#these are all hanging together on my wall

[eyelambspider]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 '𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞' 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? || 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 male!version

Prompts 27 of my Creeptober! Here is a link to the fem!version!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : könig x male!reader (reader wears a tux) 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : könig is sick of highschool, and on prom night he decides to summon the courage to do two things: get back at his bullies... and tell you how he feels. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.7 k 𝐚/𝐧 : gets dark, but, includes a cute stalker könig? is this a win or- also if you haven't watched carrie... spoiler alert ��𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore, bullying, stalking, yandere themes, light smut (suggestive), chars are over 18+, slight angst, mutual pining, no use of y/n, alcohol

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. The neon lights sparkled off the disco ball and flooded the dark gymnasium. Party balloons lined the ceiling and dancefloor, kicked around lazily as couples and friends twirled to the music. Chaperones turned a blind eye to the obscenities that took place under the bleachers or right in the middle of the dance floor. Tongues tangling together with laughter and playful bites.

Someone probably spiked the drinks here for more 'fun'. Afterall, tonight the entire class was celebrating themselves as adults now.

König grimaced hard under his black mask, gritting his teeth together so hard he feared they might break. The black tie he failed to put on clutched in a white knuckle grip.

This school deserved to burn, to rot. Everyone on that damned dance floor didn't fucking deserve to enjoy the night. Not after the hell they had put him through this year.

His sad blue eyes flickered up for a moment.

Laughing and smiling, dancing together... His bullies still snickering amongst themselves, glancing the losers way.

König was sat on the bleachers, closest to the wall, his head hanging a little lower as a group of girls in pretty gowns giggled at him as they passed.

"Why is he still wearing that thing?" someone muttered over the music. Filling his face with shame under the hood.

He hated prom.

He had only come because he was forced to, and he couldn't quite leave either because they were picking him up after this.

It was a fucking nightmare. Even on the edge of everything, a specter looking in on the typical 'highschooler' experiences being made. Couples danced and friends threw their heads back in laugher... Meanwhile, he was in the darkest corner, trying desperately not be noticed.

Shoulders hunched to make him appear smaller than he was, unsure where to put his eyes... The anxiety in his veins making him tremble under his fine suit.

There was at least one saving grace to this unsavory night.

Cautiously, as if he was being watched, König peeked around the thrumming gymnasium. Silently seeking out the one person who comforted his thoughts.

You were sitting on the bleacher opposite of him, a drink in hand, smiling as you watched everyone dance.

His whole body stiffened at the sight, a deep flush burning down his neck as he tried to avert his gaze.

He couldn't ever really look away from you though. His crush, all throughout highschool... the one thing he bothered looking forward to.

He stole another glance upward and his breath caught in his throat.

You looked handsome in that suit. The fine fabric shimmering softly under the disco lights, almost glowing against the sidelines of the gym. König's eyes traced the fine way you had done your tie, wandering down your chest to your belt. His soft blue eyes greedily eating up the glimpses of your neck and lips.

He desperately drank in your form, the hidden curve of your waist, the soft column of your throat... "Scheiße..." he hissed, feeling the seat of his pants tighten as he watched you sip your punch. Just slowly swaying to the music.

König discretely adjusted his situation, licking his lips nervously before he glanced at the dancefloor to make sure no one was looking. They would give him so much shit if they saw him ogling you. The guy everyone wanted to dance with.

He stole another glance your way and felt his heart nearly stop dead in his chest.

Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. A light (possibly drunken) flush coating your cheeks as you waved shyly.

König instinctively looked away, heart beating a million miles an hour.

God what was wrong with him? He winced clutching his undone bowtie as if it were a lifeline.

This wasn't art class or history, where he could sit at the back of class and stare at you whenever he wanted to. This was prom night.

He imagined it completely different than this.

So many nights he spent picturing kissing you, feeling your soft lips pressed against his... maybe finally telling you how much his heart swelled at just a stolen glance. How complete he felt whenever he got a fleeting moment with you.

God, he treasured all of those moments. 'Accidentally' bumping into you in the hallway, watching you walk home after school... always afraid to confess.

Tonight had to be different... and he was running out of time.

Although he trembled, König glanced at the darkened stage at the front of the gym. People moved in the shadows, getting ready to announce the prom king and queen... and probably some more shitty speeches of how their youth was spent.

Tonight—contrary to what everyone spat at him—was his night, and it would be perfect. He just had to suck up his nerves before they got away from him.

The opportunity came only a few minutes later when the song 'After Midnight' stopped playing.

You had risen from your spot, carrying an empty red solo cup to the trash by the doors, a lingering smile on your face. Tonight was fun so far, an experience to reflect back on at least, too distracted by the sudden screech of the mic to notice König.

The principal came onto the stage with a smile, introducing and thanking everyone who had helped out with prom prep.

While you faced forward, trying to get a glimpse of the stage, König finally stood up with an air of confidence. Walking over to you standing by the wall, his cold blue eyes flickering to the neon exit signs and light switches next to you.

He stood a head over everyone else already, his form becoming muscular throughout the year, ready to finally enlist in the army after this.

After all this highschool shit was over.

The only reason people picked on him was because of the hood he wore over his face. Teased him because of the stutter he once had. And outcast him because he froze whenever someone said 'hi'.

His black boots kicked up a few balloons as he walked over to you, confetti sticking to his soles as he closed the distance.

You finally glanced up at him as he stepped close, offering a soft confused smile that made his heart nearly fall out of his throat.

"I... needed to tell-tell you something," he stammered, mentally berating himself for being so nervous. He was finally standing in front of you, and surprisingly, he kept his eyes trained on your face.

Your... face.

His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, even as the principal began to announce that they would call up the proms' king and queen. You were so fucking hot, the way the soft lights danced across your skin...

He couldn't afford to freeze up this time.

Slowly, you watched as the young man lifted a rough hand to his head, peeling away the sacred black mask from his face. Inch by inch, he was finally laid bare for only you to see, his back turned from the stage where everyone's attention was, effectively blocking your view too.

Your eyes widened slightly, probably confused as to what he was doing. What showing his face to you meant. Those heavenly orbs of yours flickering across his features, drinking in the details. A strong nose and jawline, those familiar somber eyes of his glaring back, his dirty blonde hair was falling awkwardly over his brow. His entire face was flushed red from embarrassment, but he couldn't have looked more sure of himself.

"I... I really-" he trailed off, boldly stepping forward. One of his large arms reaching past your head to cage you against the wall, able to peer down at your lips.

Its not like he couldn't say it- he loved you, more than anything. More than this school. More than himself. More than you could ever fucking comprehend.

König leaned down abruptly, your soft gasp stolen as his lips pressed insistently against yours. He nearly groaned, closing his eyes as he claimed what he had always wanted.

You eventually melted into him. The sudden tension in your body slowly relaxing... and his breath hitched as he felt you place a gentle hand on his chest to steady yourself.

He leaned in closer, effectively forcing your back to press against the cold stones of the gymnasium with another gasp. König took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, hesitantly parting his lips. His tongue meeting yours.

The way you breathed into him, heated with the taste of fruit on your tongue made his pants tighten again. A satisfied groan melting in his throat.

"And our prom King and Queen everyone!" The principal announced with a flourish, the spotlights of the stage suddenly centered on the most popular couple in the school.

This couldn't have been more perfect.

You nearly broke the kiss when König pushed his body flush against yours. His dark desire for the things he could never have suddenly bursting like a dam in his mind.

This night was perfect.

He kept you pinned against the wall between his body, the cheers of the class roaring to life over the music for the voted prom 'royalty' who gushed and shared their own kiss on stage. The gymnasium suddenly filled with a blinding wave of silver and gold confetti.

At that moment, König's hand skidded across the wall, seeking the fire alarm switch. Flicking it on with one decisive motion.

Blood shot out from the sprinklers overhead, coating the entire dancefloor with slippery gore. Young men and woman alike screamed as the sirens blared over the music. The light from the disco ball fading as prom king and queen (and all their followers) were pelted in a rainstorm of warm blood.

You couldn't see what was happening around you. The young man in front of you effectively keeping you in place, keeping the horrors at bay, his icy blue eyes solely on you.

Blood dripped from his back, rolling down the sides of his face, painting a menacing picture as he grinned like a maniac... enjoying the sounds of people screaming-drowning in it and slipping over themselves to flee in their moment of panic.

"Götter..." he muttered, the crimson spraying lightly over your face before König blocked it again, "I love you, mien liebling," he finally confessed.

