#and my cocky voice of is david the lost boys of all things... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

limenysnocket · 3 years

Text

Expensive Thrifting

Taika Waititi x Reader

Summary: Like a lot of girlfriends, you steal your boyfriend's clothes. But, what happens when roles switch, and your boyfriend steals your clothes?

Request: @honorarytenenbaum (FROM A LONG TIME AGO I'M SORRY)

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 1.7k another shorty for you

A/N: Okay. So. To get back into the spunk of things, I've decided to challenge myself to write a fluffy fic this time. I didn’t edit it much, so be prepared for mistakes.

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

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"Hey Taik," your voice echoed through the large house, from your room, down the stairs and into the living room. "Have you seen my DBZ hoodie anywhere?"

You don't receive an immediate answer, so you go to look for yourself. After a quiet walk down the stairs, peering around every corner for him, you find him sitting in the living room, sitting on the couch, in a very... awkward position.

"Are you okay?" you were concerned. You've never seen his leg bend like that before.

Taika's head snaps right to you, and he looks speechless. He's trying to come up with something. "I'm great. Just chilling. Watching..." he looks to the television screen. The television wasn't even turned on.

"Go on," you encourage, now leaning on the guardrail to the steps and tilting your head. He's still quiet.

After another long, insane moment of hesitation, he finally picks up a bowl from the ground. "Grapes?" He offered them out to you, and all you did was just stare at them.

"No, I'm good," you hummed, eyebrows furrowed while Taika still tried hard to play it cool. "While you were having a stroke, I'm assuming, I think I lost my Dragon Ball Z hoodie. Have you seen it at all, or did it get mixed in with your laundry?"

"Uh, no. Nope. I don't even like that show. Sorry," he looked away and up at the ceiling like a purposely oblivious little boy. You were starting to catch on. Suspicious, but you didn't have enough evidence.

"It's hard to miss, Taika. You seriously didn't notice it going into the wash with your clothes? At all?" you held your hands up, and he began to twiddle with his thumbs.

"Nuh-uh," his answer was stout. He was still avoiding eye contact with you. You gave up.

"Fine," you huff, then drop down from the final step. "I'm just gonna go have a look for myself. You know, just in case." You walked right by him. His position didn't waver, except for his eyes that were bouncing all over the place in order to still avoid you.

Instead of actually digging through laundry, you hid behind a corner, and lurked there to casually stalk your boyfriend. He was still acting weird when you left. He would check over his shoulder from time to time, and after a minute or so, you finally saw him get up and start digging through the couch cushions. He didn't make much of a sound, but he certainly found something that he liked, because he picked something up, and he had the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face.

All it took was a little glimpse of red-orange fabric and you knew. He had your hoodie.

You burst from your hiding place instantly. "Taika David Cohen, I know what you're hiding!" You shout at him and instantly he's a deer in headlights, but not for long. His eyes never moved from yours and there was a brief moment of silence. He juked the couch corner once, at first thinking he should run to the kitchen, but ultimately made a break for the stairs, hoping to make it to the bedroom with the only lock. You, like a dope, ran right after him.

His long legs helped carry him, but you had unwithering speed and determination. At the end, he almost had you. His hand was on the doorknob and he was just about to slam the door shut to lock, but you pushed through like a tank and plowed into him. The force you had knocked him back onto the bed, but the hoodie was still in his hands. You reached for it, but he scrambled to the other side of it. He didn't notice where the bed ended, and fell to the ground as a result. He picked himself up, thankfully unhurt and unphased by the whole chase, and the thing you wanted was still in his grasp.

"Taika," you were panting on the other side of the bed, and you outstretched a frustrated hand. "Give me the hoodie."

"Absolutely not," he wasn't breathing as hard, and he hugged the hoodie close to his chest.

"This is the third time this week! Give me the damn hoodie! I just washed it!" You shake your hand to add emphasis, but all he does is just look at it with a disgruntled attitude.

"It's your fault for being gullible and not watching your things better," he stuck his tongue out at you, childishly. The longer this went on, the more huffy you became. All you wanted to do was relax in your favorite hoodie and maybe cuddle a little bit! That's all!

"Okay, that was a low blow from the biggest procrastinator on earth. And, like you said, you don't even like Dragon Ball! Why the fuck do you want it so bad!?" It was a petty argument, sure, but you were a bit hardheaded, so why not drag this out a little longer?

"I could like it!" He shouted and spluttered, trying to come up with excuses. "And it's comfortable. It's a massive size!" He held it out in his hands, just looking at it, and his eyes lit up. "We could share!"

"No."

His idea was stomped out quickly, and he went back to pouting. He wouldn't give it up yet.

You sighed, getting tired of trying to find a solution. Your eyes started to trail, looking for something, anything, to call it even. Just to your luck, you landed on the closet.

"Give me your One Piece sweater," you said, and folded your arms.

Taika, still admiring the piece of clothing in his arms, became suddenly baffled and looked right at you. The look he gave you said it all. "No!" That word was popular with him today.

"Why not?" You said, eyes lingering over to the closet again. "What's stopping me?"

His whole body tensed and his jaw shifted. It was a sudden standoff, just waiting for the other to make a move. At first, he tried to make up more excuses, but you taunted him like Chris Tucker in Rush Hour. With every stumble and fumble he made with his words, you played the shadow game with him.

When he was at his lowest, you bolted to the closet. He dropped your hoodie and ran right after you, just as the closet door swung open. Your hand was centimeters away from the hanger you needed, but Taika came crashing right into first, bumping you right out of the way with his hip. With plan b failed, you ran right to where he dropped your hoodie and managed to snag it in seconds just by the sleeve.

In your moment of glory, you were cocky enough to try and run out the door. Taika had been anticipating that move, ever since he got his One Piece sweater and saw you dive for your hoodie, he was waiting in front of the door. So, when you turned on your heel and made a mad dash, you ran right into Taika and his hand had grabbed onto the collar of the shirt.

Taika tried to yank it from your hands, and you gasped, holding on tight. He tried again and again and again, but you kept holding. Neither of you were noticed that the fabric was slowly starting to rip.

"Taika! It's not yours!" you yell, pulling back.

"I know, but I like it! It fits me!" he yelled back, and yanked it.

Childish taunts went back and forth, and both of you were both talking at the same time for a point in time. The room started to swirl, and eventually the strings keeping the hoodie together grew tired of the fabric and it just...

Snapped.

There was a piercing rip, and both you and Taika stumbled back. He left with the entire collar in his hands, soft string still dwindling from it and hanging from under his nails. You broke away with the rest of the hoodie. Once you realized what happened, it fell from your hands. You kind of just... looked at it. Your hand came up to cup over your mouth and your other arm cradled just beneath your chest.

Taika was talking to you, but you just tuned it out. When you finally looked back up at Taika, you had a look on your face that he only saw during actual, serious fights. He had royally pissed you off this time.

At least he had enough sense to move out of the way when you walked out of the room. He still had the collar in his hands, and he watched you go downstairs.

You needed to cool off for a little bit. You went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and sat down on the couch. You curled your legs up to your knees and turned the television on. You weren't really in the mood to watch anything, so you endlessly flipped through the stations, reading the descriptions and quietly wondering how some of these shows even made it at all.

You hadn't noticed it, but Taika had summoned up enough courage to come downstairs. He brought a peace offering with him. He slowly crept to the living room, staying out of your peripheral vision for the time being until he was behind you and the couch. He cautiously came to wrap his arms around you, making you pause from your channel flipping and he buried his nose into the crook of your neck. He let the thing he brought slide onto your knees. It was his One Piece sweater.

He murmured a soft, "I'm sorry," into your tender skin and kissed at it.

You couldn't stay mad at him, no matter how hard you tried. Your hand went up into his hair and you massaged his scalp the best you could with one hand. "It's fine... but there's one thing you can do to make it up to me." You pulled away from him and folded your arms. He sighed, giving you a soft frown, but he only knew it was right.

"I'll buy you a new one..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you #fluffy #gosh I missed writing fluff this is nice #should I write something dirty again???#thoughts

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monsterfuneral · 4 years

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just peachy | the lost boys

Relationship: Poly!The Lost Boys x Gender Neutral!Reader

Request: Can I send in a request because your writing is *chef's kiss*? I'm just having a rough day and I'm tired of having a stupid accent. I'm from Georgia and my friends always tease me about saying certain words. Could you maybe write something about the boys' so is tired of them teasing her but she doesn't say anything because she doesn't want to seem weak or something. But she starts teaching herself how to talk "correctly" and then the boys realize her accent is basically gone and then try to make her feel better? 💛

Words: 2.1k

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, changing yourself in order to satisfy your partner(s), insecurity, *Bo Burnham voice* prolonged eye contact, and some sexual tension for absolutely no reason

Author’s Note: Ah finally, someone else in this fandom that also lives in this hell state (I’m assuming you mean the USA Georgia). As someone who literally did this as a child, thus resulting in me not having an accent anymore unless I jokingly put one on, I felt like this request so hard.

I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time right now dude, and I’m sorry it took me this long to write out but I wanted to make it as good as possible for you <3

Also thank you so much for the compliment on my writing that truly means so much.

Anywho I’ll shut up now, I hope this turned out okay and you enjoy the story!

REQUESTS OPEN

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

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You moved to Santa Carla at the beginning of spring, focusing on better job opportunities and using it as an excuse to explore a new place away from the south. Living in Georgia could be tiring, seeing the same thing over and over again, looking at the same buildings, driving through the same towns. Sure it was where you grew up, but it was slowly feeling less like a home. So the second you saw the opportunity to leave and live somewhere else, you took it. There were things to do, people to meet, interesting jobs that actually appealed to you.

It was nearing winter now. Sure you missed the yellowing leaves and crisp fall air that could hang around until noon. That was a sacrifice you were willing to make though, if it meant you could continue to work on the boardwalk right next to the beach. Where it was lively and something new was happening every night, keeping you interested.

You leaned over the railing, looking out at the sparkling water and over to the live concert that had packed the beach for the night. Your shift at the boardwalk’s thrift store had just ended, giving you time to catch the last song that the opening band was playing.

Arms encircled around your waist, making you snap out of your music induced daze. “Hey there sweet thing.” Paul muttered against the shell of your ear before nuzzling his nose against your neck.

The rest of the boys slowly joined, caging both you and Paul in as they looked down at the beach to the show that was still going on. David leaned his back against the railing and looked at you, winking with a cigarette burning between his lips where one corner of his lips turned upwards in a smirk. You gave him a sweet smile, pulling Paul’s arms tighter around your waist.

“Y’all are a little late tonight.” You mused, looking at Marko who leaned forward against the railing with his arms. Paul squeezed you a little tighter with a soft chuckle brushing against your ear. The boys all had a smile on their lips when they heard you talk.

You had met the boys not even a week after you had touched down in the bustling city. The four bikers, clad in leather with cocky attitudes radiating off of them staring you down. They could probably tell you were new in town, seeing how your doe eyes would stare at the boardwalk attractions in amazement. After all, the only times you had actually been any amusement parks in Georgia was when they’d open up seasonally. Even then it was rare since at the time you had a busy job to keep up with and sometimes it would get too humid to bother going anyway. Your innocent curiosity of a new location drew them in, putting up a front that they could show you around some time. After all, it was uncommon for a southerner to grace Santa Carla with their presence, so color them curious.

The boys had always assumed that people from the south tended to keep to themselves in their small towns, going to church, and gripping their racial biases tight. Plus, it had also been well over four decades since they’d been to the south, their last visit being less than stellar. So when they first met you they were weary, not knowing exactly what was in store and what direction the conversation was going to go, and if you would end up being food by the end of the night.

Luckily for all of you the conversation had actually gone very well, and the thrift store slowly started to become a spot they would drop by more frequently. They found you adorable, the accent and the way you talked, it was all just so different from what they were used to. Not long into knowing you, they started inviting you out with them, wanting to actually get to know you past where you were from and where you worked. From there your relationship blossomed into what it was now.

“Had to get a little snack before dropping by.” Marko smirked, poking Paul’s bicep “Someone had the stomach rumbles bad.”

“Ugh stop.” Paul groaned “I was hungry.”

“Well maybe you should have eaten more last night.” Dwayne chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder with Paul’s teasingly.

“I tried!” Paul argued “Michael was being a total blood hog!” All the boys collectively sent a silencing ‘shut up’ glare to the rowdy blonde.

You chuckled softly “Well next time you just gotta butt his ass out of the way.”

It was a whole two months into knowing the boys before their little fanged secret was revealed. Granted it was by accident but whatever.

It had been getting close to nightfall by the time you walked into the cave unannounced, planning on surprising them. But they were nowhere to be found so you decided to wait it out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through an old comic from Marko’s stash. When the sun had finally dropped behind the water, the boys all came flying out of a hole at the top of the cave flying in circles around the ceiling whooping and hollering, playfully chasing each other before hearing you gasp.

The conversation you all had after that lasted all night. David tried insisting that you had to turn now that you knew, while Dwayne and Marko protested, knowing that they no longer had to enforce that rule with Max being dead. Either way, six months later and it was safe to say you knew pretty much everything when it came to their lives as vampires.

From then on things had been pretty smooth sailing.

Well until recently.

Of course you knew the boys weren’t perfect, they did in fact kill people for food, so you weren’t exactly expecting to have boyfriend’s sent down from god himself. But by being with them it made you notice some things about yourself that you never really did before. Sure you knew they probably meant well, but picking at the way you said things made you feel a little insecure, in fact you were growing to dislike your accent because of it. And as a result you started to change your speech and the way you talked. The lingering thought of ‘maybe they’ll be happier like this’ in the back of your head just kept chewing away, and as a way to not come off as weak, you remained silent about the problem you had with their teasing.

If they noticed they never said anything. Not commenting on the way your speech smoothed out into something you assumed they would find more tolerable. At first you had done it just as an experiment to see if you could even do it without them noticing. Which, to you, had seemed to be the case.

Seemed to be.

Little did you know they were a lot more observant than you gave them credit for. Especially David. He had been the first to notice how you were using some words less and less, you had seemed closed off from them in general. The other boys slowly started to realize it too, noticing the almost subtle way your accent seemed to just go away after months of them hearing it. It was confusing to say the least.

Some of them- mainly Paul- had chalked it up to being around them for so long, but they knew that wasn’t the case. If it were, Dwayne’s own accent would have been long gone by now.

“Is something wrong?” David chimed out of nowhere, blowing smoke towards the stars. All eyes turned to him and you furrowed your brows in, confused. “You’re suppressing your accent. Why?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not having expected this conversation so soon “Um… I don’t know what you’re talking about?” You tried playing dumb, hoping he would just drop the subject. But this was David and you knew that was very unlikely.

He let out a deep chuckle before sliding himself in front of you, blocking out your view of the show on the beach, and trapping you between himself and Paul. He lifted your chin with his thumb and index finger, the leather of his glove brushing against your bottom lip softly, keeping your head in place so he could look into your eyes. You felt like he was staring into your soul, reading you, attempting to pry the secrets from your brain.

“Don’t lie sweetheart.” He tilted his head, challenging you to argue back “I’ve been around for a long, long time. It’s not hard to notice a change as simple as an accent. Especially when it comes to our mate.”

Mate. This was the first time you heard him actually use the word himself. It made your heart pick up pace in your chest, and you were sure they could all hear it. He brought himself closer, not exactly caring about the public’s prying eyes at your current predicament. He cupped your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, your noses brushing against each other before he teasingly kissed the corner of your mouth. He was toying with you, making you drop your guard.

“Answer the question baby.” Paul whispered against the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Marko and Dwayne were both leaning on the railing on either side of the three of you, looking out at the ocean as if this wasn’t even happening. Well, with the occasional side eye in your direction.

David pulled away, and you subconsciously chased after him, seeking more contact. You let out a quiet whine, glaring at him as he took yet another drag from his cigarette.

“Well?”

“Fuck- Okay fine.” You mutter in defeat, no longer seeing a use in trying to fight them when they already suspected the truth. “I didn’t want to say anythin’, I mean it’s really not anything to get worked up over. It’s just that I’m tired of being teased for how I say stuff.” The accent slowly melded into your words, slight slip ups that had been harder to tame with the little time you’ve been training yourself to speak more ‘correctly’. “So uh- I thought I’d try and talk a little more normally.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Dwayne asked, his attention now fully on you.

You shrugged, slightly embarrassed “I don’t know. I mean it wasn’t your problem, and I thought it might be a little less annoying to hear me talk, y’know like-”

“Like Paul?” Marko interrupted, receiving a punch in the shoulder from the wild haired blonde.

Paul shook his head softly like a disappointed parent “No cool man.”

A laugh left your lips, glad that they were being at least a little light hearted about it. “No. I guess I just kinda assumed you guys didn’t like it. So I just thought- well you know.”

The conversation went silent, all of them staring at you before looking at each other. Dwayne was the first to crack from his stony expression and smile at you, his cool hand coming to smooth over your warm cheek. He caressed your skin gently with his thumb, silently admiring you for a second.

“All you had to do was talk to us. I could’ve told Paul and Marko to shut the hell up for you.” He joked, making you smile with him before laughing. “You don’t have to change yourself to please us. That’s not something we expect from you.”

Paul let go of you, spinning you around and catching you before you tripped over your own feet. “Yeah! You could have totally said something! You’re not gonna hurt our feelings or anything babe.” He brought you to his chest, giving your cheek an overly wet kiss, trying his best to lighten your mood. David’s hand smoothed up from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, the cool leather welcome against the heat on your neck. He brought himself closer, trapping you against himself and Paul once again, if not bringing himself closer this time.

Marko smirked at the way your eyes clouded over slightly, “Yeah I mean… If anything I think it’s kinda hot.” He said, tracing the lapel of the leather jacket you wore, twirling the dark purple squid lures he had gifted you around his index finger. His eyes were lidded when he looked at you, a cocky smirk on his lips.

You wanted so badly to tell him to fuck off, but oddly enough the reassurance did help. Realizing that you in fact did not have to change in order to please them, and that’s not what they wanted from you was like a breath of fresh air. It lifted a weight from your shoulders and you were thankful for it, leaving you wishing you had said something sooner. You loved them, and while being in Santa Carla was a huge change in your life, you wouldn’t want to experience it with anyone else other than them.

#dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #marko #paul #david #dwayne #The Lost Boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys imagine #tlb imagine #tlb 1987 #poly tlb #tlb #monster writes

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markosmate · 4 years

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Could you do one where the boys (poly or David) girl gets insecure after seeing other girls fawn over the boys so she try’s to dodge the boys thinking they’d be happier with someone else- also your writings are quickly becoming some of my favorites of the lost boys ff writers 💛💛💛

aww thank you so much!! that means so much to me and of course,, this is a really cute idea so i had fun writing this one. i chose to do poly, if you want me to write another one that’s just david i'd be happy to :) - 🧚🏻

cinnamon

pairing; poly!lost boys x reader

warnings; self doubt, insecurities

The first thing you noticed about the boys was how well they were dressed. Despite all of their outfits consisting in relatively dark colors, they all seemed to have their own little aesthetics that fit their personalities well. The second thing you noticed, was how they either seemed to completely deflect people, or draw them in like bees to honey. No in between. You felt drawn to them almost immediately, their punk yet boyish vibes rubbing off on you the perfect way immediately.

But after realizing how many girls flocked to them on the nightly, you refused to give into the butterflies in your stomach when you locked eyes with one of them for the first time. Instead, you turned on your heel and began making your way in the opposite direction. It didn’t take long for them to get you wrapped around their finger, almost like you got hooked on their line and they were pulling you in quicker than ever before.

You fell for each of them, hard, and in turn, they fell for you. After many conversations among the four of them, they decided to break both the news of what they were, and their plan of sharing you, in one night. You were honestly more shocked at their confession of feelings than you were about their apparent bat side.

Of course you were a little horrified at first. What do you mean your sweet boys drained people of their blood every night to survive? You didn’t quite believe either thing they were telling you until David flashed his face at you, yellow eyes and fangs galore. You stared at him for a good long while, taking it all in before the second confession hit you like a truck.

"You’re saying all four of you have feelings for me? Like, feelings feelings?" Your jaw dropped, looking each one in the eyes as they all nodded at you with cocky smirks on their faces. Except Dwayne, he was kinda sympathetic about dumping that all on you at once, you know - he’s a nice guy when he’s not killing people to survive. "Dwayne kills people?" That earned you a round of laughter that cooled the tension in the air.

That night, you let your walls down. After all, you could deal with a few girls flirting with them every few nights. Now that they were all with you, they'd surely turn down the flirting and make sure the girls knew they weren’t interested right? Wrong, completely and utterly wrong.

In fact, it almost seemed like they were doing the exact opposite. Dwayne and David were about the same, they never used seduction to lure in victims. They had always preferred to use stealth and intimidation. Paul, on the other hand?

Suddenly he didn’t know how to hunt without cat-calling three girls in the process.

It angered you to no end. But at the same time, it also dug up many self-doubting thoughts that seemed to ring around your head every time he or Marko did it. Would the boys be happier with someone else? One of those girls who constantly fawned over their every move, practically obsessed with your four boys? You didn’t know, and after a while of that insecurity building, you decided you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

Your distancing started out small. Not showing up at the boardwalk for a night here and there without telling them you weren't going to be able to make it, cancelling plans of going back to the cave with them to sleep there for the day. They noticed immediately, obviously, but they couldn’t for the life of them figure out why you were suddenly acting this way. And the night that they planned to ask you about what was wrong, you didn’t show up to the boardwalk. Nor did you didn’t show up to their meeting spot the next night either, or the night after that. On the fourth day of you not showing up, the boys were all practically ripping the hair out of their heads.

"I’m going crazy here, man! Why can’t we just go check on her?" Marko groaned, thumping his fingers on the handle of his bike.

"Because." David answered curtly, breathing in deep around the butt of his cigarette.

"Because?" Paul cried out, looking at his leader with an exasperated expression. "Something could be wrong with her and you’re just saying 'because'?"

"He’s letting his pride get in the way." Dwayne huffed out, taking a sip from his milkshake. "He wants her to come to us, not the other way around."

"This is ridiculous. I’m going to her man." Paul grunted, starting up his bike before revving the engine for extra effect.

"Right on, dude." The shorter blond mumbled under his breath, following the former's actions.

"I told you we need to wait." David narrowed his eyes at the two offending vampires.

"No, man. They have a point. Something's wrong." Dwayne defended the other two's protests. "She’s been distancing herself lately and suddenly she’s not showing up to be with us anymore?"

"Obviously we did something." Marko threw in. "She wouldn’t just stop talking to us if we hadn't done anything."

"She’s not like that, man." Paul concluded as they all stared directly at David knowing that he had to give in now.

"Alright. Let’s go." The grins on his three boys' face was infectious, and he had to hide his own to avoid the teasing that was sure to come if they were to notice it.

The four revved their bikes and were off to your house, arriving in a record-breaking four minutes. They parked their bikes down the street as to not raise suspicion from your parents and quietly made their way around the back of the house towards your window.

Paul took the opportunity to pick up a few small pebbles along the way, before tossing them gently up to your window.

After a few short moments, your face appeared to them as you pulled your curtains back.

Your eyes caught Dwayne's first as you stared down into the yard, trying to make out their shapes in the dark. You unlocked the window and threw it upwards, much harsher than you should’ve considering your parents were still very much asleep. "What are you doing here?" You hissed down to them after poking your head out of the opening in the window.

"Whoa, babe." Marko tried to calm you. "We’re your boyfriends, why aren’t we allowed to visit you?"

You glared at him before turning to gaze at each of them individually. "Please leave." You mumbled calmly. "I don’t want to see you guys right now."

"Babe?" Paul called up, voice cracking the tiniest bit. "What’s going on? Can we please come up?"

You frowned. You were doing this so that they could find someone else that they would be happier with, not to hurt them. Your eyes softened as you made eye contact with each of them once more, eyes locking with David's at last. "Come on up." You sighed, stepping away from the window and plopping down on your bed. A huge gust of wind came blowing through your room, pushing your curtains out of the way and rustling your hair as all four of your boys managed to stumble through your small window.

You reached over towards your headboard and grabbed the nearest pillow you could to hug to your chest. Immediately Paul threw himself on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body to hold you against him. David moved to lean back against your closet door. Dwayne stayed near the window, moving to sit against the sill as Marko just kind of fumbled about awkwardly in the middle, not quite knowing where to go.

"You guys have never been in here before." You muttered, trying to divert the conversation that you knew they would want to address immediately. "Just outside to pick me up."

David rolled his eyes at your stalling tactics, pushing himself off the closet door to walk over to you. He leaned down, slipping a finger under your chin to bring your head up to face him. "What’s going on kitten?"

You sighed, not knowing how to put it without sounding desperate or clingy. You opted to lean back against Paul's chest as he shifted to sit with a leg on either side of you. "I wanted to distance myself from you guys-"

"Why?" Paul and Marko blurted out before you could finish your sentence. Paul seemed hurt while Marko just seemed offended that you would lead them on only to ditch.

"She was trying to tell us, shut up." David shushed them both.

"I just- I thought that maybe if you guys didn’t have me holding you back... you could find a nice girl that you really like who makes you more happy than I do." You whispered, holding on tightly to the blond's wrist that were wrapped around your waist.

"Baby, why would you think that?" Dwayne cooed, moving to sit beside you and Paul as Marko and David visibly deflated at your confession.

"I don’t know... I guess I just- I just got kind of upset seeing all the girls that flock to you guys night after night. And then seeing Marko and Paul flirt back with them, even more than you guys did before we all started dating, it just kinda sealed it for me. I just... felt like you guys were better off before we started dating." You explained almost all in one breath. Paul buried his face in your neck as Marko moved to sit on the other side of you. David kneed onto one knee and cupped your face to encourage your eyes to meet his own.

"Doll, we want you. That’s why we chose you. We don’t want them. We want you baby." He whispered, scanning your face to try and read what emotion you were feeling.

"And I’m just dumb, babe. You know I never mean it when I flirt with them. They’re just meals, you’re everything to me." Paul pouted, pressing a flurry of kisses to your neck and shoulder. "If I had known that it bothered you that much, I would have stopped right when you said the word."

"Yeah, baby doll. We won’t do it anymore, promise. They could never compare to you." Marko grinned at you, leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, your smile was already beginning to return to your lips.

David grinned at you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "All you had to do was tell us, kitten. You didn’t have to put yourself through all this self-doubt. We’re yours."

You smiled softly at him, leaning into his gloved hand. "I love you guys."

That night, three of your boys fell asleep curled against each other at the foot of the bed. You slipped out of Paul's arms, causing him to toss and turn until he found Marko's body to pull into his own. You crawled up the bed towards the headboard where Dwayne was leaned back against a bunch of your stuffed animals. He gathered you tightly in his arms as you curled up against his side.

"Go to sleep." He whispered into your hair. "I'll wake you up before me and the boys leave to say goodbye." You knew he wouldn't, but it made you smile anyway. You tried to keep your eyes open, trying to make the moment last as long as possible as you knew they would all have to leave in a few hours before the sun rose but you couldn’t deny how comfy it was to sleep against Dwayne. You fell asleep to the sensation of him pressing kisses to the crown of you head in rhythm you couldn’t pick up on.

"My cinnamon." He whispered just as you finally drifted off. "How could you ever doubt the love we have for you?"

Quick AN:// you’re LYING to yourself in you try to say the image of david curled up with marko and paul doesn’t sound like the absolute cutest!! okay i’m done hehe, i have three more requests to work on so i need to get started on those,, bye y’all mwah <33

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 3 years

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Okay, question of the day (or moment, depending LOL): in the seduction department, who would win: vampire!Jacob or David from TLB? Say if the two of them were interested in the same person (you, perhaps? ��) and wanted to have a bit of "friendly competition", who could make the person they're pursuing crack first and completely and utterly give in to his vampire charms? (Also, no copping out by suggesting a threesome, as I doubt either of them would want to share. LOL) Have fun! 😈 -TCCG

*pounds on table*

SAMMICH! SAMMICH! SAMMICH! SAMMICH! GIMME VAMPIRIC SAMMICH OR GIMME DEATH!

(which considering one of the boys in question -yeah, I am looking at you, bleached mulleted Kiefer, I am very much looking at you- that would most likely be the outcome. But hey, welcome to the afterlife with the Fangy Fangs, am I right?)

(Also,bloody hell, girl, you truly know me too well. You knew that I would opt out and go for the sammich. But you are damn right, neither would want to share! And good gods, you know that am gonna write all of this, right? The Crickets in my head are having a field day with all of these!!) SO LEMME DIVE DOWN INTO THIS, BECAUSE, OH BOY, THIS BE MY JAM RIGHT HERE.

Ok, so first of all, lemme tell you right away that the competition would NOT BE FRIENDLY. AT ALL.

You have basically put two Roosters in the Arena(and yes, I deliberately avoided using the word "cocks". I don't need to be thinking about those two naked fighting first thing in the morning. Wait. On second thoughts, I do.😳😳 ), and NO WAY IN FREAKING HELL either will leave you to the other.

David is as antagonistic as he could be, the Leader of the Lost Boys, so, unless Jacob was to belong to his gang (which, hell no, Jacob got his own group of disenfranchised uniformed vampires, thank you very much), I think he would go full on territorial on you, his prize, his mate.

David is possessive but charming as hell, cocky, and he is damn sure that you would crack under that smirk and those blue eyes that are clearer than a serene sky in a splendid morning. The boy is persistent (jfc, how many times did he call for Michael, in that freaking movie? Lemme tell you: A LOT), and once he sets his eyes on you, you are his. That's it. You are his, because he has chosen you and he would do all that it takes to make sure that you are to be his and his alone. He would welcome you into his lair, probably let you be around the other Boys, but always keeping an eye on you, because you are his mate. (although, the other boys are smart enough not to try to make a pass to their Leader's chosen mate, aside from the camaraderie that already exists between them).

There is no length he is not willing to go, to make sure that you are to end up in his arms, and if that's to happen, you can bloody well believe that he will do all in his powers to make sure that you stay that way.

Jacob, on the other hand, would get a field day teasing his rival and getting, showcasing all of that rascal charm that we have come to love and adore (because I do headcanon that Jacob, even as a vampire, would still be a good guy, not as broody as Arno Dorian would be, but still trying not to hurt any innocent bystander in his hunger). Differently from David, who would be more direct, more commanding, Jacob would be more subtle in his ways to make you fall for him, using his deep growly voice, his warm, sweet eyes, and subtle flirting as a way to make you melt in his arms (and get more easily access to that sweet sweet neck of yours). But make no mistake: much like David, once you are his, he would fight tooth and nail against anyone that would try to make a pass to you. He would become hella territorial, but then again, he is a gang leader that has to look after his own tribe, so to speak, so territoriality comes naturally to him. (Unless you willingly choose David. In that sense, Jacob would never force anyone to be with him, not even as a vampire. Would he be heartbroken over your choice? Yes, he would, but he values you too much to ever force you to do anything that would make you sad in any way. He is just not that type of guy).

SO. AFTER THIS ETERNAL PREMISE, (I am so sorry, you know that I always end up babble away) ALL IN ALL, WHO WOULD MAKE YOU CRACK FIRST UNDER THEIR VAMPIRIC CHARM???

Bloody hell, I don´t know how to answer this. (and goddamnit, y'all have a passion for making me choose between two characters that I like. Y'all like to see me in a pickle, don't ya???)

Ok, IN MY MOST HUMBLE OPINION, Jacob would win.

Jacob would be the one to make you crack first under his vampiric charm, because, while being a charming rascal, he would also be sweeter than David. (and this is based on all the analysis I did before. My own very personal opinion might or might not differ. one might never be to sure what goes on in my own cricket mind😶😶😶)

BUT I STILL STAND TO WHAT I SAID IN THE BEGINNING.

SAMMICH. SAMMICH IS THE SOLUTION.

SAMMICH!

WELL, THANK YOU FOR THIS PUZZLE YOU BROUGHT ME TODAY, MY DEAR. I LOVED IT!!! (yes, good gods, I just adore making this kind of comparison and analysis, my own brain goes brrrrrrr).

HOPE I MANAGED TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION!!

--NEMO

#Jacob Frye #Assassin's Creed #The Lost Boys #david the lost boys #Asks #Nemo Babbles #Thatcrazycrowgirl #friends

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Bit Morbid.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, blood drinking, implied sexual content

Context: idk really, it's just an idea that popped into my head at work today😂😅

Masterlist.

A pleasant burn runs down the length of my throat as I take yet another sip of the strong alcohol in my hand, the sensation having built up over the last couple of hours as I slowly drank more and more, my tolerance naturally quite high. In my head, a small buzz has started, but it's nowhere near enough to satisfy me, my body aching for something more, something better, which comes in the form of Kai, a surfer I picked up on the Boardwalk, the cocky boy having quickly taken me up on my offer of whiskey and beer on the beach. Evidently, he hopes he'll get a good lay out of me.

Across from me, Kai has cracked open yet another beer, raising it in cheers to me briefly, before he takes a long drink from it, the alcohol going straight to his head, inebriating him further, his mannerisms already becoming looser and looser, his inhibitions long lost to the high. It was only around his fourth bottle that he started getting handsy, but it's gotten progressively worse, his left hand nearly always reaching over to caress my hair and neck, his hazy eyes roaming lazily over my body as he slowly shuffles closer, a small, seductive smirk on my lips. I'm leading him on, I know, but it'll be so with it in the end.

"You're really pretty, (Y/n)..." He slurs, mind struggling to catch up with what he intends to say.

"You think so?" I inquire jokingly, leaning forwards slightly, crawling a hand over the sand to his leg.

"Oh yeah, definetly. You're one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen..." He continues, edging closer, eyes fixed on my lips.

"If you really think that, then you'll have to show me how serious you are." I tease him suggestively, biting my lip.

Instantly, his hands are pushing me back into the sand, his lips moving to cover mine, body hovering over mine as soon as it can. I kiss back, pushing my hands into his hair and around the back of his neck, a dull ache starting to form in my gums, lust and hunger growing rapidly in me as he pulls away to kiss down my jaw, leaving his neck exposed to me. Mouthing at the skin, I swiftly find his sweet spot, just above the point where his pulse is most prominent, a moan escaping him as I suck at it, my face starting to contort as I feel my eyes turn, my vision sharpening as it focuses on one thing and one thing only: his beating artery.

Finally, the hunger becomes too much and I sink my fangs into the soft flesh, easily puncturing the blood vessel, my hands tightening in their positions as Kai lets out a surprised yelp, trying to pull away with a protest, only to be pressed tighter against me as his blood pours onto my tongue for the first time. I moan as I get a taste, my nails digging into his skin as I hold him as close as I can, my jaw working at the flesh as much as it can, chewing away at the tendons and muscles there, relishing the euphoria that comes with drinking his blood. Panicked screams of pain ring in my ears as the surfer in my arms continues to fight, though I can feel his life draining away from him with speed, the blood loss making his movements uncoordinated and clumsy, his voice petering out into gargled whimpers, incoherent and irrelevant to me as I pull away from the wound. A sigh of pleasure leaves my gaping mouth, his blood coating my chin and neck as I tilt my head back, a few droplets trailing down my chest and below the neckline of my shirt as I do so, leaving warm lines on my frigid skin. The sickly sweet scent of the scarlet liquid entices my senses once more, my need to feed quickly resurfacing as I move the body's lifeless head to the side, biting into his shoulder to get at a "fresher" vessel of blood.

For a good ten minutes, I remain in my position, drinking Kai's blood until it starts tasting off, at which point I pull away and let the body fall from my grip, shoving it off of me as I lay back, arms spreadeagled by my sides, a satisfied grin on my face as I close my eyes. Gradually, my awareness returns to me, the scents of the surrounding areas becoming noticeable again, the sounds of the Boardwalk a little way away loud and clear in my sensitive ears. With them comes an odd feeling, one I normally only get when in the bustling crowd of the public attraction, where I often have four pairs of curious eyes fixed on me for the majority of the night, the sensation of being watched.

I concentrate on it, focusing on where the feeling is emanating from the most, quickly sourcing it as I catch the sound of a light footstep, followed by the tell tale sounds of shifting sand, coming just left of where I am. Internally, I decide not to react, waiting to see how they'd approach the situation, seeing as I am lying beside a mauled body with its throat practically torn out, all the evidence pointing rightfully at me. Instead, I open my eyes, the grin becoming a smirk as I listen closely to them approach me, not missing the sharp inhale that leaves them when the grisly scene before them comes into view, the bloodied layout clearly not something they were expecting. For a long moment, everything is silent.

