random-imagines-blog

[random-imagines-blog]

How do you feel about Queen of the damned Lestat?

I actually quite love that movie.

Going to see KoRN next month with my sister, tempted to yell 'I love you Lestat' since Jonathan Davis does his singing voice in the film.

[random-imagines-blog]

The Perfect Girl {LestatxReader Oneshot

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2149 Summary: A family night-walk. Notes: Contains swearing, vampire tendencies, prostitutes.

The three of you took to the street as naturally as a squirrel does to a tree, with your feet on the cobblestones and the light breeze seeming to blow through Lestat’s hair just right, that more of his face, and those chiseled cheekbones, are exposed. As you walked past house after house, establishment after establishment, the air just kept feeling better and better. There was something sweet to it tonight. Or perhaps that was just the small girl that was standing between you and Lestat, both of her arms thrust upward, holding onto both of your hands.

Oh, how she looked like a doll, a smaller version of both Lestat and yourself. The dress that she was wearing was the same fabric as yours, a soft silk, with a rose-colored ribbon around the waist, which was meant to attempt to bring some color onto your skin. It was after dark, as it always was when you three departed from the home that Lestat had bought for the three of you in this city, needing something new, something fresh after Europe. An exit from ancient history, into the modern era - into America.

The streets were narrow, and there were times when Lestat would trail behind, and you would take the lead, passing by the people on their business. The shopkeepers about to close up for the night. The women of the night who would look eagerly at your husband, until they noted how secure he was holding the hand of your daughter. The bakers who were just getting into their kitchens to start to prepare the morning’s bread. And your girl, your little Margot, greeted each and every one.

“Bonsoir!” She chimed through an open window, which lead into a bar. Two gentlemen who were sitting near that window turned their heads to look out. They looked the grumpy sort. The ones who had worked all day and just wanted a quiet drink before they head home to their nagging wives. And yet - they seemed to fall under her charm. Like all people did.

“Good evening,” One of them said, a wide smile on his face, showing a couple of missing teeth. Your eyes met with Lestat’s for a moment and you both tried not to laugh. Your girl - she had the charm of her father. “A bit late for a stroll, isn’t it little lady?”

“We believe that it is essential for our daughter to learn what the world is really like,” Lestat said, smoothly. “Not just in the day, but in the night as well.”

You held back a chuckle at how he handled that. There were a plethora of excuses that you used about why you were out at night. Why you were never seen in the daylight. Why the three of you never seem to eat in public. Why a person who has gone missing was last seen in your company. You had answers for everything. But it was Lestat who seemed to enjoy the lying the most. No - not lying, he would insist. Acting.

“I see,” The other man said, his eyes squinting, showing that perhaps he didn’t, not very well anyway. “Well … bone swear to you too, little miss.”

“It’s Bonsoir,” Margot corrected, kindly, her blue eyes bright as she seemed to be focusing more on the neck of the man rather than on his words. “It’s French! It means Good Evening. Papa taught me that.”

“Young minds,” Lestat said, gazing proudly down upon his daughter. “Easier to fill than older ones.”

The two men agreed and the three of you then continued on your walk. “She gets that from you, you know,” You smiled over to Lestat.

“The charm?” Lestat asked with amusement.

“The chattiness,” You said back, watching as his brows furrowed together, as he attempted to figure out if it was a compliment or not. He finally gave a little sigh, and a click of his tongue, adjusting his hat as the three of you kept on walking.

Vampires - the three of you fit into this category. Lestat was the oldest out of you three, having lived many lifetimes before he had come across you, a strange woman, living in a superstitious city, shunned by everyone. You had been born under a bad sign, so people said. Your mother passed away giving birth to you. And then your father had passed away shortly after that. No one had picked up the pieces after. You were both raised by the village, who would throw you scraps once in a while, and look the other way when you would take clothing that was drying from their ropes, and raised by yourself.

He had been intrigued by you when he stopped in the village on his travels. You were just supposed to be a little entertainment, and then he would kill you, and disappear the next night. Let the people think that you were leaving with him. But you had turned out to be so much more. You were interesting. You had a rough charm that he was sure he could soften with time. You had a brilliant mind and a sharp wit, and you were able to keep up with everything that he had wanted to talk about. And, of course, you were completely charmed by him, one of his favorite things in another person.

You asked him questions about his travels. About him. And as he read your mind, he saw no other motive in you despite pure curiosity. You didn’t ask him about his money, not did your hand reach for his coinpurse. And as a social pariah, your mind never even went to the idea of romance, of sex, or of marriage. And not once did you think of asking him to take you from this place.

He was flattered. And flattery will get you anywhere.

He didn’t give you much choice in the matter. He answered your questions, and found himself divulging more than perhaps he should have. And he turned you that very night. Your screams of pain were agony to his ears as you died in his arms, his hand clamped over your mouth so as not to arouse suspicion.

You did not fight it as much as some others that Lestat had seen over the years. When you awoke and discovered what you were, you did not think of yourself as a monster. You did not curse his very name for turning you. No, what you saw were opportunities. Eternal life was ahead of you, like a road that just kept on going. A road that could turn anywhere but never hit a dead-end.

As you would later find out, there was an advantage to being born under the bad sign, as people had said. There was always something odd about you. Not in your appearance. Not in your demeanor. It was just - like an aura around you, which people could sense. You weren’t like the others, even if you were kind, and friendly, and smart, and beautiful. And this thing - it was the power to rekindle life inside of the dead.

You weren’t born with the ability to create vampires. That only came once Lestat turned you. But you did, inexplicably, bring the both of you back to life in the peak of climax, just enough to where you became pregnant. The only vampire to ever do so, according to legend. You even had cravings, like living pregnant women did, but instead of sweets, you were craving the blood of children. You indulged, though that was a dark part in your life. But it brought you to the brightest.

Margot de Lioncourt.

She grew slowly. She looked a sickly child, and would surely have died if you and her Papa hadn’t hunted for her, brought blood for her. Laid out a feast of human offerings and let her decide which warm neck to nibble into. She learned to crawl between those bodies. She learned to talk through hearing their pleading. Her first words had been ‘Don’t eat me’ which had been hilarious to Lestat at the time.

But she did grow, your dear little dove.

Now she looked to be the age of around six or seven, but she was much older than that. She adjusted to her small frame quite well, enjoying being the little one. She reveled in the attention that being a sweet child brought her. The coddling from you and Lestat. It was easy to miss the spark of genius inside of her eyes if she was attempting to hide it.

She was your angel. Your light. Just like Lestat was. You married the blonde man - not legally, but spiritually, tying yourself to him underneath the full moon one night, wearing a beautiful dress made by a wonderful seamstress. And you became a real family. Not at all what you had expected. Nor him.

He hadn’t yet tired of you. He never grew weary, never longed for something else, for some other life. In fact, oddly enough, Lestat wanted to dive deeper into this relationship. He was already thinking of trying again. Seeing his features on a little one and knowing that he was loved, unconditionally by them. It did something to him. It both softened and improved his large ego. He wanted another. He wanted to see a boy, one that took more after you, perhaps.

“Hello!”

Your daughter’s word brought you out of your thoughts, and Lestat’s out of his. This time, she was talking to a woman of the night. Smiling towards her, despite her pock-marked face. She never discriminated, your girl. Though that could be because she didn’t have a refined palatte yet. She’d drink from anyone, young and old, while you and Lestat had your preferences.

“Hello,” The woman said, smiling down at her. “Aren’t you a pretty one. Might take my job one day, you might.”

“Unlikely,” Lestat said, his voice cold, putting a damper on the evening. It sent a chill up your spine, whenever he spoke like that, since it was so rare. The woman jumped slightly, and receded back into the shadows after being told off like that. I had no doubts that Lestat would come back around for that woman. She should be worried about more than her job.

“Mon amour,” You purred, trying to turn his attention back onto you. Back onto your little family. “Our little one will grow up to be so much more spectacular than even we could imagine. Do not let the words of some prostitute make you think otherwise.”

“What’s a prostitute, Papa?” Your daughter asked, looking between you. She had also caught onto the twist in her father’s voice, being acutely perceptive. “Please don’t be upset, Papa. I won’t take her job. I don’t know what she does but I won’t take it, I promise!”

Oh, your unbeating heart. Your little one was just too cute for words, trying to please her father like that. You let go of her hand just in time to watch Lestat scoop her up into his arms. She was a touch too big for him to carry, but neither of them cared about the social norms. “I am not upset with you,” He assured her, nuzzling into the blonde hair that they shared, the exact same hue. “You do not need to make such promises. When you are a little older, perhaps, you will understand.”

“And we’ll look back on this and laugh,” You assured. That made your little Margot break out into a smile right then and there.

“We can laugh now?” She suggested, putting her hand on her Papa’s cheek. “Laugh, Papa?”

Lestat let out a breath, and then brought that smile onto his lips. The same charming one that had won you over all of those years ago. “Yes, we can laugh now,” He said, forcing out a chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes. With the mood being altered by that woman who you shot a glare at as you passed, the three of you decided the walk was finished and you would return home for the time being.

But that didn’t stop little Margot from being herself.