[sturnioloshacker]

fucked by ghostface - a vinnie hacker smut

a/n: the final halloween fic! hope you enjoy this one hehehe 😏 lowercase intended

summary: your deepest darkest fantasies are turned into reality thanks to your boyfriend

it was late, and the house was silent except for the soft hum of the television playing in the background. vinnie and i had planned to have a quiet night, but that changed when he slipped away with a mischievous grin. not thinking much of it, i continued to stare blankly at the bright screen, watching whatever was on. the atmosphere was quiet, almost too quiet. is vinnie okay? where is he? i get up from the couch to go look for him. i walk into the shared bedroom, only to be met with a candle burning. that was until i heard the door slam shut behind me and a low breathy chuckle. i slowly turn around to find vinnie dressed head to toe in black, a ghostface mask covering his face. the mask, so eerily blank, tilted to the side as he held a plastic knife in one hand, the dark robe brushing the floor as he stepped closer. how did he find out about my deepest darkest fantasy? i’ve never told him this! oh my gosh, my texts with my bestie! he must’ve read them when i left my phone open the other day! 

my heart raced, but not with fear. there was something undeniably thrilling about the way he moved, the slow, deliberate steps towards me, the mask concealing his usual playful smile. the way he towered over me, an intimidating figure from a slasher film, sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. i feel myself getting wet at the sight of my boyfriend dressed like this. i subtly squeeze my thighs together, holding back a moan from how hot he looks right now. 

he leaned down, close enough that i could hear his breathing behind the mask, his voice low and playful. “are you scared?"

i swallow hard, trying to keep my cool. “not at all."

vinnie chuckled, the sound muffled but full of intent. the atmosphere between us shifted, electricity hanging in the air. as his gloved hand brushes my cheek, i find myself leaning into his touch, heart pounding for entirely different reasons now. the thrill of the moment, the playful danger, and the way he loos over me—it’s intoxicating. ghostface has never looked so good.

“are you aroused by this? does this turn you on, princess?”

my breath became shallow, it almost became too difficult to breathe. my thighs clench even harder as i feel myself dripping. vinnie brings the plastic knife to my throat, gently grazing it up to my jawline. he looks so attractive right now, i thought ghostface was supposed to be scary. i bring my hand up to the mask to lift it off his face so i could kiss him but i’m shoved onto the bed. 

“i don’t think so. mask stays on, got it?”

i nod my head, afraid that nothing but a squeak will leave my mouth. vinnie grabs my chin roughly and makes me look into the eyes of the mask, hovering closer and closer as my breathing intensifies. 

“words, baby. need to hear you loud and clear”. 

“yes, daddy” i whine.

“that’s my good girl. looking so pretty for me, my pretty little victim”.

vinnie crawls down my body and down to my soaked panties, ripping them apart with such ease before shoving his fingers deep inside my cunt. the roughness of his fingers colliding with my gummy walls has me gripping the sheets so hard my knuckles go white. my screams and cries echo around the room as he pounds his large fingers in me, making sure to hit that sweet spot that makes me arch my back. i feel the knot unraveling in my stomach and before i could cum, vinnie pulls his fingers out. i moan at the loss of contact and vinnie lowly chuckles. 

“not so fast, pretty girl. you’re gonna get fucked by ghostface”.

he flips me over and picks my ass up. after spitting and stroking his cock a few times, he pushes himself in. we both moan as he bottoms out once he’s fully in and he starts thrusting hard and fast. i cry out in pleasure as i feel his tip graze over my sweet spot oh so well. i feel my orgasm coming back again as i squeeze around his cock, making him groan and thrust harder.

“cum for me, pretty girl. you know you wanna”.

“gonna-”

i’m cut off by my loud cries as i cream around vinnie’s cock, the pleasure taking over. i sink further into the mattress as he spurts thick white ropes inside me, filling me to the brim. he pulls out, but not before scooping up whatever escaped and back into me. he takes off the mask and leans over me to give me a messy kiss. 

“so, got anymore fantasies you want me to make a reality?” he asks with a devilish smirk.

fuck. this man will be the death of me.

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: there’s not enough words to describe my gratefulness for you guys supporting and showing love to all thirteen parts!!! xoxo 💜

Fingers were majestically buttoning up the shirt that hung on your body. Eyes looked at your somewhat nervous like state. Paul then rubs his hands down your shoulder and arms, soothing you.

He tilts his head as he gives you a reassuring look, he didn’t have to say words. You were grateful for this. He leans to give a slow lingering peck on your cheek as they grew hot.

Arriving at the event, you were really glad he came. It was a bit boring in your opinion. Tense shoulders were now relaxed. A nice amount of people were there but it wasn't crowded like you thought it would be. You and Paul were glued together by the hand, staring at each stranger's piece. Comments were made among you two as you both pick ideas off each other's brains. Very stimulating. Paul insisted he hold the watercolored piece you made, to keep it safe.

Walking to find another display of art, you whisper to him, "You have good skill. What if you became serious?"

He doesn't say anything but you both keep walking. You look at him, wondering if maybe he didn't hear you. But he opens his mouth to speak after some time, "I only want to draw you."

Words couldn't be found until he broke the silence once more, but with a chuckle. You look and he jerks an eyebrow up with a smirk. He gestures towards a nail on the white wall, with a nail sticking out. It almost seemed odd and out of place.

Paul moves forward and adjusts it on, you watch the canvas hang against the wall in front of you. He moves back and wraps an arm around you and pulls you to him with excitement, "See? Looks good, huh?"

You chuckle as you couldn't do anything but agree.

You and Paul drove all this way so you figured to make the most of it. Paul started speaking, which made you a bit of a chatter box. Paul had them laughing while they asked again to see more of what you make. You trying to reciprocate the same curiosity for their work was almost pointless, they were more interested in diving into your methods of work. Heads crowded your personal space as you swiped through your past work.

"I'm thirsty, do you want anything?" you ask Paul and he shakes his head no as he takes a closer look at a clay sculpted face with interest.

You reach for a can of soda and someone stands next to you.

"Excuse me, just grabbing a water. I'll be out of your way." you hear a frail like voice.

You move out of the way as you crack the soda can open and you watch the slight wrinkled hand grab the water bottle that was craved by him. He grabs a napkin as well and he looks at you.

You look at him back, wondering if there was a problem. You didn't know what to expect as he grinned a bit and said, "I knew this was going to happen." He said it in a knowing way but had a quirky sense of attitude about him. You could easily tell he liked to speak what was on his mind.

"What's that?" you ask him as you watch him while you take a sip. The insides of your cheeks fizz with acid as he shakes his head a bit and chuckles lowly.

He points a finger up, to portray the point that he's readying to make, "If you’re gonna do a cash grab, at least make it a good one." He chuckles again as you put the soda can from one hand to the next.

"And here I was afraid to bring mine." you say in a dry humorous tone.

He furrows his eyebrow as he takes another semi long look at you. "Well, what'd you bring?"

"You might call mine a cash grab." you tease and this makes him bring two hands up and shake them in denial, "Oh, no. I won't make assumptions. If I can't feel it, believe me I will know."

You guide him over to where it was still hanging up. Nothing else was by it. He crossed his arms as his mouth cracked open a bit as he studied the color filled space. He took small steps, as he raised his eyebrows, moving his lips but not saying anything.

Watching him made you turn your eyes, glancing at the area around you. It felt like you were intruding on something.

You felt a nudge on your shoulder which makes you look up and see as the older man looked at you with a sense of mindfulness or profoundness, you weren't too sure.

"Wow kid. How old are you?" he asked you.

You open your mouth to answer but you feel your body be mushed against something warm and hard.

"Old enough." A voice answers roughly. You look and were genuinely surprised to see Paul at your side as if he was there the entire time. He made sure to keep your shoulder under his hand as he held you close next to him.

The elderly man just pays it no mind, before taking one last look at your piece before nodding his head. As is he was agreeing to the conversation that the art piece was having with him. His arms fold behind him and he takes a look at you before giving you a tight smile before turning to walk away.

You watched him stroll as he takes a small sip from his water and look at other pieces. Your shoulder slump, something felt stolen. Not knowing what, you slightly shake the soda can in thought.

You move away, leaving Paul in his spot. Wandering around for a bit, the cheap free wine moves past your lips. You didn’t know how you sweet talked your way into serving it to you, but at the moment you were grateful. Swallowing it, you just decide to get lost in what's around you. You had a fresh cup of the free beverage as you stared at a painting that made you think about the cash grab comment. You snort as you bring the cup to your lips as you see exactly what the man was talking about earlier.

"Well, this is pretty… shit." you hear Paul's voice behind you, turning to see his face sporting a lax grin. You step to the side as you look at him for a moment. He takes his eyes away from what was in front of him art wise and focuses them you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks near you ear. You move back as you tell him nothing’s wrong.

"Are you ready to leave?” he asks you. You shake your head.

“You look bored.” he comments.

“I am now.” you under your breath and take the cup to your lips. His eyes narrow at you. Sighing, you turn to walk away to get yourself lost again.

There wasn’t much left to see. You did get compliments on your skirt. You felt it was too plain so you painted a bit of designs on it, the genuinely nice gestures made your day.

Throwing your plastic cup away, the man from earlier stops his conversation with a middle aged woman and makes his way over to you.

“Before I go, I should give you my number.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he was old fashioned by grabbing a napkin and asking the middle aged woman for a pen. Scribbling it down, he hands you the wrinkled, inky napkin and looks into your eyes, “Tell them you want to speak to John.” You nod and watch him walk away, heading towards the exit.

Staring down at the sloppy writing, all you could do was hope. Hope that this meant something important. Your thoughts couldn’t be thought about for long until the middle aged woman makes her way over to you with a polite smile.