"Can I help you, boys?" I call out to them finally, fed up with the awkward quiet that has shrouded us.

"No, don't worry. We were just admiring the view." A smooth voice answers after a minute, the tone sounding genuine.

"Like it, do you? Bit morbid." I respond, licking at my lips a little, grimacing at the now-bad taste it has acquired, having been given the chance to cool down and dry a bit.

"Says the person who just killed a guy." Another voice retorts, amusement evident in how he speaks.

"Hey, I never said I liked the look of it." A low chuckle floats up from the group, my own accompanying it as I sit upright, pushing myself onto my elbows as I look over at them, making eye contact with their leader.

I nearly double take at their appearance, not expecting them to be so good looking or relaxed with the situation, a wave of surprise and shock washing over me as I feel an unfamiliar sensation start up in my body. It's odd, as if my body wants to get closer to them, as if it needs or desires them to be closer, my confusion spiking as I stare into the leader's eyes a little longer, before taking in the others, trying to avoid the weird feeling. To the far left of the group is a tall, lanky blonde who shifts from foot to foot, as if itching to move around properly; beside him is a smaller blonde with curly hair and a patchwork jacket, his thumb between his teeth as he watches me, doe eyes wide in the dim light; up front is who I presume to be the leader, a platinum blonde mullet wearing guy with piercing eyes, his gaze raking over my form with curiosity as he smirks; last of all is a taller, dark haired guy who appears to have lost his shirt, his only attire on his torso being a leather jacket, his nearly black eyes staring at me with no discernible emotion. Having taken them all in, my attention returns to the internal conflict between some primal instinct I never knew I had and my self control, confusion rife in my mind.

"Who are you guys?" I question them, eyes flicking between them as I wait for a response.

"I'm David, this is Paul, Marko and Dwayne," The leader points at each person in turn, watching me the entire time, "Who are you?"

"I'm (Y/n). Nice to meet you."

Silence ensues this brief exchange, during which I stand upright and look over the body, trying to ignore the urge to go over to them, my body trying to speak for itself as my vampiric features threaten to break through, the inhuman part of me craving the presence of the four boys before me. It only takes a minute or two for the tall blonde, Paul, to say something.

"Jesus, can you guys feel that?" He questions his friends, speaking quietly, as if to make sure I can't hear.

"That weird connection thing? Yeah, I feel it, too." Marko responds, watching as I pour some of the whiskey from before onto Kai's body.

The other two appear to exchange a knowing glance, a cunning smirk appearing on David's lips.

"The mate bond." He whispers, knowing I would've heard that, seeing as I am quite clearly not a human.

His words stop me in my tracks, a match lit and ready to drop onto the body, arm poised to allow the small splint of wood to fall straight onto it's target, my now-frozen fingers only letting go when the small flame licks at my skin, burning it slightly.

"What did you say?" Marko, Paul and I chorus, each if us as confused as the others.

"It's a mate bond. We've all got the same mate." David responds, eyes still fixed on me.

Dumbstruck, I stay silent, trying to process what has been said as the other two start asking questions, neither of them getting answers as their friend's attention remains on me.

"I'm your mate?! But we only just met!" I manage to force out, interrupting the barrage of questions.

"That's not how it works, (Y/n). A mate bond is something we have no control over." The platinum blonde confirms, stepping closer, entering the light of the blazing body. By now, Kai's remains are hardly recognisable, and the smell is nearly unbearable, the pungent reek assaulting my nostrils and eyes viciously.

"I guess that makes sense." I muse out loud, before realising something, "That must mean you're like me."

"It does." Dwayne speaks up, finally interacting with me a little.

"You guys are vampires? I thought I was the only one in Santa Carla."

"We thought we were, but I guess we were all wrong." David shrugs, still coming closer.

"How the hell did we miss that?" Marko wonders aloud, Paul adding to the confusion.

"I missed it, too, so I don't know what happened, but I guess we found each other." I respond, wiping my hands on my jeans.

"Indeed." The leader smirks at me, having finally reached me, his blue eyes still fixed on mine, "Wanna come with us?"

I consider the offer, quickly coming to a conclusion.

"Sure, why not."

"Great. There's only one thing we need to ask you, though." David informs me, gesturing for me to follow him and the boys as they walk back to the Boardwalk, an action I find odd considering I'm covered in blood.

"Go on."

He sends a knowing glance at the rest of boys, chuckling a little as he senses my nerves picking up.

"How do you feel about riding a motorcycle?"

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla

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totallyinsecurerobot · 4 years

Text

creature comforts {The Lost Boys}

Summary: Us Versus Them can be a lonely mindset to have, especially when it’s far more literal than people might think. Thankfully, Asterix learns that if they reach out, the rest of ‘Us’ will be there to take their hand, every time.

A/N: 1901 words. nb marko! nb oc! poly affectionate lost boys! fluff-ish? domestic-ish? anyways both casual and deliberate physical affection owns my heart and soul.

----

Vampires don’t get tired. Or at least they’re not supposed to; they sleep all day, sure, but tired specifically isn’t a familiar emotion anymore. Once you pass the threshold, make your first kill, fully succumb, there are certain inexplicably human experiences you tend to shrug off. Like being tired.

Asterix hasn’t yawned in sixty years.

But sometimes, occasionally, there’s an ache, an exhaustion, that settles deep in their bones, that no amount of feeding or sleeping can sate, and they’re on the boardwalk again, not quite present, feeling every bit like the living dead they are, trailing behind the others as they menace the innocent unremarkables. For years it had felt like a weakness, these brief moments in which the world was too much, too loud, too fast, and Asterix is reminded startlingly of their age amid the neon and grime of the Santa Carla boardwalk at the tail end of the eighties.

But then Paul lags behind the group with them, wraps his arm around their waist, too short to reach their shoulders, and makes sure they’re not left behind. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip is firm and secure, and the contact eases something in Asterix’s unbeating heart. They’re all still loud and boisterous, and don’t drawn unnecessary attention to the closeness, but it’s protective in it’s own way; the other boys understand, implicitly, it’s something Asterix has come to appreciate about them.

They’re all so tactile. It’s one of the earliest things they’d noted about the boys, gentle, familiar contact being offered as often as roughhousing. Affection and intimacy born from weathering a world that despises them, with no-one else to rely on. It’s not the done thing, to say ‘I’m fucking sick of being hated’, to admit that sometimes the world can be tough, even for a vampire, so instead, Marko rests their chin on David’s shoulder, standing close, too close for the rest of the world to be comfortable with it, expression challenging, downright bitchy to all the passers-by. Or Dwayne hooks two fingers into one of the various loops on Paul’s outfit, not pulling him back, just letting him know that he’s there, and Paul rocks back on his heels, focus drifting from wherever it had been, to level a sharp grin at Dwayne, acknowledgement, silent thanks.

They’re undoubtably worse away from prying eyes, treating each other like furniture as often as they did friends, always leaning on each other, casual, connected, an unspoken bond. None of them mind, in fact, they encourage it, and Asterix makes just as good pillow or armrest as the rest of them.

They can’t tell each other what they mean, what they want to say, ‘the world would be lonely without you here’ when they share a gentle touch in passing, a kiss on the forehead, the cheek, the soft skin behind the ear, but their touch is louder than any shout, if only to those who understand.

They all understand.

Asterix had spent too many years being lonely, of fighting wars and shrugging off bullets and shaking hands with men who would just as soon order a nuclear strike as they would order a coffee. They try not to think about that. Music helps. Music lets them lose themselves, but there are moments when their thoughts are louder than any beat would ever be, and the world turns to white noise, and all they can think is ‘there are men who have caused so much more pain than I ever will, laughing and smiling and living their lives’.

And then Marko’s got a hand on their hip, gentle, still wearing their cocky smirk, but the look in their eyes is a question. Far more gentle than the world is allowed to see, far more gentle than the world can comprehend. Asterix throws an arm around them without giving a proper answer, leans into their touch maybe too much, and it’s answer enough. Marko’s hand moves to rest on the small of their back, beneath their pin-laden vest, across the smooth plane of bare skin at the edge of their crop top. Skin on skin, cool to the touch, grounding. From the outside, they simply look close, friends, maybe more, but no-one’s quite sure. Asterix leans in to thank him, but the expression they wear makes their murmured words appear devious, lips against the shell of his ear as they’re off to terrorise the rest of fair with their miscreant friends, but it’s more than that. Marko turns their head before Asterix can move away, so close their nose nudges Asterix’s, and their eyes meet when Marko tells them it’s no trouble. Any time. And it’s clear they mean it; it’s trust.

Quiet moments are a rarity, especially for Asterix, afraid to be alone with their thoughts, but when a record ends, and all that fills their ears is the faint sound of the needle skipping against the edge of the vinyl, all they know is that they don’t want to be alone. Some of the others have gone cliff diving, but when Asterix surfaces from their corner of the cave, David’s there, reading a magazine, and he looks up briefly, but sees Asterix’s vacant expression, and waves them over. He’s standing, holding out the magazine, asking their opinion in an attempt to get their mind off of whatever was dragging it down, but Asterix has their arms around him, holding probably too tight, their nose pressed to his temple with their eyes squeezed shut.

David goes quiet.

He wraps an arm around them, manoeuvring so they were both more comfortable, tucks himself against them – he’s always annoyed at how short he is compared to them, but now he doesn’t quite mind. There’s something strangely safe about being wrapped up in their embrace like this.

“You’re okay,” is all he can think to say, emotionally stunted and morally bankrupt as he is, and Asterix huffs the quietest laugh, appreciating his effort.

“I know.”

After a beat that feels like an eternity, Asterix lets go, steps back, but David takes their face in his hands, thumb against this cheekbone, eyes searching their face, but for what, they’re not sure. He’s close, almost nose to nose, and Asterix lets their eyes fall closed, to lean in and rest their forehead against his. Tension drops from their shoulders, and his hands are still warm on their cheeks.

“You’re alright, Trix,” his voice is gruff but sure, and this time, when Asterix answers, their voice is heavy, understanding him perfectly, taking reassurance from his words.

“I know.”

The others get back, soaking wet and beaming, to find David and Asterix arguing about something inane, their head in his lap on a sofa that definitely wasn’t built for all six-foot-two of Asterix to be laying out like this, but they’re making it work. David’s scratching their scalp absentmindedly, and the others are soon to join in on the argument. Marko drapes themself entirely over Asterix, head on their chest, just enjoying hearing the others talk. Asterix runs their fingers through Marko’s curls without even thinking, while Paul and Dwayne have both claimed an armchair clearly built for one person, elbowing each other and bickering, but neither giving up their spot. They’ll settle in, side by side, eventually, fitting together in ways that make sense only to them, comfortable looking uncomfortable.

They all know.

No-one says anything, but they all know.

They’re all possessive of one another in a way that the world doesn’t know how to handle. They’re always picking fights and backing each other up without question, making an unspoken show of claiming each other when any unsavoury character tries to step in where they don’t belong. Possible victims, or humans they’re fleetingly interest in aside, they’ll always find their way back to each other, one way or another.

Months go by, and Asterix finds how they fit into all of this, their way to connect and comfort through contact, show their unspoken bond with the group; Paul gets called a ‘pretty boy’ and a ‘poser’ and Asterix knows that while that talk doesn’t get under his skin, they can’t let people get away with talking like that. Like a swarm, called by some otherworldly force, the others can hear it, can sense it too, and saunter over. No-one says anything, and the group of meatheads who thought they’d cornered a poor, hair-metal kid on his own, see leather and denim and hair spiked up. Marko’s pointedly failing to hide their laughter by Paul’s side, David’s sizing up the one who seems to be the leader, and Dwayne’s rolling his eyes, irritated that these meatheads thought they could pull a stunt like this. Paul crosses his arms, all kinds of smug, and finally Asterix joins them, draping themselves over Paul’s shoulders cheek to cheek, making it clear how very hunched they are making themselves to stand at his height, their considerable stature made almost comical with their choice of platformed boot.

“They bothering you?” Asterix asks, voice loud and faux concerned, forearms resting on Paul’s shoulders, and he reaches up to take one of their hands, leaning into them. The pack of vampires shifts ever so slightly, closer, more unified. The meatheads look unnerved for a variety of reasons, which Asterix takes quiet delight in.

“He thinks I’m pretty,” Paul says, all teeth in the face of the meathead leader’s outrage at the implication. Asterix’s eyes don’t stray from the leader, gaze intense, toeing the line between intrigued and intimidating; he’s quickly turning red with fury, his own words turned against him. None of the meatheads know how to read the situation before them, and shuffle off, swearing, derogatory names falling from their lips. It doesn’t phase the vampires, not on the surface, refusing to react as they watch them go; they all know what’s about to happen.

“Bunch of assholes,” Dwayne’s lip curls as he watches them go, and it’s like a signal, a command, with no training or warning; understanding. They’re done with the boardwalk for tonight, heading in the opposite direction, into the darkness and away from prying eyes. They hunt from the shadows, until the leader is alone; they don’t take more than they need, but he is still a warning, even if the other meatheads don’t realise it.

You don’t mess with the mean looking kids on the Santa Carla boardwalk, everyone knows this, but sometimes people forget and need to be reminded.

Whenever you mess with a mean looking kid on the Santa Carla boardwalk, everyone knows there’s always at least another two waiting in the shadows, for backup, for defence, to remind you exactly who it is you’re dealing with. It’s how they can walk with such confidence in the dead of night, at home among the sea spray and kitschy carnival lights, amid the constant movement of the sea, the people, the cars; they’re calm and casual and never one to back down from a fight if they can help it. These kids, delinquents, whether in love with each other, or simply hating the rest of the world, take every opportunity to tell the world that they’d ride, fight, and die for each other, without ever saying it out loud.

Whenever you decide to mess with a mean looking kid on the Santa Carla boardwalk, you should know that the one you can see, is always the one least likely to kill you.

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys imagine #dwayne the lost boys #robot alert #marko #david #paul #dwayne #oc

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bellakitse · 4 years

Text

Let's Start with Breakfast

“Hi, you must be TK,” he says, turning around to face him fully, and TK doesn’t know where to look – that beautiful face with a head full of curls he wants to sink his hands into, or the perfectly chiseled chest that reminds TK of studying about Michelangelo’s David in his art studies course. “I’m Carlos.”

TK wakes up in his friend's apartment and meets his new roommate, Carlos.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 8

TK wakes up with a serious crick in his neck and a post-it note on his forehead. The pain he understands, that’s what he gets for sleeping on his friend Paul’s couch instead of just going back to his apartment the night before. The note is the same friend being a jerk. He sits up with a groan; it’s not just his neck that hurts but his back too from the less than comfortable couch. Pulling the note off his forehead, he squints at Paul’s chicken scratch.

Had to go to class, mopey, there are coffee and bagels in the kitchen. Stay as long as you want, but don’t bother my new roommate.

TK rolls his eyes at the nickname his friend has given him. Last night while he and Paul were out, they’d run into his ex with the guy he’d cheated on him with; if that wasn’t a reason to be a little depressed, TK didn’t know what was.

TK gets up, heading for the bathroom first. He steps lightly, trying not to wake up Paul’s new mysterious roommate. From what Paul told him, the guy is in the Police Academy and keeps odd hours. He only moved into Paul’s spare bedroom three weeks ago and TK – while nursing a broken heart for almost two months now since he caught his ex in the arms of another man – hasn’t had a chance to meet the guy yet.

He takes his time washing his face, brushing his teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes Paul likes to keep under the sink. When he’s done, he exits the bathroom and heads for the kitchen, stopping short when he hears a sound coming from inside. He hesitates for a moment, he’s probably not at his best to meet Paul’s roommate, but he can already smell the coffee he’s brewing, and TK desperately needs a cup.

Running a hand through his hair and then down his shirt in hopes to smooth some of the wrinkles, he takes a breath before stepping into the small cream-colored kitchen.

The man inside the kitchen is tall, muscled and shirtless, TK takes in all the beautiful exposed skin as he looks at the back facing him. He has defined shoulders and arms; his back tapers down in a V-shape to a spectacular ass, clothed in black slim-fitted joggers that makes TK drool. He doesn’t consider himself a shallow guy, but TK knows a beautiful man when he sees one, and even with just having seen his back, TK knows Paul’s roommate is gorgeous, something his friend failed to mention when telling him about the guy.

“Um – “ he starts hesitantly. “Good morning?”

The guy turns around, the half-smile on his face makes TK’s breath halt in his lungs. If TK thought the guy was beautiful from behind, it’s nothing compared to seeing his face. He’s stunning with deep brown eyes that look warm, a full-mouth that curves upward a little more, friendly and inviting, and a jawline that could cut glass.

“Hi,” he says again, and not much else, his mouth has gone dry, and he feels tongue-tied. He’s never had such an immediate reaction to someone like this before, and he feels a little lost as his heart races and his palms sweat.

“Would you like some coffee?” Carlos asks him, that pleasant smile still on his face. TK tells himself to snap out of it before Carlos goes from friendly to uncomfortable, just because he’s having a hard time handling the effect Carlos is having on him.

“Yes, please,” he says, taking a step forward when Carlos holds out a cup for him. “Thanks,” he smiles, taking the mug, his fingers brushing against Carlos’. He’s sure he just imagines the spark of electricity that runs between them, but then he sees the way Carlos’ eyes widen, his gaze on their hands and wonders.

“Yeah – “ Carlos says softly, his brown eyes finding his. “No problem.”

TK gives him a closed-mouth smile, not sure what to say with the sudden tension in the room. It’s not awkward; it’s more like awareness of the other.

“Do you feel like breakfast?” Carlos asks, waving his hand at the stove where he has a skillet ready to go. “I could make you an omelet. Do you like veggie?”

“Oh – ” TK starts, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble; I should probably get out of your hair and out of your apartment.”

“It’s no trouble,” Carlos answers quickly. “I was going to make one for myself anyway; it’s pretty easy to add a couple of extra eggs.”

TK hesitates, and Carlos gives him a captivating smile that gives TK butterflies like he hasn’t felt since he was fourteen and kissed his first boy.