She was more careful this time, waving shyly at people, occasionally letting out a ‘Bonsoir,’ or a ‘Hello!’ to those that she recognized, but didn’t talk to strangers, lest her dad become grumpy again.

This would all be forgotten the next night, when that woman wouldn’t be around to make such comments. She’d be back to her old self, greeting strangers and acquaintances alike. She took after her dad too much, enjoying the attention, enjoying being social. And you couldn’t blame her for that.

She really was your perfect girl.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a shapeshifter, and Legolas finding out.

Legolas only knew you as the human, though his eyes did always seem to pick up something in your gaze, in your movements. In your very smell. Something different, hidden beneath the surface. But he didn’t have the faintest clue of what. It was two days before the full moon, something only Legolas seemed to notice since the others only cared about the light that came from it rather than it’s fullness, when he caught you attempting to sneak away. When you called him out on it, you barely responded, just shooting him a glare and then continuing back with the group. He vowed then to keep an eye on you. It was suspicious behaviour, to say the least. He stopped you three times over the course of the night, and you gave no reason as to why you were trying to leave. Finally, when even he needed to rest, you had disappeared, deep into the night. Gandalf had merely said that you would be along to join them later. Nothing more. But Legolas - he couldn’t just accept that as an answer. There was a rustling in the sky during the night of the full moon. Everyone else was asleep and yet, Legolas did not feel alone in his wakefulness. Something inside of his brain, like a second outside voice, was telling him to get up, to go for a walk, not far, but far enough. And what greeted him was something that his eyes had not seen in a great many years. A dragon. It was playing in a lake that it was almost too small for. Acting more like a puppy than a dragon. Even rolling around on the adjoining meadow to rub their scent over everything. Definitely not dragon behaviour. He watched with intrigue until he caught sight of something that caused him to tense. The movement was enough to draw your eye - which was exactly what he had been looking at. For those eyes - that color? It was undeniably yours. Your large nostrils moved closer to the intrusion upon your private midnight escapades, and gave a large sniff. Something inside of that brain of yours seemed to recognize Legolas, and didn’t blow out the slightest bit of smoke or steam at him. Being bold - as Legolas often was - he followed after you, and took the opportunity to climb up one of the trees quickly, almost as if he had run up it instead of ascending the branches, and - Pop - Landed on your back. You could feel the weight, but you could also still smell who it was, someone calming, someone pleasing. Elves were friends of the forest, and were you not a creature who dwelt in one during these full moons? It made sense that it was easy for him to tame you, to get you to fall under his comfortable spell, and for you to trust him enough to ride you through the skies on a little venture, before landing on the ground just before your transformation back. Not a word was spoken about it. But something new, something stronger than any metal, had been forged.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

The Real Self {Lestat x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2761 Summary: You've got a lot on your mind lately, and it comes out while on a walk with your dear friend, Lestat. Notes: Contains talk about sexuality, killing.

The blood was still wet enough to wipe from your chin with your fingers, rather than have to use your nails because it had dried and was sticking while flaking. Still, there was a slight stain left behind, which was always annoying. Luckily, it was dark, your kill wasn’t going to be found for a while, and the lights in the lightposts were flickering, leaving you and your friend for the night in the comfort of the shadows.

“Ahh - the kill,” Lestat said, droning on as if he were dictating a book. “The most glorious part of the night. The only thing that would make it better would be a cold body, waiting in my coffin for me. Do you agree?”

His bright blue eyes settled on you, and your thoughts did immediately go to the last person that you had shared an encounter with. Who just so happened to be the first person you had shared an encounter with. The one and only.

“Yes, absolutely,” You said, clearing your throat and then you nodded. It had been some time since then - the girl had been a traveller, never settling down. You hadn’t come across her since, though you thought of her often.

Lestat noticed your tone. He might be a vampire who often lived in his own head, in a world all his own, but he was also surprisingly intuitive of people. The throat clearing. The awkwardness in which you had said it. It told him more than he actually needed to be told.

“You have no lover, waiting for you at home?” He questioned with a cock of his eyebrow. You looked at the path in front of you, easily seen by your eyes, but not to any humans who might be lingering around. You thought of just running, speeding down until you reached your own home in New Orleans, the private dwelling near the swamplands that you called your domain. But Lestat would catch up, and have even more questions for you. He was not one to let things go, this Lestat.

“No,” You finally answered after a moment. “Apart from the little dust-bunnies that linger in the corners because I’m too lazy to sweep, it’s just I there.”

Lestat let out a pitiful huff. “Then we must find you one. A warm one, a cold one? What are your preferences? A man, I presume?”

You didn’t answer this last question, too bashful to do so. He was so bold with his questions, asking you whether you preferred males in the way that humans asked one another if they preferred tea or coffee. Finally, you let out a short breath that your lungs hardly needed, and mumbled - “Cold. Then I don’t have to worry about hurting them.’

“That’s something you worry about?’ Lestat asked with a pleasant-sounding laugh. He was genuinely amused by the idea, which made you feel all the more sheepish. “Y/N, killing them after is half of the fun. The way that their blood is flowing so eagerly after climax … there is nothing better. You can taste the heat.”

You licked your lips as he put the image in your mind. You could imagine it. A woman, perfectly tailored to your preferences, the warm blood spreading through her system. The way that she would move beneath your tongue. Moan beneath your kiss. How you felt like you could just rip her open and move inside of her, wear her as a warm blanket.

That’s when you shook it out of your head. You knew there would be no such thing, not tonight. Killing for food was one thing. Killing for fun was entirely another.

“I’ll be alright, Lestat, thank you,” You said, as smoothly as you could muster. “Perhaps another night. The sun will be rising soon - it’s darkest now before the dawn.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Lestat said, with a sweeping motion of his arm and a bow of his head. “Now that I’m particularly interested in this conversation. Sex - it’s one of the greatest pleasures that a person can have, and it’s especially good as a vampire. I’m sure you have some tales?”

You took a deep breath, your lungs almost feeling sore since you rarely did so. They didn’t get much use, but the side of you that remembered being human did sometimes fall back into the habit of deep breaths, of sighing. “I’m sure none of them compare to your tales, Lestat. Tell me, how is Louis? Or are you still with Antoinette?”

He let out a low chuckle, and pushed his long blonde hair out of his face. “I see what you are doing. Deflecting. Luckily, I do have stories to tell so I will allow it.” His charming smile lit up the night, his blue eyes bright enough to blind, even in the pitch-black area. “Antoinette is dead. Truly dead. I had turned her - for a time. Had her follow Louis and that insolent girl for a time.”

“Oh, the task that I had turned down,” You said with a smile. As one of Lestat’s friends in the area, of course he had come to you first. But you had declined. Spying was not something that you were interested in, especially when it came to Louis. Conspiracies, scheming, all of the planning, it was not your cup of blood, to quote part of the human expression. You preferred the quieter things. Enjoying your eternity by learning, by reading, by indulging in hobbies. You had all the time in the world, and you were using it in the way that you found to be the fullest. “And I assume now - she got caught?”

“We both did,” He sighed dramatically. That was the only use for his lungs, apart from an ostentatious cigarette. “I ended up poisoned and Antoinette burned to death. Such a waste of beauty. You two might have gotten along, but we’ll never know now.”

“Shame,” You said, feeling a tingle going up your spine. You had heard many things about Antoinette, and the beauty that she had possessed. Rather than feeling jealous of her the way that other people of you gender did, you grew intrigued. Would she be even more beautiful if she was under your hands? Would her lips taste of roses? Would her loins carry a sweet scent, made all the more aromatic by sweat making its way down her body? It was hard to picture her as a vampire, as you found most of you became cold, and not just temperature wise. Against the world. “There’ll be others, Lestat. Now, what happened with Louis?”

He got into the whole story, which was a distraction from your own life. Lestat’s had always been more interesting. Fires, and attempted murder, and betrayal from those that he had turned, that he had loved. Well, Claudia was a little give or take but he had tried to love her, for Louis.

“And this is why you are a lucky one,” He sighed, his blue eyes pinpointed at you through the darkness. “You have not created, so you do not know the trials that one goes through with them. Like - children.”

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s not why I haven’t turned anyone,” You admitted. “I’ve thought about it though, many a time. But actually doing it … it’s a quixotic dream. Especially knowing all you had gone through.”              

“My experiences have been bad, but I haven’t given up yet. Not on love and adoration. And not on Louis. I’ll get him in the end,” Lestat said, confidently. “Now, back to you. How can you live such a lonely life?

If You could have blushed, you would have, starting to feel bashful, and a touch indignant. “I am not lonely. I’m -” Your brain went through different words that you could use before settling on the one. ”-Selective.”

“The whole world is already ours for the choosing. I’m sure you will find someone who fits these standards,” Lestat said with a wave of his hand. Oh, how you envied him more than ever then. He had this pride to him, perhaps unearned, but also inspiring. He felt no shame when he walked around with a woman, nor did he have any when he walked around with a man. It was less about what was in the trousers and the petticoats, but the beauty of the face. He saw attractiveness, no matter the gender, and pounced on it, taking it, owning it, whether through sex, or the rare occasion, turning them.