“Hi, Y/N?” she asks softly as she makes small steps towards you.

You stick out your hand and nod. She gladly takes it and introduces herself. She’s the owner of the gallery telling you how your watercolor painting has been purchased.

“Really?” you asked in shock.

“Yes. We usually take 50%, but we didn’t do the work of the selling.” she tells you with a smile and hands you a check.

Staring at the numbers, your eyes almost bulge out. “Congratulations. You’re really talented. Please don’t be a stranger to us.” she tells you and sends a farewell smile.

You immediately find Paul. Outside, he’s leaning against the wall looking to the sky with his hands in his pockets. Deep in thought. Excitedly telling him everything all at once as soon as you get ear distance, he tells you to slow down, wanting you to be clear.

“Can you believe it?” you ask him after giving him blow by blow what happened.

“I‘m not surprised. Told you it was a good idea to bring it.”

He pulls you to him as you clutch him back.

“I can take you out to dinner.” he offers.

“You don’t have to- ” you start but he cuts off what you were trying to say, “I want to.”

Hot steam blows around both faces as you both grab your forks. Digging in, Paul takes a big bites of his food as you stare at him.

“Want to try some?” he asks as he catches your stare. You shake your head. Playing with your straw, you tell him, “I’m not telling you what to do, but you have to control your emotions.”

He doesn’t say anything until his food travels down his throat.

“Where is this coming from?” he asks you, off guard as searches your face.

Pausing from your food, you look at him with a hint of understanding and patience.

“What happened today almost didn’t happen if you wasn’t all like “old enough.” you say, dramatizing a bit, making him playful roll his eyes.

“I do not sound like that. What do you mean?” he asks again, feeling teased and in a carefree tone, but taking a pause from his own food.

You take him with you back to the journey of his cold demeanor when the guy who bought your painting asked how old you were.

“All I’m saying is, it would’ve looked suspect had it been the other way around.”

“Come on, Paul. You don’t trust me.” you tell him shaking your head.

“I didn’t trust him. There’s a difference…” he says then he looks at you, “I am now.” he says, making a horrible impression of your voice.

“Stop.” you say, trying to be firm but you’re laughing and he laughs as well.

“What am I going to do with you?” you say as you dig your fork back into your food.

“Love me.” he says swiping your cheek with his thumb but you playfully roll your eyes at the blush that he caused as he chuckles.

“Okay,” you start, finishing your chew, “I should act like that anytime a woman look at you.”

“Good. Maybe they will back off. I need help getting the message across to them that it will never happen. They never seem to get it.”

“Oh really?” you ask him in a sarcastic tone.

He makes a face that let you know, really. The laugh you two shared seeped with synchrony.

Taking a sip of your drink to cool your flushed face down, you hear a familiar voice.

“Omg, Y/N?” they say. It was in a surprised but welcoming tone.

Looking up, you see Bella Swan standing near you, offering a hug. Not wanting to stand up, you open your arm as she bends down and gives you a quick, shy hug.

Watching the blush on her face as she steps back. She looks over and you follow her eyes and see a tall, pale and beautiful man. He kept his eyes on her.

“I’ll um..text you. Edward just got back and…” she looks over at Paul then back at you and flashed you a friendly grin and throws a quick jab towards her boyfriend, “We’re having dinner too.” she say

You nod, nervously smile, “Okay. See ya.” you tell her as she waves goodbye.

Not wanting to turn your head, a clink of the fork on a in front of you makes you turn it anyways. A dissociative look is on Paul’s face as he rises up.

Setting your napkin down, you follow him out. You touch his arm but to your surprise, he takes yours instead.

The direction of the car wasn’t even thought of as he took you with his steps. “Paul where are we going?” you speak out, trying to keep your voice to a minimum.

He didn’t have to say anything as he drops it in a dead end alleyway with a fence, behind it being the gateway to the woods.

One swipe with his arm and the shirt you thought looked good on him, was scrunched up in his tight fists. You watched as turns his sculpted body into a perfect throwing position as the shirt shot in the sky as if the goal was a home run.

His muscular back is towards you as you hear his pants, trying his best to calm down. His heavy breathing doesn’t slow down. He wanted to talk to you, but his wolf was just on the tip of the edge of spilling out.

You made sure to stay at great distance, you look down, hating to see the sight before you. Your blinking started to turn blurry as you started to feel his emotions. Each second felt like a wave of intenseness of everything that he felt.

He finally looks at you, amplifying the message, “Fucking Bella Swan?” he grits out, trembling and pacing.

You shake your head as you drop your eyes, your stomach dropped.

“A fucking danger magnet who’s dating a fucking leech.”

You breath in and breath out quickly, now talking with your hands to flow the right words together, “I know. She never told me her last name, I swear.” you tell him, wanting to keep your word of being honest and truthful to him.

“Fuck that, Y/N! Stay away from..her.” he spits out, contorting his beautiful face into the most monstrosity of evil. He bends over, you felt him clearly in pain.

“Just let go. Just phase.” you coach on, wanting him to hurry up before anybody just miraculously happens to walk past.

The second you said the words, the blurred colors of his silver wolf. The beast taking over the man, standing to its true height. Four legs began to move, circling slowly, growling at nothing particular with wild eyes staring at nothing on the ground.

Finally looking at you, you stared at it back. It turned its full attention on you. You weren’t scared of the big animal. Walking slowly towards you, your feet was stuck to the ground. Staring ahead, neither eyes left each other’s sight.

The wet snout poked you in the belly, which jolted an electric round of shock through your body as you then watch the wolf sniff all around you, rubbing his fur against your clothes and skin. Circling around you, almost like a snake, you almost lose your balance from the weight being brushed against you. Licking your hand, you breathe out a chuckle as the ticklish feeling take over.

The wolf then turns hastily goes over the fence, being welcomed by the tree filled woods. It was fast. Something deep in you told you he was going to be okay. You turn and walk back into civilization filled streets, going in the direction of Paul’s car.

It was like it was in slow motion. Bella didn’t see you, but she was in the inside of his arm. You caught a glimpse of his amber colored eyes. You both didn’t halt your steps. Not wanting to back down his hard gaze, a display of unbothered optimism was on your face you thought of nothing but returning a gaze to him right back.

He finally backs down, shifting his eyes back in front of him as he lifts a crooked lip up and allows words to fall from his lips to Bella as he opened the car door for her.

Unlocking Paul’s car, you drive the car out onto the road to go back home. It felt quiet walking into the house. Your shoulder slump in the shower as the water beats down on you. Soap didn’t even touch your body yet as the trickles of water fall down your skin.

Your eyes pop open when you hear the closing of the bathroom door. Heart beating, the shower door opens and Paul steps in. Happy to see him, he embraced you before you could fully process his presence. Moving in, he immediately wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back. His face stays on the crook of your neck as you both listened to the rhythmic patter of the shower water.

The water ran cold but his body warmth that was still wrapped around you, barely made you feel any type of chill.

Carrying you out, he placed you in the middle of the soft bed. Climbing over you, he took you on a passionate journey with his mouth, pulling back to feel your tongue with his before reattaching his lips to yours.

He pulls away when you pant heavily, your bare chest heaving. He slides you to him and you interlace your legs with his. His arms cover and wrap around you. You take one arm go rest on him, placing a hand on his cheek. He looks down at you, pulling you a bit up him to gift you another wet kiss.

“Are you okay?” you whisper against his lips.

“We’re okay.” he says before solidifying it with a kiss. He lays back, you watch him as he flutters his eyes closed. You watch him for some time as his breath shifts, to steady slow breaths. Caressing his cheek with your thumb, you lay your head on his chest.

[cheynovak]

Last Christmas

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary: Y/N, a close friend of Sam and Dean, secretly struggles with her feelings for Dean as Christmas approaches, knowing it might be his last due to his demon deal. She convinces Sam to decorate the motel room and celebrate christmas one last time.

Warnings: none

English is not my first language 

Inspiration: season 3 ep. 8: A Very Supernatural Christmas

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

It had been a long, grueling hunt. Y/N was exhausted, the adrenaline still wearing off as she leaned against the motel wall. Sam and Dean were nearby, packing away their gear with quiet efficiency. Even after years of hunting together, there was a comfort in their silence, a rhythm they’d all fallen into. But tonight, something felt different—heavier, like the weight of the world was pressing harder than usual.

Y/N stole a glance at Dean. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused on the weapons in front of him, but she knew his mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t stop thinking about the demon deal he made—the deal that was hanging over all of their heads like a dark, looming cloud. He’d given up his life to save Sam’s, and now his days were numbered. The thought alone twisted her heart, and she found herself staring longer than she should have.

“Y/N, you okay?” Sam’s voice snapped her back to reality. She quickly looked away from Dean, her cheeks warming.

“Yeah, just… tired,” she mumbled, forcing a smile. But Sam didn’t buy it, his brows furrowing as he studied her. He was always good at seeing right through her, but thankfully, he let it go this time.

Dean, however, didn’t seem to notice. He was already halfway out the door, saying something about grabbing food for the night.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turned to Sam, trying to shift the mood.

