... Right?

✧*̥˚ Week Four *̥˚✧

The Summoning - Demon! Jisung | 10/23

✧ Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you may have just summoned the most desperate measure of them all.

Experiment 0915 - Felix + Oviposition | 10/27

✧ Experiment 0915, the boy with the galaxy on his face - he would make a perfect host, wouldn't he?

[library-child]

@thefinaljediknight, thanks for the tag!

Last reads: I've just finished 'Dune' by Frank Herbert and I really enjoyed it. There's such a pervasive sense of doom throughout the entire book.

Current reads: Nearly done with 'Als ich ein kleiner Junge war' (meaning 'When I was a little boy', there seems to be no English version) by Erich Kästner. A super heart-felt and witty memoir.

Next reads: Spooky season is upon us, so I'll pick up the one creepy book from my TBR, which is 'The White Dominican' by Gustav Meyrink. And I need to check out some horror fanfiction.

Tagging: @al-val-meadow, @volunteerfelinedetectives, @snowdropnature, @dragoneyes618, @cleverqueencommander, @jacobsnicket, @acacia-may, @virginian-wolfsnake, @wimplee, @insane-author, and anyone I forgot and/or feels free to join. 😊

[kittyhasskittles]

Analog Horror / Found Footage Lesbian ocs anyone?

It's getting to spooky season so these guys might pop around more often.

[water-to-drink]

The Great Vampire King Reawakens

(Pairing): Vampire!Al haitham x gn!reader

(Synopsis): You’re fascination with vampires leads you to explore a recently abandoned mansion and eventually you come face to face with a real vampire

(Tags/Warnings): Reader likes researching the supernatural, blood and gore, reader is chased and harmed, some foul language, Al haitham doesn’t show up until nearing the end, lmk if I missed anything

(Word Count): 2k

(A/n): Spooky season is here so why not start it off with a spooky fic!?

Myths and superstitions have been with mankind since its inception, attempts at explaining what once was unexplainable has always fascinated you. Entities to explain a whole range of natural and unnatural occurrences such as: angels for supposed miracles that might be hallucinations, demons for why people got sick and died without warning. The latter interested you more, especially vampires

You don’t know when you were originally captivated by vampires but you know you had a need to learn about them since an early age, you might have been a priest who would kill supposed vampires that were in actuality regular people at the wrong place and the wrong time

That same interest lead you to where you are now, driving a rented car to a mansion hours away from your house. Said mansion once belonged to a deceased woman who had the same fascination with the supernatural as you do and spent her life collecting items relating to it. Stuff like bones from cryptids or jars containing the organs of werewolves. You aren’t going there with the intention to steal anything, it’s just some normal, harmless urban exploration. You just plan on seeing the woman’s collection, take a few pictures, and leave before it gets too dark out to avoid meeting any unsavory characters

As the mansion gets closer into view you’re completely awestrucked by the magnitude of it. The steer size, the asymmetrical layout, the elaborate gold trim, the steep roofs! It’s the stereotypical spooky mansion and you’re loving it!! The deep purple painted all over the outside and clouds blocking out the sun despite it being mid day just adds to the ambiance!

Upon entering the mansion, you immediately notice how everything is oddly in good condition considering it’s been abandoned for over 20 years. Paint only slightly chipped, wallpaper peeled to show the brick that made up the wall, but a lot of dust bunnies and cobwebs

The rooms aren’t too interesting, just the usual stuff that you would expect in any mansion that was owned by someone with less macabre interest

However the further you notice these strange faded symbols that have been exposed due to the peeling wallpaper. The symbols don’t look like any you’ve seen before, they could be tags from former urban explorers or squatters, but that’s unlikely since ithe mansion looks like no one has been in this house since the owner died due to none of the valuables being taken nor any of the window still in tact. Could these symbols have been painted on when the house of built

After 10 or so minutes walking around you nearly called this journey a failure until you spotted something out of the corner of your eye, a mirror just slight crooked. Something looks odd about it, you don’t know why. It almost feels like you’re being pulled by some invisible force

On closer inspection you notice a little gap between the mirror and the wall. Upon removing the mirror you see a staircase leading to who knows where. Despite the stairs leading to an ominous abyss of darkness, you can’t help but be tempted to head down. A compulsion that feels stronger than mere curiosity, using the flashlight on your phone you walk down the spiral steps and find a massive library that’s in much better condition than the rest of the manor

You’re almost overwhelmed by the steer amount of books, but you decide to start somewhere so you picked up a book about vampires and decide to stick to vampires for the time being. Most of them had information you already knew of and some had new bits of knowledge you didn’t know about, however a good chunk of the books talk about a vampire king from a lost civilization. You had read bits and pieces about an ancient vampire king which you always just chalked it up to people on the internet making up stories so you never really dug further, a vampire king that’s ridiculous, but could there really be a vampire king?

All of these books are dated to be at least 100 years old but that doesn’t mean someone at a later date altered the text to fit some bias they had. So you kept reading and learned that his body was supposedly kept in the mansion when the owner was still alive. After the king’s death his body has been put into the possession of various people throughout the centuries to ensure that his coffin is covered in paper with special protection enchantments in order to prevent him from reawaken and causing havoc upon the world

Okay, maybe you should do some research about this vampire king in the safety of your own home later tonight, now that you think about it what time is it?