He’d accept you.

You knew that.

He almost seemed to know, and to have a smirk on his face, urging for you to finally come and tell him.

“It’s not the lack of choice -” You said, and then cut yourself off again. Could you really say these words? You acknowledged your own preferences to yourself, kept them quiet. But you’ve never said it out loud. You’ve never expressed it towards another person. “It’s - lack of acceptance.”              

“Acceptance?” He asks. “Do lions care about the acceptance of mice? Do Gods care about the acceptance of humans?” You opened your mouth to answer that but he cut you off with a small chuckle of realization, and continued. “When you were a mortal, did you look down at your plate and wonder what the cow, or chicken, or pig thought of you? So why would you care about what the humans think now? That is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, looking down at your boots, suddenly interested in how the laces looked.

“You think they will care that you are a vampire? Most will beg you to be changed. We are … what everyone wishes to be.”

“I don’t care what they think about me being a vampire,” You finally huffed. You thought that he understood but - was he still smirking? Your mouth was running ahead of you in a way that it rarely did. Only Lestat could frustrate you enough to get you to babble out the truth. “I care about - about liking both men and women.”

It was out in the open now. There’s no taking it back.

It hung in the air, as if any passer-by would be able to pluck it out like dandelion fluff and be able to hear it. To be able to know your deepest-darkest secret. It brought on more stress than being a human-eater, a drinker of blood. A killer. An immortal who would outlive everyone you ever cared about. In this day and age, people had their houses burned for less. Just a rumor would have you ostracized from the city.

You held your breath, despite not needing to breathe. There was no feeling of light-headedness. There was no strain upon your lungs. The only place you felt any bit of it was in your cheeks.

Lestat - he laughed.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” You muttered. “It’s not as easy for some people as it is for others.”

“But it could be,” Lestat said, that gleeful expression on his face. “It is more common than you think, even if it is behind closed doors. Women with women. Men with men. A menage et toi.”

You rolled your eyes and continued the walk towards one of the exits of the park, towards the street. “I am not you, Lestat. I’m not greedy. I’m fine with only having one lover at a time. I don’t need one of both.”

“Greedy?” Lestat asked with a laugh, catching up easily enough. “I call it multi-tasking while being opportunistic.”

You let out a small snort at how he was always able to give things a positive spin. His brain was absolutely fascinating. “I must be insane,” You said, lowly, so as not to let anyone hear. After all, in this day and age, just being overheard saying that would get you put in the asylum. “Thinking that I could get you to relate to any kind of anxiety or fear.”

“Oh, I understand,” Lestat said, his footsteps accompanying yours on the stone path as it gave way to the sidewalk and you were visible under warm lamp light. It was late, there were only one or two carriages on the street, clip-clopping horse hooves. “I just think it’s a foolish reason. This is New Orleans. Falling for two different genders is the least sinful thing that could happen on these streets.”

Well, he did have a point about that. Considering the whorehouses, the gambling dens, the speakeasys, the murders that vampires weren’t to blame for.

Humans.

Sinful creatures.

“Depends on who you ask,” You said, turning to the right, the direction that you lived in. Lestat came with you. Of course he did. Once he was interested in something, he was damn impossible to shake off. “I’m sure the church would still think it’s extremely sinful.”

“Are you telling me that you care about the church now?” Lestat asked with amusement.

“Well no, I’m just making a point -“

“It is a foolish point.”

“You’re a foolish point!” You replied, feeling the frustration now. He let out another chuckle and graciously allowed you a silent moment to calm down before he began to speak again.

“I think you accept too easily living in the shadows, victimizing yourself, restricting yourself,” He said with a hum, nodding politely at a policeman across the street, who barely gave you a second glance. “It allows you to remain safely uncomfortable.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Safely uncomforable?” You scoffed. “Now I’m starting to think that I”m the sane one.”

“You’re definitely not sane, you’re far from it,” Lestat smirked. “You put so much stake on what other people might think, you use it as an excuse not to go out there. Love is the scary thing. Not public opinion, no?”

Deep in your gut, you realize that he’s right. But this is Lestat. You can’t ever let him know that he’s right, lest he hold it over you forever.

But he is right.

It was easier not to try. It was easier to just give up and continue your lonesome life, rather than put yourself out there to be rejected. Even if you were to meet a man, have a night out, it wouldn’t make you any less attracted to women. Just as being with a woman wouldn’t make you any less attracted to men. Did that make you greedy? Wanting it all?

“Well - I - ”

The court of public opinion, everyone knows, is more powerful than any lawful one. But which was worse? The potential of being outcasted because of the way you found both sexes endearing, or finding someone that you love, which could go one of two ways.

You could turn them. Spend a life together. Though this could mean that they would forever resent you. Try to kill you, like Louis with Lestat. Or it would just fizzle out, because you couldn’t tell them the truth about being a vampire. And you would have lost love -

“Your brain is so loud, it’s torturous,” Lestat said, his voice a half whine, rubbing his temples. “I would be able to hear you from Paris! Just tell me I am right so we can move on!”

You realized that you’ve reached your house, or at least to the path that winded off of the road and would take you there. Lestat had stopped walking, still rubbing his temples, his eyes closed.

“You might have a point,” You conceded. “It’s … easier to be afraid.”

“Finally, a non-foolish point,” Lestat said, opening his eyes. “I’ll leave you with that. Same time tomorrow? We’ll go to one of the social clubs. Find you a partner for the night. But I’m not helping you dispose of them in the morning.”

“I’ll … think about it,” You murmured, knowing that you had a lot to think about. Lestat bid you adieu but before he was able to turn the corner, you called out his name. “Lestat?”

He stopped, cocking his head in response.

“Thank you.”

You don’t wait around for a response, just walking, one food after the other, towards your home. But regardless, you could hear him.

“Finally. This is why everyone should listen to me. All the time.”

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being in a relationship with Henry Wu.

The smile spread across Henry’s face as you came up on the screen, the cameras catching you at work, training the Indominus Rexes. “That’s it, that’s it,” I was saying in a slow, smooth voice. We were working on our calmness and proximity training, getting them okay with having me be closer to them. They were still young-ins, these four. The grin grew even bigger as he watched me gently lay a hand upon the scaly head of the dinosaur. This beautiful creature which would grow up to be one of the world’s best predators - and here you were, touching it calmly. “Good - good,” You continued to coo, taking your hand away and offered it a juicy steak, throwing it up in the air. It caught it with precision and enthusiasm, chowing down. You went on to do this with all four, the last of which was the most excitable of all because he wanted that steak badly. He nearly nipped at you, but you managed to get him calm again, then rewarded him. “Excellent job,” Henry said into my comms unit as you took a couple of steps back away from the dinos. “I still don’t know how you get them to be calm for you like that.” “You should know,” You said with a laugh, heading towards the jeep. “I have a skill with difficult creatures. How do you think I managed to tame you?” His cheeks went pink as he looked around the lab, making sure that no one else was listening in to our conversation. “You think you tamed me?” “I think we all know I did, loverboy,” You said with a grin. “Dinner at the cafeteria tonight, you and me? Anything but steak.” “It’s a date,” Henry said, a goofy little grin on his face as you turned off your comm to drive, a warmth going through his blood.

Requested by: @yey56

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine request please for Valkyrie(MCU) being a supportive sister figure to you?

“Do you want me to stab him?” These were the first words out of Valkyrie’s mouth once she found out that you and your partner had called it quits after a particularly bad argument. You had gone to New Asgard as an escape while they moved their things out of your shared apartment, and were staying with Val. “No, you don’t need to stab him,” You said with a sigh, laying back on the soft grass. “Because I get diplomatic immunity, as a King,” She said, proudly. You ran your fingers over the soft tufts, not pulling, just - feeling. Experiencing. “So I don’t mind doing it. It would be a pleasure, actually. He always had creep-face.” “What the hell is creep face?” You asked, pausing, looking up towards your best friend. No, more like a sister. Best friends change throughout lives. Sisters don’t. “Just something about his proportions, they were all wrong. You know … Thor is single, I could -“ “Not going there,” You said, intently shaking your head. “He’s too much like … a dog. He even smells like a wet one sometimes. It’s horrible.” “That’s completely valid,” Valkyrie nodded, thinking about it. “Korg?” “I’ll actually kill you,” You glared, playfully. “Oh, I’m so telling Korg you’re into him,” Valkyrie said, getting to her feet. You scrambled up to yours, without the quickness that she had so you were a few steps behind her. She had already started running through the village, calling for the Kronan, while you attempted to tackle her down to make her stop.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine re-meeting Charles after years apart.