“So… Christmas is in a couple of days,” she started, her voice soft, testing the waters.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, not really in the mood this year.”

Y/N had expected that. Dean’s deal hung over everything, making it hard to think about anything happy or festive. Still, she couldn’t help but want to give him something—one last Christmas, maybe, if things didn’t turn around. She had to try.

“Come on, Sam. I know things are… hard right now. But maybe we can do something small. For Dean’s sake, at least. It might be good for him—good for all of us.”

Sam hesitated, his jaw tightening. He stared at the floor, his conflict evident. “Y/N…”

“Please, Sam,” she interrupted, her voice almost pleading. “I just want this Christmas to be special. It might be our last with him.”

The room was quiet for a moment. Y/N saw Sam’s resolve crack, and finally, he nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“Fine. I’ll take care of the eggnog,” he muttered,

--

Christmas eve arrived, Dean was out to get food thinking it would be a normal evening.

While Sam worked on the eggnog, Y/N busied herself with decorating the room. She strung up some old lights she’d found in a thrift store, their colorful glow bringing a little warmth to the cold, drab motel room. She even found a small, plastic Christmas tree earlier in the week, setting it up on the nightstand. It wasn’t much, but it felt a little like home.

As she adjusted the lights, she couldn’t help but think about Dean again. The feelings she’d been hiding for him for so long were bubbling closer to the surface. There was a chance this might be his last Christmas, and that thought sent a sharp pang through her chest. What if she never told him? What if he never knew how much he meant to her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Dean walked in, his arms full of takeout bags and a couple of poorly wrapped presents.

“Well, look at this,” he said, his voice bright with surprise. “You two went all out. Kinda makes this crap motel room look… festive.”

Y/N grinned, feeling a small wave of relief wash over her. At least Dean seemed to appreciate the effort.

“Got you some food,” he said, setting the bags on the table. “And a couple of things to open, you know, for the hell of it.”

Y/N and Sam exchanged a look, their silent agreement to make this night something good for Dean. Y/N grabbed her own gifts from her bag—a couple of books for Sam (ones she knew he’d devour in no time) and a shirt for Dean with a classic Chevy logo on it.

“Here,” she said, handing them over with a smile.

Sam gave her a grateful nod, flipping through the pages of one of the books before setting it aside. Dean, on the other hand, held up the shirt, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Chevy, huh? You know me too well, sweetheart.”

Her heart skipped at the nickname, but she covered it with a laugh. “Figured you could use a shirt to work on baby, so you don't get all your good shirt dirty with oil.”

Sam handed her a small, neatly wrapped gift, and she opened it to find a bottle of shampoo—her favorite kind, the one she was always complaining about never finding on the road.

“I… I know it’s not much,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. “But I saw it and thought of you.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “It’s perfect, Sam. Thank you.”

Then Dean handed her his gift—a bottle of cheap perfume, the kind you’d find at a gas station. But when she opened it and took a whiff, it wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it smelled pretty nice.

“I know it’s nothing fancy,” Dean said, a little sheepish. “But it smelled good, and I thought…”

Y/N couldn’t help but keep sniffing the bottle, a grin on her face. “Dean, I love it. Really, it’s… nice.”

Sam noticed the atmosphere in the room chance when Y/N kept looking at his brother while smelling her perfume covered wrist.

The second Sam closed the bathroom door Dean shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I really love it Dean, thank you." Y/N said. “Yeah, well… I had another gift in mind. This one was just easier to wrap.”

Y/N looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Dean hesitated for just a moment, then took a step closer. His green eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw a flicker of something in them—something vulnerable, something he usually hid behind jokes and bravado.

Before she could process what was happening, Dean leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. Her breath hitched, and for a second, everything else—the looming deal, the darkness of their lives—faded away.

All that mattered was this moment.

Him.

When he finally pulled back, Dean looked a little unsure of himself, but there was a small, crooked smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered.

--

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@deadlydivergentgirl @livya99 @deansimpalababy

[adrixivy]

I can imagine the Avengers playing UNO one day for game night and after that day, everyone is extremely petty, stingy, extremely aggressive or has an attitude to someone and it’s all because of something that happened that one day they decided to play UNO.

(I played UNO with my family earlier and I was constantly screaming. I got +16. SIXTEEN. So this was what inspired this post)

Clint, throwing dirty looks at Tony everytime Tony walks into the room: *glares and rolls eyes at Tony before looking away*

Tony, sighs exasperatedly: Is this because I plus 20 your ass that game night?

Clint, mocking him: iS tHiS becAuSE I pLUs 20 yOuR aSs- YES. YES IT IS.

Tony being Tony ‘Money is my superpower’ Stark: I bought your kids everything on their Amazon wishlist yesterday. I bought Ms Barton’s wishlist too. And your new trick arrows are restocked and some upgraded

Clint, smiling politely and in the kindest voice possible: Thank you very much, I’ll tell you Peter’s cards from the vent the next time we play UNO

Peter with his advanced hearing: MR BARTON NO!-

——————

Bucky purposely walks away from Steve everytime Steve is trying to go up to him for a kiss or hug or just be close to him (Yes I’m a stucky fan)

Steve sighs and wipes a hand down his face: Is this because I changed the color when you were on one card during game night?

Bucky nodded and dramatically said: You betrayed me-

Steve, screeching: IT’S JUST A GAME?!-

Bucky, screaming back: YOU DON’T LOVE ME-

Steve, dumbfounded because UNO is making his lover hate him: WHAT-

———————

Peter flips onto the ceiling whenever Tony enters the room, renames all of his protocols, purposefully gives Tony the wrong tools and messes up Tony’s clean set-up of tools that it drives Tony up the wall because he thinks Peter is going through some rebellious phase before he notices Peter being kind to literally everyone else except him

Tony, tired and stared at his kid hanging upside down as he plays Dress to Impress with Ned and MJ on HIS personal starkpad meant for his work: Get down from there, kid. I need the Starkpad.

Peter ignores him and he tries remembering what he did before he scoffs in disbelief as he realised what Peter is annoyed about

Tony: Is this because I kept skipping your turn during game night? I told you I didn’t have the colors and those skip cards were the colors I drawn!

Peter: I had ONE card but because you kept skipping my turn, MR BARTON WON! MR BARTON-

Tony, sputtering: IT’S JUST A GAME-

Peter, screaming back: IT’S UNO!-

Tony on the verge of tears: I’M SORRY DON’T HATE ME-

Peter immediately jumps down, puts the Starkpad away and hugs Tony. The two share a hug and Peter forgets everything that what Tony did to him in game night

——————

Natasha throws a dagger that just barely misses Steve and Clint everytime they enter the room. Steve is wondering where she keeps those daggers and Clint knows where but knows she won’t stop because she’s incredibly petty. Extremely so.

Clint: Nat, my no.1 friend, my sister from another mother, I swear you gotta stop this-

Steve: I really don’t appreciate those daggers being thrown-

Steve is immediately cut off as Clint shoots a look at Steve that says ‘You’re an idiot!”. Nat simply stares at them blankly and Clint immediately grabs Steve and yanks him down to take cover as Natasha pulls a gun out of nowhere and shoots where they previously stood

Clint, knew it was coming but is still afraid as the two just narrowly dodged the bullets: I’M SORRY WE KEPT CHANGING THE COLOR BUT IT WASN’T THAT DEEP-

Steve, panicking and worried for their lives: JUST BECAUSE OF UNO?-

Clint, can’t believe Steve is asking an obvious question: YES JUST BECAUSE OF THAT!

Steve: I TOLD YOU IT WAS A BAD IDEA-

Clint, the one who told Steve to mess with Nat together and is regretting he ever did and is genuinely sorry he made the reluctant Steve join him: I’M SORRY I DRAGGED YOU INTO THIS-

It took Natasha a few hours to calm down and it was just because Clint summoned Peter ‘Puppy’ Parker to calm her down. Nat still gives slight nasty looks but she isn’t so petty about it anymore which was an absolute relief for the two

—————

Sam is glaring at Peter everytime and Peter sticks his tongue out to annoy and piss Sam off. The two always had somewhat of a small beef but it amplified more after game night. Probably because Peter was purposely aiming to attack Sam by always adding plus cards when it’s Sam’s turn next. It sucked more for Sam when Peter actually won.

Sam, sending Redwing to shoot small nerf darts at Peter: Take that you midget-

Peter, huffing and shot a web at Redwing which immediately made the small robotic bird stuck onto the ceiling: *sticks tongue out before giggling*

Peter laughs harder when he heard Sam screaming ‘MY CHILD’ with his advanced hearing

——————

Wanda and Peter teamed up during UNO and sneaked some cards to each other when one needed a certain color. And the entire team is always dumbstruck whenever one of the two kept winning for 5 rounds straight, not knowing Wanda is reading their minds on what color they have and their secret way of communicating

Wanda wins three times in a row and her and Peter is giggling. The whole team is confused af because how are they doing this-

(They totally forgot about Wanda’s abilities during the game. UNO is a serious game where all your remaining braincells is used on the game and nothing else matters)

——————

Rhodey joins for one game and is immediately done because his cards somehow stack all the way to 30 cards. He just needed a blue and he kept drawing cards until FINALLY he pulled a blue and Tony’s turn was next so imagine how furious he was when Tony placed a blue reverse and out of his 30 cards, he didn’t have a SINGLE reverse or power card. He tweaks and the whole team is laughing at him as he grumbles and complains about how they’re ganging up on him and UNO is a completely unfair game. Tony kept laughing till there was tears. He always found it fun to annoy tf out of Rhodey.