You pull out your phone and see it was well past sundown. Damn, you stayed way longer than you originally intended and need to get back to your car

You put the book back and walk out of the room and walk down the hallway humming a song ignorant to the figure looming behind you. An arm extends out to you and puts you in a chokehold, confusion begin to set in until the gleam of a hunting knife flashes in front of your face

“No one’s supposed to be here, but ain’t gonna let a nice catch escape me.” A gruff voice spoke just behind your ear

“I can give you my phone and wallet, just don’t hurt me.” You bargained as you turned your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the man behind you. You can barely see his face, but feel his stubble scraping against your skin like sandpaper

“I don’t want that shit! I want to see what expression that cute face of yours makes when I gut you like a fish.” The space between your neck and the knife slowly lessens as the man’s breathing gets more heavy. “Fuck! I can’t believe my luck finding someone all alone in the middle of no where, god we’re going to have so much fun tonight!”

Without hesitation you swung your leg up and kicked the creep in the balls, he drops the knife and doubles over in pain. Using this opportunity you begin to run away from the potential murderer

“You motherfucker! I’m gonna make you watch as I rip your nails off!” The man shrieked behind you

Terror filled adrenaline quickly flows through your veins and fear clouds your mind just as quickly. You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, the only thing on your mind is evade this killer! Your mind doesn’t register your sore feet yelling at you to stop nor does it register that you’re running into the lowest level of the basement. You shut the door behind you leaving you in complete darkness, using the flashlight on your phone you find yourself in some kind of cell. Weird symbols like the ones upstairs are painted on the walls and the floor littered with rotted slips of papers that have similar symbols. The room is completely bare of furniture saved for a rectangular box in the center of the room. Cautiously stepping closer you made your way near the box and tear the paper wrapped around it, finally getting the last few slips off a revolting stench reaches your nostrils. It almost threw up your lunch but you forced yourself to keep it together, you slowly reached for the top and opened the box and saw a dead body

Dried out flesh that lost all of its original color and the most horrifying part is the wooden skate embedded deep in the person’s chest

Dear god. Is that really someone’s body? Why is it here?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the door slam open

Shit! He found you

The light coming from out the basement obscured your pursuer’s feature’s while highlighting the knife in his hand. You put your arms up in an attempt to shield your face and the knife is stabbed into your forearm causing blood to splatter in various places, unknowingly on the face of the corpse you just revealed

The knife is violently yanked out of your arm and while you try to get out of the way you feel an ice cold hand roughly grabs your wrist and pull it back towards them. Your assailant stops from plunging the knife again and looks at whatever is holding onto your hand. Slowly turning your head your greeted with red glowing eyes staring right back at you, eyes that look vaguely human but contain a primal hunger you would only see from a straved wild animal. The creature slowly brings your arm to it’s face and fans puff of its breath on your wound. An inhumanly long tongue rolls out of the creature’s mouth and proceeds to lick the blood off

The creature reaches for the stake deep within its chest and pulls it out like it was nothing. You watched mortified as the wound in its chest closes up like a horror movie

Finally the creature releases your wrist and turns its attention towards your attacker, standing at full height the being towers over you and the man

“What the fuck are you-” Your attacker was cut off by the dismemberment of his hand

With the creature’s attention diverted away from you, you proceed run out of the basement. Once out of there you take the table beside a window and launch it through, you jumped out from the now broken window and tumbled onto the grass. Trying to get a grasp on where you are, you find yourself in what seems to be the back of the mansion

Shit! This means that your car is farther than you hoped for it to be

Standing up on wobbly legs you begin to make your way to the front and hope you get to your rental before that monster catches you. After what seems to be hours the familiar color of your rental slowly comes into few, a sense of relief washes over you until a wall of dried out vines suddenly appear in front of you, the surprise makes you fall on your butt

“There’s no use in running.” A raspy voice said casually right behind you

You wearily turn your head to be face to face with the monster, but instead of the dried out corpse you saw earlier you’re instead met with a youthful looking man with grey hair and a muscular frame staring down on you. One wouldn’t be wrong to think he’s human and not the monster that cut off a limb with his bare hand, but the red in his eyes and the blood on his clothes and lips reveal that this man is that very same creature you fled from

This is it, you’re gonna die at the hands of an ancient vampire king and afterwards he going on a massacre. You not only caused your own death, you caused the death of your friends and family and hundreds of innocent people

“What’s your name?” He asked voiced raspy from disuse. You give him your name, no used in fighting whatever is in front of you. “Be not afraid, for I won’t harm you.” He says as kneels down to your height and wiped away tears from your face, his hands radiate warmth a complete contrast to when his cold hands grabbed your wrist. “Tell me, what year is it now?”

“It’s 2023…” Each syllable coming out shaky and uncertain, but he seems to be satisfied with your answer

“You freed me from my prison in that casket, and for that I am eternally grateful. To show my gratitude I will offer you a deal.”

“What?”

“You have a desire to know everything about non human entities, so in exchange for my knowledge you guide me through your advanced world.”

What did you get yourself into?

[kneelingshadowsalome]

The spooky season is upon us. Do you think Koing would dress up if Engel begged? 🧍🏾‍♂️

Of course! 🧡🎃 She doesn’t even have to beg very hard. A begging Engel is something König can never say no to, especially if she has that abandoned kitten look on her face and she keeps repeating “Please please pleaseee?”