It had been years since you had seen him last, since you moved away from New York state with your parents, but still, the boy with the bright, friendly blue eyes hadn’t left your mind. One letter arrived, and it changed the course of your life - a letter, thirty so years onward, from that boy, asking you to come and join his school of ‘Gifted Youngsters’. Another blink and you were on the train back to Westchester County, excitement brewing inside of your stomach. He remembered you too - writing to you as if you were still a dear, dear friend. You stepped off of the train once you were at the station, holding your luggage awkwardly in front of you - only one suitcase, all you really needed in this world, and looked around for those familiar eyes. It took you a moment before you settled on them, your old friend, sitting in a wheelchair, running a hand nervously through his hair. Someone was with him, his back to you, talking to Charles. “You look good, stop fussing.” He looked a little embarrassed as he stared at you, realizing that you had overheard what his friend was saying, and there was no way that you could hide the small snicker that came out of you as you approached. “Yes, Charles, you look good,” You grinned, watching as his friend turned around and bashfully adjusted his glasses. “Incredible, in fact. You’ve still got those really intense eyes I remember.” “Tell me more of what you remember,” Charles said playfully, making you shake your head as you moved in closer to bend down and give him a hug. He still smelt good, probably freshly showered, and you pressed a soft kiss upon his cheek. “But that would take too long,” You said, backing up with a shy expression. Of course he turned out hot. He wasn’t settling with just being charming, he had the looks to back it up. “Let’s look forward, and you can tell me all about this school.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

For Daniel Desario; Imagine comforting Daniel after his final break up with Kim and you find out he broke up with her because he likes you

The news was spread throughout the school before you even stepped foot inside of it - Daniel and Kim had broken up, though no one really knew why. You could hear the speculation as you walked through the school, peeking into classrooms and around corners to find Daniel, to see if he needed someone right now. Instead, what you had found was yourself being shoved against a locker by Kim. “Thanks a lot, skeeze,” The burly blonde said, spitting venom in your direction. You stared at her, surprised, with wide eyes. She could be a bitch but she hardly ever turned it towards you. Not seriously, anyway. This was very serious. “Kim I -” You started but she give you the finger and walked off, two girls following her, shooting you glares. You stared after their backs, only to find yourself startled once more by an arm going around her shoulders. “Don’t mind her,” Daniel said, thrusting out to chin to follow Kim’s back. “She always gets more bitchy when she’s dumped.” “So - you dumped her?” You asked, leaning back against the wall, raising an eyebrow. Daniel shrugged dismissively, looking down the hall. The bell rang overhead and everyone was heading to their classes but the two of you stood still. “Why?” You finally asked, after another minute. “Do I need a reason?” He asked, looking over his shoulder down the hallway. Kim had long vacated, leaving the school rather than sticking around. Probably only came to throw her little tantrum for attention. “Usually people have one,” You pointed out. “Alright, uhh - she’s a bitch.” “She’s always been a bitch, try again.” “I like someone else?” He suggested. You hummed at the sound of that, wondering if there was some truth in that. Which only brought you to Kim’s earlier words. Thanks a lot. But - no? You couldn’t be presumptuous. “Lindsey?” You asked, looking to his dark brown eyes, which were more telling of his emotions than his words. HE grimaced, which told you no. “Who then?” “God, you’re stupid,” He said, the corner of his lips going up in a smile. “Meet me at the smoking pit when you figure it out.” He walked away, leaving you thinking. Kim and Lindsey were the only two girls that he only seemed to talk to. Except for - If the signs were pointing to it, it wasn’t being presumptuous, was it? Thanks a lot, skeeze. You sighed, looking towards the closed door of your classroom down the hall, then turned away to walk towards the smoking pit, heart beating fast, hoping you weren’t wrong.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Freakshow part ii {The Lost Boys x Reader}

Requested by: @creepypastacrazier93 Wordcount: 4532 Summary: You finally get to meet the boys who your father figure told you about. Warnings: Touching, Swearing, An almost Kardashian moment. Divider by: @enchanthings Part one here

You followed Max out of the familiar building, going to an even-more familiar alleyway. The store had changed, but nothing back here had. It was the same rusted chain-link fence that separated the electronics store from a pizza place. As you inhaled, you could still detect the old, dried blood from when you had climbed over it as a teenager, back in your human years, and scraped your knee. You had been with Benson then. The memories kept washing over you like the tide, and you looked away from the fence to the group that was walking towards you and Max.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but a small part of you was. The group of boys that had walked into the store were now approaching. Now that you could see them under the starlight rather than the bright, artificial, neon lights of the store, it was more obvious what they were. Vampires. Just like you. Four of them, perhaps a little older than your own appearance but not by much.

When Max had talked about having a family, you had thought that he would find himself a wife first. That’s usually where people started. The kids came later. Or in this case, the teenagers. It was starting to bring up red flags, even if you found it hard to think negatively of Max.

“Boys,” Max said, his voice pleased, though cautious. He was standing by your side, an arm around your shoulders, his hand almost holding you back. It was clear that he was much more concerned with your reaction than those of his ‘boys.’ “This is y/n. The one I’ve been telling you about.”

“We know,” The one with highly-teased hair said, walking forward with a big grin on his face. “We could smell you a mile away, toots. Been looking forward to being able to do it up close.”

You blinked and took a half step back as he moved in closer, and seemed to try to just breathe you in.

“Stop being a weirdo, Paul,” The one with the curls said, pulling the blonde back. “You’re going to scare them off before we even get a chance to introduce ourselves.”

“Sorry, my bad,” The one allegedly named Paul said, giving you a crooked grin. He was still standing closer to you than the others, and it felt like you could see - everything. The flecks of product that were stuck to his hair - Aquanet, from the smell of it, the hint of a nipple that was poking out from the mesh of his top beneath his long leather jacket, the glazed look in his eyes as if he was high. He definitely was. You could smell it now. The skunky scent of weed. And he probably ingested something as well, it was harder to detect unless he was bleeding. “Just been really excited to meet you since we got here. You don’t disappoint, girl.”

“And just - why have you been so excited to meet me?” You asked, cautiously.

The one called Paul laughed. He seemed to have the mouth of the group, but the one with the steely blue eyes and the intense gaze - you could tell that he was the one that was really in charge.

“This, right here,” He said, grabbing hold of the chainlink fence and shaking it. Under the stars, and the nearby lights which lit up the alleyway dimly, you could see the rusted flecks on the top of the fence. The cut that you had just been thinking about. You could feel your knee throbbing, just from the memory of it. Your undead heart hurt as further memories of your love, and his betrayal, came through your mind. Paul didn’t seem to notice this, he was gazing too affectionately at the baked-in blood stains. “Still smells so sweet. Drew me right in. I couldn’t stop coming here after I was turned. “

You wrinkled your nose at the notion. This boy was sniffing at a bloodstain that was decades old. And that’s what made him interested in you?

“You make it sound so dirty, dude,” The curly haired one said, tugging Paul back towards the group and then stepped forward. “He’s the weird one, so don’t mind him. I’m Marco.”

“So which one are you then?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “If he’s the weird one then you’re the …”

“Charming one,” Marco said with a wide grin. “And then that’s David, he’s the …” He seemed to have trouble thinking about what to say, so ‘David’ took over.

“I’m the leader of the pack,” He said, smoothly. “What I get, I want.”

“Yeah,” Marco nodded, dismissively. “Then that’s Dwayne. He’s the quiet one, unless you get him really high, then he’ll talk about anything for hours.”

Your eyes took in the other two. The one with the hair that was white blonde, and the other with the long dark hair. Under the moonlight, like this, you had to admit, it was a group of very good looking boys. Even though you were building up your walls, you had eyes.

“Okay. Paul, David, Dwayne and Marco,” You repeated, making sure that you had it right. “Shit. Do you realize how creepy it is that you just stand around, sniffing an old bloodstain?” You looked back over to Max. “You need to get this shit replaced. I’ll pay for it. Because that’s just -” You turned back to the boys, incredulously. Paul in particular. “Do you think that’s flattering or something? Did you think that was going to make me swoon? Oh, these strange boys have been sniffing up my bloodstains! No. That’s weird guys. Weird.”

Paul and Marco started to crack up, and David lifted both of his hands, slapping them on the back of their heads.

“That’s why I wanted you to come visit,” Max said, clearing his throat. “Because there was a reaction to your blood that I hadn’t seen before in any other vampire. They were drawn to it. Not because of thirst but -“

“Soulmates,” Paul interrupted.

“Excuse me?” You rounded back on him. “Soulmates?”

“Shut up, Paul,” David said, and nudged his way in front of the other blonde, coming in closer to you. Up close, he truly was imposing. Those light blue eyes that had a killer sheen in them. The same sheen that you know that yours held. Hints of blonde facial hair on his pale skin. He wasn’t that tall, only about five foot nine in those lifted boots of his, but he held himself like he was taller. “Y/N, let’s go for a walk.”

“I’m not going for a walk with-” You started to scoff, but you lost your words as his eyes seemed to stare right into your own. His voice didn’t waver. He wasn’t asking - he was being considerate and letting you know what was going to happen. “Fine,” You muttered.

You stepped towards David, and he made no attempt to touch you. He didn’t try to take your arm, or hold your hand. He didn’t need to do either of those things to feel like he was controlling you. To have a hold on you. You looked over your shoulder back towards the boys. Dwayne, the silent one, his dark eyes were upon you, and he offered you the slightest upward curl of his lips. Max looked a little concerned and Paul seemed to be whining about how he wanted to be the first one to get some alone time with him. Marco then tackled him and the two of them began to roll around on the ground, fighting one another.

You weren’t exactly unhappy to be leaving the scene.

