vampyrixdarling - Tumblr blog

vampyrixdarling · 12 days ago

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You were the best but you were the worst,

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first.

Masterlist

Chance x childhood friend! reader (VERY slight ITrapped x reader)

I Love You, I'm Sorry (Gracie Abrams) ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 1:39

tw/cw: not proofread! pls someone tell me if chance can use he/him 💔 death, violence, swearing, angst, a lotta yearning, no happy ending, typical asshole ITrapped, Chance has a lot of issues, you do too but his are worse, IChance (toxic but Chance is the only one who doesn't realize it), ChanceNoob (Mildy implied but can be interpreted as friendship), unrequited feelings :(, doomed situationship my beloved

note(s): first writing for forsaken… I have a angst with Telamon coming up soon :3, also the aven pt.2 is on its way I promise I just need a tear jerking plotline

summary: You fell first, he fell harder, but far too late.

(word count: 3.4k )

ׂ╰┈➤ [𓏵]- your name

Chance has terrible habits.

It was in the little things. How they got a bit too excited about any game regarding high-stakes and gambling. How they managed to land himself in a entanglement with the mafia before being forsakened. How they would for some reason, keep overloading his gunpowder, brushing off concerns for the thrill of the game.

You used to think it was rather endearing. A personality quirk of his that you also found entertaining. When you both were younger, when your parents allowed rare times without supervision, they'd drag you to the large oak tree on the outskirts of the city, and they'd bet with you how far they could climb.

Sometimes, they'd beat their last record, triumphantly sitting on the branch while they smiled at your laughter at the sticks and leaves stuck in their hair. And other times, they'd fall hard, pretend to cry, you'd fall for it again, and it always earned them words of comfort and reassurance.

Every attempt, successful or not, the night ended with you both lying between flowers against a grassy hill, gazing at the stars while you both asked stupid questions and giggled hysterically at the answers. A tradition that slowly faded until you both couldn't find the time for it anymore.

Chance was a constant presence in your life. When you both gradutated high school, they were there, cheering the loudest as you were handed your diploma. He hugged you tightest when you were accepted into music school to pursue a career as a violinist. They were the first to introduce you to his rabbit named Spade.

They were the constant joy in your life. And for a while, you thought yourself to be theirs too.

When Chance crossed the Sonnellino Family, and had been under their wrath, he had begged you to let him hide with you, and you had let him. You turned away the goons, knowing if they decided to not heed your words and found Chance, you would have suffered too.

But you let him stay in a heartbeat. Your heart beat faster everytime he cried and made dramatic but genuine thank-yous, hugging you tightly and promising he'd make it up to you. You felt your heart flush and heat whenever you saw him in the hallways, casual and not the confident persona he let the world think he was.

You hadn't seen his eyes for a while. It had been many years since you were both children and he always gazed at you with that cheerful look, but one night, he took off his shades when you were both watching television on the couch, curtains drawn and Spade loafing between your bodies.

A breathtaking golden. Like the metal, it was precious and mesmerizing. You had found yourself staring, heart pounding in your chest and head, gazing in eyes that resembled the gentle shine of the dawn's light.

You had looked away before Chance turned his to you. You heard him shift, just slightly closer to you, petting Spade as he cooed at the fat rabbit that simply stared back with wide eyes that held no thoughts in its head. You're not sure if he noticed your stare or the way your face grew warm, and definitely pink.

You thought you almost had it all. All you needed to do was to find the perfect time to tell him how you felt, and pray to Lady Luck that he reciprocated.

But then he came along. ITrapped. He had Chance enamoured at first sight. You didn't know what your best friend saw in that censored face, with that obnoxiously large ice crown, but you supported them awyways. Cheering them on with all you had.

But there was a sense of sorrow that consumed your soul. Bit by bit. It ate you up, slowly, excruciatingly so, like how the shadows swallowed the sun's rays before night, till there was not a trace of day left.

You brushed it aside carelessly, afterall, you were Chance's best friend, right? You should be happy. You should not be feeling like this. This fiery pit of anguish that clawed away at your heart bit by bit, it was irrational.