Oh and @waves-against-a-cliff sent me these pics above and said this is Engel and König and I totally AGREE. She would make him do silly stuff like this. They would do a photoshoot dressed up as the characters from the painting American Gothic by Grant Wood. Or if they’re invited to a party, König agrees to go after Engel suggests that he can dress up as Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees or some other silly masked murderer. Or why not be an executioner? She can be a cute zombie princess or a dark angel or Frankenstein's bride 🖤 It would be so cute!

We also had a great conversation about Engel being this peppy little homemaker overall. She decorates the house when it’s Christmas or Easter/spring and Halloween is one of her favourite times of the year. König can only stand there in confused silence and look at all the boxes she pulls out from storage every other month! They are filled with decorations and lights and party supplies and Engel has labeled every cardboard box according to the season or holiday in question.

König gets to help, too ^^ He’s more than happy to assist her with decorating when he sees how giddy Engel is about getting into the current festive mood. He'd bend over backwards to put up the lights or fetch more pumpkins and sugar from the store. Engel makes cupcakes with seasonal frosting, orange for fall and pink for spring (König sneaks into the kitchen at night to eat nearly all of them) and when winter comes their Christmas tree is absolutely gorgeous and filled with lights and angels and baubles and stars. König doesn’t even know what to say: they never celebrated things quite like this at home and now Engel just floats about and makes every corner of their home (and his life) so much brighter ❤️🥺

[lu-dao-writes]

𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚋𝚞𝚜!𝙽𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝙺𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈 ♡ ˊˎ- Nanami as an incubus and his relationship with you! With Gojo on the side. (Idek what this summary is😭)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈) / 𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ♡ ˊˎ-  Incubus Nanami & Gojo, Gojo being Nanami’s wingman fr, gender neutral reader, black coded reader, Nanami being stubborn, themes of sex, mentions of Nanami touching himself, & switches of povs.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝒜/𝒩 ♡ ˊˎ- I’m a slut for this man, what can I say y’all✋🏼😔? But spooky season is upon us and I’m thinking about supernatural shit and dark themes✨ But idk what happened to the form of this? Listen, I’m at the airport waiting for my flight and I’m bored and want this out lmao🤪. I’m hoping to do a part 2 where it’s more smutty based, but smut is hard y’all😩. I appreciate all the likes on my last post btw!🙏🏼🥺💕. Minors/ ageless blogs DNI please and lemme know any mistakes or missed tags.

He’s not fond of his nature, but he has learned to live with it. I mean he has to lmao.

He’s stubborn with his feeding schedule, and his a little picky. As usual Kento is more worried about getting that bread.

Gojo gets on his head about not taking care of himself (of course in a more playful/blasé manner, but he cares his Nanamin).

Gojo also knows when he hasn’t fed because it shows in Nanami’s appearance first before it show in his attitude.

His eyes gets a bit sunken in, the dark circles get darker, his hair looks dull, then he gets more uncanny from there if prolonged (which hasn’t happened, Nanami’s not that careless)

Then comes the attitude! Nanami’s patience grows very thin and he’s a mixture of tired, weak, & hungry. His already sharp and witty quips at Gojo become more sharper and a bit meaner, but nothing that goes over the line.

He’s not down for Gojo’s games essentially. Even more so now😗.

When he meets you, you were his server at this cute little cat cafe that Gojo dragged him to (he didn’t give the man a chance to say no).

Nanami doesn’t mind cats, he’s just not looking forward to getting their fur out from his clothes.

But you were a sight for sore eyes. Every inch of you being taken in by Nanami’s shade covered eyes and that familiar hunger in his belly rose its ugly head slightly.

He had to swallow hard and remind himself to actually answer you and remember his order.

He ignores Gojo’s knowing smirk and childish little prods at his ankles, instead focusing on his beverage of choice and listening to your voice as you take Gojo’s order. Once you’re gone is when he gripes at him.

Your voice, no matter how it sounds, is soothing and appealing to his ears, and your scent…

It’s what keeps him coming back.

All the cat hair on his clothes is worth it if he gets to keep seeing you.

You can say he’s a bit addicted to ya.

Eventually he manages to get your number and he noticed how every time he came, you were always his server, not that he’s complainin.

Dates with him are fun and romantic, first going to a restaurant, then stroll in the park and getting showered in sakura blossoms, going shopping (him buying whatever you want), more meal related dates, etc. He adores seeing you happy and pampered.

But you truly haunt his nearly sleepless nights and he can’t help but touch himself to the very thought of you. But it’s never truly enough.

Then…

Nanami starts to spiral. You are a human and he is a creature of lust.

His safety and or your safety could be compromised and with that in mind, he begins to back off.

And just as things were going so well too…

Nanami didn’t ghost you, thankfully, but he disclosed that things weren’t working out and that he’s sorry for wasting your time. But he did it on text. He just didn’t want to face you, unfortunately and he regrets it to this day

But on your side, to forget your anger and sorrows, you go to a nightclub to party and slightly drink the pain away.

But unfortunately you also saw Nanami and his friend from before there as well🤪😜.

It was tough but you ignore him just like he ignored your multitude of text messages.

…

Okay maybe you didn’t completely ignore him-.

You can’t help but look at him every so often and from the few glances you got to do, he looked kinda miserable, definitely agitated, and a bit ill looking..

Nanami was very much disinterested in anyone flocking his way and he immediately would send them to Gojo’s way instead, thankfully they took the bite, finding Gojo even more attractive.