David’s jacket flared out behind him, almost like a cape, as you made your way back onto the boardwalk together. You put your hands into your pockets, waiting for him to say the first thing. Make the first move. Instead, he was taking his time, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He put one in his mouth and lit it, taking the first inhale before he offered it to you, to which you shook your head.

“Do you like bikes?” He asked, finally.              

“Like bicycles? Or cycles?” You asked. He motioned his head towards a row of the latter, four motorcycles, standing pretty in a row. You weren’t an expert but you could tell that they were high-end. Well taken care of. Expensive.

“Those are ours. I’ll take you for a ride later.”

“You’re confident,” You remarked. “Do most girls just agree to get on the back of your bike? Must be quite an easy way to get your food.” You let out a small snort as further jokes came to your head. “Drive-thru. Fast food.”

David chuckled, a grin that looked as if it was a rare occurrence since his cheeks seemed stretched thin, on his face. “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“What did you expect?” You questioned. “What did Max tell you about me?”

“Not much. He wanted us to see you for ourselves.”

“So I’m the only one going in blind to this, gotcha.”

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?” David chuckled again, a dark sound. “Wish he warned us about that side of you.”

“I have every right, you know,” You shot back. “This place doesn’t bring back fond memories.”

“Benson,” David said. He started to walk over to his bike, to take something out of the back compartment while you stood there, frozen. You hadn’t heard the name spoken aloud in years. It wasn’t a common one - you haven’t come across anyone else with it. But hearing it here, in Santa Carla. And he said it like it was absolutely nothing.

You could feel your fangs start to emerge, your face start to change. You weren’t hungry. You were pissed the hell off. You took a deep breath to push back the transformation, then walked after David, ready to tell him off. But instead, something hits your face.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to come to terms with it. It was something fabric. Dark. A t-shirt, perhaps. It felt like cotton to your fingers. As you reached up to rip it off of your face, you started to smell something. Detect something. You paused once more, taking bigger breaths. Whatever it was - it smelt … amazing. Not in a food sort of way, your mouth didn’t start to water, but almost like - a memory. Gasoline when your foster mother was pumping up the car, coconut sunscreen being applied by the beach, walking through a forest and brushing by the pines, ozone after the rain. Now, instead of pulling the t-shirt away, you brought it closer, taking it in with all of your senses, your eyes seeing the identical fabrics, tasting the hint of metal, smelling, touching, hearing the fabric move, all of it. You felt like how a cat feels on catnip.

“What the fuck-” You said, holding it to your face now, your words muffled. You couldn’t get enough. You finally managed to tear your face away from it and looked at David, your eyes focused on his bright blue ones. “What is this? What’s this smell?”

“Me,” David chuckled. He watched the way that your fangs touched the fabric, that you were rolling it against your cheek like a child with the most comforting blanket. “That’s the shirt I died in. My blood, from when I was human. Do you get it now?”

You couldn’t stop. It felt like insanity. This shirt, the smell, it felt so damn good. “What - how?” You asked. It felt like, for a moment, you were watching yourself act in this undignified manner, but you could not stop it.

“That’s how your blood on that fence affects all of us,” David said, calmly. He spoke to you like you were a child, a student, but his eyes were bright. Admiring. He loved that you loved his smell. He was smug about it. Every part of you wanted to wipe that look off of his face but the smell was too distracting. “It’s good to know you have the same reaction.”

“How?” You asked again, and forcefully threw the shirt back over to him. A brief few seconds of clarity to calm down. “It’s not like any other human blood. It’s not even like other vampire blood.”

“Soulmates,” David said, repeating what Paul had said earlier. “I know. It sounds stupid. And dramatic. I wouldn’t have believed it myself - if Paul didn’t bring me to that goddamn fence.”

“Yeah, he seems the type to go sniffing fences,” You muttered, making a small chuckle come out from David again. “So you all react that way to my blood, safe to say I probably do the same to all of yours?”

“More than likely,” David nodded, sitting down upon his bike. “Though I’m the only one that kept something with my blood on it. But -” He looked you up and down. He wasn’t trying to hide the look in his eye. Lust. His tongue snaked out and licked at his lips. ”-I’m still feeling it now, just from the smell of you. As you are.”

You took a half-step back. The look in his eyes - it almost made you feel like you were a sheep for the slaughter. And yet - the shiver that went up your spine wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

He reached for your hand, took it roughly, and pulled you closer to him. You nearly stumbled at the strength. You were used to overpowering humans, so having someone who was stronger than you was a very rare occurrence. You could feel that shock, that almost primitive feeling of awe, as your knees bumped against the bike.

“Do you feel it too?” He asked, looking up at you. “For me? I don’t care about the rest of them. I want to hear you want me first.”

He was territorial. That part wasn’t a surprise. But the way that you were feeling towards it was. Falling for it.

“I feel something,” You admitted, not giving him the satisfaction of the answer that you knew that he wanted. A small growl came out from his mouth and he shook his head, forcing out a chuckle so that he wouldn’t get angry.

“Brat,” He muttered again. “I know it’s more than that. And you know it’s more than that. Has to be. You damn had Marco on his knees begging Max to make the call to you, after just one smell of your blood. None of us slept, waitin’ for you.”

His hand still held yours, and his arm went around your waist, keeping you in place. You were immovable now. Stuck. Couldn’t move even if you had wanted to. “How long?” You asked. “How long before you convinced Max to call me?”

“Oh, we were on him for weeks,” David said, his voice like a purr. His chin rested against your sternum, breathing you in. “He’s a loyal one, our Max. Wanted to respect your wishes. I told him it was selfish. You’d want to be here once you knew. And if you didn’t feel the same -” Another dark chuckle as his thumb was on your hipbone, rubbing it. ”- Well, at least the family will be together, even if it’s against your will.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, looking down at the brightness of his hair. “You going to lock me up, keep me here like Rapunzel in her tower?”

“We don’t do towers,” David said. “We’ve got a cave. The hottest resort in Santa Carla about eight-five years ago-“

“I know it,” You said, quickly. “Where it crashed down after the big quake? I’ve heard about it, but never went.”

“Now it’s home,” David said, moving his head away from you, so that he could look up into your eyes again. “Come back with me. Get to know me. The boys. We’ll give you a welcome back that you’ll never forget. And you’ll never want to leave again.”

“You seem confident.”

“I am.”

“Fuck,” You let out a sigh, as his hand let go of your hip. It slid back, onto your ass, pulling you in. And you let him touch you like this. Anyone else, and you would have bit through their wrist to get rid of their hand. “Fine. I’ll stay at your cave until tomorrow night. But if I want to leave, I’m leaving. And if Paul says anymore stupid shit, I’m out.”

“You seriously think you can make conditions with us?” David asked, squeezing your rear now, in full view of the passing public. “And you think Paul can keep his mouth shut?”

Alright, you had to give him that. “Maybe not, do you have a needle and thread?”

“Marco definitely does,” David nodded, seriously. “I’ll make sure you can borrow it.”

Damn, his hand felt so good, squeezing, caressing, massaging, almost hypnotizing you into saying yes. That and the smell of the t-shirt which was still on his lap, his blood crusted on it. The smell was still overpowering, pungent.

“Fine,” You conceded, and he took his hand off of you, only to help you onto the back of his bike. You wrapped your arms around him, and leaned your head against the back of his leather jacket, as he drove away from the boardwalk, towards the lonely bluffs.

“Y/N’s here!” Paul’s loud voice announced once you and David made your way inside of the cave, descending down into the darkness. Only a few small torches were lit, but it was pretty dim. None of you needed the light. You could see perfectly.

“Marco,” David called out in that calm, commanding voice. “We’ll need your sewing kit for Paul’s mouth.”

“What? What did I do?” Paul asked with a pout, dropping from seemingly out of nowhere in front of you, a grin on his face. “Welcome to our humble home.”

“That,” You said, giving him an almost playful nudge with your shoulder as you walked past him, further into the cave. He didn’t seem bothered by that in the slightest, following instead like an eager puppy.

You could feel them more than you could see them, which was an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn’t like what you had with Benson. This, in contrast, made your connection with Benson with foggy, while this was crystal clear. You didn’t need to see their faces, their hair, their bodies to know which was which. Marco was sitting on an old lawn-chair, leaning back, a cigarette in his mouth. And Dwayne - he was laying on what looked like a bed, propped up, arms behind his head, watching you. You could faintly make out the glint in the silent man’s eyes. And oh, how they all could see you. All eight eyes, watching every move that you made intently.

“Huh,” You hummed, walking over to the large portrait of Jim Morrison, looking up at it. “Got any of his music?”

It took just the click of a remote for a stereo to start playing Riders On The Storm. The tinkling of the piano keys. The tapping of the cymbals. Once Jim’s voice started to come through the speakers, you started to sway your hips to the sound. You felt back at home, just being in Santa Carla again, a feeling of nostalgia, a feeling of - excitement and comfort wrapped in one.