Until it wasn't.

ITrapped didn't love Chance, it wasn't fully obvious, the man was a master manipulator. He pretended he did excellently, but the way ITrapped looked at money said differently.

Not like how you could love them.

ITrapped isolated Chance slowly. From his parents. From you. From himself. The man's silver tongue knew just where to strike, what to say that left Chance fawning over his supposed romantic advances.

You could say many things about him, and none are good. he asked for money more than he asked Chance out on dates, he alaways subtly forced them to participate in life-threathening games. You'd play the violin, entertaining the casino's members who appreciated your talent, and you struggled to not make the strings screech when the gun against Chance's head drew a blank.

You always anticipated something could, would, go wrong. Chance was lucky, but they were foolish and naive in matters of the heart to accompany with that. Their luck would run out, and they may not live to see the next day.

So you settled for protecting them. Silently, from the sidelines. Even when ITrapped's words sowed seeds of doubt in Chance's mind about you, and though you both grew apart, both of you wandering in that limbo between strangers and friends, while you watched him get swept off his feet by someone whom you knew didn't, and would never love them.

Because you had loved Chance. Because your world centres and revolves around them, you'd protect that world with your heart and soul.

And ITrapped knew that.

And that fateful night, it was used against you. He cornered you in the alleyway right behind the casino while Chance was too busy gambling in it, ITrapped's facade immediately dropped as your back pressed against the cold wall of stone, no route of escape.

"You know, [𓏵], I'm surprised you still stick around them. They obviously don't appreciate your presence enough, and yet, you act like a desperate puppy, begging for scraps."

You didn't respond to his mocking statement. He was right. ITrapped, as infuriating as he was, he was a logical and calculating, a core reason why Chance had drifted from you. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction from confirming he was correct.

"You know what my true intentions are, do you not? It was so obvious you did. And yet…"

ITrapped's breath was too close. Body almost pressed against yours. His left hand finding your chin and gripping it tightly, fingernails pressing painfully into your skin. His smirk was predatory, his eyes, behind that black censor bar, boring into your soul.

"You didn't tell your 'best friend' my intentions."

"Because he would not have believed you."

The words, the statement, was icy cold, like a predator's bite savouring prey between it's teeth before chomping down, sending a shiver through your body.

You were furious. Rage, boiling hot, scalding as it bubbled in your gut, screaming to be released, your hands shook as your struggled to not break your bow and the handle of your violin in your bleached knuckle fists.

It wasn't that you were mad he was wrong.

You were mad he was right.

Because Chance wouldn't believe you.

Not over him. That's what he wanted to say, but he was waiting for your agreement. But your silence was enough of a response.

You don't remember much of what happened afterwards. Only Itrapped's smile, cunning and vicious, a sharp pain as a knife dug into your chest, the feeling of the cold ground as you watched him stomp and break your violin bow in half as blood pooled under you, spilling from your mouth, crimson and dark.

"Pitiful.”

His voice was cold, tinged with a slight edge of disgust as silence filled your ears, your vision blurring at the edges from something hot and burning as black swallowed your consciousness whole.

You died that night, alone and cold, with resentment and despair stewing within every fibre of your being, wondering if Chance would forget about you, like a fading flicker of a spark in the night.

You had accepted you were never going to see Chance again. Never hear him laugh at your voice going horribly out of tune, never see his stupid, stupid smile as he tried to cheer you up after a rough night, never feel his warmth when you hugged him.

Running from a killer out with the sole goal to crush you and other survivors, respawning when you were killed, unable to die. That would be your life in eternal hell. Laying in your cabin, alone, and staring at the wooden ceiling and beams, wondering how your parents, your friends, Chance, were doing without you.

Your parents would be devastated. They doted and showered you with affection, and had encouraged your musical dreams despite their dreams of you pursing law or medicine. Your friends would grieve, join your parents at your funeral, and move on, some slow, some fast.