But his mood sours even more when he catches wind of you.

You look gorgeous as always, especially in your fit (it’s something he bought you) and he wanted nothing more than to go over to you and sweep you up off your feet (and other things~).

But he doesn’t. All he does is keep his watchful gaze on you, making sure you’re okay and because well… He wants you!

Anyone that comes near you with obvious intentions to woo you his jaw and fists would clench slightly. But again, he doesn’t get up from his seat.

Nanami was… Content to stay in his place. But that was until Gojo thought it’d be a funny idea to make his way to you, pushing pass his little harem.

Although you have your heart set on Nanami, you can’t deny that his friend isn’t gorgeous.

You bet those eyes of his gets him all that he wants with some trouble on the side.

You didn’t move away when his arm came around you, and you let him guide you to a more less crowded area, soon swaying with you as 2 On by Tinashe and SchoolBoy Q booms in the background.

If you hadn’t been pursued by Nanami you definitely would’ve let yourself be caught up with Mr. Troublemaker.

“Heyy~! So, I know you were caught up with Nanamin and all that, but if you’re free…” He puts his lips near your ear, hands sliding towards your hips and gripping them slightly. “I’d love to get to know you better~.”

Your throat bob and just as you’re about to sink into temptation-.

“That’s quite enough, Satoru.”

“Kento…,” you breathed out.

- Gojo didn’t even put up a fight, just took his hands off you with a knowing smile and let Nanami take you away from him.

- Nanami was pissed. Fuming.

- He didn’t appreciate Gojo approaching you like that. The nerve of him!

- His grip is a little tight on you, but you’re okay with it. Until you remember that you’re supposed to be mad at him.

“Now, hold on a second! Who the hell do you think you are?? I was about to get some good dick and you ruined it!” you spat.

Nanami scoffs lightly, letting your hand go. “Oh, please, you can do so much better,” he replies, defeat coating his words.

“Oh god, are you gonna be corny and say that you’re better? ‘Cause clearly you weren’t.”

Despite the hurt, he knew you had a point. He failed as a partner.

“As much as I want to, I know that I failed in that regard. I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You hate how much of a kicked puppy he looks. You sigh. “Ken… What even happened? I think I deserve to know the truth.”

Nanami swallows and as much as he wants to tell you the truth, he can’t. Too much is at risk.

“It’s because he’s an incubus, Sweetheart~.”

“Huh!?” “Satoru!?”

Both of you were flabbergasted and Nanami was three seconds away from throttling Gojo.

“Nanami, I’m tired of watching you brood and nearly kill yourself because of your fears,” Gojo explains, his playfulness gone with the wind.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just possibly done??”

Gojo goes back to looking carefree. “Call it a gut feeling~! Now why don’t you two get outta here? Oh! And use protection~!”

Nanami fumbles through his thoughts on what to say, feeling as though he’s going to either short circuit or burst from rage. But in the end he sighs a contained breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, slightly cursing Gojo under his breath, but also feeling a tickle of guilt. He was being selfish with not taking care of himself..

He comes back to his senses when he feels you touch his arm.

“Alright… Is this true or are we really actin like clowns at the circus? If so I’ll need some more alcohol.”

“It’s true, as cliche as that sounds. I didn’t want to tell you in fear that you could maybe get in danger or I could be.”

“… Holy shit. Well I’m glad it’s nothing ridiculous or painful! But hey! I can live one of my child/teenhood fantasies by being in a relationship with a supernatural person!”

Nanami blinks at you for a good second, face perplexed before it eventually softens and he starts laughing lightly with disbelief, taking your hand into his.

When you squeeze his back eagerly he knows he has to thank Gojo for his part in all this.

[thenightling]

How Morpheus pays his servants

Every so often I come across Sandman fans who joke (or are serious) that Morpheus does not pay his servants, that they are secretly his slaves.  They’ll even all him a hypocrite when he tells Hob Gadling that it’s a poor thing to hold another in bondage. Let me state, Morpheus IS against slavery.  In The Sandman: Season of Mists Titania ”gave” Morpheus Nuala as a gift as a bit of a trap.  She knew Morpheus fairly well. She must have known he he feels about slavery.  If Morpheus refused the gift the fae could “take offense” and go to war, an excuse to try to take the key to Hell from Morpheus.  And if he did keep her, it rids Titania of a potential annoyance.  In some fae lore Nuala was the name of a fae Oberon had interest in. When Morpheus is given Nuala he is reluctant to accept. Finally he allows her to stay.  He never gives her any commands but he removes her glamour.  Though it was initially against her will, Morpheus’s removal of the glamour actually did Nuala a favor. Nuala’s people are very conformist and they all wear glamours, hiding their true forms to look ‘as beautiful as possible.”  What Morpheus did was teach Nuala to appreciate who she is without conforming to what her society had demanded of her for her whole life. It can be seen as a trans metaphor, especially when, later in the story Nuala shows in the fae court without her glamour on and it nearly causes a scandal but she decides she prefers her true self rather than what her society wants of her. Morpheus never gave Nuala any orders. She went about cleaning within the castle to give herself something to do.  But despite this Morpheus repaid her service with a boon.  A boon being any favor (within reason) that she might want, should she call upon him.  Not only that, but as a bonus, Morpheus rescued her brother from imprisonment while Nuala was still working for him.  Morpheus makes it very clear he saved Cluracaun for Nuala’s sake. Though he does not use money, Morpheus DOES pay his servants in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.