Apparently the visuals of you being in their home, and dancing like this, brought out something in the boys. It was Marco who got to you first, the cigarette still clenched between his teeth. Through the smoke, you could smell him - heady, intoxicating, heavy - almost like an incense section at a new-age store. There was a red glint in his eyes that you almost found disturbing but instead, you found it arousing as he slid up behind you, his hips matching your actions, his hand slithering from your stomach downwards to be right on your pelvis, guiding your movement. He was so close to you, not only could you feel the hints of arousal against your backside as he pressed himself there, but you could also feel the heat of the smouldering ash against your ear. He whispered the lyrics to you, moving with you, nice and slow, until he did a little spin of you, and you suddenly found yourself in the arms of another - Dwayne.

“Girl you gotta love your man - take him by the hand.”

He was more respectful than David had been earlier, and what Marco had just been. He wasn’t pressing up against you, though his hands were on your back, never dipping below the waist as you swayed together. His face remained impassive as he clearly took in your smell, and you took in his. Woody, like pine, like cedar, like herbs. Hedonistic. Your head settled naturally against his shoulder as explored the feeling of your chilly skin, and your fangs nearly emerged once more. He pulled you in, his nose brushing against your hair. He remained silent. Stoic. It wasn’t a front, it was all just Dwayne. He didn’t have to say any words to express how he attracted he was feeling to you. It was in every caress.

“Riders on the storm, riders on the storm.”

Your hands were now taken by Paul. He was more playful than the other two, making grand motions. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as he swung your arms from one side to the other, shaking you slightly as if you were just a colander he was trying to strain pasta through. You were able to get a good introduction to his scent as he remained in this lively state. Even his scent had that good-natured feel to it. Musky, vanilla, hints of mandarin. Something you just wanted to just sink your teeth into.

David had taken a seat, and was watching the dance happen. He wasn’t the sort to take part in this sort of thing, especially around the rest of the boys. But he was more than content to watch, leaning back, taking in the show.

The song came to an end and another one began, which started with Paul dipping you, and then pulling you back into his chest with a loud laugh that came right from his stomach.

“We’ve gotta keep her, boys,” He insisted. “Right? Come on, y/n, can we keep you, please, please, please?”

Dwayne chuckled from one side, sharing a look with Marco at Paul’s behavior.

“I’m not some stray dog you found on the street, you know,” You told Paul, fixing your hair slightly, your cheeks feeling warm from your recent feed. “If I stay, it’s not because you’re keeping me. It would be the other way around, actually.”

An Idea came to your mind, even though you already knew exactly what you were going to do. You walked over to David, or rather, got Paul to walk you over since he was deadset on continuing to hold your hand. He looked at you, bemused, one leg crossed over the other. He looked more like a King on his throne than a vampire on a lawnchair. In control. Not a hair out of place. You had a feel for their personalities, their roles, and the leader of this small group was definitely David’s.

You made Paul let go of your hand, and he lingered behind you, as you leaned over the chair, trapping David in, clutching onto the thin plastic arms. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head a few degrees. You looked him in the eye, those eyes which suddenly didn’t seem so cold.

“You should ask me,” You said with a smirk. “Ask me if I can keep you. And I’ll stay. Not forever, just for a while. But it has to be you that asks.”

His eyebrows now rose up in disbelief at what you were asking of him. He looked past you towards Paul who let out a small whine.

“Come on, David,” He urged. “Just ask her, man.”

“I’m not asking such a … undignified question,” David said, eyeing you once again, seeing if you were really going to keep this up. You didn’t move a muscle. Just continued to look at him with that amused little smile on his face. You were getting to him. You could tell. Under his skin, like ants under dirt.

”Dignity is overrated,” Paul said. “I lost mine a long time ago and I’m fine!”

“You’re anything but fine,” Marco said, and you could hear the heaviness of his coat, the way that it moved in the wind as he stood beside Paul, leaning against him, elbow jutting onto his shoulder.

“Don’t be fuckin’ rude,” Paul said, pushing Marco off of him.

Dwayne moved stealthily in the shadows, suddenly appearing behind David, like he was an advisor. “Don’t listen to them,” He told David. “But remember how y/n feels…”

David closed his eyes and you could see the wheels turning. You could just about see that he was thinking of the feel of your ass in his hand when he held you against his bike. After a moment that felt like eternity, he finally opened his eyes, his pupils pinpointed on you.

He looked angry.

But also intrigued.

And resigned.

His lips parted, showing straight, white teeth. He tried to keep the words inside. Tried to snarl at himself before they came out and he sounded far more needy than he ever had in life. But regardless. They came out, rising through his throat, your urging coaxing them out.

“Will you keep me?” He asked, leaning forward, his face mere inches from yours. And then after a half beat - “Will you keep us?”

You let the question stay in the air, the faintest echo through the caves. The brat in you wanted to say no. But every other part of you knew what you were going to say.

“Yes,” You answered him. “I’ll keep you.”

Feral, his hand was on your throat within seconds, and his mouth was hungrily on yours. It had been so long since you had kissed someone, you almost forgot how, and it took a few milliseconds - which felt like whole moments to the both of you - to get back into the swing of it, to let his mouth engulf yours, to part your lips so that his tongue could explore and taste the coppery blood taste which was still on your taste buds. Paul and Marco joyously cheered, and Dwayne gave David a clap on the shoulder, but you ignored all of this, as you got your first kiss in your newly formed relationship - at least, the first out of four new firsts.

[random-imagines-blog]

The way this story tore out my heart and still lingers in my mind!!!

Where Will All The Martyrs Go

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension

Chapter 2: I'm The Son Of Rage And Love

Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name

Chapter 4: Read Between The Lines

Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind

Chapter 6: I'm The Resident Leader Of The Lost And Found

Chapter 7: Tell Me That I Won't Feel A Thing

Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She’s Dangerous

Chapter 9: Some Days He Feels Like Dying

Chapter 10: Nobody Likes You, Everyone Left You

Chapter 11: The Innocent Can Never Last

Chapter 12: Please Call Me Only If You Are Coming Home

Chapter 13: The Regrets Are Useless

Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

[random-imagines-blog]

Orm: "...you really aren't scheming anything? You're just...here. On the beach."

Sorceress: "Hey, villains need downtime too, you know. The only thing I'm thinking about is how best to convince you two to take your shirts off."

And oh, she would convince them.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a sorceress and Arthur Curry and Orm Marius disturbing your vacation thinking you were up to no good.

You lowered your sunglasses from your eyes as the two men stumbled out from the water, seemingly out of nowhere. No one else seemed to notice that they hadn’t been here a moment ago, too distracted from the good looks of the two men. You couldn’t blame them, yourself. This kind of setting was exactly the type you had seen in your dreams - hot sun, golden sand, and two gorgeous men here just for you. “Well hello,” You purred, looking between them. “What did I do this time?” “That’s what we’re here to find out,” Orm said, straightening himself up. You smirked, and beckoned them over with your finger, then patted the beach chair next to yours. “I may be guilty of a bit of flirting with the cabana boys and having too many pina coladas, but I thought that was reasonable, considering. Though now that you’re here, some mischief can begin.” Arthur and Orm looked at one another, and then over at you. Arthur’s thick eyebrow was raised in confusion. “You’re not controlling the people in the island to service you?” He asked. You let out a laugh at that. “No, of course not. This is a resort, darlings. They’re paid well for their services.” “Where’d you get the money?” Orm finally asked, and that’s when you put on your innocent face, pulling one of Bruce’s credit cards out of your purse. Arthur let out a laugh, and took the seat next to you. “In that case, I”ll have one of those fruity drinks,” He ordered, putting up a finger to one of the server-boys. Orm looked more on the edge, but he eventually took the seat next to you, attempting to relax. Now the vacation just got more interesting.

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Freakshow part i {The Lost Boys x Reader}

Requested by: @creepypastacrazier93 Wordcount: 4219 Summary: You get a call from your maker, and it brings back memories of trauma. However, there's some people he wants you to meet. Warnings: Swearing, cheating, vampire mischief, murder. Divider by: @enchanthings

Your arm was hanging out of the window of the truck that you were driving, holding a cigarette. The ash blew off as you sped down the dark highway, your other hand lazily on the wheel, making sure that you didn’t veer off into traffic, or into one of the ditches. This wasn’t your truck, or rather, it hadn’t been originally, but the owner was a guy who got a little bit too handsy towards his hitch-hikers, so you took his property as recompense. He wasn’t going to miss it. He had bigger things to worry about - like his lack of blood because most of it was sitting inside of your stomach, giving you the energy to keep going on with this long haul. A couple hundred miles to go and you’d be back in your home-town.

Santa Fuckin’ Carla.

You left it behind, along with all of the people that were in it, over a decade ago. People that you didn’t want to think about anymore. Times that you only thought about in your nightmares. A shiver went up your spine just then, and you brought the cigarette in to take a deep inhale of it. You really never thought that you would be going back. Hell, you made sure to burn down every bridge that you had before you left. You wanted to make damn sure that even if you came back, by chance, or by desperation, you wouldn’t be welcomed there. That was, until the phone call came.

“This is Rock All Night Tattoo, y/n speaking,” You said, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder, the spiral cord swinging between you and the wall. You were busy holding the tattoo gun, packing some color onto some one’s skin. The air smelt of sweat, disinfectant and cigarette smoke. All very strong.