“I’m a really good cook,” Carlos promises, his grin boyish and sweet, it makes TK smile back.

“Better than Paul?” he teases, chuckling when Carlos scoffs.

“Strickland wishes he could be as amazing in the kitchen as I am,” Carlos boasts, and TK raises his eyebrow at that.

“Paul is a great cook,” he says, doubtful of the man in front of him and his culinary prowess, when he’s tasted his friend’s cooking.

“I’m better,” Carlos assures him once more with a smirk, a little cocky and maybe even a little flirty.

TK grins, charmed by Carlos’ confidence. “Well, then I guess I have to stick around and have some of this spectacular cooking.”

Carlos grins at him pleased, he turns towards the refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients he needs to get started. TK leans back against one of the counters, sipping his coffee as Carlos moves around the kitchen with ease, just like Paul usually does. He presumes it comes with the sureness of someone who knows what they’re doing.

TK can barely boil water; he tells Carlos this, earning himself a laugh.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he says, throwing him an amused look over his shoulder.

“Oh, I am,” TK says with a self-deprecating laugh of his own. “My father is a fire captain; he has made me swear not to cook without a fire extinguisher and adult supervision.

Carlos laughs again as he pours the egg mixture on the hot skillet, he turns back to TK, leaning against the opposite side counter with his arms crossed. TK swallows hard at the way it makes his arms bulge.

“How are you, by the way?” he asks gently, and TK pulls his gaze from the pretty muscles to look up at his even prettier face full of concern, it lets TK instantly know that his buddy Paul has been talking about him with his roommate.

“I take it, you know?” he asks, the sheepish look on Carlos’ face confirmation enough.

“Paul wasn’t gossiping,” Carlos says softly. “I asked about you, and he told me you were going through a bad break-up.”

“Why did you ask him about me?” he asks, not upset but curious, especially when Carlos’ cheeks go pink.

“I – uh,” he starts, letting out a self-conscious laugh. “I saw you a few weeks ago at the coffee shop on Elm with Paul; you were wearing a yellow hoodie.”

“And that’s why you asked about me?” he asks again a little confused, his heart though ticks upward when Carlos gives him a penetrating look.

“I asked about you because you’re beautiful,” he says softly. “In that hoodie, you were the most adorable thing I have ever seen, and I wanted to know you.”

TK’s breath catches at Carlos’ candidness.

He turns back to the omelet, flipping it over once. “But Paul told me you had just broken up with your boyfriend,” he says, looking at him with sympathy. “And that it wasn’t pretty, so I didn’t push for an introduction.”

He watches as Carlos moves around, getting out some pre-cut fruit from the fridge, placing it on the two plates with the eggs and a piece of toast. Holding both plates, he points towards the living room. TK follows him back to the couch he slept on, speaking once they’re both seated with their food.

“I walked in on him with another guy,” he says quietly, looking down at the nice plate of food, it looks and smells really good, he only looks up at Carlos when he hears him swear.

“He’s a fucking idiot, TK,” Carlos says sternly. “I don’t even know him, and yet I know he’s the stupidest fucker on the planet to have you and then cheat.”

TK’s lips quirk upward at the conviction in Carlos’ voice. “Agreed.”

Carlos’ eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles. Smiling back, TK shakes his head softly before taking a bite of the omelet, he lets out a surprised sound at the burst of flavor, and looks back at Carlos only to find him already watching him.

“You still doubted my skills,” Carlos says with mock-sorrow. “Shameful.”

TK swallows around the delicious breakfast to let out a laugh; he can’t remember the last time he had this much fun over breakfast and a simple conversation.

“I promise never to doubt you again,” he swears, pleased when Carlos gives him a grin.

They eat the rest of their breakfast while getting to know each other. Carlos tells him about the police academy. TK tells him about his classes, and how he really wants to be a firefighter like his father, but promised he would get a degree before starting his training. When they’re done with their plates, Carlos takes them back into the kitchen while TK waits on the couch. He comes back after a bit, and TK has to swallow a disappointed sigh when he sees that Carlos has put on a shirt along the way back.

He watches him as he shifts for a moment, and TK starts to get up, realizing that he’s probably worn out his welcome, and it’s time to leave his friend’s apartment and his roommate’s kindness.

“So I should probably – “

“Do you want to hang out?” Carlos blurts out in a rush. “We could watch a movie?”

TK startles back while Carlos looks at him almost timid.

“I know you’re probably not ready to date or anything,” he continues quickly. “And that’s cool with me, but maybe we can get to know each other?”

“Carlos – “ he says softly, his heart squeezing with affection for the sweet man in front of him. He’s beautiful, but TK is quickly realizing that it’s not just outside beauty that Carlos possesses.

“I like you,” Carlos tells him, taking a step forward until he’s standing in front of him. “There is something about you that pulls me in, and it’s not just those beautiful green eyes of yours,” he smiles at him, and TK can’t help but smile back, his heart beating with excitement. “Though they are very pretty, TK.”

“Yours are pretty stunning too,” he whispers back, swallowing hard when Carlos touches his hand, he turns it to take Carlos’, interlocking their fingers.

“I want to know you,” Carlos continues, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m not saying I want to be a rebound, though there is the old Spanish saying un clavo saca otro clavo.”

TK gives him a curious look, not understanding the phrase.

“One nail drives out another nail,” Carlos explains. “Basically that the best way to get over a bad break-up is to find a new partner, but like I said I’m not interested in rebounding – “

TK lifts his other hand to touch Carlos’ cheek. “Carlos, I just met you, and I know you definitely wouldn’t be a rebound,” he tells him. The way he has reacted to Carlos all morning tells him that if he got together with him, he wouldn’t need to use him to soothe the ache inside, Carlos would eclipse any past and remaining feelings he might have for his EX. “You’d be so much more.”

Carlos lets out a soft exhale at his words. “So what do you say?” he asks, his face hopeful. “Movie? Get to know each other?”

TK smiles at him, his heart pounding hard under his ribcage with anticipation.

“A date when you’re ready?” he continues, a teasing smile on his face. “Maybe even a kiss at the end of the night if I’m really, really lucky?”

TK lets out a laugh, feeling happy in a way he hasn't for the longest. On impulse, he leans up, covering the small difference in their heights to brush his lips against Carlos in the lightest of kisses.

“I’d like that,” he whispers, proud of the stunned look on Carlos’ face. “Movies, getting to know each other, dating, more kisses, I’d like all of it.”

#911 lone star #tarlos fic #tarlos #911 lone star fic #30 days of tarlos #tk x carlos #my writing

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dreamonhunters · 4 years

Text

dyin’ ain’t so bad, not if you both go together

tw // major character death, graphic depictions of violence, guns, blood, references to drugs

yet another birthday present!! happy birthday to @aw-jus-let-em-try ! rizz i love you so damn much and i’m so grateful to call you my friend!! ♡ i do hope you enjoy immortal javid as much as i think you will 🥺

read it here on ao3!

Jack Kelly died when he was twelve years old.

And again, when he was thirteen.

There’s a tombstone that says he died when he was fourteen, again at sixteen, eighteen, nineteen, and the one on his twenty-first birthday that he doesn’t talk about because alcohol poisoning isn’t a very cool way to go.

Different names, of course. He’s many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.

There’s more. Jack remembers each and every last one of them, vivid technicolour in his mind. Some of them are lost to time now, forgotten and unrecorded. Never been one to keep his legal documents in order.

He’s twenty-two now, and the tally on his chest — emblazoned on the soft flesh over his heart, dark against tan skin — says he’s died twenty-seven times.

He’s lived more lives than years.

Fingertips graze over those dark lines. A blessing and a curse. Jack Kelly is unbreakable, because his life isn’t so fragile. You fear nothing and nobody when you can’t be destroyed, when the light behind your eyes can never be extinguished.

He hears shifting beside him, and his eyes flicker over to the bed. Expensive sheets cover a man’s sleeping form, curled on his side, one arm resting beneath his head. Softly illuminated by the rising sun, filtering through the cracks in the blinds.

David is beautiful when he sleeps.

Jack lets out a soft sigh, allowing the fabric of his shirt to drop back down. Turns to watch his lover sleep, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. He’s a lucky, lucky man, truly. People like David Jacobs don’t fall for Jack Kelly. But neither of them should exist, because they both died a long time ago, and so Jack doesn’t look at the improbability of it anymore.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he murmurs. Davey mumbles something unintelligible, rolling over onto his back. “C’mon, we got work to do.”

“What time is it?” Davey asks, voice still thick with sleep. Blinks blearily up at the ceiling, letting his eyes adjust to the change in light.

“Half seven,” Jack answers, without glancing at the clock on the wall. Doesn’t need to, because he wouldn’t get up any earlier than that without six alarms and a strong cup of coffee. “Think Finch an’ Albert are up. Heard ‘em bickering.”

“Unsurprising.”

He laughs, turning to lean against the wall. Davey rolls back onto his side, and that little smile lights up Jack’s world. Reminds him why he fell in love with this man all over again.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jack murmurs.

He laughs, shaking his head. “No need to flatter me, Jackie. I’m getting up.”

“Not flatterin’. Admiring.”

Davey pushes himself upright, stretching his arms. Arches his back until Jack hears that satisfying crack, the type you get from a good stretch. “You’re sweet.”

“Don’t you know it, sugar,” he murmurs, moving across the room to press a soft kiss to Davey’s lips. “C’mon. Up an’ at ‘em. We got a deal to close.”

Davey’s laughter fills Jack’s ears as he waltzes out of the room, rolling his shoulders back. Shoots a tired-looking Racetrack his trademark grin as he passes. Albert and Finch are still bickering in the kitchen, although they both look a little more animated now. Romeo’s head rests on the table, a glass of orange juice long forgotten beside him.

“Mornin’, lads,” Jack greets. Uncharacteristically cheerful for this time of morning, but he chooses to ignore that minor detail.

“Mornin’, boss,” Albert drawls, mimicking Jack’s tone in the most obnoxious manner possible. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it.”

“I ain’t that lazy, Al,” Jack deflects. “Gimme a break.”

“You want coffee?” Finch offers, placing his own mug back on the counter.

“You already know I do.”

“I don’t think Jack can function without his coffee,” Davey’s voice chimes in, and Jack turns to see his lover standing in the doorway. Leaning against the frame, small smirk tugging at his lips. Cocky. A quiet challenge, just between the two of them. The top of his shirt hangs open, unbuttoned. Unusual for Davey, but more than appreciated.

“Good mornin’ to you too, David,” he drawls playfully, turning back to smile at his boys. “What’s got you lot up so early?”

Finch groans, sliding a cup of coffee across to Jack. “Ask me after.”

“Someone’s cheerful,” Albert comments, earning himself a sharp jab to the ribs.

“Racer had another stupid idea,” Louis mumbles, somehow managing to avoid eye contact with anyone as he enters the room. As he always does. “And you know he isn’t gonna just give up on it.”

Jack simply laughs, sits himself down beside Romeo. “Rise an’ shine, Juliet,” he teases, nudging the boy’s shoulder. He stirs, grumbling something under his breath. Still doesn’t lift his head.

“We’ll be out most of the day,” Davey adds coolly, retrieving the milk. “Got a deal to close.”

“Anything important?” Finch asks, head inclined slightly towards Davey as he rejoins Albert at the table.

Jack shakes his head, jaw cracking as he yawns. “Nah. These guys ain’t regulars. That’s why I want more money off ‘em.”

“And you think tha’s gonna work?” Albert questions.

“You know me,” Jack smirks. “I don’t take no for an answer.”

“And we don’t have long,” Davey reminds.

“That we don’t,” he agrees, draining his cup. “Laters, boys. Don’t burn the house down.”

“So keep Race away from the toaster? Got it,” Albert teases, earning himself a dark glare from the blond.

He follows Davey out of the kitchen, and maybe he’s lagging behind just a little to admire his lover. Not that he’d admit to that.

Davey and Jack have always made a good pair. Maybe has a little something to do with the fact they slept together on their second meeting, but Jack likes to gloss over that fact. It’s not the most romantic story, but it suits them, he thinks. Jack was never one to beat around the bush.

“You sure we shouldn’t bring Racer along?” Davey asks, voice betraying just the slightest hint of anxiety. They’re in the garage now, with Jack making a beeline towards his preferred vehicle. “He’s the talker.”

“Nah. I got this, Dave, don’t worry ‘bout it. You know I got a way with words, an’ you’re not exactly quiet.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. Doesn’t really require an answer, really, because Jack’s right, and they both know it. They’re equally as competent, and sometimes it’s nice to have something for just the two of them.

They don’t talk while they drive. Jack doesn’t have anything to say, and Davey doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s at the wheel. A quiet hour to prepare themselves, mentally and physically.

Jack fiddles with his glock. Flicks the safety on and off, that soft clicking a small distraction for his mind. Davey would complain if he weren’t so focused. Occasionally, he’ll hum quietly to himself, break the silence for a few fleeting moments, and it’s nice. Pleasant. Comfortable.

Davey pulls up a few blocks away, rests his arms on the steering wheel. Jack knows that expression. Steeling himself.

“You ready?” Jack asks softly, leaning over to press a light kiss to Davey’s cheekbone.

“Mm,” he answers, not meeting Jack’s eyes. He needs these moments. It’s a little harder for Davey to create that mental separation.

They stay there for a short while longer, listening to the other’s breathing. Jack waits for Davey to unbuckle his seatbelt and pop his door open, taking another deep breath as he steps out. And he follows his lover’s lead, tucking the glock into his waistband. Insurance, more than anything.

Davey’s by his side in an instant, the back of his hand brushing against Jack’s. He resists the urge to intertwine their fingers, just for those few fleeting moments, because he doesn’t quite need that physical reassurance anymore.

You can’t hurt Jack Kelly, and you can’t hurt David Jacobs, because every time they come right back. Death has no permanence. Blink, and they’re awake, side by side, gasping for that first breath all over again. A blessing and a curse.

Jack’s fingertips trace the tally on the inside of his lover’s wrist, a feather light touch. Davey isn’t so laidback, however. He explains his fears quietly, when it's just the two of them in a darkened room, bodies pressed against each other. Every death marks one closer to the end for him. A fear that one day this little performance will come to a horrifying close, and suddenly the fragility of life will become all too real. There has to be a limit to their immortality, he insists, even if Jack disagrees. Just how far can they push it?

His head turns, steely blue eyes meeting deep brown. “Be safe, Jackie,” Davey murmurs, eyes filled with a concern most people wouldn’t quite understand. When you don’t quite fear death, your biggest fear is loneliness, Jack realises.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A modern office building towers above them, morning sunlight reflecting off the large glass front.

“Little bit more than I expected,” Davey murmurs, and Jack shrugs. Punches a code into a small keypad, buttons glowing blue beneath his fingertips. Not a single smudge on those glass double doors.

“Hey, they’re payin’ us good money. I just want a little more, y’know?”

“As always,” Davey sighs, with that faux irritance that Jack knows and loves.

A voice crackles over the little intercom, a female voice. “Who’s here?”

“Jack Kelly and David Jacobs, here to see Mr. Pulitzer?” Jack asks, that usual drawl disappearing from his voice. He means business.

There’s a soft click. The doors slide open, and the pair step into a modern lounge area. “Floor twenty-seven,” Jack murmurs, shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. Nobody else around, no other sounds.

Davey doesn’t speak, follows Jack into the elevator silently, leans against the cool metal railing as they ascend. His brow pinches together with a silent anxiety. Gets like this every time. The doors slide open.

“Kelly. Jacobs. Good to see you again,” a smooth voice greets. Pulitzer is a tall man, greasy hair that’s greying at the roots and bright blue eyes that crease up a little when he smiles.

“You too,” Jack smiles, lips pulled into a tight grin. False, a little too strained around the edges, but only Davey would pick up on that. “This ain’t gonna take long.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Pulitzer mutters, turning on his heel. Leads them towards a door, right down the far end of the hallway. Too polished and perfect. Their footsteps echo as they walk. Holds it open for them. Davey shoots him a small smile as Jack sits down.

“So,” Jack drawls, leaning forward. Long arms cross on the edge of Pulitzer’s desk, one hand coming to rest under his chin. “I got bad news. We’re gonna have to up rates, ‘cause suppliers are screwin’ me over.”

“Is that so?” he asks, leaning back in his seat. Davey’s fingers hover over his own gun, just a little anxiety settling in his gut. “Who supplies you, may I ask?”

“Smaller cartel across town. The Delanceys.”

“Interesting.”

Pulitzer drums his fingertips on the desk rhythmically. A dim sound, and somehow it echoes in Jack’s brain. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, hyperaware of the way his clothes feel against his skin, the weight of the gun on his hip, the gentle sound of Davey’s breathing somewhere close behind.

“How so?”

There’s tension in Jack’s shoulders. Something in Pulitzer’s expression just doesn’t sit quite right with him.

“I just so happen to know a certain Morris Delancey. And I just so happen to know he hasn’t changed his prices in four years.”

Shit.

There’s a predatory grin on Pulitzer’s face, toothy and shark-like. Jack doesn’t like it one bit. Can’t think of a way to talk himself out of this one, and Davey isn’t forthcoming. He’s a deer trapped in the headlights, waiting for Pulitzer to finish him off.

His brain doesn’t quite register the gun, or the shot that fires off, or the smell of smoke that fills the room. Dimly, he registers the sound of a body hitting the ground, and he already knows it’s Davey. Doesn’t have time to react, because his vision is hazy as a second bullet pierces his own skull.

There’s a sudden moment of peace. The darkness envelopes him, like an old friend, a comforting embrace. Fleeting.

And then there’s agonising pain, splitting his skull straight down the middle. Because recovering from death isn’t a painless process, of course not. There has to be some kind of drawback to immortality. Every single time, your body has to rebuild what is broken from the inside out, bring itself back from the end, and that’s no easy feat.

Maybe that’s why Davey’s so afraid it’ll all be over one day. That there’s a limit, and one day his body will give out, unable to muster the strength to rebuild itself once again.

Jack isn’t so sure.

When his eyes reopen, he feels concrete beneath his fingertips. Gunpowder on his tongue, blood stuck between his teeth. Coppery. Licks his lips, sore and cracked. Darkened sky, the few stars you can see despite the city lights glinting overhead. Distantly, he can hear cars, somewhere far below. A rooftop.