Here are some examples as to how Morpheus pays his servants.   Cain and Abel = Morpheus gave them each a magical haunted house that is bigger on the inside and full of stories, ghosts, and monsters, to fit their spooky inclinations and desires.  The houses are somewhat sentient too and they gain caretakers to look after them, make repairs, and keep things up and running. It’s a win for everyone involved.

In the Netflix Sandman series both gargoyles, Gregory and Goldie, were actually given as gifts to Cain and Abel instead of Goldie being a gift to Abel from Cain like he was in the comics.     

Lucien / Lucienne is revealed in the comics to have been the first raven. In the story called The Hunt we see that Lucien can still take raven form at will. Lucien loves books. So how was Lucien paid?  Lucien was given a new elfish form (taller even than Morpheus) and the largest library in the multiverse.  And status as second in command in The Dreaming.  That’s a pretty nice payment for services rendered. Aristeas the Raven is based on an actual myth where he was the raven of apollo. Aristeas was a real Greek poet who supposedly became a raven after his death to serve the God Apollo.  This ties into the running gag in The Sandman of people mistaking Morpheus as Apollo.  After two hundred years of service Aristeas decided he didn’t want to serve Morpheus anymore and he was offered a boon.  He chose becoming a mortal man again but he soon found that he could not adjust to the mortal world after having been away from it for two centuries so he asked to return to being a raven.   It’s unclear where he is now. John Constantine / Johanna Constantine was paid by having their nightmares dealt with.  There’s also the possibility that Morpheus may have rescued Constantine’s soul from self-made damnation since Jon Constantine tends to believe he’s going to Hell and has made some bad decisions / bargains as a result.  In a Hellblazer comic it’s pretty much confirmed that Jack Constantine, Johanna (eighteenth century version) and John Constantine were all the same soul just reincarnated into the same bloodline. For John Constantine Morpheus also helped Rachel to die peacefully in a pleasant dream since there was no saving her (in the comic it was implied she was actually already dead and rotting. The sand was the only thing keeping her semi-alive / her soul tethered to her body.)      His usual method of payment though is a boon.  So I think I’ve made my point here. Yes, Morpheus does pay those who serve him and he never forces anyone to do anything against their will (unless you count him telling The Corinthian not to kill people...)

[randonauticrap]

The Future of Memory Lane

Pairing ~ Jin Grandet x Reader

Word Count ~ 2.1k

Author's Note ~ Well, with a request like "Wool coat/blanket over shivering shoulders", plus my favorite man in the world, of course I got carried away! Thank you so much for this request, @kissmetwicekissmedeadly !!! I hope you enjoy me just basically gushing about Jin in fic form for 8 minutes. hehe

Warnings ~ Mentions/insinuations of smexy times, but none actually written

~

And happy official First Day of Fall for everyone in North America! IT'S FINALLY HERE!

The night air was cool, laced with a brisk wind and crunchy leaves that followed its urging. The festival lights were bright and welcoming, a warm invitation to sample the vivacious life that bubbled in the town square, and you and Jin took that invitation with open arms. You sat on a bench in the midst of a bustling evening, filled with laughter and the smoky scents of the dishes made with autumn harvest. Children participated in a pumpkin carving contest not too far away and you watched as mothers and fathers helped their young ones use the sharp knives to bring to life the spooky designs that could only come from a child’s mind. Yours and Jin’s pumpkins sat beside you on the ground, waiting for their turn to be carved once you returned to the palace. 

“Hope ya didn’t miss me too much.” your lover’s voice came from your right and you turned to face him, an eager smile already on your lips. 

“I always miss you too much.” you giggled as he sat down and handed you a basket with all sorts of food inside. The smell was intoxicating and you nearly neglected the use of your fork just to dig in faster. But upon remembering all you had to carry, you thought better of getting your hands sticky and picked up your utensil. “Thanks for the food, Jin.” you plopped your head against his shoulder and he chuckled, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Sure, sweetheart. I couldn’t let the most beautiful woman here go hungry.” 

You nuzzled his warm body and let out a laugh, your cheeks reddening in a giddy blush as you chased away the chill in the safest place you’ve ever known: right in this man’s arms. The two of you munched on your food and watched the people smiling around you, oblivious to the prince and his lover in their wake, and that’s just the way you and Jin liked it. Blending in allowed you to enjoy dates like a regular couple, without the peering, judging eyes that befell royalty every day in the palace. 

The wind began to pick up as you and Jin discarded your empty baskets and walked around the stalls, all lit up with little twinkling lights and candles. You came across one of your favorite jewelry merchants and started looking through the pieces he had brought this time. The gems were all delicately wrapped with beautiful iron detailing, and each was a representation of something to do with the autumn season. As per tradition, you and Jin each picked out a piece for the other, paid the merchant after thanking him, and made your way further up the cobblestone street. 

"Here we go." Jin declared as you reached your favorite coffee shop. Your smile widened and you wrapped your arms even tighter around Jin's bicep, excited about what you knew was coming next. 

The little bell clinked as Jin opened the door for you and the wave of coffee bean scent hit you. Your eyes fell closed and you breathed in the cozy, familiar scent of memories from many years of shared joy. Strong arms wrapped around you from behind and you giggled, the musky scent of your lover only adding to the bliss. "Know what you want, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear and you nodded, letting him propel you to the counter, his warm hands never leaving your sides. 