Your name was repeated back to you in a soft and friendly voice, but with the reaction you had, you might as well have heard the voice of the devil itself. You threw the phone back at the wall, missing the base of the phone completely, while at the same time, accidentally colored outside of the line.

“Hey!” Your client shouted.

“Oh shuddup, I’ll fix it,” You said, flaring towards the phone. You could still clearly hear the voice, the words coming out of it, though no one else could. Vampire senses and all. Some things, you just could not tune out.

“I know you didn’t want to hear from me but - things are different here in Santa Carla. I’m different. I really think that you should come down here, so we can talk. I want to make amends. And there’s something I need to tell you. Something I need to show you in person.”

There was the faint sound of a dog barking, and you breathed out slowly through your nose, trying to focus on the hum of the tattoo machine, the way that it vibrated your fingers as you very carefully covered over what you had done before with thicker black lines.

“Fang misses you too,” The voice went on. “I’ll pay for your trip if you come. No strings attached.”

You groaned, knowing that you had been got. The mention of Fang. You always loved that dog, and Max knew it. But you knew that going back meant that you were going to have to tell him the truth of what had happened to the third member of your tribe. You were going to have to relive it, go through all of it again. The hurt. The trauma. The feeling of blood on your hands - and not those of your victims. But that of the person you loved the most.

So now here you were. Driving by night. During the day, you settled into little hidey holes like abandoned houses, or breaking into people’s basements. You’d be amazed by how many people in America just leave their doors unlocked during the day. You might as well have strolled right in with a ‘Honey I’m home!’ call, and settled onto the old futon that was moved to the basement. As it were, it wasn’t that uncomfortable of a trip, except for when you thought about where you were going. The closer you got to Santa Carla, the worse and more forthcoming the memories became.

You had been a foster kid in Santa Carla. It was basically every kids dream to live right near the boardwalk, which was free to walk around on. Give the ride attendants the big enough puppy-dog eyes and your orphan story, and they’d usually let you on for free. You spent your summers there, all day, all night, so you wouldn’t go home to the shithole that your ‘foster parents’ lived in. No matter who they were, they always made it clear they were in it for the money. They took the cash and looked the other way, not caring that you didn’t come home til four or five in the morning, feeling sick from eating only cotton candy that the creepy guy who worked the stall always gave you for free. That was how you had met them.

Max and Benson.

Benson was first. He became your best friend, the other kid that was always hanging around the boardwalk, day after day. Most of the faces came and went, those of tourists and their families. Townies usually got sick of the boardwalk after their first year and stopped coming as much. But not you, and not Benson. You finally had someone to go on the rides with. To cause mischief with. He became your best friend, and then later on in your teen years, he became your boyfriend. The transition was perhaps the easiest thing that you had ever done. One day you were pushing each other around, teasing, the next you were holding hands, and then the day after that, you were making out under the docks and carving your names into the wood with his pocket-knife. No thoughts about the future, just the now. It felt like you were never going to grow up. Summer forever.

And then there was Max.

Before the electronics store that he now currently owned, Max had a Sporting Goods store. You and Benson had wandered in one day, in search of roller skates. You had this idea that it would be really cool to go speeding down the boardwalk on wheels. It would help you escape from the overweight security guards faster, too. Just snatch things from the stalls of clothing and treats and take off before they could blink. But, of course, these were expensive so day after day, you went in, and stared at your dream pair of skates. You were saving up. You were only a bit off, which you had told Max when he asked why you came in every evening.

Then on one fateful evening, you had gone in to see a sign in front of the skates.

‘Special Deal! $55!’

And holy shit. Holy shit did you grab them up quick, just wrapped them in your arms without looking for the box they came with and you ran to that counter. Max was behind it, a small smile on his face as he watched you approach. You had the suspicion he had put on the sale just for you, since this had been the day after he asked you how much you had been saving - which was just over sixty dollars. You never asked him though. And he never told.

Benson had bought his own, and despite already having what you wanted from the shop, you went in there almost every evening, just to say hi to Max and look at what was new. He would give you new laces for free, replacement wheels, all of the maintenance that went into it. He’d even change the wheels for you, and in time, you looked up to him like a father figure.

When he offered you a place in his family, you said yes without having to think about it. You missed your parents. You hated your foster parents, and they seemed to hate you too. Running away was something you were planning to do anyway with Benson, and Max was the perfect person to help with that. He invited you into his home, where you cuddled with Fang, and drank some very special ‘wine’ with Benson. It gave you this head rush like you never felt before. It also gave you pains you never felt before, making you feel like you were dying but when it was over - oh, when it was over and you had your first kill, you felt better than ever.

You snapped out of your memories when you saw the large sign. Welcome to Santa Carla. The billboard hadn’t changed in a bit in the years that you had been gone. Still ugly as shit. As you drove into the city limits, you flipped it off, as if you blamed it for the return to your home town. To this overwhelming feeling of nostalgia.

The smell of the ocean air. It reminded you of death. Humid and muggy.

It was nearing morning. Max would have to wait for the next night because there was no way that you were going to risk it tonight. You drove around the strip for nostalgia’s sake for a couple of minutes before going out to the more derelict neighbourhoods. The houses were built cheaply and didn’t hold up to the ocean air, resulting in a lot of them being condemned for mold. Some things never change around here, you thought to yourself, as you pulled your car through to the backyard over dying plants, and found your way inside of a basement. A little disarray never bothered you anyway.

It was an electronics shop, which amused you to no end, even if you weren’t the happiest to be here. Back in the day, Max hardly knew anything about electronics, or any sort of technology. He had been the kind of guy who would rather do the purchases with a pen and paper rather than use a cash register, it was all too new-school.

A group of four bumped into you as you stood outside, looking at the sign. They were dressed in leather jackets despite the warm California night. You scoffed a little, getting the attention of the last guy in their line up, who had the most interesting jacket of all. It looked like it was being held together by patches. He gave you a playful smirk, his eyes trailing up and down your body before he followed the rest of his friends in there. You let out a huff, though there was a part of you that was secretly pleased.

Still got it.

You made your way inside of the store, your eyes still on the four guys that were walking around, looking like they were going to cause trouble. Two of them came to a stop near a pretty girl that was working behind the counter. But then your eyes settled onto Max, who has not changed a day.

You couldn’t help the smile that came across your face at seeing him. Despite everything that had happened, you had missed him. It felt like a sort of homecoming. His eyes met yours behind his large spectacles and you could see how they lit up. He felt the same way, clearly. Your name escaped his lips and he stepped out from behind the counter, not thinking much about personal space, just eager to hug you.

And you let him.

You wrapped your arms around your maker, the man that taught you everything about being a vampire, who basically taught you everything about being an adult as well, and how to make it in this world. “Hi Max,” You mumbled into his shoulder.

“Welcome home,” Max said, rubbing your back up and down. After the initial hug, you let him go and looked around the store, at how much it had changed over time. No longer sporting goods, but electronics. Trying to get with the times.

“I haven’t agreed on whether I’m staying or not,” You reminded him, taking a lollipop out of the small container that he had on the counter. You unwrapped it and stuck it in your mouth, the taste sickly sweet, but unsatisfying like most food was. “You said that you needed to show me something? Is it that you changed the store, trying to stay hip, old man?” You teased. “It’s impressive, really.”

“No, no, it’s not the store,” He said, the smile fading slightly. “Though I am proud of how it turned out. More successful than the last couple I tried.”

“Congratulations,” You said, sincerely. “Really. It actually looks pretty cool in here. And I saw the help wanted sign on the door, so you must be doing well, at least financially.”

“Yeah,” He nodded. “We really have been.”

During the conversation, you could feel eyes on you, and it wasn’t the shop girl getting annoyed that you had her boss’s attention. No, it was the eyes of the four young men that had walked in here, whispering lowly to each other, the one with the long blonde hair laughing somewhat obnoxiously. You were ignoring them for now, even if it did make goosebumps erupt on your skin, and put you on edge. There was something dangerous about them. Predatory. You learned to trust those instincts.

You waited a moment longer, keeping your eyes on Max. Eventually, he put his hand on your back. “Come talk with me in my office,” He said. You nodded, agreeing to that easily enough, if only to escape the feeling of those eyes on you.

It had been a long time since you had been in his office. You had almost forgotten the last time but the memories washed in as you saw the familiar pale-painted walls and the wooden desk that had been old decades ago.

You had been crying, dehydrating yourself as you curled up on the small chair. You were basically in the fetus position, blood on your clothes, your face, getting into your eyes, but it didn’t have the appealing smell of human blood. It was rancid.

You were shaking when Max came in and found you the next evening, having sat there throughout the day, the windowless office becoming a perfect coffin for you. The fear in his eyes when he looked at you - it was something that you could never forget. “What did you do?” He asked you, softly, his hand coming onto your shoulder. You flinched at the touch, a sharp inhale of breath, taking the scent of the blood into your mouth, tasting it.

“What happened?” He asked, carefully, and you lifted your head to see his expression filled with concern. Your jaw was quivering. Lower lip trembling. He eyed the blood that was dried on your chin, nearly black. Flaking.