How fitting.

He’s alive, all over again, and he lays there for a few quiet moments. Feels the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, how he can move each finger independently. The ground is scratchy against his skin.

Davey’s there, and he sits up a little too fast. Chest heaving, eyes wild. Some things never change.

“Hey, calm down,” Jack murmurs, slowly easing himself up. “You’re fine. We’re fine. It’s good.”

“This time,” Davey whispers, voice cracking just a little on the second syllable. “This time, Jackie.”

“An’ that’s what matters, ain’t it? This time? I don’t give a damn about next time, ‘cause it ain’t happened yet.”

Davey shakes his head, still trembling. “I don’t know how we live like this.”

“‘Cause if there is a limit, we ain’t gonna find it by standin’ still,” he answers. “C’mon. You’re gettin’ yourself all worked up over nothin’. We’re alive, Dave. Who gives a shit about this ‘limit’?”

“I do.”

Jack sighs, moves his hand to rest on top of Davey’s. Familiar touch. Smooth skin beneath calloused palms, worn rough from years of firefights and underhanded tactics.

“Let it go, Davey. We’re okay.”

“This time.”

“Sure, this time. An’ all the times before.”

Davey’s still shaking. Slowly, carefully, Jack pulls him a little closer. Intertwines their fingers. Matching gold bands gleam in the streetlights.

“You still got me, ain’t ya? And I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” Jack reassures. There’s a smile on his face. A different look, softer behind the eyes. Silent promise, just between the two of them. “I love you, David.”

“I love you too,” he replies. Breathy. Eyes still wide with shock, heart still racing. It’ll take a while for him to calm down, back to that trademark neutrality Davey’s better known for.

Jack lays back down. The concrete isn’t comfortable, but he doesn’t really feel like walking back. They could be miles away, for all he knows. Dark eyes fix on the stars, lips twisting upwards. Innate comfort. A ghost of a smile.

“Sleep here tonight, Dave. They ain’t gonna miss us.”

He silently shifts closer, rests his head on Jack’s chest, lets his lover hold him close. There’s no words. Doesn’t need to be, because they understand each other perfectly without the need for words. Davey drifts off first, exhausted from the whole ordeal. And Jack feels him breathe, feels his heartbeat, feels the warmth of his skin. Calm.

He’s alive, and real, and in a strange way it feels like he’s never been alive at all.

Jack has died twenty-eight times. Davey’s on fourteen.

One more strike over his heart.

#rayray writes #my writing #newsies #fake newsies au #javid #jack kelly #jack newsies #david jacobs #davey jacobs #davey newsies

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treatian · 4 years

Text

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 7: Outside Chance

Anger was an emotion he was very good at. It was an emotion that every Dark One was good at, but considering the fact that he was nothing but a weak human in this Curse, he knew for a fact that the anger he felt belonged to no one but himself. And that was okay. In his experience, anger often brought about clarity. Once the gnashing of teeth and urge to destroy anything he could get his hands on phase passed, he found himself alone with his thoughts and was able to think through the anger and devise a plan.

He'd had a rough night. It was well after midnight by the time he finally came to on the floor of his shop, staring up into the eyes of the sheriff and an unknown paramedic who kept flashing a light into his eyes. The light was unnecessary. It gave him a headache so bad he felt nauseous, and immediately he'd gripped the young man's wrist so tight he'd cried out in pain and moved away so that he could assess himself. He was on his back. His ankle hurt like it always did after he tripped or didn't put his weight properly onto his cane. His head was pounding, so much so that his own heartbeat was agony. And when he put his hand to his forehead, he felt a sting on one corner and the familiar crust of dried blood. But what bothered him the most was his eyes. They felt gritty. They stung when he rolled them around in his skull as if sand had gathered over his eyeballs. They were swollen and difficult to open.

Pepper spray. When she'd raised her hand, and something had sprayed into his eyes…she'd maced him. Fucking hormonal princesses!

The next two hours were a blur.

The paramedics wanted to take him to the hospital. Tempting as it was to do that and potentially have a run-in with David, he knew that the shop and Ashley Boyd were a far more pressing situation at the moment. It was nothing, he insisted. He'd wash his face, bandage his own damn head, and take an aspirin for the headache against the advice of the paramedic. Still, the paramedics continued to insist, even after he'd checked his head in a mirror and saw the small cut. They wanted to properly wash his eyes out after the pepper spray and monitor him for a concussion. It took threatening them with a lawsuit if they didn't leave his property to finally get the Sheriff to say that if he was clearheaded enough to insist on that, then he was probably fine. They finally left after giving him a long list of things he shouldn't do for the day and telling him to come in if he had problems.

Once they left, he wasted no time laying into the Sheriff, who insisted there had been another emergency across town he'd been caught up on. He wondered if it had been Regina, as he'd originally thought, but he managed to hold his tongue on that one, especially since he was coming to regret his decision to call the man. If he could have gone back in time and knew it was Ashley breaking in, he never would have left the message. Given what had happened, given the Seer's prophecy regarding the girl, he preferred to keep this to himself. The Sheriff attempted to be gentle, but his questions were probing and annoying as he moved around him, trying to put it all together while lying about it at the same time.

He filled out the police report but lied about what happened using his father's old method of being as truthful as possible. The story he told was accurate right up until he found Ashley. Instead, he left out that detail, simply said that he didn't see an assailant, they attacked him from the shadows, used the pepper spray, and he must have fallen. The keys to his safe sat on the counter by his register instead of where he'd clipped them to his belt. The girl must have used them to get into the safe. The adoption papers were gone. But the dagger was still safe inside.

"Nothing has been taken," he insisted when the Sheriff asked him for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "I must have scared them off."

"You're sure? Positive? This is a small place, but there are a lot of tempting valuables-"

"And if one of them has been taken, I'm certainly not going to find it in the next twenty minutes. I need to do an inventory for that, but as you said, there are many items in my shop. A full inventory will take weeks."

"And you're sure the camera doesn't work."

"Yes," he lied. "Hasn't worked in years." Though, in truth, he hadn't even remembered he kept a security camera until the Sheriff had looked up and spotted it. In fact, he'd used it so infrequently the equipment for the thing was stored in the tiny water closet in the back room. It might prove helpful in this situation, but given what he was going to be doing now that Emma Swan was in town, he preferred to turn the thing off and forget about it for good.

"Well…I've got your report. If you are sure, you are fine-"

"I am."

"Right…if you find anything missing in your inventory, let me know. Otherwise, whoever it was probably couldn't find what they were looking for and got spooked. If you think of anything, let me know."

"You'll be my first call. Hopefully, I won't be transferred to a voice mailbox again."

"Ahm…what the paramedics said…I know you haven't got many friends in town since your aunts died. You really shouldn't be alone with a concussion, and they said you shouldn't sleep for a while."

"I'll manage."

"If you want me to stay-"

"What I'd like, Sheriff, is for my calls for help to be answered in a timely manner, so I'm not bleeding out on the floor for hours, and to be left alone with my trinkets to make sure my possessions are still my possessions. Do we understand each other?"

Graham looked skeptical, but Regina's toy knew how to take a hint. He nodded his head once and then slowly backed out of the shop, leaving him alone with his anger to figure out what would come next. And what a question that was. He was positive; this wasn't a coincidence. It hadn't just happened. No, no, this was the Curse breaking, and his present finally catching up to a future he'd seen hundreds of years ago.

"A debt from the woman of ash will find the boy of fire," the Seer had said. And here he was. The boy of fire was obviously his Baelfire, making this the most important part of the prophecy. And Ashley, "Cinder"-ella, was obviously the girl of ash but…Ashley? The one to find Baelfire? No. It didn't seem right, and it never had. She owed him her baby and nothing else. And besides, the prophecy wouldn't lead him to the Swan only to have Ashley Boyd be the one to find Baelfire. No. Long ago…long, long ago, he'd suspected it was going to be an exchange, a favor. It was Cinderella's debt but one that Miss Swan would acquire for herself somehow. Now that he knew the Savior, it made perfect sense. She was a bail bondsman, capable of finding people. Oh, true, he planned on bringing magic to this world to find his boy, but he'd not set foot out of this town in twenty-eight years. He needed more than magic. Emma Swan had knowledge of the world outside their little town, and she was tough as nails. She would be the perfect person to enlist in helping him get to his son.

He had no Seer to whisper in his head now, but he had a plan. It was nothing but a half-cocked hunch, but given the pounding in his head, he wasn't capable of much more. He was going to get his favor, his debt…Emma Swan would pay it. But first, he had to make sure the girl was involved.

He spent the night in his shop. He was tempted more than once to bring out the cot and sleep, but that was the cocky Dark One inside of him talking. Like it or not, right now, he was human, and his headache told him that the paramedic's worries about concussions were real. He wasn't immortal until he brought magic back. He'd hate to make it this far only to die because he'd been an idiot who thought he was indestructible. So instead, he washed his eyes thoroughly in the water closet sink. He used the ancient security footage to find Ashley's picture, printed it out, then took his cane to the equipment, making sure it was good and destroyed. He stayed up for the rest of the night, thinking through his plans. Plans he had for getting Bae back, plans he had for bringing magic back, plans he had to get Emma to break the Curse. Some of those plans were solid. He felt certain he knew how to bring magic to this world using an old well up in the hills said to return lost things. Once he got Emma to get him the rest of the True Love Potion, it should be easy. From there, with magic, finding Baelfire should be just as easy. Other plans, like getting Emma to break the Curse entirely, were still unclear. He hoped, with time, it would sort itself out. He hoped. Near dawn, he changed into a spare suit he kept at work for all those false times Mr. Gold spent the night. Then as the sun rose, he packed up Baelfire's shawl, Belle's chipped cup, and his dagger to transport back to his house. He'd never had a break-in before this, but with the Curse breaking, he could be sure others wouldn't be back to see what else he had. He felt more comfortable leaving his most precious things at home, instead of in the shop, at least until he could find a safe place for them.

When morning arrived, he'd meant to venture over to Mary Margaret's apartment first thing, but after stopping by Granny's to grab a cup of coffee, he found that the chatter about town wasn't about his break-in, as he expected, but rather Emma. Outsiders had come into town that morning to deliver boxes to Mary Margaret's apartment. Supposedly it was Emma Swan's belongings. Though outsiders did on occasion come to Storybrooke, it was always the talk of the town when they did, and the magic always seemed to be…disturbed by it somehow, as if the Curse knew they didn't belong. Outsiders never stayed long. So he sat down for some breakfast, giving the service time to get in and out, then once his belly was full, and the coast was clear, he went to the apartment. He walked up the stairs, listened to the sound of the women chatting, and then knocked on the door. Mary Margaret answered, her eyes going wide at the unexpected sight of him. She'd looked that way the first time she met him, not that she remembered.

"Miss Blanchard. Is Miss Swan here?"

Suddenly the girl appeared over her shoulder in the doorway. Mother and daughter together…what a happy sight if only they knew it. He extended his hand for the girl, and she took it. "Hi, my name's Mr. Gold. We met briefly on your arrival."

"I remember."

"Good. I have a proposition for you, Miss Swan. I, uh… I need your help. I'm looking for someone."

"Really? Um…" the girl looked over to Mary Margaret, and he followed suit, raising his eyebrows to indicate he wanted privacy. Unlike the curious and brave Snow White, Mary Margaret backed away at the gesture.

"You know what? I'm going to go jump in the bath," she excused before hurrying away. Perfect.

"I have a photo," he explained, pulling a photo from his security cameras free from his pocket and handing it over. "Her name is Ashley Boyd. And she's taken something quite valuable of mine," he explained, hobbling into the tiny apartment. The table was still set for breakfast. They must have been in the middle of it when the movers had arrived.

"So, why don't you just go to the police?"

"Because, uh…she's a confused young woman," he lied. "She's pregnant. Alone and scared. I don't want to ruin this young girl's life. But I just want my property returned."

"What is it?"

"Well, one of the advantages of you not being the police is discretion. Let's just say it's a precious object and leave it at that."

Emma tapped the photo against her fingers as she looked him over. He kept his look of concern on his face, but it was a struggle not to smile as he saw curiosity and concern grace her face. Her mother had the same look when she was queen, not that she'd know that now.

"When'd you see her last?" she finally asked.

"Last night. That's how I got this…" he let his hair fall out of the way of the scab that had formed in the night, the source of his current headache. When he turned back, he decided that she looked properly shocked by that to please him. "It's so unlike her," he added with false concern. "She was quite wound up. Rambling on and on about changing her life. I have no idea what got into her. Miss Swan, please help me find her. My only other choice is the police, and I don't think anyone wants to see that baby born in jail now, do they?"

That was a low blow, but one that he had perfectly timed to play on the Savior's own past. He remembered what the adoption agency had told him about Henry, about his mother, where he was born. In fact, he still had the records that he'd been sent sitting around somewhere. But now, here she was trying to do right by her son…it wasn't possible for her not to feel that comment deeply. And it appeared to work. At least if the defensive posture and crossed arms were any indication.

"No, of course not."

"So, you'll help me, then?"

"I will help her."

"Grand," he smiled. "I will help her." Help "her," not "you." Not exactly what he was expecting. It was better than that. She was developing a relationship with this girl already. He could easily use that to his own advantage.

Suddenly the door to the apartment clicked open and there stood none other than the reason Emma felt so connected to dear Ashley Boyle, her son Henry.

"Hey, Emma. I was thinking we-" The boy stopped dead when he saw him standing there, his eyes widened, but he politely put a smile on his face the way his Bae used to when he ran into someone he didn't care for. He respected that about the boy.

"Hey, Henry!" he exclaimed, smiling back and pretending not to notice the way he smiled. "How are you?"

"Okay?" he responded as if he wasn't sure.

"Good," he chuckled as he made his way to the door. "Give my regards to your mother. And, um, good luck, Miss Swan." He took a glance at Emma before moving around Henry and looking down at him. The second he closed the door, he let his smile vanish.

Henry…he respected the boy, but as long as he was pursuing the Seer's prophecy he had to admit that he hadn't forgotten about her other prediction. A precious debt from a woman of ash would find the boy of fire. But a boy would lead him to Baelfire, and would also be his undoing.

He didn't believe in chance. He didn't believe in luck or happenstance. He didn't believe it was an accident that the town clock started again the night Emma decided to stay in town or that David waking up was random. And he certainly didn't think, not for one single second, that the fact that Henry had brought Emma here for a second was a coincidence.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Baelfire #sheriff graham #Emma Swan #Henry #Mary Margaret #Snow White #fanfiction #ouat #ouat fanfic

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stars-in-my-universe · 5 years

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Bad Idea: Part 4

Summary: When pop star Trixie can’t get her act together, her team makes a deal with the NHL…one that she can’t turn down. When NHL player Tyler Seguin can’t seem to get himself under control his team decides to thrust a certain Pop star into his life. Can the two play nice?

Warnings: Cussing. Eventually there will be some smutty goodness but for now enjoy the slow burn.

Note: Here’s part four guys, I hope you enjoy. I do have the next part practically done so if you guys want me to keep posting please let me know. This one is kind of long but some drama ensues and we are all messy bitches for drama. The lyrics belong to Cheryl Loyd’s ‘None of my Business”

“Damn, I heard that you and her been having problems She likes to fight, I guess you both have that in common Started at the top and now you at the bottom But baby, this is none of my business...”

Trixie brought up the boxing gloves and as soon as her trainer yelled go she had started socking his gloves. One, two, duck, one, two, take a step back. She was full of adrenaline and she needed to blow off some steam.

“Again, come on girl. There you go, let it out.” Trixie focused on where his gloves were at and let out a frustrated sigh when she was too slow and delivered a blow to her side. She breathed out a huff of air and brought her gloves back up. The conversation she had with management popping up into her head making her hit with more anger than anything.

“No!” She was well aware that she was acting like a brat but her management had refused to pull the contract between the hockey player and the pop star, which lead to a very unhappy Trixie.

“I tried with him! He hates me for no reason!” She was now standing up in front of her team, she might as well have been stomping her foot.

“Trixie...”She ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the tangles that her finger had gotten stuck in.

“Look Tyler Seguin wants nothing to do with me.”

“He doesn’t have a choice his management isn’t pulling the contract either so get it together.” She rolled her eyes as she watched all of them leave the room without another word making her let out a frustrated scream and kick the chair that was next to her.

That was three days ago and she hadn’t heard or seen Tyler which was okay by her standards. However she knew management was getting impatient and they were running out of time to stall this.

“Alright I’m calling it for today, you did good.” She was out of breath, sore and tired so as she thanked her trainer; no one could blame her for cringing when her phone binged indicating she had a text. Taking a drink of water she reached down for her phone and groaned when she saw it was from Tyler.

‘We need to talk.’ That’s all it said along with an address. She sighed and texted back that she could be there in 15.

She really did want to just go home and take a long nice bath but the universe and her management had other plans.

X-x

Tyler sighed and watched as Trixie walked up to where he was sitting outside of the small, quaint cafe he enjoyed coming to when he needed space. He arched an eyebrow when he took in the state she was in.

Her hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail, she was wearing a sports bra and he was pretty sure the worlds tightest yoga pants he had ever seen; not that she looked bad in any of it, it just surprised him.

“You okay?” He shook his head then nodded.

“Yeah I just didn’t expect you to show up in-” Trixie pulled her chair out and cocked her head to the side, sitting down.

“Uh yeah, sorry. I came from the gym.” He nodded, that’s what he assumed.

“Anyways, did you call this meeting to yell at me some more?” Tyler glared at her as she sent him a playful smirk. She really could be a pain in the ass, which is probably what drove him insane about her.

“No, I just...I figured we could talk about what happened and figure out how to go about this deal.” Trixie sighed and looked straight at him. For the first time Tyler didn’t see a smirk or anything on her face she was completely serious.

“I don’t know what I did to you, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me. All I know is clearly we’ve both heard stuff about the other and it is destroying whatever progress we could be making.” She watched him as he looked down at his phone, not really looking for anything just staring at the back of it.

“I am sorry about what I said, I don’t usually like girls like you with their higher than though attitude.” It was a start.

“The thing is I don’t really care if you like me. I just want to get through this contract and get it over with.” He nodded and cocked his head to the side.

“How did you do it with uh...crosby and Anderson?” Trixie sighed.