Rhodey, fuming as he fails to get one blue card: WHO THE HELL SHUFFLED THIS CARDS-

The whole room erupts into laughter at the sight

——————

Thor is the only one that doesn’t seem affected by the game and isn’t petty at all because there’s probably worse games in Asgard and he had dealt with way more petty people when it comes to games. Honestly, he probably imagined it as a game with Loki. Loki was always petty with games and everytime Thor won, he deals with attitude from Loki for weeks. UNO was basically child play for him.

——————

Bruce doesn’t ever participate in UNO and the team believes its for the best because if he joins, the big guy will come out and play for him instead (He’s smashing everything. Not as in the game. Literal smashing)

It’s literally impossible to not get mad at people in UNO.

Best believe UNO is a game that’s banned from game night forever after that day as the amount of attitude and danger in the tower increases by tenfold.

[armoricaroyalty]

Read the rest of this scene below the cut.

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author's note: If you'd like to know more about how I plan to handle cancer as a subject (and a list of the tags I'll be using), click here.

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TRANSCRIPT

Hugo, three years old, had learned to sleep through almost everything. Even the strangeness of Morley Cottage, with its labyrinthine rooms, its pooling shadows, its chorus of unfamiliar creaks and groaning pipes, could not disturb his rest. But other things still might.

Sometime after nine, footsteps in the hall. Two voices, one angry and one beseeching. In the adjacent room, a light snapped on, and the door shut with enough force to rattle the pictures hanging on the wall. In his small room, in his small bed, Hugo's eyes snapped open.

JACQUES | It's bullshit! It's fucking bullshit— VIVI | Please don't yell, Huey's sleeping— JACQUES | My father is fucking dying, Vivi. VIVI | Shh, I know, I know. JACQUES | He's dying and he's not even doing anything about it! VIVI | I know, honey. I know. It's hard— JACQUES | He has options. He's not some bum on skid row. He's the goddamned King, and he's just...he's giving up. VIVI | It's already spread, Jacques. It's in his liver, it's in his bones. It's too late— JACQUES | It's never too late. Never. VIVI | Jacques, all treatment can do now is prolong the suffering. When my grandma— JACQUES | Oh, your grandmother— VIVI | Don't be mean. JACQUES | We are talking about my father, Vivi! The King! VIVI | Jacques, I know. JACQUES | ...I'm scared. I don't want to lose him VIVI | I know. JACQUES | It's not fair. VIVI | It never is. JACQUES | What are we going to do? Everything is going to change. VIVI | We've gone through a lot of changes, haven't we? HUGO | ...Mama? Daddy? JACQUES | Hugo! It's past your bedtime, buddy. HUGO | I heard loud talking... VIVI | It's nothing, sweetheart. Just grown-up stuff. HUGO | Grown-up stuff? JACQUES | Yeah, grown-up stuff. And now it's time to go back to bed. HUGO | I'm not sleepy. JACQUES | Do you wanna sleep with Mama and Daddy tonight? HUGO | Yeah! JACQUES | Come on, then. Bedtime...

It took another half an hour to get Hugo settled. In that time, Jacques and Vivi barely spoke. Lying beside him, listening to him breathe, Vivi knew that Jacques was only pretending to sleep.

He was a strong man, a proud man. They'd been together since they were kids, but despite that, despite how much she loved him, she still didn't know how to actually be with him. He was a mystery to her, same as he had been on the day they met.

VIVI | Jacques... JACQUES | What? VIVI | I love you. JACQUES | You know...you guys are the best thing I have. You're all I have.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hi, this is my first time making a request so I hope I'm doing it right. If I am may I please request a part 2 to the "you are not hunted" because I am currently OBSESSED with Gawtin (a little to much) and just re-read the whole masterlist and came upon this post making me want to know what happens next. You can ignore this is u want but I want you to know I love your work and hope your having a great day/evening <3

You Are Not The Hunted Part 2

Character: Gawtin (female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3019

Summary: This giant alien takes you from your friends, from your home. She traps you in her bedroom, the safest place to be. You are claimed to be her pet from that moment forward. And well... you don't take that very well.

Author Note: Ehehehe, I'm so glad you are obsessed with her! There's no such thing as too much with Gawtin. Love her as much as you want! I appreciate all the love!

Part 1

Masterlist

Ao3

Now, onboard Gawtin’s ship, reader is both terrified and angry that this thing took them. Reader tries to fight their way off the ship but Gawtin easily overpowers them and pins them to a wall. So, they tried to escape by wedging the door open or smashing the keypad. They get electrocuted by accident. When Gawtin tries to feed them, that doesn’t work. Reader refuses to eat even when Gawtin uses her presence to scare them.

Despite the pounding of your fists against the creature’s sturdy back, it did nothing to make her even flinch. She continued to strut through the forest you were once enjoying. Your screams rung through the trees. Your friends lost between the trunks and foliage. Tears slowly ran down your cheeks. The world taking a darker turn as you’re carried away from them.

In this position, you spotted a weapon hanging from her waist. A machete. You instantly reached for it and attempted to pull it off of its fixed position. A hand engulfed yours before you could make contact with it. It held a firm grasp but not enough force to crack any bones. You struggled again. Your hand couldn’t be retrieved.

Her feet stopped. Your body slid down her front and landed unsteadily on your feet in front of her. The large alien snatched both of your wrists and crowded into your space. Instinctively, you took steps backwards to get away from her. Until the curve of your spine met the rough texture of a tree trunk. A gasp sounded from your throat.

Each of your wrists were lifted high above your head and pinned to the bark. They were easily held in one of her hands. A snort sounded from the creature. “You… do not think,” she uttered. Her free hand pinched something out of a pouch on her side. Rope was held between two fingers. She brings it up to your wrists. Your brows jerked up towards your hairline. You doubled down the fight and tried to slip out by taking off the weight on your legs. That only pulls painfully on your shoulders. The creature still has a firm grip on you.

Talently, the alien is able to tie your wrists together with one hand. Then, she throws you back onto her shoulder like you weighed nothing to her. With her size, you believed that as a fact.

The journey began once more. She carried you through the forest. The speed she took only made the trip short but sweet. Her form stopped. Her arm holding onto your thigh lets go for a moment. You hear a beep then a hiss. Curiosity got the best of you. You tried to lift yourself up to peer over her shoulder. She makes a short but warning growl. Your survival instincts force you to lay back down against her back, limp.

All you had to do was play along and hope for survival.

A new scene greeted you. She had walked up some sort of ramp and entered… something out of this world. Alien. This was a ship. A spacecraft. The angle hurt your neck but you took in everything you saw. From what looked to be storage all the way to main area of the vessel. She passed a door before one opened up for her.

Muted colors made up the interior of the ship. In the room she took you into, skulls were the first thing that greeted you. A terrified scream pierced the air. The fight entered your veins again. You kneed and punched and even bit to get her to let go you. It didn’t matter if your hands were tied together. You fought for your survival.

Snarls erupted from the creatures throat. Your body was harshly tugged off of her shoulder and dropped onto the floor. Your knees gave out. You were forced to lay back while peering up at her. Her metal mask made it impossible to see her expressions. The muscles that lined her shoulders and chest were tense. You whimpered and scrambled backwards, legs kicking to get away from her.

“Stop,” her rough voice demanded. The green creature ate up the space you desperately put between the two of you. Her hand grasped at the limited space between your own tied up ones and pulled you closer to her. You kicked at her shins.

A sharp huff escaped her. “Stop. I will not harm you.” You could see the blurred reflection of yourself staring back at you. Your head rapidly shook no.

“Let go of me!” you yelled at her and tugged harder. The rope painfully dug into your wrists. Yet, it didn’t budge. “Please, don’t kill me.” Her words had gone flying over your head. You were in such a state of panic, you weren’t listening. Your ears had blocked out all other sounds besides the race of your heart. Survival to see another day.

The grip on the bindings didn’t loosen or falter for even a second; despite your constant kicking. She held strong in her stance. Her other hand came around and grabbed you by the throat. It easily encircled one of the most fragile parts of your body. You instantly froze, paralyzed to the spot. One wrong move and she could snap your neck like a twig.

“Now, listen. I will not harm you. You are my pet now.” You accidently yelled out a ‘what?!’ which caused her to squeeze your neck in a threatening manner. A whimper fell from your lips. “No harm shall come to you under my care. You will be cared for, fed, clothed.” You fearfully looked into her purple eyes that kept you froze to the ground.

“W-why?!” you sputtered out and fought back the tears desperate to dribble down your face.

Her thumb on your neck caressed along the artery hidden between skin. “I have watched you for some time, little one. You intrigue me.” Heat blotted your features. How long has she been watching you?! Oh god. You’ve not felt eyes on you in what was thought to be the safety of your home. “I have made you mine, under my kinds law. I lay claim to you as my pet.”