You ordered your favorite: pumpkin flavored coffee and a piece of toffee cake, always made freshly at the beginning of each day once the weather turned cold. Jin ordered his favorite: caramel flavored coffee with pumpkin syrup, and a piece of honey chocolate cake, and you both made your way to the seats outside in the cool night air, your favorite booth left open in anticipation of your visit. You slid in next to the stone wall and gazed out at the lights from the festival, sighing happily when Jin scooted in next to you and provided you with his warmth. 

"Ready?" He leaned down and pressed the gentlest of kisses against your lips and you hummed against him, pulling him closer. 

"Mhm," you murmured, tugging him back down for another kiss before turning away to grab your bag from the jewelry merchant. Jin did the same, and when you turned back around, he was holding a little terracotta ring box in his hand. 

"Sweetheart, I never thought I'd get to have a love like this… but ya proved me wrong. You showed me that love isn't a curse, and it doesn't have to end the way my parents' did," he paused, coughing to hide his emotions, and you wrapped your arms around his waist, tucking your head under his chin. All the love, pain, grief, joy, and comfort that this man had given you the last three years came rushing back to you in an instant a the thought of what you assumed he was about to say, and you fought to hold the tears back before he could finish. You nodded silently and he continued. 

 "I… I want to make you happy, for the rest of your life. I want to be the man that lives up to all your fairytale dreams. I may not be able to do that, but I wanna try. I wanna be yours forever and I want you to be mine too. Will- will you marry me?" 

The moment the words left his lips, you let out a sobbing laugh and smiled up at him, tears beginning to streak your face. The look of momentary panic on his face had you cupping his cheeks and kissing him with all your might. "Jin of course I will. Of course I'll marry you!" You cried, and threw your arms around his neck. His entire body slumped with relief and he returned your embrace, crushing you to him and nearly taking your breath away. 

Swept away in a tidal wave of emotion, neither of you noticed the little crowd of townspeople that had gathered to watch the excitement, until they began to clap and celebrate your joy. "Oh!" You gasped in surprise and you both finally broke apart in a daze, and glanced around at everyone clapping for you. 

Jin smiled at them, then down at you, the love in his eyes set newly ablaze as he stared down at his fiancée; the only woman who had ever successfully broken through his salacious exterior to see the man within. You were smiling and giggling, thanking the townspeople, but all Jin saw was you. All Jin would ever see again was you, and he was completely fine with that. 

The rest of your coffee shop date passed in hushed giggles and loving touches, and before long, the festival crowd was dying down and it was getting late. "Well, ready to go home, future Mrs. Grandet?" Jin beamed down at you as he stood from the booth and held his hand out. For the thousandth time that evening, a joyful laugh bubbled out from between your lips. 

"I am, my darling future husband." You responded in kind, taking his hand and letting him pull you up. 

"Then we shall take our leave." He continued the silly posh accent as he wrapped your hand around his arm and led you back through the coffee shop and out into the night. You were always safe with Jin, his big, tall frame too intimidating to be pounced upon, so walking the streets with him, even in the evenings, never worried you the way it used to. It was a comfortable walk; a walk you had watched lovers take all your life; a walk you never thought you'd experience for yourself. That is, until 3 years ago. Then you finally understood how every moment was so precious, and every step meant something when you were with the right person. 

You were as close to Jin as you could possibly get, but it still didn't feel like enough. Would you ever get close enough? You pondered the thought lazily as the two of you walked back toward your carriage on the other side of town, when…

plop!

plop plop! 

"Oh man," Jin said above you. "We're about to get real wet. And not the fun kind. Hold on, sweetheart." And in a single second, you'd been lifted into your prince's arms, and not a moment too soon. The sky opened up and the rain began to pelt you both. It was a cold autumn rain that put a chill in your bones upon contact, and you squealed, clutching Jin's shoulders tightly as he ran. The carriage had still been pretty far, but Jin's long legs carried you there in half the time your own could have, however not before allowing the rain to completely soak the both of you. You clambered into the carriage with Jin right on your heels. He gave some hurried instructions to the driver before pulling the door closed and pulling you close to him. 

The carriage arrived at the palace after several wet, shivering moments, and a butler came out to greet you both with a large umbrella in hand. Thankful for the cover, you both hurried along beside him into the palace and once inside, Jin tugged you towards his room. 

"Thank you for carrying me. I never would have been able to run that fast." You laughed as you toweled off your wet hair in Jin's bedroom. You tossed the towel to him next and he mimicked your actions before stripping his shirt from his soaked body and toweling it too. 

"Course, sweetheart. I'm sorry your prince couldn't keep you from getting wet." He smiled sheepishly. 

"Oh, it's fine." You giggled. "Rain is just water. We basically just took a shower outside." 

"Have you forgotten what we do in the shower?" He cocked his eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and you blushed, images of exactly what you and Jin normally do in the shower dancing through your mind. 

"Oh absolutely not." You laughed, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

"Good, I wouldn't want to find out that my beautiful fiancée could forget our time together." He grinned, the mirth once again in his eyes. 

Fiancée. 