“Benson,” You mumbled. And then you could feel the tears welling up again. Crying for a vampire was extremely painful, like being stabbed in the eyeballs with a dozen sewing needles. That’s why most never did. But here you were. “It’s B-Benson.”

“What happened?” Max asked, crouching down next to you. His eyes were looking into yours, and you once more felt that fatherly connection with him. All you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and bawl your eyes out but you had to remain strong. At least try to have a stiff upper lip. You were a fucking vampire - a heartbroken one, but a vampire nonetheless.

“I saw him,” You whispered. “You know that girl that comes in and looks at the leotards all the time, with the silky black hair and the perfect fucking skin? I saw them together. And I just lost it.”

Silence filled the room as Max took in everything that you said, along with everything that you weren’t saying. He could tell by the smell that it was vampire blood on you. A little bit of human there, but mostly vampire. And saw them together which meant -

“It’s okay,” He said, softly. He pulled you in closer to him and you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting him rub your back up and down. “If he did that to you, then I’m sure he deserved it. You always deserved better anyway.”

A small, startled laugh came out from between your sobs. “I thought you liked him -”

“He was alright. Always liked you more,” Max said, his voice soft. Soothing. He removed his glasses and set them upon the old wooden desk, pulling you away gently so he could look into your eyes. “What did you do with the body?”

“Bodies,” You corrected.

“The bodies,” He repeated, nodding. You sighed and looked down at your hands, at the blood that was stuck under your nails, that stained your skin.

“Dropped em in the Ocean. Pretty far out, they aren’t going to wash up on the beach anytime soon.”

“Good, that’s good,” Max said. “Is anyone going to be asking questions?”

“About Benson? No, you and I are the only ones who care about him. Maybe about the girl, though. I know nothing about her. God. I didn’t even know her name.”

Max nodded, continuing to look at your face. Trying to prove to you that you weren’t alone in these horrible circumstances. “Okay. We’ll deal with that if anything comes to it.”

You took a deep breath, unnecessary but also cathartic. “You don’t seem surprised, Max,” You ventured, carefully. “That he was fucking around. Did you know? Please tell me you weren’t hiding it from me too.”

“I didn’t know, exactly,” He said, removing his glasses and rubbed them against the fabric of his shirt. “But I never thought that he was good for you.”

“Why didn’t you ever say so?” You asked, your voice coming out in an unflattering wail. You hated how pathetic you sounded, but your broken heart just wouldn’t let up.

“I’ve been around for a long time,” He said, replacing his glasses."I know that once you tell someone that they shouldn’t see a guy - well, they’re going to do it even more. And resent you for it. I had hoped that things wouldn’t turn out this way but -”

“But they did,” You said, bitterly. “I can’t be here anymore, Max. I feel - I’m going to go fucking crazy. If I see one missing persons poster with her face on it, I’m going to go insane. I can’t spend one more night in this city. I just - I can’t -”

“Okay, okay,” Max said. “There’s no need to be too hasty. I’ll call some people that I know. See if I can find you a safe place to stay, a place to sleep, probably some blood-”

“No,” You said, shaking your head. “I need to go right now. I - I appreciate it though. A lot. You’ve done so much for me and I don’t know how I can ever pay you back.”

He got to his feet so quickly, were he a human, his bones would have been cracking from the effort. “I wouldn’t advise leaving without some sort of plan. The sun will be up before you know it and -”

“Then I’ll die,” You said, resigned to your fate. “I’ll go in flames, it’s basically what I deserve at this point. I killed my mate, Max, I fucked this up-”

“He was not your mate,” Max said. “If he was, he never would have been able to cheat on you. The thought wouldn’t have entered his mind, y/n. There’s still time, we can get ahead of this. We can find out who the girl was...”

You took a deep breath to try to calm yourself. Doing so made you feel human again, in a way. Like what you had been before you drank Max’s blood, before you tied yourself eternally to life, to Benson.

“I’m overwhelmed, and I’m scared, and I’m guilty, and I’m still so fucking angry,” You admitted. “I can’t stay. I’m going to do something incredibly stupid if I stay.”

“As opposed to something stupid if you leave?”

“At least if I leave, it won’t get tied back to this place. To you,” You whispered. As you said it, you realized that was your worst fear. It coming back to Max. He had trained you well, never get your meals from the people that frequent the sports shop. Hide the corpses far away. Vagrants and passers-through for the most part, which was really difficult during the off-season but you managed. You always managed. If anything, he had taught you how to be on your own as well. The goal of every father. “I’m leaving - Dad.”

It was the first time that you had ever called him that to his face. You had referred to him as that when you were talking with Benson, the both of you just calling him Dad casually. But this time it was to his face, and he went through a whole thought-journey as he heard it. First he was surprised. Then touched. Then resigned.

“You’ll always have a place here,” He said. “You’ll always be able to find me.”

“I know,” You said, softly. “It’s not goodbye forever.”

“Then it’s a see you later,” He said. He offered you his hand for a shake, but you pushed it to the side and wrapped your arms around your creator, taking in the scent of his old-fashioned cologne which just managed to cover the under-lying smell of death that was about him. Sweet, like rotting fruit. Then before you could get too attached to the moment, you forced yourself to leave his office. Leave the store. Hitch a ride out of Santa Carla with a couple of frat boys on vacation and headed out to see the big wide world, and what it could provide under the cover of darkness.

It didn’t change. Neither did Max. He was still wearing that same cologne after thirty-some years. The chairs were new, but some things were bound to get replaced over time. More modern. Less comfortable than the one you had cried in years ago. You lowered yourself into it, crossing your legs as Max sat behind his desk.

“You’re looking well,” He complimented. You had to give him a small smile at that. It definitely felt like you were his daughter, coming back from university for summer break or something. Years have passed, and your surroundings showed that, but you and Max looked much the same. Just the fashion was different.

“So do you. New glasses?”

“Some hippie broke my favorite pair back in the seventies,” He said with a grumble.

“Not very peace and love of him, was it?”

“No, but you’d be surprised how much those flower-power people would fight when it’s their own lives on the line.”

“You know humans. They’re walking contradictions,” You said with a small shrug. “They fill themselves up with garbage and it makes them taste better.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaned over the desk. It looked like such a dad-pose, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Even if you were angry about the phone call, you were glad that you had come back. This had the taste of home that you had been missing. That you had been searching for and trying to make all over the country, but just hadn’t been able to achieve.

“Their food gets worse and worse and ours gets better and better,” He agreed. You laughed at that, getting yourself comfortable in the chair, leaning back.

“So what did you call me back for, Max?” You asked. “Tearing me away from the busy tattooing season.”

“Does it really get busy?” He asked with an amused smile. “I’ve never seen the appeal myself, but I think my boys would.”

“Your boys?” You asked, perking up. “You’ve turned others?”

You weren’t quite sure how to feel about that. How could you be mad at being replaced when you were the one who left? And the fact that it was boys. Plural. More than one.

“I’ve always wanted a family,” Max said. “You’re still part of it, even if you’re far away. I want you to meet them. Even if you decide not to stay - I want to see the family together.”

You sighed and ran your fingers across your lips, thinking about it. You hadn’t met any other vampires in your travels, and you were feeling a bit … different. A bit lonely.

“Fine,” You said, softly. “I’ll meet them. But don’t expect us to be the Brady bunch, alright? I don’t know them, and I don’t trust them yet.”

“That’s only fair,” Max nodded, and you detected a faint sparkle in his eye. “Let’s go out back. I think they’ll be very happy to meet you.”

[random-imagines-blog]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Wonder Woman's autistic sibling.

You were like most of your siblings in the way that you didn’t want to leave Themyscira. This beautiful paradise was your home, and the world outside of it - well, it certainly wasn’t. There was too much out there. Too many contingencies, disruptions, too much noise, too many people, and it just seemed so … chaotic. No, you loved Themyscira. You thrived in the routine that was set for you. The same people. The same training. Just - the same. So when Diana had come to you and asked for you to come with her to the human world, you were aghast. “Me? Go out there?” You asked, making sure that she was asking the right person. You were the sister that was closest to her on the island, but you didn’t share in her adventurous ways. No, you were the one who usually thought up the plan to get her out of the trouble that she often caused. “You’re joking. There’s no way. I’ve got training in the morning, and then we’ve got lunch - I hear the peaches are ripe so I was thinking of making a cobbler, I’ve been waiting for that all season - and then we’ve got more training in the afternoon. I can’t put that off.” She laughed lightly, taking hold of your hands. “They have peach cobblers out there too! And you don’t have to lift a finger, you could buy them!” “Buy them? Like have someone else make them?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrow. “But what if they don’t use the freshest peaches? What if they burn it? What if the dough is too flaky? You’re not thinking straight, Diana. They could put anything in those peach cobblers. It’s utter insanity.” She sighed and smiled at you. “You’re never going to change, are you?” “Why would I? Life is perfect here, Diana. I wish you’d see that. Rather than letting someone else make your peach cobbler,” You scoffed. “Ridiculous.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

im not sure if ur taking requests but can you write for james franco, preferably daniel desario

I've got an imagine of him coming up soon!