Every time she called you ‘pet’ made your stomach twist with a sick feeling. Out of all the things to happen to you in your life. To be made a pet to an alien wasn’t plausible in your mind.

Yet, the new situation that surrounded you was evident of your new issues. You swallowed hard, chest stuttering with each intake of air. Your ribs felt like they were constricting your lungs, squeezing out the air in them.

The corners of your vision began to darken. Each new breath was faster than the last. Your eyes glazed over. Her grip around your neck loosened to the point you could almost just drop down the floor. That didn’t help ease up the issue you were causing to yourself.

Both of your hands went to the center of your chest, feeling them move underneath your fingertips. You tried to slow down your breathing. The danger no longer as high of a threat now. But, your body didn’t feel that way. The panic kept building and building. Until darkness overtook your sight and left you limp in the creature’s hold.

When you awoke next, you sat up with a gasp, hands flying to your throat in terror. Nothing held you in place. Your body acted before your mind had a chance to think. All of your limbs forced you to back peddle until you smacked into a hard, flat object. The wall. You pressed yourself against it, limiting the places something or someone could come and attack you.

Your hands gripped at your unkept hair. Whatever dream – or nightmare – that had controlled you during your sleep caused it. You swiftly swivel your head back and forth. The room was empty, bare from anyone or anything. All besides the three skulls on top of the door frame across from you.

One of them was a human skull.

Instantly, your chest began to heave. She was going to turn you into that. Every word from before had flew straight over your head. Actions speak louder than words. And if by the looks of the other skulls that decorated the… bedroom, she’s lying to you. You were no pet, nothing more than another trophy on the wall. These were all trophies.

Wait! Her bedroom?! You finally took in the space and its contents. Currently, you had been placed on top of what looked and felt like a bed. Furs covered it. All from different looking creatures she’s probably killed herself. And that was going to be you next. You shuddered and hugged yourself, slightly rocking yourself in a pacifying manner. It did little to quell the quaking of your lungs or the stuttering of your heart.

One wall had an open doorway that seemed to lead into a bathroom. You were unsure in the darkness that nearly consumed the whole space. Only a low light came from the running boards that lined the walls. It was just bright enough to barely make out the skulls and other animal bones that decorated the bedroom. All of them signs of what will happen to you next.

Light flashed bright. It temporarily blinded you. A yelp echoed back at you. Your face scrunched up, eyes unable to accommodate the sudden light so quickly. But the click of talons on metal had a shiver running down your spine, rattling your bones. You tried to fight off the pain to find her.

A warm hand cupped your chin and tilted your head up. The touch had your heartrate spiking even higher than before. Your hands shot out and smacked against a firm, muscular arm that didn’t yield to your attacks. She didn’t even make a single sound of distress and simply held you in place. It was evident that her strength greatly outweighs your own. In multiple ways she’s shown you.

“Calm down, little one,” she grumbled and pinched your chin only slightly harder to gain your attention. You whimpered. Finally, your eyes worked with you to open and find the giant alien leaning over the side of the bed. One of her hands was holding up her weight while the other held your jaw. Your gaze flickered down to the arm on the bed, knowing there was a chance you could kick it out. That may drop her to the bed. Then what? She’ll easily roll over, sit up, and tear your head off of your shoulders for doing such a thing.

“I have told you, you are not in harms way. There is no reason to panic.” Her voice was a rumble, deep. A tone you weren’t use to when it came to feminine figures. Nor did she fit the standards for humans. The only thing you could notice was a slight pronunciation of her chest and wider hips. Besides that, the thickly corded muscles that lined her figure, deep voice, and aggressiveness made you think of her otherwise. That only made you wonder what the male looked on her side of the species.

Your eyes completely stopped hurting from the light and opened all the way. Shyly, you had tucked your head to the side. Not once did you take your eyes off of her. If you were going down, you were going to take every chance to survive. No matter what.

The alien chuffed then released your chin and straightened her posture. She reached towards the end of the bed and push a tray towards you. “Food. Eat. You will need your strength.”

That through you in for a loop. Why in the world would you need your strength if she was going to turn you into one of her trophies? Your gaze narrowed on her, questioning on her intent. What was her point? What was she doing?

“I’m not hungry,” you stated, eyes flickering down to the steaming plate of food for only a second. The scent waft up into your nose and caused your stomach to growl loudly. Heat flushed to your cheeks instantly. “You didn’t hear that.” Now, she won’t believe you for even a second.

Her head tilted to the side. Her mask was still in place, covering whatever lay underneath. All you could read was her body language and hoped it was at least similar to humans.

She pushed the tray close enough to knock it against your shin. You refused to take your eyes of her for even a second. Every moment in a fight counts. Even in one that looks like you won’t win. You’d rather go down trying than willingly give up. “I told you, I’m not hungry.” Thankfully, your stomach decided not to interrupt the conversation.

Clicking sounded from behind the mask. Your brows furrowed, instantly trying to make sense of the noises. It didn’t sound like tongue clicking. It was far too fast. You leaned away from her the best you could with a wall behind you.

“What will get you to eat?” she asked of you in an annoyed tone of voice. She seemed done with your antics. Your heart began to thunder in your ears. Panic settling back into your veins again.

The food smelled wonderful. It was hot and fresh by the looks of it. But, she had made it. There’s a chance she poisoned it. Who knows? She may have the strength to kill you with her bare hands, but what if she’s insane. She has to be since she kidnapped you out of all of your friends. And her wording from before. She had wanted just you. As if she had been stalking you this entire time, picking out a target to become a new plaything.

Fear drew you away from her, scooting towards the side. Until you had the chance to slip off and get onto your feet. “Just let me go, okay? I don’t know what I’ve done to get kidnapped but please. All I want is to go home,” you pleaded with all of your heart. You knew it was going to get denied. There’s a hidden reason she wanted you. More than her calling you her pet. That had to be.

She bowed her head and shook it with disappointment, flowing off of her. “Paya, give me strength.” You heard her uttered barely above a breath. Her head raised so the eye sockets of the mask found your face. The intense stare from her behind the mask was nearly paralyzing. “Listen to me closely: you are my pet now. You will not be harmed. You are not leaving. I have laid my claim over you.”

With the words repeated straight to your face for the fifth time, you paused in your tactical retreat.

The nearest object appeared in your hand a millisecond before it went flying through the air. “No!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, face flush with heat. The next thing you went was nearly in your hand when you felt a presence behind you.

One thickly corded arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you up and off the ground. Your feet kicked wildly, striking every part you could reach. None of it did the damage you wished to see. She only grunted when you hit her knee in a particular spot. Then, she was sitting down on the bed and hold you in her lap. Your back to her chest. That same arm still snug and secure around your waist.

A deep, vibrating purr erupted from her throat and skipped across your skin. Goosebumps arose across your flesh, pebbling the tissue.

Before you had time to realize the effects, your tense muscles began to loosen. Confusion overridden your features. You struggled weakly in her grasp. Then, you went slack against her chest. The purr acting like a drug had added to your system.

“Good,” she interrupted the sound for only a second. Her other hand came up and petted the top of your head. You further relaxed against her, eyes nearly drifting shut. Your heart even slowed back down to normal.

“What… what did you, you do to me?” you slurred and titled your head back to see the underneath of her mask. In your dazed, doused state, you reached up and poked the exposed portion of her jaw. Weird looking jaw. You attempted to hook your finger under the metal and tug it free. She caught your wrist before you fully committed and put it down by your side. “What are you…?”

The alien paused, including the purring. It still affected you heavily despite the silence now entering the air. You were able to think clearer without the constant sound. She let go both of your waist and wrist and reached for the mask. Your eyes grew to the size of saucers. Was she truly going to expose her features to you? Oh god, what did she look like?!

When the mask was pulled off, a hiss of depressurized air sounded in the room. Your brows furrowed at the noise. She continued the move until you tensed back up. All the dopamine in your system instantly went out the window.

She was surely alien and completely inhuman. But… not ugly? You felt weird to think such a thing. Her head was massive with a dome-like shape that elongated the back of her skull. Piercing purple eyes were sharp and deadly to look in. Four mandibles acted like her lips, each ending in a lethal looking fang. Expect one had signs of a fracture. On the out edges of the dome had beige colored spikes that almost created a full crown.

You gulped down the lump in your throat and stayed still. It wasn’t just her claws and strength that could kill you, those mandible could easily gouge an eye out.

“I am Gawtin,” she announced and set the mask off to the side. “And, like I have said, you will be staying with me.”

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ HALLOWEEN TRADITION

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

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

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

words: 7.5k

disclaimer: it's my first fanfiction written in english.

a year ago

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

“Your photographic memory is sometimes just terrifying”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“143”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Years?”

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

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean by that?“

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

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

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

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

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

“Not today” He replied shortly. 

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

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

a week later

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

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

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

Finally, the wick caught fire.

“So, you’ve got something?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Reid” you started slowly. 

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

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

"We’ll politely ask to borrow it?"