“Uh, Crosby was easy. We actually got along and I was able to go through it smooth sailing. We’re actually still really good friends.”

“And Anderson?” He would ask about him, Trixie bit her lip and debated telling him the whole story. Instead she went with the short version.

“Anderson wasn’t just a contract. I mean he was for a couple months and when it was over we decided to date for a bit. Then he left me for a pretty little blonde. Haven’t talked to him since.” Trixie could feel her stomach drop, the ache of not being enough hit her in a fast wave, she had forgiven him but it did destroy most of her self esteem.

“So the queen of pop isn’t all icy heart and attitude.” Trixie kicked him in the shin making Tyler let out a laugh, his laugh wasn’t that bad.

“And you? I won’t apologize for what I said.”

“I’m not asking you too.”

“Then whose Ali?” Tyler’s demeanor shifted and Trixie saw the wall go up. He was guarded.

“How do you know-”

“I’m a girl, I saw your phone the other day at lunch several times when she called.” He shook his head.

“An ex.” That was all Tyler gave her and Trixie wasn’t going to push it. They sat in silence for a minute before Tyler cleared his throat.

“Are all your sad songs about Anderson then?”

“You’re pushing it.” Tyler held up his hands in defense.

“So is that it? Can I go until we have to see each other again?” Trixie was getting uncomfortable, she had trust issues and she felt like he already knew too much.

“I also wanted to invite you to a barbecue I’m having on Sunday. No paps, no management just a couple of people.” Trixie didn’t say anything. She usually didn’t like to go to hangouts more so because people tended to record her and report things that weren’t true.

“Chill, it’s going to be a couple of the guys and their girlfriends. I’ll text you the address.” Trixie nodded.

“You don’t have to like me but we should probably get along at least for the cameras and why not get used to each other at a friendly barbecue with beer and friends.”

“Alright, text me” He nodded and stood up. Trixie watched him tuck his phone in his pocket and fix the snapback on his head.

“I’ll see you later Trixie.” Trixie sent him a small smile which he returned before heading toward the parking lot. When he was out of ear shot she immediately called Camilla.

“Hey you busy sunday?”

“Yeah I-”

“Now You’re not, you’re coming with me to Tyler’s barbecue.”

“What?!”

X-x

“Oh my god You’re Trixie.” This was the fourth time it had happened today. It was the day of the barbecue and Trixie and Camilla had decided to show up, but in hour into the barbecue and She had lost Cami to Tyler’s team mates Val and Jamie. Which were actually the nicer of the two. Tyler had introduced Trixie to a couple of his friends, Mike, David, and their girlfriends who she didn’t care to remember and then he too had disappeared.

She didn’t even mean to sound cocky but she really didn’t need an introduction, everyone seemed to recognize her. She did her best at smiling politely but didn’t say too much considering this wasn’t even her scene and she didn’t know many people.

She had gotten tired of sitting by the pool watching everyone socialize while she sipped on a corona so she decided to go be nosy and check out Tyler Seguin’s house, more so his kitchen and game room. She had walked into the house, immediately being hit with the AC. No one was inside not that she could see except for his three labs, which seemed to be her favorite part of the day. She walked into his living room already loving the kitchen and taking notice of the pictures on top of the fireplace.

She assumed it was his dad on a boat with a younger looking Tyler, both men smiling and holding fish in their hands. Trixie shook her head and smiled at the one of him and who she could only assume was his mom; he was standing next to her but she was leaning up kissing his cheek, a giant smile on his face. He really was a family man. Trixie proceeded to look at the pictures in the room, some of him and his sisters, of his teammates and friends. As Trixie was leaning up to look at one of the pictures she felt a wet nose nudge her butt which was only covered by bathing suit bottom making her let out a squeal.

She looked down to see Cash, his biggest Lab wagging his tail happily and looking up at her, tongue out. She smiled and knelt down to pet the dog happily, talking to him in a baby voice. It was when she heard a door close and a giggle that all three labs turned and ran toward the front foyer where the front door was, barking like crazy. Trixie heard another giggle and then a ‘stop it boys, Gerry no!” Deciding to be nosey again, Trixie followed the dogs and turned the corner of the hallway. However she didn’t expect to see Tyler pinning a cute little brunette to the wall by the front door, both laughing, her bathing suit practically falling off and Tyler’s swim trunks very low on his hips. Trixie rolled her eyes and cleared her throat making the two jump apart.

Tyler turned to glare at me and adjusted his trunks just as the brunette adjusted her swim suit. She was cute, dark brown her, big brown eyes, innocent smile..the kind of girl Tyler would go for. She let out a an awkward cough and shuffled from one foot to another. It took her a moment to glance up at Trixie but when she did her eyes went wide.

“You’re trixie!” Trixie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. She was heavily annoyed.

“You’re Ali.” It was a statement not a question. Tyler took a step toward the singer and glared down at her.

“Can you give us a minute?” Trixie raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“You do you Tyler, don’t let this shit get out. It’s both of our asses on the line.” Rolling her eyes, Trixie made her way back through the kitchen.

“Cash, stay.” Trixie turned to see Tyler looking at his black lab who had decided to follow her. Cash let out a whine making Trixie shake her head.

“Come on boy, let’s go swimming.” Trixie shot Tyler one last look before joining Camilla and the rest outside. She didn’t see Tyler for the awhile which was okay with her, she was starting to thoroughly enjoying talking to Rads and Miro who were both very sweet and also Tyler’s team mates.

Trixie was finally feeling the alcohol in her system and because she could she went inside to make another margarita. Trixie smiled as the black lab followed her inside and laying on the kitchen floor, looking up at her happily. She laughed and started grabbing the mix out of the fridge while humming a tune.

“It seems my dog likes you more than me.” She let out a scream as Tyler stood up from the couch in the living room, making Trixie almost drop the glass she had in her hand.

“Holy shit, Seguin.” He shook his head and made his way over to the island in the kitchen. He didn’t say much as she shot him a look waiting for him to say something.

“Everyone tends to like me, except for you.” He rolled his eyes and sat down on one of his bar stools. Neither of them said anything so Trixie continued to make her margarita.

“How did you know that was her?” She sighed and looked up at him.

“It’s not hard to figure out that she’s your ex, it’s also not hard to see that you’re at her beck and call.” He shook his head.

“It’s complicated-“

“I don’t really care Tyler. What you do is your business behind closed doors, if you want to be sucked in by your ex cool. Just remember that we have a contract and if that gets out management will be pissed and your reputation will be…ruined to say it nicely.” He nodded but didn’t say much else.

She glanced down at the black lab who was sprawled out on the floor fast asleep.

“He’s a good boy, I hope when I get a dog he’s like Cash.” Tyler cocked his head to the side.

“You’ve only just met him.” She let out a hmmm.

“Yeah but he adores me.” Trixie smirked back up at Tyler who shook his head but sent her a smile.

“Well if we’re done here…” Trixie went to walk to the door but Tyler stood up quickly blocking her way. Because of their height difference she was now face to face with his tattooed chest.

“Can I ask you a question?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“If you do, can I go?” He nodded.

“What?”

“Why don’t you care about Ali?” Trixie gave him a weird look.

“I don’t know her, I don’t really know you. It’s your business, your reputation.”

“Most girls would be jealous…”

“I’m not most girls Tyler, but also I Need to have feelings for you to be jealous and after Anderson I’ve vowed to never date a hockey player or any athlete again.” He scoffed.

“But hooking up with random dudes in a club is okay?” Trixie shrugged and pushed past him.

“I got to get it in some how plus you hockey players, actually no men in general do it all the time. Double standard much?” She sent him a playful smile and walked out the glass door leaving Tyler standing in the kitchen dumbfounded.

Trixie wasn’t what he expected at all, and he couldn’t figure out if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin x reader #tyler seguin x oc #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagine #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #enemies to friends #slowburn #bad idea

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negandarylsatisfaction · 5 years

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[SUMMARY: Negan welcomes the anxious woman into his sanctuary, keeping a dark secret from her.]

PART TWO.

The truck pulled into what you figured was the sanctuary. Your grip on Negans arm tightening as you looked out the window to see men with guns guarding large gates. Negan stepped out with you and allowed you to walk by his side as everyone stopped what they were doing at his presence, some even kneeling as he walked on by without acknowledging a soul.

Negan walked you down a long hall and stopped at a large metal door, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking it as you looked behind you.

“Relax, doll. No ones coming here.” He spoke in the same arrogant tone he had from the moment you met him. He opened the door and looked over at you with a smirk, waving his hand out to let you in first.

“You first, my lady.” He spoke playfully making it easier for you to relax. Quietly stepping one foot inside the room you slowly let go of Negans arm.

“There you go..” his husky voice filled the room before you jumped up at the sound of the door closing behind you making you quickly turn. He noticed you instantly get uneasy at the closed door and turned the knob leaving the door slightly cracked open.

“Better?”

Your eyes followed as Negan walked towards a desk of his and put down his bat, took out his gun placed it on the table and proceeded to take off his leather jacket. A knock on the door made the two of you turn to find a rather large man step inside.

“Please tell me you’ve got some news on our brave lost boy, David.” Negan scratched his chin with a sigh.

“Nothing, sir. I’ve tried tracking him but he seems to have covered his tracks pretty good.”

“Or maybe you just fucking suck at tracking.” Negan murmured with a deep sigh. He turned his back and pulled out a dark bottle of liquor pouring himself just enough to take a sip. You didn’t want to look but the second that Negan turned, you felt the man beside you staring at you. Something about this mans eyes left you feeling more uneasy than you already were when Negan suddenly turned making the guy look away. A breath of relief left your lips as Negan looked over at David.

“Anything else?” He asked with a raised brow before the man nervously responded.

“N-no, sir. That’s all.”

“Well then-“ Negan leaned back with a sarcastic look.

“Leave.”

“Yes of course, sir.”

David left the room with you looking in his direction before Negans voice distracted you.

“He’s harmless. A fucking fat ass, but harmless.” Negan assured you, making his way towards you.

“Now...Harmony. You and I still have a few things we need to take care of.”

You looked up at the man before you, he was a rather tall man, he wasn’t exactly hard to look at but for some reason it was hard to keep eye contact.

“Usually, I let my men do this but since I’m such a fucking stand up guy and clearly there’s just something about me you can’t resist. I’ll do the job.” Negan spoke in a very cocky tone, you almost questioned yourself on how you allowed yourself to get close to him but you didn’t say a word.

“Spread em for me.” You frowned and took a step back making him chuckle.

“Should’ve elaborated on that, shouldn’t I?” He took one more sip of his drink before placing it down behind him.

“I need to do a body check, sweetheart. So far you’ve been a good girl-“ Negan smirked raising a brow.

“But, I still need to make sure there’s no weapons on you. I can’t take no chances, doll. As sweet as you look and yes...oh you look very sweet, I still need to cover myself first.” This meant he had to put his hands on you, you weren’t sure how you felt about this but it didn’t matter. Negan giving you a chance to be here, it was all he asked. Quietly, you nodded and spread your arms and legs out for him.

“Atta girl.” Negan was careful when he placed his large hands on your arms knowing how anxious you had been. You took a deep breath and nervously looked around the room as his hands made his way down to your waist. Negan didn’t admit it to you, but he enjoyed feeling every curve of yours under his warm hands before making his way down to your thighs. His face now inches away from your crotch as he looked up at you with charming yet intimidating eyes.

“Spread em a little more for me, honey.”

If you didn’t know any better, it almost sounded as if he was actually tying to seduce you. But, from what you learned in the short period with him, the man always sounded like he had a smooth, radio host voice. Were you supposed to be aroused by this?

Negans rough hands felt on your outer thighs when he suddenly stopped at the feel of something towards your inner thigh.

You gasped.

Like an idiot, you completely forgot about the blade you had tucked in your shorts.

“Mind if I get that?” He looked up at you making you quickly, nervously nod. You felt the touch of his bare skin against a more sensitive area of your thigh, he felt you shiver at his touch and smirked before he pulled out the knife.

“I...I’m-“

“This-“ Negan stood up straight with the knife in his hand.

“This is a big..big big..no no.” He seemed to drag out each and every word making you all the more anxious.

“I forgot..I..wasn't going to use it..I promise. I’m sorry-“ Negan chuckled at how you stuttered in desperation.

“Now, now. No need to apologize. Negans pretty good at character judgment...I don’t think I had to worry about this with you. You would’ve tried something by now.” You looked down knowing you had no intention on trying a thing. Negan studied the knife for a moment while you stood before him holding your hands nervously.

“Harmony, I got a question for you.”

You looked up at him with big hazel curious eyes.

“Pardon my French but what the fuck was a young fine woman like you doing lost in the woods?”

“I..I wasn’t alone.”

Negan frowned with curiosity, wondering what exactly your story was. He leaned back on his desk and crossed his arms wondering what you meant.

“I was with a group of people. Good people. But..they left me. I don’t think Rick and all of them meant too but-“

You didn’t notice as you looked down at the ground continuing to talk, but something you said caught Negans attention.

Rick.

Negan knew exactly who Rick was. Rick was a man who killed a few of Negans men, a man Negan was out to get revenge on. As a matter of fact, one of the people in Ricks group was the one Negan had hostage at the camp who escaped.

Daryl. Brave fella.

“Good people but they left you? I don’t know, honey. They don’t sound all that fucking good to me.”

“They were my friends.” You whispered remembering the days you fished with Andrea, switched books to read with Glen, and watched Daryl eat squirrel as if it were a juicy burger on a plate. The thoughts in your head making you smile before being interpreted by Negans husky voice.

“Well, those aren’t your friends anymore.”

You looked up and took a deep breath.

He was right.

“How about we get you a meal and some new clothes, a welcome gift...from yours truly.” Negan changed the tone of conversation, he didn’t want to speak of this group all that much. He had seen enough of them and more importantly, he didn’t want you knowing he knew of them.

#jeffrey dean morgan #the walking dead fanfiction #twd imagines #negan x you #negan x ofc #negan fan fic #negan twd #fan fictions

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creedtheconquer · 6 years

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Everything But Political

Request-"thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu!So YN Hale Underwood is the first daughter,and she's pretty much like her mom (the only person both really trust) she's stoic and shy,tries to avoid the spotlight as much as she can but is brilliant in all the she does. Duncan has been in love with her since forever,but never managed to confess to her(his cockiness dissapears when she's around) so,after a lot or twits and turns he finally admits it and happy stuff. what do you think?"

Summery-"(Y/N) Hale-Underwood is her mother's pride and joy and loyal to a T. She has had a constant love hate relationship with the one and only Duncan Shepherd but little does she know he has loved her since they were little. How will this turn out?"

Pairings- Duncan Shepherd x Reader

Warnings- politics but not really if anyone cares about that, this is mostly just fluff for our Dunkin Donut.

*I hope you guys enjoy this story typed it up in little under 3 and a half hours! My request are always open I write for Cody and any character he has played minus David to respect him as a person who sadly lost his life. I also write for other AHS character so feel to request away!*

(Y/N) Hale-Underwood the poster child for America, her mother's pride and joy and she took that role and that spot light very very seriously. She loved her mother dearly and was loyal to the core. After her father died (Y/N) took up the protecter role of the family. She was her mother's rock, her supporting shoulder and she would do anything for her mother. If Claire need a break (Y/N) would step in to meeting for her mother without a second hesitation. Or if Claire just needed to vent the only person she would trust to vent everything to was (Y/N) to which (Y/N) would gladly sit for hours in her mother's room just listening, not talking that often because the way she saw it, she wasn't there to talk she was there to listen. So when Claire asked her to attend one of the annual Shepherd's Foundation events (Y/N) didn't refuse.

"Ah (Y/N) my dear, where is your mother?" Annette Shepherd, Claire's frenemie greats (Y/N) with a smile giving her a quick small hug. (Y/N) fakes a smile hugging her back thinking of the best way to answer her question knowing she's trying to get some kind of dirt on her mother.

"She had a press meeting and couldn't make it sadly so she sent me in her replace. She also sends her regards." (Y/N) says pulling away from Annette and she smooths out her form fitting navy blue pencil dress and Annette nods.

"Well my dear come in have fun you always more than welcome here." She beams up and (Y/N) and (Y/N) gives her a nod as she scans the room.

"Thank you Annette." (Y/N) says offering her a small smile as Annette walks off to great the new guest coming through the door.

From what Claire said this was a meeting about the incident that happened in Ohio, and the fact that she didn't trust the Shepherd's. (Y/N) was in the Oval office the previous night and watched Bill Shepherd quite literally guide her mother hand to sign his bill (Y/N) went on the defence.

(Y/N) moves quietly around the room, stopping periodically to very slyly listen in on people's conversations. Most are talking nonsense just there mundane day to day life and she rolls her eyes at their chit chat. But then there conversations that pique her interest, gossip about her mother and how she's the "anti-christ" to which (Y/N) nearly chokes on her drink trying not to laugh at the ridiculous theories/stories spun by the media. Then some hit very close to home, literally, and she has to bite her tongue to stop her from snapping back at the person spreading such lies.

(Y/N) opts to leave the main room, having heard enough, and she makes her way down the long white hallway leading to the main balcony where she sees her frenemie, Annette's son, Duncan. The two have grown up together seeing each other go through there each other's ups and downs, their worst days and their best. Growing up as little kids they were attached at the hip you would always find them together, you didn't have one if you had the other. But as they got older and realized where they stand that bond started to thin now when they did see each other it was a guessing game of are they going to get along like old times or be at each other's throats.

"Duncan." (Y/N) says coldly causing the taller brown head man to turn towards her and he gives her a once over before turning back to look out to the grounds of his Mother and Uncle's estate.

"(Y/N) what brings you here don't you have things to do for mommy." He mocks not moving his pale icy gaze to her and she scoffs at him.

"So this is how this interaction is going to go." She inquires sending a glare to the man next to her before folding her hands behind her back and she straighten out her posture. "I am her on my mother's behalf, I was hoping for a somewhat civil talk or else I would have never approached you Donut." (Y/N) smirks to herself knowing how much he hated when she called him that and as always he rolls his eyes finally looking down at her.