But Chance. He must have forgotten you. ITrapped must be sowing deeper seeds of negativity and doubt in their head. Reminiscing and reflecting back, before he started to mix with the wrong crowd just to get away from his parents' nagging, you two were already drifting apart.

Your friendship would have fallen apart sooner or later. Your feelings would be left unreturned, and you probably would have died of a broken heart rather than a knife.

Until one day, when Guest was talking to you about life before entering this eternal hell, you saw him.

Chance.

Stumbling backwards, arms raised like he was trying to protect himself from something, looking bewildered as he took in the sight of the large wood cabin that was the main base of operations for you and your fellow survivors.

His hug was as warm and bold as you remembered it to be when he locked eyes with you and practically jumped into your arms. He was shaking slightly, his embrace was one tinged with desperation as he whispered your name repeatedly, relief seeping into his voice that repeated like a prayer, a thanks to the gods above.

You could have sworn there were tears in their eyes, but his shades prevented you from telling properly.

The hours before the round was spent with him getting to know the other survivors while glued at your side almost all the time. he quickly returned to his confident and suave personality, slinging a arm around your neck and acting like nothing had happened.

Like you two were still as close as ever.

You had been joyful, as relived as he was when you had laid your eyes on him, and for a while, you remembered the same person you had fallen head first for. But there was a ugly feeling that brewed in your chest when he kept acting like nothing was wrong.

Resentment. Bitter and sour at once, squeezing your heart, reminding you why you were in this hell to begin with. You had given your heart to the wholeheartedly, and when he gave his to another, Itrapped used your affection to his advantage and killed you for it.

Even during rounds, his habits of gambling return. You use your violin to aid your friends in higher speed and strength, but he uses their coin, the same godforsaken coin you had gifted him on his birthday when he inherited the casino from his parents. He's died from a single more times than you can count, because his flips are mostly unsuccessful.

Seeing his lifeless form fall into your arms the first time had unlocked levels of grief you didn't know you could feel. The overwhelming fear and despair that made you freeze allowed the green and black being called 1×1×1×1 to take your head.

You knew he was still alive back in the lobby. It was how it worked for everyone else, so why would it be different for him? You simply just… could not get over that the very fact he was in here, in this hellhole, essentially meant your hopes were false, and your fears had come true.

When you both died first in the round, he had told you what had happened to him back in the overworld.

ITrapped had definitely killed them. But Chnace was in denial about it, trying to pacify your anger that flared up by attempting to convince you it wasn't his fault, which only served to make you even more furious, though you restrained yourself from exploding.

But worst of all, it was how he seemed to latch onto Noob.

The timidest adult amongst all of you, one who bore far too many similarities with Itrapped that it was them took the longest for you to warm up to.

Chance, on the other hand, became their closest friend amongst everyone else. It wasnt the fact you were jealous of their friendship which was why you were upset.

You had heard him slip up and call Noob by his name. The gambler immediately caught their mistake, but you knew better than to think this just so happened to be a slip of the tongue.

You couldnt understand it.

ITrapped had killed him. Murdered him. Used the Darkheart to stab him and left his cold body to rot. ITrapped had used, manipulated your best friend for his money and his casino, and Chance knew that too well.

But he was still attached. Still fucking attached to someone that looked at Chance like they were the scum of the earth, while brushing over the person who would gaze at them like they hung the moon.

You were not frustrated with Noob. They didn't do anything. Just so happened to share the same colours as ITrapped, and was too kind and hesitant to tell Chance to stop referring to someone that doesn't deserve to have his name leave their mouth.

You despised ITrapped, for still haunting you, your choices, what you could have done, what you should have done. Even in death, even in literal hell, ITrapped would take priority over you in Chance’s heart.

And that resentment boiled over.

You don't even remember how you ended up snapping, grabbing Chance's arm and dragging him away from Noob after he called them that stupid name again, ignoring concerned looks from the other survivors and his nervous protests, still keeping a smile on his face.

"Heyy, bud, what's got you so mad-"

"Shut up."