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

Spencer burst out laughing.

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

“He won’t find out”

“He find out”

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

A silence full of smiles fell between you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really? What makes you think that?"

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

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

“No, something makes you think that” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ What? What did I say this time?” 

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

“Well, considering your recent ambiguous comments…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spence, what’s your shoe size?"

5 years ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I haven’t gotten to this part! “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a week later

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn it, Reid, you scared me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at their matching outfits!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spencer nodded.

"I think I even have an idea."

And that was how your tradition began.

now

He said Halloween is for kids. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shared this idea with Travis.

And he said that Halloween is for kids. 

a year ago

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

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

Mr. Cinnamon Roll watched his antics with curiosity.

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

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

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

“Alright, mom.”

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

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

“First, I wanted to do makeup.”

“Is that necessary?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is quite nice,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

“About one of my friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged.

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

He smiled gently.

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

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

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

“There’s still an hour and eighteen…”

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

one hour and eighteen minutes later

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

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

Reid just stayed silent, inscrutable.

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

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

He shrugged stiffly.

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

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

You adjusted the sleeves of your red leather jacket.

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

Spencer let out a short laugh.

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

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

Slightly embarrassed, he nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked into his eyes thoughtfully.

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

“So, what is your suggestion?”

now

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

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

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

You couldn’t live in this emptiness any longer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You managed to smile at your Vincent.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

To Sail Forbidden Seas ~ Chapter 1

Synopsis: After a long voyage, Yi Sang and Heathcliff seek shelter.

Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights

Words: ~2330

Warnings: alcohol; a physical altercation between characters; food

“It’s not much further, now,” Yi Sang said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, who ambled along behind him, his head hung low as he clutched at the ragged cloak concealing his shoulders.

For a moment, Yi Sang’s gaze lingered on his friend’s hand, eyes silently tracing the tattoos inked into his scarred flesh, then he shook himself, turning to point at an inn down the road.

“There it is—Thames Landing … you’ll be safe there.”

His partner slowly lifted his head, eyes gleaming beneath his hood as he quietly studied the building Yi Sang indicated—it was a quaint, two-story structure, built from shabby wooden planks. The slanted roof had been bleached by the sun, and a makeshift fence, cobbled together from bits of driftwood, encircled the building. It was simple, almost rustic, in presentation.

“This place … good. Has charm.” The man spoke slowly, his sentences short, but each word was firm. Still, his brow furrowed, and he cast a questioning glance towards Yi Sang. “Safe … you sure?”

Yi Sang nodded, smiling as he motioned for his companion to follow him down the road. “At ease, my friend … I promise you Mycroft Holmes won’t lambast you with questions—aside from those pertaining to your stay, of course.”

The pair halted in front of the inn, and the man lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above the door. Even in the semi-darkness, he could make out a series of white letters that spelled out the inn’s name, the words painted to resemble a bridge arching over a dark band of water.

“Now, Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly, drawing his companion’s attention back to him, “while I can guarantee the Holmes siblings won’t object to you residing here, I cannot say the same for their other patrons—many of them are unscrupulous fellows, you see … the shameless, deceitful sort who’d sell you out in a heartbeat.”

His friend nodded solemnly. “Then I stay under cloak. Until you sort things out.”

Yi Sang smiled sadly, his fingers settling on the door handle. “Yes … I do believe that’s for the best.”

Taking a deep breath, Yi Sang threw the door open, and Heathcliff blinked as warm, golden light spilled onto the street. Hushed conversations tickled Heathcliff’s ears, and he reached to pull his hood over his eyes before following Yi Sang inside, quietly studying his surroundings from beneath his cloak. Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing ample light for those below, and a massive fire blazed in the hearth built into the far wall. A large, bubbling kettle was suspended above the flame, the steam rising from the cauldron carrying a mouthwatering aroma that reached Heathcliff’s nostrils from the doorway, causing his stomach to growl.

“This way.” Yi Sang motioned for Heathcliff to follow as he approached the bar, flagging down the man behind the counter. “Mycroft! Can I trouble you for a moment?”

The bartender glanced up from the glass he was drying, his face brightening when he recognized Yi Sang. “Well, well … if it isn’t the first mate of the Pequod, himself! To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure’s all mine—though, you could raise a toast to Captain Ishmael, if you so desired.” Yi Sang smiled, settling onto a barstool as Heathcliff melted into the corner. “She led us on yet another successful hunt.”

“Ah … Sherry did mention something about her going after another Whale …” Mycroft set the glass in front of Yi Sang, then reached beneath the counter for a bottle of whiskey, proceeding to pour the sailor a drink. “Now, what exactly can I get for you?”

“Well … my companion and I were looking to room here for the evening …”

Heathcliff exhaled slowly, tuning out the conversation as he scanned the inn—men crowded around large, rickety tables scattered throughout the dining room, swapping stories and downing tankards of liquor. Oftentimes, the amber liquid missed its mark, sloshing onto the floor, instead.

The harpooneer snorted, and was turning his gaze back towards the bar when something—nay, someone—caught his eye: a woman, the hem of her periwinkle gown trailing along the soiled floorboards, circled the tables, unimpeded by the sailors stumbling around her. She cut through the intoxicated mob like a ship through the Waves, her tawny hair streaming behind her as she weaved between toppled stools and unconscious men, scooping up dirty dishes as she passed.

Something about the way she carried herself intrigued Heathcliff—despite the chaos unfolding around her, she remained calm and collected, tending to her clients’ every need without complaint.

He shrank further into the corner as she drew near, his eyes dropping to the floor until she’d swept past. As her footsteps faded, Heathcliff slowly lifted his head, staring after her.

“Oi! You, there! You’re not ogling that lass, are you?”

Heathcliff flinched, shrinking back into the corner as one of the sailors staggered to his feet, scowling at the harpooneer. “Did not mean to stare,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” the man growled, lurching towards Heathcliff, who drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But you were, weren’t you? Bet you’re thinkin’ you have a shot with her, too.”

“Was not,” Heathcliff muttered, pressing his back against the wall as the man stumbled closer.

“What was that?” The sailor came to a stop a few feet away from the harpooneer, his face set in an ugly sneer. “Speak up, you bastard—no one can understand you when you’re mumbling.”

Heathcliff grit his teeth. “Said, ‘was not.’ You need your ears checked.”

“You think you’re clever, eh? You wouldn’t be talkin’ like that if you knew who I was.”

“Do not care who you are. Go away. Want to be alone.”

“Do you? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started makin’ eyes at the lass … now you’ve gotta pay the price.”

The sailor lunged forward with surprising speed, and Heathcliff raised an arm, barely blocking his fist. Swearing, the man struck out with his free hand, clawing at the edge of Heathcliff’s cloak, and the harpooneer hissed, attempting to squirm away, but it was no use—his assailant caught hold of his robe, grinning as he tore it from Heathcliff’s shoulders.

But his smile faded as the cloak fluttered to the floor, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the tattoos inked on Heathcliff’s skin. “By the Wing’s … you’re … you’re …”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the inn as everyone stared at Heathcliff—at the markings covering every inch of his exposed flesh.

“You’re from … the Middle …” The sailor stumbled backwards, clasping his hands before starting to beg. “P-please … spare me—I didn’t mean any of it, I swear!”

Heathcliff lowered his head. “Tattoos from Middle, yes. But I … I not with them. Not anymore.”

The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. Then, he straightened, his sneer returning. “You left the Middle? Isn’t that some kind of taboo?”

Heathcliff said nothing, and the man laughed as whispers passed through the crowd.

“Silence speaks louder than words, or so they say,” he said, grinning. “So, you ran out on the Middle, fully knowing the consequences … I wonder, just how much are they offerin’ for you?”

The sailor glanced at the men behind him, still smiling.

“Perhaps we should see about turning you in—we could use some extra cash, right boys?”

Murmurs of agreement echoed behind him, and the sailor, emboldened, grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist.

“Right, then … I’m goin’ to need your name—I’ll be givin’ it to the Middle, you know.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

The man blinked as a voice rang out from across the room, and Heathcliff lifted his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a woman striding towards them, her eyes flashing.

“Sh-Sherry …” the sailor stammered, stumbling backward. “I-I’ve gotta do this, love—if the Middle were to find out your brother was hiding this man, they’d kill him …”

“The Middle isn’t going to find out we’re serving this gentleman,” the woman replied icily. “You aren’t going to breathe a word about him to anyone. Right?”

“B-but … this is to pro—”

“Right?”

The man flinched as she cut him off, eyes dropping to his feet. “Right.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, nodding towards the door. “Now, leave, Victor. You’ve harassed my clients enough for one evening, and I shan’t tolerate your indecency a moment longer.”

“Sherry, I—”

“Leave. Now.”

Her words were like thunder, ringing clearly through the silent inn, and a shiver shot up Heathcliff’s spine as the sailor whimpered, slinking away. The woman watched him leave, then turned to the throng of men behind her, scowling.

“As for the rest of you … I trust you know what’ll happen if I find you’ve sold this man out?”

A chorus of soft “ayes” rippled through the crowd, and she nodded.