Little did (Y/N) know Duncan has been head over heels for her for has long has he can remember and he loves how loyal she is to her mother and he admires that deeply. He miss how they used to be before they fell into their places in the family dynamic and he wishes so badly to get back to that, but it seems like every time they are together it's like a game of russian roulette. Either they are how they used to be, laughing, relaxing, just being themselves enjoying each other's company. But more often than not they are like this, ever cold and stand offish with their guards up not trusting each other. Duncan can guess the reason for this interaction being cold was because of what is Uncle did the other night to which Duncan was outraged about. He argued that there were many other ways to go about getting the bill signed and that was not it, he felt so bad and he wanted to so badly call up (Y/N) and apologize but his ego stopped him.

"Look I'm sorry about what my uncle did I told him that was wrong." He speaks up breaking the tension tight silence that had fallen over them. (Y/N) looks up at him taken aback by his sudden sincere heart felt apology.

"You had no idea?" (Y/N) ask her ice cold front starting to melt as he nods. He turns his body slightly so he can fully face her and she does the same.

"If I had known I would have stopped him." He says softly as she sees him visibly relax has the tension fades between them. "Listen (Y/N) there is something I've been wanting to say this for a while now..."

"Duncan." Annette says from the end of the hall and he groans giving (Y/N) an apologetic look.

"Go for coffee with me later?" He asks glancing back up at his mother and (Y/N) nods softly.

"Yeah." (Y/N) says and she sees a smile tug at his lips has he brings her hand up to his lips and she places a soft kiss on her knuckles.

"I'll call you." He whisper dropping her hand and he walks off to his mother and (Y/N) nods softly feeling a little ping in her heart cursing herself for the feelings she harbors for her longest childhood friend.

(Y/N) returns home hours later completely exhausted tugging her heels off and she rolls her shoulders trying to release the tension of standing up straight for hours on end. She opens her closet and she steps out of her dress and she changes into something a lot more comfortable. She makes her way down to hallway to her mother's room and she knocks on the door softly waiting for the response.

"Come in." She hears her mother calm soothing voice sound from inside and she can't help but smile opening the door and she steps in. Claire was on the bed reading a book when (Y/N) walked in and the second she realizes it her daughter she smiles putting the book down, moving the blankets out of the way for (Y/N) to crawl in and lay her head on her mother's lap. "How did it go?" Claire asks running her fingers through (Y/N)'s hair causing her daughter to let out a sigh of relief.

"Well some people are convinced you're the anti-christ, hearing that nearly made me choke on my drink. Annette tried to get dirt on why you weren't there I told her you where busy off somewhere doing a press meeting she bought it. Bill was flaunting his victory with the bill I wanted to slap him right then and there." (Y/N) says with a sigh looking up at her mother and Claire smiles down at her tracing her daughter's beautiful features obviously getting them from her, it would be a lie if people didn't say she was almost a carbon copy of her.

"Did you see Duncan?" Claire asks caressing (Y/N)'s cheek and (Y/N) nods. "Did he say anything about how he's been whispering lies into the media's ear about me and your father?"

(Y/N) looks hurt learning this information, he had sounded so sincere in his apology he completely fooled her and that pained her. She thought that maybe they have gotten over the petty family rivalries and were getting back to how things used to be. Soon hurt gave way anger and boy was she mad, she wanted to march right to his apartment at that moment and give him a piece of her mind, "Yeah I saw him we spoke briefly but nothing of the matter was said that was important." (Y/N) says through almost gritted teeth and Claire picks up on that.

"He said something didn't he that's why you're angry." Claire says and (Y/N) closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah he said he was sorry for how his uncle did the other night with signing the bill, he sounded so sincere I believed him.....I should have know better." (Y/N) says anger laced into her words and Claire plays with her hair to soothe her.

"He's a Shepherd he can't be trusted they are dead set on tearing us down we can't let them in." Claire whispers holding (Y/N) close as (Y/N) feels tears fill her eyes.

"You're right thanks mom." (Y/N) says sitting up and she crawls out of bed walking to the door.

"You did great sweety you made me proud I love you." Claire says calling out to her daughter and (Y/N) nods not turning to face her.

"Thanks mom, I love you too." (Y/N) says in a low voice walking out of the room and down the hall. She slips on a pair of shoes and she walks out the front door.

"Annette isn't actually his mother, he's adopted." Claire says as (Y/N) closes the door knowing she going to confront Duncan.

"(Y/N) what the hell are you doing here so late?" Duncan says rubbing sleep from his beautiful icy blue eyes and (Y/N) glares pushing past him into his apartment.

"Care to explain why you've been spreading lies about my family to the media." (Y/N) snaps turning on her heels to face the man she loved to hate and hate to love standing by the door in his loose shorts and black t shirt.

"I...I, it's not me it's my mom she's just using me it's all her I'm just her attack dog." He sighs running a hand down his face as he very consciously walks towards (Y/N).

"Then why are you going through with it?!" (Y/N) shouts taking a step back from him, "Why? Fucking tell me Duncan! I actually believe you felt sorry earlier I thought you had changed!"

"(Y/N) Listen to me I can't just not listen to my mom, but I was sorry earlier." Duncan defends taking another step towards (Y/N).

"She's not even your real mom Duncan! You're adopted you don't owe her shit!" (Y/N) shouts and Duncan stops dead in his tracts.

"I'm what?" He asks and (Y/N) curses herself for letting that slip.

"Duncan I shouldn't have told you that." (Y/N) says dropping her anger and she steps towards him.

"No no don't I need to know." He says taking a deep breath but (Y/N) hears the stutter in it and she can tell he was about to cry.

"It wasn't my place to tell you I'm sorry Donut." (Y/N) says placing her hand on his shoulder and he pulls her fully to her holding her tight.

"No thank you, I would rather it have been you." He whispers through tears as the rock through his body and he shakes against her.

"Hey Donut, look at me." (Y/N) whispers pulling back and he meets her gaze and she reaches up to wipe his tears away. "You don't have to listen to her anymore, I can talk to my mother get you a pardon."

Duncan laughs slightly nodding his head, "You know there has always been something I've wanted to tell you for many many years now." He whispers his eyes flickering down to (Y/N)'s lips then back up to her eyes, "I have loved you since we were kids."

(Y/N) gasps slightly as he closes the gap and he kisses her, letting years of bottled up emotions take over not wanting to miss a single moment. "I love you too Duncan." She whispers breathlessly as they break the kiss.

"Fuck politics this is all that matters." Duncan whispers before kissing her again finally understanding the meaning to all of this their lives. It all fell into place in that single moment, he knew that their whole lives lead up to this moment and he was grateful. He finally had her and he was letting go he was going to hold on and fight with everything to keep this. He was home.

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

#cody fern #ahs #ahs8 #house of cards #duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd imagine

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wellhellotragic · 6 years

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Of Wolves and Lambs 5/?

Summary: Killian Jones has known a lifetime’s worth of pain. He’s lost everyone he’s ever cared about, but when the love of his life is murdered, he vows that nothing will stop him from getting his revenge. Even if it means losing his soul to do so.

What starts off as a simple quest for revenge turns into a world filled with secrets and lies. Nothing is what he thought, and no one seems to be who he thought.

Rating: E (and that’s not E for everyone)

When Killian stepped back into the waiting room Victor was there, anticipating him. He nodded his head towards the doors and Killian followed him through them. They walked silently towards the back of the ICU. Emma’s room was separate from the other makeshift rooms. Instead of ragged white sheets separating the bays, Emma’s room was surrounded by solid walls, blocking out any curious views. Anyone passing by may have mistaken it for a storage closet.

Outside her room stood two Boston police officers. When Killian saw them he almost tripped over his own feet. He knew they were likely there just for Emma’s protection, but what if David had left orders for them to block him from entering her room.

“Name.”

The officer’s words weren’t a question. They were an order and Killian found himself without a voice. The words were stuck in his throat.

“You do have a name right?” The officer was almost growling at him now, clearly frustrated at the menial task of guarding a door in the middle of the night.

“This is Jefferson Hatter. I believe you’ll find he’s on the list.” Victor spoke with conviction. He was a good liar, something Killian hadn’t noticed before.

The officer nodded and stepped out of the way. Victor led Killian into the room, once again running down Emma’s injuries. This time the list was more extensive. In addition to what he had told Killian before, he added that Emma’s jaw had been broken along with a few fractures in her facial bones. Three of her fingers were broken in a way that indicated torture. She had a ruptured spleen. Apparently in addition to the brain swelling, Emma’s heart had stopped in the operating room and it took them far longer to resuscitate her than they would have like. During that time her brain was devoid of oxygen and they weren’t sure if it would have any impact on her cognitive function, and that was speculating that she would even wake up.

Victor waited a moment for it to sink in before speaking again. “I didn’t want to overwhelm David. He still has the blessing of hope and I didn’t want to destroy that for him. I think you know better though. I’m not sure how she’s even still here with us.”

He turned to walk out of the room, but just before he reached the door he turned back towards Killian. “Look man, I hate to say this, but you might want to go ahead and say your goodbyes. This is probably the last time you’ll get with her.”

Killian appreciated his honesty. He already knew that his time with her was limited, but hearing it from someone else helped him to acknowledge it.

“Hey, Victor,” Killian called out finally letting his gaze drift away from Emma. “Thank you for this. I won’t forget it.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your little attack dog out there,” he said as he gestured towards to what Killian assumed was the direction of the waiting room.

Killian’s brows furrowed in confusion.

Victor continued. “Look, I don’t mean any disrespect man, but my ass is on the line here and you having a rendezvous with your secret girlfriend just isn’t worth my job.” Without anything further Victor exited the room leaving Killian alone with Emma.

At least he was pretty sure it was Emma. Aside from a bit of matted blonde hair it was impossible to tell. Her face was buried under layers of swelling. The cheeks he once loved to watch flush with pink were now black, blue, and purple. Her left wrist was in a cast and the first three fingers on her right hand were in splints. Her leg was wrapped in gauze.

She had always left him breathless but this version of him knocked the air out of his lungs in the worst way. He stood at the foot of her bed watching her. Every nerve in his body was on fire telling him to run to her, to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close. Had it really only been that morning since he had left her sleeping peacefully in her bed while he went to check on his house? In less than twenty-four hours his entire world had been knocked of its axis. The future he had spent over a decade fantasizing about was finally within his reach, only to be snatched away.

Killian willed himself to move closer. As he found his way into a chair next to her bed, he carefully slipped his hand into hers only allowing their thumbs to interlock. He was terrified to touch her, but he needed to some form of physical link to her.

As he sat there, he couldn’t help but wonder if his Emma was even still in there. She had always been such a force to be reckoned with, and it used to terrify him. It wasn’t that he was afraid of her, but the idea that he would never be worthy of her.

As a teenager he was immediately smitten with her, and she intimidated the hell out of him, something he had told her the night they first kissed. Young Killian had never doubted himself before. He was confident to the point of cocky, thanks to the many female admires he had acquired over the years at school.

The girls that he had acquainted himself with had always been vapid, and the relationships had been nothing more than physical. When one dalliance lost its appeal he had no trouble moving on to the next one. His promiscuity only spiraled after his parents were killed during a suicide bombing while visiting Amsterdam.

His brother, Liam chose to join the Royal Navy as a way to fight back against terrorism. For his part, Killian found that romancing woman after woman helped him to keep his mind preoccupied. Each one afforded him at least a few hours of distraction, keeping the pain at bay.

It wasn’t until a pregnancy scare that Killian got his life together. He had actually spent the entire pregnancy helping the girl in every way he could. Killian’s parents had left both of their sons a substantial amount of money, so Killian paid for everything. He went to classes with the girl and had even invited her to move into his parent’s house so he could raise the child with her. He could still remember looking into the baby’s eyes for the first time after he was born.

Killian called his brother right away to tell him that he was officially an uncle. Liam though, ever the protective older brother, had insisted that Killian get a paternity check done. Killian only caved after his brother threatened to have his trust cut off, and when the results came back two weeks later he was devastated.

When he confronted the girl she admitted that she had just discovered she was pregnant a few days after they had been together for the first time. She said the child’s real father was a loser, that never would have been able to provide for him, so she let Killian believe he was his. She told him that she never meant to hurt him, but she just wanted what was best for her and her child, and she knew Killian had the money to take care of them.

He went into the nursery and started grabbing anything he could get his hands on, bringing item after item to the front yard throwing things as hard and as far as he could. After he had tossed anything and everything belonging to her and the baby he yelled at her to get out. He could still hear her pleas to forgive her as he locked the door behind her. It wasn’t his finest moment by any standards and he was still ashamed of himself.

Even now after all of these years he wondered what had become of the child. He had been young, too young to care for a child, much less one that wasn’t even his, but there were so many other way he could have handled the situation, so many better ways he could have reacted.

After that night, he had decided to focus on school. His life was a mess and he needed to regain some control. He also needed to redeem himself for his brother. He was embarrassed that his brother was off fighting in a war to keep everyone safe, while he was at home screwing anything that walked.

He applied to every university he could find that offered the engineering degree he wanted. When he got his first acceptance letter he packed up and moved to Boston. He got along with his roommate easy enough but had devoted himself to studying. He wanted to be better than the stupid young boy he left behind in London. David seemed to be best friends with every kid on their floor and was invited to party after party. He tried over and over again to drag Killian along with him, saying that Killian needed to learn how to relax. Killian refused every attempt David made, until David finally gave up. He told Killian that he would stop bugging him about parties and women if he would at least come home with him to dinner. Even Killian had to admit that his routine of going straight from class to the dinning hall where he’d get his meals to go, then head over to the library and back to the dorms again was starting to wear on him.

The first time he went home with David it was supposed to be a onetime thing. David told him that he would get to meet his little sister and that his mom was the best cook in town. Killian cringed at the idea of a younger girl version of David. David was a nice fellow, but sometimes he was a bit much. Killian could only imagine a more energetic chattier version. When they walked in and Ruth informed them that Emma was out with August Killian was actually relieved.

That is, until they were getting ready to leave and he saw a picture of Emma hanging on the wall. Her blonde hair was in soft curls framing her face, and emerald green eyes shimmered back at him. He was entranced. The next week when David invited him home again Killian jumped at the chance only to be disappointed that she was out again.

Another week went by without her and he missed her, this girl that he had never met. There was just something about her that he was drawn to. When yet another week had passed and David was once again inviting him home to dinner, Killian almost declined. In part he was tired of being let down every time he showed up and she wasn’t there, but also because he felt guilty. He and David were finally starting to bond, and he didn’t want to be the kind of guy that just used his friend to get close to a girl.

Was that what he was doing though? He had sworn off girls, and if he felt this attracted to someone based solely on a blurry picture of her, how would he respond to the actual person? The last thing he wanted was to go back to being the boy that seduced every young lady he met. He knew he should stay away, for David’s sake and for his, but the pull to Emma turned out to be too great though as he found himself following David inside the house.

When they got past the foyer his jaw dropped. She was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. Any ability to form coherent thoughts that he may have had were gone. The fact that he was able to walk at that point amazed him. Just before they sat for dinner David tried to introduce him to Emma but it was an epic failure. Killian reached out to shake Emma’s hand but she turned away from them before seeing the gesture and Killian felt like a fool.

As the dinner progressed Killian had only spoken twice, both times answering questions posed to him by Ruth. The meal had taken a turn at some point and the main focus was now only on David and Emma. He was pressing her with question after question but she held her own. With only one syllable words she managed to convey an air of confidence that Killian could only hope to feel one day. He could tell that David was close to losing it, but Emma remained calm.

She only flinched once that he saw, something he wouldn’t have even noticed if his focus hadn’t been so intently on her, but she managed to recompose herself in an instance. She bid him farewell, looking him in the eyes for the first time all evening and that was all it took. One look from her and he was gone.

After that, week after week, he found himself both anxiously awaiting and ceremoniously dreading David’s family dinners. She slowly began to open up to him, and he slowly found the courage to speak to her. When the winter break came he knew he should go home to London. Liam of course wouldn’t be there, but he needed to distance himself from Emma. He was falling in love with her already. When David asked him to stay, Killian almost said no, He wasn’t sure if he could stay in a house less than twenty feet away from her without doing something stupid. It was already everything he could do to keep his hands off of her. Thoughts of her consumed almost every waking hour, and they weren’t proper thoughts. When she wasn’t invading his waking mind, she was in his dreams, every sinful inch of her. He should stay away, he needed to stay away, but of course he couldn’t.

Those weeks were torture on him. Emma and David were in a holding pattern of sorts barely speaking. Ruth would often work late hours, and when David would sneak away at night to meet up with Mary Margaret, Killian would be left in the house alone with Emma.

He would find her in the living room reading a book, and make sure to sit on the opposite side of the couch from her, creating as much distance between them as possible. In the beginning they spoke mostly about books. He learned Emma had a fondness for mysteries. She lent him a few of her favorites to read and he suggested some to her in change, citing A Brave New World as his favorite.

Eventually their talks became more meaningful. He tried to steer clear of any topics that could lead to anything too intimate, but his curiosity finally got the better of him. She had come back from a night out with August and he couldn't help himself. The words spilled out of his mouth. He had asked her how long they had been dating, a humiliating question on his part, only increased by the fact that she was now standing there, laughing at him. He could feel heat pulling in his ears. Her laughter died down and she informed her that August was her friend, nothing more.

Apparently part of the agreement between August and his foster family was that if he was going to stay there, he needed to keep his grades up. Moving from school system to school system hadn’t afforded August much continuity and he was drowning. Emma was tutoring him, squeezing in extra study sessions the night before he had a big exam.

When he asked her why she hadn’t said anything, she gave him a wicked grin before explaining that it drove David crazy thinking she and August were an item, and was in no rush to correct him. He smiled back at her. It was probably the first honest smile he had given anyone since he found out he wasn’t a father.

From there, Killian and Emma began exchanging more personal information. She told him about her first mother, Ingrid Swan. Ingrid had brought Emma home from the hospital when she was two days old. They had been incredibly happy, but when Emma was seven, Ingrid passed away very unexpectedly from a brain aneurysm. After that, Emma had bounced around from home to home. She explained that she was too old to be adopted anymore, people wanted babies that they could raise as their own. She told him stories about some of the homes that she had never even told David.

Killian found that talking to her was easy, and comfortable. He told her about his parents and how they would go sailing every chance they got. He told her about how Liam joined up after they passed. He explained that he was seeking a degree in mechanical engineering because he wanted to build boats for a living. He even found himself telling her about why he left England. He didn’t go into the specifics though. He only told her that there had been a pregnancy scare and it had been the push he needed to grow up.