Your voice silences Chance immediately. You didn't even recognize your own words leaving your lips, you had to take a few seconds to continue, the words vomiting and spilling out of your gut furiously as your grip shifts from their arm to his collar.

"I see the way you look at Noob. You think them to be ITrapped, don't you? And they had let you, because they know that rejecting your delusions will break you."

"But I'm not Noob. You should know me as anything but a sugar coater. And if it means you will hate me, so be it. ITrapped never loved you, and he never will. You craved genuine companionship so much you ignored every slip up, every misdeed, so you wouldn't lose him."

"He ruined our friendship to a almost irreperable level that if we never died, you would have forgotten about me, and even now, he still lives in your heart and mind, as a affectionate memory."

Your voice almost cracked when you had mentioned your friendship, and Chance noticed, his stunned expression staying frozen as his shades masked his eyes. Was he angry? Was he indifferent? Was he even upset? The fact he wouldn't react to your words made you even angrier as your grip tightned around his collar, almost slamming him into the wall.

"Why is that it is him that gets that treatment? Why does the man who backstabbed and used you matter more than the person standing in front of you, who kept you safe from the mafia, who comforted you through every heartbreak, everytime you ranted to me about your overbearing parents?"

You hated using the times he had been vulnerable with you as leverage, but your mouth and heart worked faster than your mind, and before you could stop yourself, you cracked completely, with Chnace's expression finally morphing into one of horror and what seemed to be remorse.

"Would you even believe me if I said ITrapped was the one who murdered me?"

"Did you even care?”

Chance wanted to scream. His hands trembled slightly as your grip on his collar slackened. He did care. He cared. He had thought about you in his last moments, wondering if he'll see you again in the afterlife.

Why didn't you tell him you felt this way? He was your best friend, right? Why did you think he didnt care? Why did you not tell him sooner that ITrapped was the one who murdered you? The same man who comforted them when Chance broke down over your long cold and paled corpse in a bodybag, your parents wailing for their child not too far from him.

He hadn't cried when your face appeared on the news with the headlines of murder. He had grieved. He had mourned, he weeped and he had completely broke into what he felt was a hundred pieces. He kept your violin and broken bow, your parents having given it to him at your funeral, telling Chance you would have wanted them to have it.

He kept it. Beside his bed, untouched, the bow still in that broken state the police had found it in, still in the state that ITrapped had snapped and crushed with his shoe. The violin, it's pristine colours dulling from the lack of care. You always took care of your instrument, Chance couldn't bear to bring himself to clean it for you in your place, not when he was still thinking you'd waltz into his living room, telling him it was all a joke.

"He plunged that knife into my heart, mocked me as he watched the life drain out of my eyes and broke my violin bow in half. Why— can you still bring yourself to love someone as repulsive as him?"

"And I could say nothing to defend myself in my final moments. Because he knew my greatest weakness was you."

Chance watched you break, watched your grip loosen till there was no force left holding them to the wall, sliding down into a sitting position as he watched you tower over him, turning your back to them.

Chance always knew you as strong. You'd let them lean on you for comfotr, more times than he could ever count. But he had never once stopped to consider whether you had a shoulder to cry on, a ear to listen to menial complaints.

He thought he was, and you were just stubborn, too prideful to admit you needed someone to listen to you. But they knew better than to think that. You both had grown apart. Chance knew they made minimal effort to try and rebuild it back, letting the trickle of time wear your bond down.

And they were foolish enough to think that your presence would be forever.

Your breath was ragged as your heart pounds in your head, each thump echoing violently, drowning out eveyr other sound. You don't register how Chance scrambled to their feet, rushed and desperate apologies flowing out of his mouth while the other survivors gaze at you both with worried looks behind the frame of the door.

"I am done, clinging onto you so dearly to my heart, Chance. If you want to love ITrapped despite his betrayal, so be it."

"But I will never let you hold onto me again."

Chance's sputters of apologies, whether genuine or just emotional from being in the moment all die down at the finality in your tone, his hand slipping from your arm limply as you leave him behind, storming past the other survivors with a sour look, trudging to your cabin outside the main base.