The word hit you then like a freight train and you paused all movement, staring at Jin as if taking him in for the very first time again. You were pledged to be married to this insanely handsome man before you. It was almost too wild to believe. But as his eyes met yours again, it seemed so obvious. Of course it was him, no one else could ever compare. 

Jin hadn't noticed your revelation, and instead was busying himself with pulling several thick blankets from his closet. You only noticed that he had lit up the fireplace when he came to drape one of the blankets around your still shivering shoulders and lead you to his sofa. He sat down first, then pulled you into his lap, cradling you against his bare torso. Your fingers automatically began to trace the lines and dips in his skin, a habit you had formed early in your relationship and never intended to drop. 

"Oh hey!" You exclaimed suddenly. "I got so excited about your proposal that I forgot to give you what I got you from the jewelry stall!" You hopped up and rummaged through the pocket of your discarded jacket and pulled out the little bag and brought it back to Jin. You sat back down in his lap and pulled a pendant out of the bag. It was two deep blue sapphires encased in iron hearts and woven together in a beautiful design. "For your jacket lapel." You added as he brought his hand up to cup the tiny piece of art.

"It's incredible." He murmured, staring at it with a certain reverence you only get to see from him when you're alone. "Thank you baby." He muttered, pulling you close and pressing his lips to yours several times before letting you settle back into his arms under the blanket. 

"You know this blanket is going to be so soaked, right?" You said after several moments of silence, leaning your head against Jin's shoulder. 

"Yeah, that's why I got two out. We're gonna warm up right here first, and then we're gonna take a nice, hot shower, dry off, and we're coming right back to this spot. This is a special night, ya know. I wanna make it last as long as possible."

You giggled and cupped his cheek with your palm before allowing your fingers to explore the nape of his neck and his damp hair. You pulled him down to kiss you and his grip on you tightened. You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "I love you, Jin Grandet." 

"I love you too, sweetheart; my amazing future wife. Happy anniversary." 

🎃

Tags for the Lovelies: @rhodolitesroseforclavis @aquagirl1978 @ikehoe @queengiuliettafirstlady @maries-gallery @nightghoul381 @itsjudesfault @xbalayage

[virilitas]

SPOOKY TIME MUSES. these muses are only around for the spooky season, which means they are for request only. if i will keep them after is undecided. maybe if they get a decent response.

( jonathan bailey fc ) valeri glass. a witch and practitioner of dark magick. val is the last member of his bloodline that remains living, and the last practitioner of his family's magick, after they are hunted down one by one. today, he does his best to keep himself unnoticed in the shadows, while finding a way to use his family's powers for good. [ versatile. would prefer to bottom. ]

( dev patel fc ) william gray. a lone vampire. turned in the 1800s by a vampire as he lay dying in a field hospital in british india. he spent the first years of his immortal life in bliss as his lover showered him in luxury, pleasure, and love. was left to his own devices sometime in the 1910s after his lover was hunted down and killed. living nowadays as a ghost writer and bookshop owner. still definitely seeking blood and sex. [ bottom. ]

( patrick gibson fc ) pygmalion. a modern prometheus. pygmalion's first memory when he woke up was the cold slab of a laboratory, and the sight of his body build like a patchwork. he could also remember the utterance of his name-- pygmalion, from the lips of his creator. the next one after that? buried six feet under the ground in an airless coffin, missing the touch of the man who brought him into this world. now alone, pygmalion wanders the world with both the wonder of a child and the wariness of an animal. but deep inside he still seeks the warmth he used to know. [ versatile. ]

( nikolaj coster-waldau fc ) alan sorensen. a priest turned demon hunter. after a failed exorcism that cost the lives of nearly a hundred people ( including him, if you really knew what happened ), alan has effectively turned away from the holy mission to seek something even worse ... and more important. something changed in him after that incident, and he aims to ensure that it will never happen again. but most of the time he just spends his days drinking and fucking. [ versatile. prefers to top. ]

( thomas doherty fc ) ignatius saint. a demon child. if you are to imagine a child born from a ritualistic sacrifice wrought upon by a wish of riches and immortalization, would you ever imagine it to be something beautiful? something that would lure you with a wink or seductive smile, of a hungry purr that you cannot deny? something which you would risk even your life just to taste? ignatius promises he isn't bad. but he also knows he isn't human ... and men are just so fucking easy to break. [ versatile. ]

( pablo schreiber fc ) stingy jack. cursed conman and the spirit of halloween. before, he dealt with the dead and spirits, trapped in the endless halls of the prison made by the devil himself. before, he begged to see the light of their lanterns, guiding him back even just for a little while. but people learned to butcher their traditions and coat it in sugar and chocolate. and he learned to weaken the shackles of his prison. and they stopped believing in the sacrality of their dead, replaced by pleasing him. [ top. ]

[wishuponroses]

With spooky season nearly upon us and thanks to Nintendo's Emio ad that dropped in July, I decided to jump onto the Famicom Detective Club bandwagon, Nintendo's own visual novel series. I recently finished Emio last week and cried over its emotional story and wonderful cast, and just last night, completed The Girl Who Stands Behind which I also enjoyed!

The only unfortunate case (haha funny pun), is that I've decided to play this series backwards via newest to oldest entry in the series. (This only leaves The Missing Heir which I'll get around to soon)

So... these two. Taro and Ayumi. They make me feel butterflies. Their budding friendship and his little crush on her is cute. I love Taro's sense of protectiveness around her, and he'll become reckless enough to make sure that Ayumi's safe and out of harm's way. How he becomes jealous of a school friend in Ayumi's life during the events of the third game. She's so soft-spoken, quiet yet determined. A little oblivious, but I find her design and personality charming.