“Good—as you were, gentlemen.”

With that, the men exchanged glances, some smiling, others shaking their heads, before resuming their conversations. The woman knelt down, retrieving Heathcliff’s cloak from the floor and gently dusting it off before draping it over his shoulders.

“My sincerest apologies, sir … I do hope your stay hasn’t been spoiled by Victor’s poor conduct.”

Heathcliff blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her face—she was even prettier up close than she had been from afar, with sharp, angular eyes whose color reminded him of the sea at midday.

“Your eyes … like ocean.” He said finally, his words soft. “Very pretty.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”

Warmth bloomed in Heathcliff’s chest as the woman fussed with his cloak, straightening it so his tattoos were hidden. After a moment, she stepped back, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Now, then … how may I serve you, this evening?”

Again, Heathcliff blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled a response. “Came for room. Yi Sang … said it was safe here. Said Holmes siblings … accept me. As guest.”

“Ah … then you’ll need to speak to my brother, Mycroft.” She nodded towards the bar. “He’ll see to preparing your lodgings.”

“Yi Sang said … he’d handle it.” Heathcliff murmured, shuffling back into the corner. “So, I wait.”

“Is that so?” the woman frowned, brow furrowing. “Well, if you have any trouble, do let me know—I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.”

She offered him a curtsy, then melted back into the crowd, leaving Heathcliff staring after her.

“So … my sister’s caught your eye, has she?”

The harpooneer started, turning his head to find the bartender studying him curiously—only then did Heathcliff notice his sharp, angular eyes. “Your eyes … shaped like hers.”

Mycroft nodded, setting down the glass he was drying. “That’s about the only feature we share, it seems … well, aside from one peculiar faculty unique to our family, that is.”

“Heathcliff …” Yi Sang spoke softly, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “I … I failed you. I shouldn’t have allowed that man to expose you, and yet …”

“You have not failed me,” Heathcliff said. “You promised me a safe place, and this place … is safe. Even after seeing my tattoos, I am welcomed. Like you promised.”

Yi Sang was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Mycroft has generously arranged for us to reside in separate lodgings—and he’s providing dinner, on the house.”

“My sister will see to it you’re fed,” Mycroft said, chuckling softly. “Your friend’s in for quite the treat, Yi Sang … Sherry’s serving her finest chowder, tonight.”

“Please inform her I’ll be dining in my quarters.”

“Of course … and how about you, sir?” Mycroft addressed Heathcliff, raising an eyebrow.

“Eat in room, like Yi Sang.”

“Very well, then.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mycroft produced a pair of brass keys, setting them on the counter. “Yi Sang, you’ll be staying in room 212—it’s the third door on the right. And, Heathcliff, you’ll be in room 201—first door on the left after you climb the stairs.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Yi Sang murmured, his fingers curling around one of the keys. “Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated.”

“As is your business,” the bartender replied, winking. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen … and do let either Sherry or I know if you need anything.”

He bowed as they turned, making their way across the crowded dining hall. Heathcliff kept close to Yi Sang, eyeing the drunken mob warily as they approached the stairs.

“Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly as they climbed the creaking steps, “about what Mycroft said, before … you’d best tread with caution.”

The harpooneer blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The way you were looking at Sherry … if you truly do fancy her, you need to be careful. That man from earlier—the one who attacked you—he’s one of her admirers. And they don’t take kindly to competition from strangers, as you’ve no doubt come to realize yourself.”

“Was not staring for that reason,” Heathcliff muttered. “She stood out. Could not look away.”

Yi Sang sighed. “She does tend to have that effect … just be careful, alright?”

Heathcliff nodded as they reached the second-floor landing—ahead of them stretched a short corridor with four doors on each side, and they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Your room’s here,” Yi Sang said, motioning towards the door nearest to them. “If you need anything, you can always—”

“Call on you. I remember.” Heathcliff gently nudged his friend forward. “But I will not bother you. Not tonight. You need rest.”

Yi Sang stared at him for a moment, then his gaze softened as a smile spread over his face. “I shall get on that, then … and I am wishing you pleasant dreams, as well.”

Turning on his heel, Yi Sang vanished into the shadows, and Heathcliff released a slow sigh, his shoulders sagging as he unlocked the door leading to his chambers.

[autoneurotic]

небо в последнее время

[s1x-foot-deep]

kinda sorta screenshot redraw. idk where my big pack of skintone markers are rn</3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

im about to unpack my candles and yall Know im rubbing my lil fly hands together in delight

[eternal-learner]

might have screwed something up at work that resulted in costly damage and could cause very worrisome issues in the future but there's also a chance that it's not my fault and i won't know until i talk to my journeyman about it on monday so yay it's gonna bother me all weekend

[diltonsstrangescience]

I was thinking about Dilton’s insane garage laboratory again, and I got an idea for a comic. I would draw it, but I draw so slowly that it would take forever to finish a 6+ page comic, and I have too many other ideas to work on. So all you get is a written summary:

— Dilton’s dad hears from the other parents (or the newspaper) that multiple cars have been broken into or stolen in the past few weeks, and he decides the family needs to keep their car safely in the garage instead of the driveway, at least until the perpetrator is caught.

— He informs Dilton that this means Dilt needs to clear all his science stuff out of the garage to make room for the car.

— “You want me to dismantle my lab? Dad, please, don’t do this to me! Anything else!”

— “This isn’t a punishment, it’s just how things have to be for the foreseeable future. Your lab was our garage first, and we need a garage more than we need a lab right now.”

— “But how can you expect me to transport all of my equipment within the day? Where can I possibly store it all? How can I continue my experiments under these conditions?”

— “Why don’t you ask those friends of yours for help? I’m sure they’d be more than happy to lend a hand. That boy Moose, especially, should be useful in carrying your computers around.”

— So Dilton asks the gang for help, and they agree to help him clear out his lab, as well as each taking a portion of his science stuff to look after (there wasn’t enough space in Dilton’s room for all of it). They also agree to keep Dilton’s experiments going themselves, in small ways like taking notes on observations, or adding three drops of such and such to this concoction each day… etc. They’re all excited, thinking it’s going to be fun to try their hand at mad science for a while.

— Next comes a series of little Disasters caused by Dilton’s science in the hands of his inexperienced friends over the next few days.

— One of his friends ends up drinking some sort of potion (or multiple), either on accident or on purpose, and there’s some kind of weird effect—I’m not sure what yet, but almost definitely a minor transformation of some sort, on the same level as turning green or growing a tail or only talking in parrot squawks. This causes humorous problems in their life. (Jug wouldn’t drink unknown potions on purpose, because he has common sense, but Archie has none, so it would make more sense for him to do it intentionally.)

— One of his friends has to look after some animal test subjects, like mice in cages or something, but it turns out the animals have been made superintelligent, and they break out and start sabotaging the character with clever plots. The character fights back, mostly unsuccessfully, and things descend into Tom & Jerry territory. (I think this would be funny with Jug, especially since Hot Dog could be there too, animal vs animals.)

— One of his friends (maybe Betty?) has to look after a robot, and all seems cool and fine until it malfunctions (not her fault) and turns evil or chaotic and starts destroying things. (Its glowing eyes turn from green to red, so it’s clear that it’s evil now. This was an intentional design choice on Dilton’s part, as a warning sign in case of malfunction, and because it looks cool.)

— Veronica is given something she doesn’t need to observe or use, just store somewhere and not mess with. But at a fancy party, she tries to show off to her rich friends that she’s smart as well as beautiful and wealthy by showing off ”””her””” cool new invention, and she turns it on. She immediately loses control of it, whatever it does, and it causes a Disaster. This one’s working correctly, but Veronica doesn’t understand how it works or how it turns off, so it’s still causing a problem. (Hmm… maybe a weather-creating machine? Imagine a blizzard packed into a ballroom.)

— (Midge and Moose also helped Dilton, so I need to think of two more disasters. Or maybe, since they’re closer friends to Dilton, they know a thing or two about science and following instructions, so they don’t do anything they’re not supposed to, and they happen not to meet with any malfunction-type accidents. Everything goes fine with them.)

— The comic ends with Dilton’s dad reading in the newspaper that the crook who was breaking into and stealing all these cars has been caught and put in jail. He says to Dilton that this means their car is safe (because problems are very simple in this world), and so Dilton can have the garage back for his lab. (Let’s say it’s been like a week since the start of the comic.) Dilton is excited, and says he’ll go find his friends right away and tell them, and get his science stuff back. He rushes out the front door, only to find all his friends running up his sidewalk together, all carrying the science stuff he gave them and begging him to please take it all back! (Dilton is surprised, because he had no clue about all their problems, but everybody else looks like a wreck from their individual ordeals. This is all in stark contrast to how excited they seemed in the beginning to take on the science.)

— The end! That last scene was the punchline and final panel.

[moonsidesong]

my friend's game crashed suddenly in the middle of the investigation during dangan time today ........ he hadn't saved the whole chapter.......... ah...

[north-wilkesboro-moonshine-cave]

thank you to everyone who gave me advice on preparing for my first ever Tisha b’av service last night! I was surprisingly well prepared and it was a beautiful service