The bed is cold and stiff, but it's a comfort from the raging storm of emotions that swirl and brew violently in every fibre of your being. Hot tears sting your eyes as you pull the pillow over your face, still refusing to let them fall.

This hell that you are forsakened into is unbearable. But heartbreak may as well be worse than eternal damnation.

fin.

#vampy reblogs <3 #fic reblogs #FAVES #OH MY GOD #GENUINE FAVOURITE BRO I LOVE THIS #THIS IS SO #SO PEAK #I LOVE THIS SO MUCH HELP #fic reccomendations

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vampyrixdarling · 15 days ago

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VAMPY 👹

I’m assigning u silver the hedgehog for ur character and t-rex by zoologist for ur perfume!

both you and silver share that same undying curiosity for the world around you that I’ve noticed in your sonfic server messages + you also give off peak silliness vibes but can also lock in immediately just like how he can

also apples (that maggot infested apple incident TRAUMATIZED me)

as a disclaimer this perfume is NOT wearable outside of the house despite what the notes might suggest because this shit smells like a post-apocalyptic wasteland. fitting for ur love of forsaken 🫶

VIC. HELLO!!! HI!!!

STOP. THE APPLE INCIDENT WAS ONE TIME. ONE ACCIDENTAL TIME LMFAO

Also YAYAYA SILVER MENTION!! SILVER MENTIONED!! Lowkey one of my fav Sonic characters thank you so much mootie patootie,,

WHAT DO YOU MEAN FITTING?? HELLO?? I'm going to wear this inside and outside just to spite you /j

THANK YOU AGAIN!! THANKYOU!! Have a good day hehe

#vampy answers <3 #bottledpeaches #moots <3

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vampyrixdarling · 16 days ago

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「 YARN, YARN, YARN, PLUSH, PLUSH, PLUSH.... I CAST UPON THEE A PLUSHIE VERSION OF YOU! 」

Forsaken Survivors x GN! Reader

warnings: none

notes: hi, long time no see 👋 anyways my apology fic before I start writing requests again:D oh yeah yeah!! Can be perceived as platonic or romantic, depends on you!!

☆ — Guest 1337

When you hand over the yarn version of him—spiky blue hair, camo gear, and all—the light glints in his eyes, making him look like a little kid receiving a brand new toy.

“You… made this? In this place?”

His voice carries genuine warmth, cutting through the cold air.

He tucks the plush into a pouch on his vest, claiming it’s “lucky” and will help keep him alive in rounds.

When the killer goes "friendly", he’ll pull it out and sit somewhere near where everyone is, absentmindedly fiddling with its yarn hair. It reminds him of home and what he’s fighting for.

☆ — Taph

The moment the plush hits his palms, Taph lets out a delighted coo that soothes your ears.

“🤩❗👆, 🤏❗” (Perfect! It’s me, but smaller!)

He hugs it so tightly you worry about the yarn seams.

He keeps it tucked into his robe during rounds—every so often you’ll see a little yarn wing sticking out when he rushes past.

In the cabins, he makes it “perch” next to his bed, like a tiny companion watching over him while he rest.

☆ — 007n7

He’s sitting outside his cabin steps when you give him the yarn version of himself, burger hat stitched in perfectly.

He stares at it for a long moment, in shock that someone will even give him something do precious.

“I… I don’t deserve this here, but… thank you.”

He says quietly, voice heavy with regret, as he holds it so tightly to check if it's all real.

He keeps it on a small shelf by his bed, where the lantern light can reach it. It’s one of the few gentle things in his otherwise broken world.

Some nights, you can hear him talking to it in low tones, like it’s a stand-in for someone he’s lost.

☆ — Elliot

You deliver his yarn twin to him while he’s busy baking pizzas over the small cabin stove.

“Well… look at me. Guess I’m officially delicious and adorable.”

He teases, holding the plush next to a pizza slice.

The plush gets a spot on the highest shelf in his cabin, “to keep it safe from the damp”—but really so he can see it while he contemplates about life.