The duo definitely put their heads together during these investigations, and really seem to enjoy working together as a team and just enjoy each other's presence in general. How they seem to balance each other out, and hopefully both characters will continue to grow within another game in the future. Who knows what will happen.

There's a warm and fuzziness to them that I can't put my finger on. 🩷

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: "I Put A Spell On You (Because You're Mine)"

This mini-MC really belongs more with the October/spooky postings probably, but I wanted to get it in before I started with my November and Thanksgiving re-runs. I've always been pleased with how this late season 4 canon divergent fic turned out, and I'm trying to gain it a little more love and a few more eyes to see it. It was written right after the 4b episode "Sympathy for the DeVil" (so 4x17? 4x18?) and picks up pretty much where that episode left off. My idea for how the Darkness would lure Emma, and even how it would manifest, was way different than the way the show took it, so this is now definitely canon divergent from that point. If you read this again, or if you're seeing it for the first time, I hope you'll enjoy!

Summary: He's been watching the changes for weeks now, worrying about her well-being and the demons she's fighting... When it all goes crazy, will he be able to help her step back from the brink? (A 4B chaptered story, taking off somewhere near 4x18, and carrying on from there. CS, obviously and all the way)

***Also available from the beginning on AO3 or ff.net, if either of those are your preference...***

by: @snowbellewells

i. darkness creeps in

The deepening purplish circles under her eyes have been growing ever more pronounced, worrying him for weeks now. She is both anxious and jittery, yet bone-weary and weighed down by the cares upon her shoulders. Emma Swan surely thinks that she has hidden her stress and fatigue well, but to one who knows her (and he does know her – as well as she will allow anyone to) the strain is beginning to show.

When they part ways at night now, she tilts her face up to his, grinning a warm, secretive smile and awaiting his gentle kiss, and he tucks her hair behind her ear, cradles her cheek in his hand, profoundly happy to steal a few moments alone with her. Yet, he also finds himself near to biting a hole in his tongue to keep back his words of caution for her, his fear that she is pushing herself too hard, too far, too soon. He cannot risk driving a wedge between them or making her run – not now. She is already keeping her distance from her parents, no longer staying with them in the loft. He has gone back to his ship since the Jolly’s return to him, and so has offered her the use of his room at Granny’s – paid for the month in doubloons that the old woman bit to check for authenticity, then grinned conspiratorially, accepted, and ferretted away in some hidden pocket of her skirts. However, he wonders if Emma paces the floor all night, or haunts the library seeking answers with an equally sleepless Belle, or simply drives aimlessly for hours; whatever it is she does, he can plainly see that she is not resting.

Killian Jones is not a man afraid of much on this wide earth’s surface, but Emma turning her back on him now and walking away is a haunting phantasm that never truly leaves his mind. And it is no longer simply the pain he knows he will feel, but the fact that she needs his support more than ever. He is more afraid for her safety and her sanity than he has ever been, and he does not know what method to try.

Those worries and fears all come to a head as he skids to the edge of the cliff face, behind a stunned, crushed-looking Mary Margaret and David, where he can clearly see Emma and Henry clinging tightly to one another frantically; panting, near tears, and much too close to the drop-off, but at first glance seeming whole and unharmed. He does not know where the rotten banshee who tried taking Henry has gotten to, has missed the entire showdown due to what he knows must have been Gold’s trickery and machination with the shell and Henry’s voice. He wanted to be there and have his Swan’s back, but he feels intense relief to see that she seems to have done just fine on her own.

A rush of air brushes along his skin as Regina charges up behind him, nearly bowling them all over as she calls out her son’s name in a voice harsh with desperation, clearly having been slowed by a similar deception to the one which fooled him. Killian merely steps back so that she can see her boy has been saved and reach him.

It is only as Regina falls to her knees on Henry’s other side, pulls him into her arms, and Emma shifts back slightly, that he is hit by a jolt of fear upon getting a good first look at her face. The reddened irritation beneath her lovely eyes has taken on an even more pronounced hue, making her look angry and more than a bit unhinged. He takes a weak step forward, wishing to soothe, to comfort…but then she leans to peer over the edge. Killian realizes in a flash that Cruella must have gone off the precipice, that the villainess is truly finished, no longer a threat. However, he is frozen in place, a chill of foreboding running down his spine, when Emma turns in his direction once more.

Her gaze is unfocused, not resting on any of them, but turned inward as if contemplating what she thinks of Cruella’s demise. Killian’s heart does not truly splinter until he sees a small, ill-suited little grin of satisfaction sneak over Emma’s lips…almost as if she is pleased with what she has done.

And he knows. Knows with the sinking certainty of one who has crawled back out of the pit and still clearly remembers the darkness’ pull, that something inside of his beautiful Emma has turned. A bit of his Savior’s shining, bright light has gone out.

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @winterbaby89 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @resident-of-storybrooke @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @ohmakemeahercules @stahlop @anmylica @justanother-unluckysoul @sotangledupinit @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xsajx @lfh1226-linda @jonesfandomfanatic @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @xarandomdreamx @kazoosandfannypacks @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @goforlaunchcee @shireness-says @ineffablecolors