Still, he keeps it spotless and mends any loose threads immediately.

☆ — Builderman

You hand him the plush outside his cabin while he’s working on reinforcing the barricade seperating the killers from the survivors.

His brows lift, and a rare smile spreads across his face.

“Huh. Guess even in this nightmare, someone can still build somethin'… worth keepin'.”

He inspects the stitching like he would a project, nodding with approval.

The plush is placed right above his workbench in his cabin, where the soft lantern glow hits it just right.

On long, silent nights, you can sometimes hear him mutter,

“Don’t worry… I’ll keep ‘em all safe”

☆ — Chance

You hand him the yarn plush—fedora, clockwork headphones, and all—while the moonlight filters through the cabin window.

Their cocky grin flickers for a second when they see it, something softer showing before they mask it again.

“Guess I’m collectible now.”

He jokes, but he keeps it close—maybe closer than you’d expect.

When no one’s looking, they'll rest it on their desk and quietly spin a coin beside it, like they're letting it “gamble” with them.

Sometimes his gaze lingers on it a little too long, like he’s remembering someone else’s face.

☆ — Noob

The moment you give them their plush who has bright yellow yarn skin, little green pants, and blue shirt—they gasp, then laugh nervously.

“Wait, is this… me?!”

They hug it tight like they’re scared it’ll get taken away.

They keep it by their food stash in the cabin, claiming it’s their “taste tester” before trying snacks.

When rounds get too scary, they’ll pull it out from their bag and squeeze it for comfort before moving on.

Sometimes they talk to it like a friend while drinking up bloxy colas, as if it can help them calm down.

☆ — Two Time

They turn the plush over in their hands, eyes narrowing with curiosity at the little yarn tail and spawn symbol you stitched in.

“You even got the Spawn correct!”

They exclaim, impressed and ready to recruit you again.

They place it neatly on their bedside table in the cabin, facing the door—“to keep watch” they say, though there’s an edge of ritualistic reverence to the way they arrange it.

Sometimes, in the dead quiet of the night, you’ll hear them whisper to it as though it’s part of a private prayer.

If anyone else tries to touch it, their dagger comes out before the hand gets close.

☆ — Dusekkar

He takes the plush gently in his fingers, the glow from his pumpkin head lighting it up.

“A yarn-made twin, I now possess, crafted with care, I must confess.”

Places it in the pocket of his belt where it peeks out like a little guardian ember.

On quiet nights, you’ve spotted him sitting by the fire, setting the plush across from him and speaking in rhymes as if holding a conversation.

☆ — Shedletsky

The moment you hand over the yarn version of him, his eyes widen before he bursts into a goofy grin.

“You even got my shirt right…”

He chuckles, turning it over to admire your work—it was nothing like those massed produced ones usually found in a market.

Keeps it on a shelf above his bed in the cabin, where it watches over him.

Sometimes he stages mock sword fights with it to make the others laugh. The plush usually “wins.”

Still, when a round gets particularly rough, you’ll see him glance at it like it’s a silent little comfort.

#vampy reblogs <3 #fic reblogs #faves

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vampyrixdarling · 18 days ago

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Out of curiosity, do you guys see iTrapped as a survivor or killer?

#forsaken x reader #will I write for iTrapped?#maybe. but I won’t enjoy it.#vampy’s polls <3

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vampyrixdarling · 20 days ago

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The urge to write Chance x Lady Luck! Reader is. killing me slowly. But I can't write it right now. Ugh.

#vampy talks <3

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vampyrixdarling · 20 days ago

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I need reader x chance...add extra spicy on it... Heh

-🧠 anon

My brain controls what my hands draw.

TW:Sexual suggestion

#vampy reblogs <3 #art reblogs

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vampyrixdarling · 22 days ago

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Sorry abt the lack of posting im locking in working on a bunch of gifts for my pookie <33 I love her sooo much and I want to make sure that this is the best thing she’s ever received from me

#vampy talks <3

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vampyrixdarling · 22 days ago

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awkward...

this was my first time drawing dusekkar T_T og post below !!

#vampy reblogs <3 #art reblogs #faves

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vampyrixdarling · 22 days ago

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Chicken butt

HOW DID YOU KNOW.

no joke. these exact two words have been replaying in my head the whole day, and then i check my asks and see you sent this. WHAT.

anyway, chicken butt !!

#vampy reblogs <3 #art reblogs

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vampyrixdarling · 22 days ago

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Busy woman . Sabrina carpenter (chance x reader)

genre: fluff

character: chance

word count:

not proof read

he/they used on chance, user is a singer pretty much, I forgot if chance owns or runs a casino or something but he does both here, I guess reader is kinda fem here

this is part 1 because I didn’t know what to add but I didn’t want to delete it so. update from later in the day! added part 2

an: this was meant to be way longer and suggestive but it’s not really. update; it is longer now bc I added part 2

tw: a but suggestive at the end

tysm for reading and I hope u enjoy! <3

“but if you want my kisses, I’ll be your perfect mrs—“

You were busy to say the least, all the time and so was Chance. Chance though took time off running his casino to be with you when he could. You on the other hand continued to write song after song, record them and then go on tours.

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not like you didn’t want to stay with Chance all day and cover him in kisses and such with your lipstick. But you enjoyed meeting fans and you couldn’t really pause in the middle of your tour to fly to see Chance on the other side of the country and just kiss him.

So, you planned to have a show near where you and Chance lived so you could see him when it was over, even if it was only for a day or two and then you guys would have to go back to calling once everyday or two for four months.

And that’s what you did!

You insisted; despite your manager’s arguments to go home with Chance and stay with him in your shared home.

The night looked breathtaking, lit up by the bright big city lights, signs and everything else that could be overstimulating to someone was calm today. It was just as loud as expected for a city but it felt peaceful, maybe because you missed being there, being with Chance and not doing tiring two hour long shows and flying every second day.

You peeked your head out the window as Chance gently warned you that it’s not safe to do so. You gently kiss his cheek as if telling them, ‘yes, I heard you but you only live once and I don’t really care about safety right now’

You hold your coat slightly tighter in your arms as the strong wind blows into your face. You look back at Chance.

Eventually after twenty or thirty minutes, you got to the penthouse and finally got to take your heels off, gods, how good it felt to not have your feet hurt.

You walk outside onto the balcony and lean against the railing, Chance gently wraps his arms around you from behind.

“You know,” they say, “you don’t have to keep on humming. You’re not on stage right now.”

You smile and giggle a tiny bit at that before turning around so your back is against the railing and leaning in to kiss him.

“Are you saying you don’t like my humming?” You tease.

“I can’t dislike it. I’m not tone deaf.”

“You are, just good to know you aren’t that tone deaf.” He shakes his head in amusement at your antics, smiling to themself.

“You know that’s not true,” he says.

“Not really at least, still a tiny bit true though but you can, at the very least recognise talent.” You smirk, “because I’m so talented, I’d be hurt if you couldn’t recognise that.” You add, sarcasm dripping from your tone as you lean your back against the balcony railing.

Noticing you leaning back, their grip on you tightens to pull you forward, making you closer to them.

“Anyone can recognise that, baby.” He says, leaning closer to you, you give in, feeling ‘bad’ for teasing him and kiss him.

“I don’t care about who recognises my talent as long as they recognise how important it is to me.” You mumble, smiling slightly from the kiss.

You lean in to kiss them again, trying to get your lipstick off his lips. That’s just a silly excuse though.

“What city are you in next?” He asks and then you remember that you are in fact on tour; it didn’t stop just because you were with him.

You pause. “Not sure,” you put your hands on their shoulders, “can’t it wait to be discussed tomorrow?” You whisper.

He nods, “may as well appreciate my time with you.” He sweetly says.

an: will make part 2 today and probably edit this

added part 2!!

tysm for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

#vampy reblogs <3 #fic reblogs

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vampyrixdarling · 23 days ago

Note

Hai Could we maybe get some content on the One of A Kind AU

Orrr

We could get Ghost!Reader, originally one of the first to come before the rest of the survivors, you somehow got bound to the cabin after some unknown event. Now you just chill around being the mischievous and a tad bit vengeful spirit

[forsaken] survivors x ghost!reader - headcanons .ᐟ

a/n; SORRY ANON THIS TOOK SO LONG I FORGOT THIS RQ EVEN EXISTED A

noob

- your no. 1 victim. obviously. - doesn’t enjoy your presence. surviving rounds is stressful enough, and now you. - once offered a peace treaty with boxy colas and snacks. it worked. for 3 rounds. - still can’t get used to your ghostly pranks and weirdness. - stop jumpscaring them you freak, they need an ventilator because of you.

007n7

- you startled him at first. he warmed up, kind of. still flinches when you whisper “boo” - actually enjoys your company, even if it sends shivers down his spine. - your presence scrambles his c00lgui frequency in weird but harmless ways. he doesn’t hate it, just... doesn’t want to glitch mid-tele

elliot

- most affected during his first few rounds in the realm. - more worried about real threats than ghosts like you. you’re harmless anyways. maybe. - secretly finds it funny how his food phases through you when he shares. - he sees you as a floating cooking buddy. your yap sessions are the kitchen soundtrack. -he enjoys this ghostly company.

dusekkar

- you could scare him… but where’s the fun if he never reacts? - when you go overboard messing with the crew, he casts a silencing spell to shut you down. - not only that, you have to sit through his long ass lectures. with rhythm. sorry not sorry - you’re basically on a leash whenever he’s around. - don’t touch his staff unless you want to be exorcised.

builderman

- shocked at first, got over it quickly. dude’s got deadlines. - you were here first, so he uses you as his info source. - most of your convos are just q&a, barely anything casual. - you share info willingly. even sprinkle in some lies here and there. - and when you do? that glare you feel burning into your soul? - consider it a warning.

taph

- actually likes having you around. hey twin!! he’s an anomaly himself. - talks nonstop about his traps, even if you barely understand him. - calls you “glowstick” when his tripmines fade through you. - on hot days, asks you to “preen” his wings. your chill keeps them cool.

guest 1337

- thought you were a hallucination at first. war trauma, y’know. - eventually realized you’re real. his sanity’s still on probation. - instinctively tries to punch you when you surprise him. - reluctantly asks for info. blame builderman. - your eerie vibe unsettles him and he hates your pranks. can’t blame him, really.

shedletsky

- chill as ice around you. - partners-in-prank. you two get scolded on a daily basis. - loves your yap sessions even if they’re pure nonsense. - constantly jokes about your transparency. to hide some grief behind it. - you remind him of them. just missing some ribs. - nevertheless, talking to you helps him unwind after each round.

chance

- similar to shedletsky: cool with you, but still flinches at your ghostly chill. - your pranks blur memories of someone he lost. he was never one for chaos. - dared to flirt with you once. ghost or not, it happened. *wink wink* - constantly invites you for poker or monopoly. loses every time (you definitely didn’t cheat). - wishes you could join him in rounds just to show off his sniping skills.

two time

- first time seeing you? instantly reminded them of azure. - the trauma lingers. - tried stabbing you multiple times. it did catch you off guard. - doesn’t mind your chilly touch, but your entire existence unnerves them. - you’re strangely drawn to this non-binary fella. their escape attempts amuse you. (you like to pick them up out of nowhere) - someone call godspawn. they’re running out of places to hide.

jane doe

- please for the love of god just leave her be. she’s been through hell. - of course you won’t. - much like the pumpkin guy, she barely reacts to your pranks and jokes. and when she does, it’s so painfully formal it kills any fun on arrival. - what did you expect? She can’t even get a moment of peace in this place. - still, for reasons even you don’t understand, you once brought her brownies. small win. - she actually liked them. said they helped her calm down. there, isn’t this better?

#vampy reblogs <3 #fic reblogs

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