Emma didn’t judge him though. He had been so afraid that telling her that he thought he had knocked up a girl he had just met would send her running for the hills. If anything, knowing something so personal about him only brought them closer together. At night when she couldn’t sleep, instead of laying awake for hours in her bed, she would join him in the living room for midnight conversations. Once or twice she had fallen asleep on the couch. He couldn’t stand the idea of waking her up and sending her back to her room so instead he would cover her up with her blanket and find himself a spot on the area rug in front of the couch.

He could tell that his friendship with Emma seemed to be irritating David, but it wasn’t until they were back in the dorms after the New Year that David finally confronted him, forcing him to promise to stay away from Emma. Killian hated the thought of losing whatever he and Emma had developed, but David was right, they couldn’t be together. Emma deserved a good guy that could give her the world, and he still saw himself as a selfish cad.

Killian and Emma still talked after that, but he did what he could to create distance between them. He was completely in love with her, and he knew that it would only end in his heart being shattered. He hoped that by creating space, he could protect both of their hearts. When the summer came and he returned home to London and Liam, he was miserable. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, and for as much effort as he had put into pushing her away, he couldn’t help be find himself counting down the days until he was back in Boston near her again.

When he arrived at the home that he and David had rented with Phillip and Victor, two other guys from the dorms, Killian felt butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t help but hope that Emma might drop by to help David move his furniture, or just to see the place.

Instead he got a confusing story from David about how Emma had left to go find herself or something. Even the distance he created couldn’t save his heart from the pain of her leaving. He waited six months, hoping that she might find her way back. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, including his schoolwork. His grades had fallen, and he felt aimless again, like after his parents had been killed. Refusing to fall back into bad habits, and with no idea as to how to fix his heart, he went home that December and joined the Royal Navy. He hoped the structure it offered would help distract him in a more positive way. It didn’t, and he never got over her.

For ten years, he thought of her, wondering what had become of her, if she was happy, wondering if she ever thought of him. Then fate intervened, leading them both back to Boston within three months of each ocher. Both of them carried tragedy with them like chains, both helping the other to heal.

For ten years he thought of her, and for one month he had her in every way he had ever dreamed. Then, in less than twenty four hours, his life had been ruined.

“Hey beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned forward to lightly kiss her temple. “I missed you.”

It was something they said to each other every night after they made love. Keeping their relationship a secret had its practical reasons, but it was hard on both of them. They couldn’t embrace each other in public the way they wanted to, couldn’t spend all of their time together the way they wanted. Late at night when they were finally able to steal away with each other, the passion would overtake them. They would spend hours bringing one another over the edge before collapsing into bed. Then in the morning one of them would have to sneak back to their own house like nothing had happened.

Killian sat by her bed for the better part of an hour not speaking. He used the time to soak up every ounce of her knowing that each minute may be his last. He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he thought of the future they would never share. The damn finally broke and he let out a mangled sob.

“Emma Swan, you can’t leave me,” he managed through sniffles. “It’s not fair, I just got you.”

More sobs wracked through his body as his mind wandered through memories of the moments they had shared. The one that stuck in his head was of the night he and Emma kissed for the first time.

The entire gang had gone to Ruby’s pub to celebrate Ruby’s birthday. Killian hadn’t felt like drinking himself into oblivion so he cancelled on them at the last minute citing exhaustion. He was happily in bed when he got a phone call from a very drunk Emma. This wasn’t the first time she had drunk dialed him, usually calling him to tell him off for being old and lame.

He answered the phone bracing himself for a dress down, but instead her voice rang through sweetly, although a bit slurred. She told him she missed him being there, that she actually missed him a lot. Killian’s attention peeked, all fatigue having left his body. Emma wasn’t one for drunken confessions, and he was curious as to how much she had to drink, along with what else she might admit.

Before she could say anything else though another voice cut it. This time it was David telling him that they were going to come over and party at his house. Killian’s mood quickly shifted to annoyance.

“Dave, I’m already in bed. No one is coming over here, and if they do I’m calling the cops on them.”

“Shove it Killian, the keys are already in my hand and I’m walking out to the,” he laughed loudly at something cutting of the rest of whatever he was going to say.

“Dave, you don’t need to be driving anywhere. Get in a cab and go home, and put Emma back on.”

“Whatever, we’ll be there in ten minutes,” David spat back.

Emma’s voice came back over the line, “Hello?”

“Emma, love, please for the love of God don’t let him behind the wheel,” he pleaded. If driving drunk wasn’t bad enough to end David’s career, the idea of Emma being in a car with him made him sick.

“I know, I’ve tried, he won’t listen. He’s upset you’re not here.” Her voice was soft and cautious.

“Emma, tell him to stay there. I’ll be there in a few minutes okay,” he asked.

“I’ll do my best.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Killian?”

“Yes, love?”

“I miss you.”

The line went dead.

Killian got dressed as fast as he could, grabbing whatever clothes where closest to the bed. He walked out his front door cursing his neighbor for forcing him to park down the street nearly two blocks over. Traffic in Boston was still heavy at one in the morning and it took him almost twenty minutes to get to Ruby’s pub. He parked in the employee parking in the back rather than searching for a spot in the packed parking lot out front.

When he got inside it didn’t take long to find them. As soon as he stepped through the front door a handful of voices called out his name and cheered. He found them at the opposite end of the bar with Ruby and Victor. Phillip and Aurora had called it a night hours before so they could relieve their baby sitter. Ruby’s apartment was just around the corner, leaving him to only worry about David, Mary Margaret, and Emma.

After about twenty minutes of coaxing, he managed to convince David that it was time to leave. Emma could barely stand, so Killian pulled her into his side and helped her outside towards the truck. David was a shit show to put it mildly. Luckily for Killian, while Mary Margaret was far too drunk to drive, she wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t help herd David towards the truck.

Killian decided that it would be best to take David and his wife home first. Even from the back seat David was distracting enough that Killian was having a hard time navigating. Once they were outside David’s house, the home that used to belong to Ruth, Killian waited for David and Mary Margaret to get out of the truck. As David opened the door and tried to step out he took a dive and face-planted into the grass next to the driveway.

Killian muttered a curse under his breath and asked Emma to stay inside the truck. He left it running while he got out and yanked David up to his feet. He was likely to have a black eye in the morning from the fall but it would serve him right. He held David up and steered him towards the front door where Mary Margaret was struggling with her keys, trying to turn the lock with her car key. She giggled to herself as Killian yanked the keys out of her hand.

David shushed her telling her that she was going to get them both in trouble with 'the teacher' much to Killian’s annoyance. This was part of the reason Killian didn’t want to go out with them. Somehow the task of babysitting always seemed to fall to him and he hated it.

With Emma it was always easy. She did whatever he asked of her, but David was always a bit more mischievous pushing whatever limits he could with Killian. Once in the house Killian was able to push David towards the couch where he let his friend’s limp body fall. Killian probably should have stayed and made sure his friend was okay, but he was at his wits end. He gave Mary Margaret instructions to make sure he had plenty of water and for him to sleep on his side that night. He could hear both of them giggling as he left.

When he got back to his truck, Emma was sitting there quietly starring out the passenger window. “You alright there, love,” he asked as he climbed back into the driver's seat.

She gave him a sly grin before telling him she was perfect. “Take me home Jones.”

They were silent on the drive out of town to her place. Every once in awhile he could swear he felt her eyes on him, but when he would look over she would be facing the road. Wishful thinking he told himself.

When they pulled up in her driveway he cut the engine off and quickly ran over to her door to help her out of the vehicle. She stumbled a bit getting out so he pulled her back into his side to walk her to the door. She didn’t even bother with the lock herself immediately handing him her keys. He opened the door and walked her inside, sitting her down lightly on the couch, unlike David.

“Wait here, I’ll get you some water and then we’ll put you to bed.”

She didn’t say anything so he left her to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. He returned to the living room and was about to help her up off the couch and up the stairs.

“I’m not tired yet. Will you just sit here with me for a while?” Emma’s voice was timid. He had never heard her like that before.

He furrowed his brows at her trying to figure out what was going through her head. “Aye,” was all he managed.

“Good.” Her mischievous grin was back leaving him in an emotional whiplash. “It’s such a lovely night, grab a beer and meet me on the porch.” She stood up and walked to the front door much more steady than she had been five minutes ago. To say he was completely baffled by her that evening would be an understatement.

He did as she told him, retrieving a drink from the fridge and coming out to the porch to join her on an old porch swing. He sat next to her and she leaned into him. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but in that moment he could only think about how right it felt having her tucked into him. She fit to him perfectly.

After ten minutes of silence he broke the silence.

“I’m not complaining love, but is everything alright? You seem a bit vexed tonight.”

She said nothing at first, and he was almost certain she’d fallen asleep next to him. Just as he was about to shift he heard her sigh.

“Do you remember when we were teenagers and we used to stay up late at night talking about anything and nothing?” She pulled away a little so she could see his face.

“You mean before you left?” His words were almost accusatory and he cringed immediately as they left his lips. He paused before adding, “Why did you leave Emma?”

“You left too,” she told him changing the subject.

He knew he shouldn’t push her. She had been drinking and had no control over her words. He would be taking advantage over her, but he also knew though that this was his best chance to get some honest answers out of her after all those years.

“Aye, I did, but only because you left first.” He knew it was an admission of something he had never discussed out loud, and he wasn’t sure that in her drunken state she would even have picked up on it.

If she did, it didn’t show. “I explain this to David when I left, but he didn’t understand. He’s never been a lost boy. I left because I needed to find myself. I need to prove to myself that I was worth something; that I was more than just the little girl everyone took pity on.”

Before she could utter another word he cut in. “Emma, I never pitied you.”

She waved him off. “No, it’s fine. I knew all of you guys just saw me as David’s younger sister. I was the annoying girl that people had to put up with because of Ruth.”

Is that really what she had thought all of those years? Could she really have believed that she meant nothing to him, that he merely tolerated her?

“Emma, I have never once pitied you. Even as teenagers, I found you fascinating, if even a little bit terrifying,” he chuckled out.

She gasped as she leaned away. Her eyes were big but refusing to meet his own. “You were terrified of me?” She sounded so tiny and frail. He could feel her body stiffen and knew she was getting ready to bolt away.

“No, that’s not what I said,” he told her as he pulled her back into him. “Or at least that not what I meant. What I was trying to say was that I was in awe of you, and it terrified me. I could barely even speak to you at first because I was sure I would just make a fool of myself, much like I’m doing now if I’m honest.”

He could feel her relaxing a bit so he continued. “Even when I got to know you better I was afraid you’d just see me as a blithering blubbering fool. Do you remember when I told you about my favorite book?” He felt her nod next to him. “Ya, I only told you that book to sound impressive. Personally I hated it.” His finger came up to scratch at a spot below his ear.

He heard a muffled chuckle as she laughed into his side. “So then what is your favorite book? And what else have you fibbed about?”

“Well, not to sound too common, but my favorite book is Peter Pan. As far as anything else, you know that important things.”

They continued to sway back and fourth on the swing in silence for a few more moments. “You know, I used to have a really big crush on you,” she admonished.

He took one last sip of his beer not sure if he should say something to respond, or wait for her to continue.

“I thought you just saw me as David’s tag-a-long though, and I was almost certain you knew how I felt, so I avoided you as much as possible.” She paused before continuing, “The same way I probably should be avoiding you now.” She cringed and every muscle in her body went rigid.

He was sure she hadn’t meant to say that last part, but as she did it made his stomach flip. A nervous knot formed in his gut.

“Emma,” he had to grab her chin and pull it to him so he could look into her eyes. He wanted to ask her so many things. Did she mean what he thought she did? After all of that time could she feel the same pull he did?

She started to pull away and he launched pressing his lips to hers. The moment their mouths met they both let out small moans as more than a decade of secret longing finally came to fruition. The kiss was tentative at first, but quickly became passionate. Both of her hands found their way to the back of his neck. One of his came to tangle in her hair as the other pressed against her lower back trying to eliminate every bit of space between them.

He wasn’t sure how or when it happened but Emma was now straddling him, causing the swing to tilt forward. Killian cupped both of his hands around her bottom as he stood, lifting her with him. Her legs came around his waist as he walked her across the porch back towards the door. He was in a haze as his mouth began trailing kisses down her throat.

The fury was only broken after she managed to gasp out the word bedroom. Emma was everything he had wanted since he was eighteen years old and he’d be damned if he ruined it before it had even begun.

“Emma, love.” His voice was wrecked. “We can’t, not like this.” God he hated himself for always having good form.

Her legs fell from his waist back to the porch floor. When he opened his eyes he saw tears running down her face.

“Ya, I um,” she stumbled over her words. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have.” She tried to push away but his hands were now firmly wrapped around her arms pulling her back towards him. “Please. Please tell me I didn’t just ruin us. Can we just chalk this up to alcohol and pretend like it never happened?” Her words were pleading and frantic.

“Emma, stop.” He pulled her face up to meet his once more. “Look at me. I want you Emma, I have since we were kids.” He pressed further against her. “God do I want you,” he said as he thrust his hips against her for emphasis. She let out a gasp as she felt his arousal through his jeans. “But not like this. You’ve had quite a bit to drink tonight and I would never forgive myself if I thought I was taking advantage of you.”

She tried to protest but he continued. “Tomorrow night though, I will take you on a proper date, and if at the end of that date you still feel as you do now, I promise I will take you upstairs and rut you into that mattress so hard that you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” He thrust forward again and she let out a soft moan. “But for now, I will be a gentleman and leave you to sleep.”

It took everything he had not to turn back and take her right there against her front door. When he got in his truck she was still standing on the porch with her fingers up to her lips, clearly having been as affected by the evening’s turn of events as he had. He waited for her to safely make her way back into her house before backing up out of the driveway.

He had been so tired when he left his house that evening to pick everyone up, but as he pulled up to his street, he was wide awake as thoughts of Emma’s lips and the taste of whisky turned in his mind. He was in such a good mood he didn’t even mind that he had to park three blocks over.

He went to bed feeling the most relaxed he had in years.

The next evening he took Emma out on their first date. It was a small Italian restaurant outside of Boston to eliminate the risk of anyone seeing them. He explained to her that he had promised David multiple times that he would never try anything with Emma, a promise he only made because he never thought he had a chance with her. True to form that night when he dropped her off, she invited him in and they spent the entire night bringing each other to pleasure, and while she’d never admitted it, he knew by the change in her stance the next morning that he had made good on his promise.

He never would have guessed then that in just over a month he be sitting at her hospital bedside trying to summon the proper words to say goodbye to the love of his life.

“Please Emma, please don’t leave me.” His words were wrecked now for a different reason.

As he sat there pleading to her and to God to let her stay there with him, he missed the sound of the door opening. It wasn’t until he heard a throat clearing that he realized anyone else was in the room with him. At first he didn’t look up assuming it was just a hospital staff member coming to check on her. When the man cleared his throat again, Killian turned his head to the doorway.

“Lieutenant Jones?” The man was in full military uniform displaying the rank of Colonel.

“It’s just Killian Jones now,” Killian replied turning his gaze back to Emma.

“Ah, I see. I think we need to speak, in private.”

Killian never turned from Emma. “I won’t leave her side, but you’re more than welcome to close that door and ask me anything you need.”

He had a good idea of the colonel’s purpose there. Although he hadn’t expected any military presence to arrive so quickly, but with his call in to Robin, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came to question him about the Alchemist.

The colonel stepped in and closed the door behind him.

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one-boring-person · 4 years

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Hi! I had an idea for a David (lost boys)/reader fic if you're interested! Basically David finds his soulmate or mate, whatever you call it and he's doing everything in his power to get her to turn. Like she already knows what he and the guys are and they both are crazy about each other, but she's stuck on the idea of having to kill in order to survive. And David is doing everything from his usual mysterious behavior to down right pleading her to turn so they can be together forever? Thank you!

Thank you for requesting something! I hope this is satisfactory😁😅(I'm sorry if it's a bit cringy)

Please?

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence, mentions of death

Masterlist

He'd found me six months ago, a lone figure on the Boardwalk with a nervous disposition, jumping and tensing whenever someone nearby suddenly yells or shouts over the cheery music playing in the background, eyes wide at the variety of characters lining the bright streets. I hadn't initially felt the connection between us, but he tells me he'd been drawn to me instantly, somehow feeling the urge to search the crowd until he eventually found me, though he hung back, unwilling to give me any further shock, what with his rather intimidating appearance. It took him a month to finally introduce himself, and even then I'd been a little wary of his confident approach, but I'd soon gotten to know him well enough for him to reveal his secret to me, and to explain to me what the mate bond between us is. As soon as he did this, however, he started asking me the one thing I'd always have to refuse him - if I'd turn for him.

The idea didn't sit well with me, it never had and undoubtedly never will, the thought of having to intentionally kill people in order to survive, not to mention drinking their blood, making me feel sick to the stomach. It has nothing to do with him, or the others, of course; in fact, I've had the best time of my life with them, slowly gaining more confidence as time goes on, falling harder and harder for the platinum blonde mullet wearing vampire, so much so that I would stay with him for an eternity, if it didn't mean slaughtering hundreds of innocent people. I've told him this thousands of times, every time he's tried to get me to turn, but my reasons always fall on deaf ears, the vampire being stubborn and unyielding to the point where he started utilising his incredibly cunning mind to try and convince me. He's tried everything, bribing me with dates and gifts, threatening (unsuccessfully) to leave me and even getting the other boys to talk to me. At some point, he even asked Max for help, but apparently the head vampire could only laugh at David's predicament.

And even after all his failed tricks, he still hasn't given up, which explains why we're currently sat, a metre or so apart, on the beach, my mind having instinctually told me to put space between us when he first brought it up again, a grim expression on my face.

"What's not to like, (Y/n)? Immortality, enhanced senses, flying..." He encourages, giving me the same speech as always, just worded slightly differently.

"Killing people..." I mumble irritably, carrying on the same tone, as if reading out a list, crossing my arms across my chest.

He chuckles, the sound reverberating around my skull as it always does, a smile tempting my lips as I hear it, having always loved the sound of his laugh, even before we officially got together.

"Yes, but I've told you before: you don't think about it once you've done it, and the thrill-"

"Overshadows the guilt, I know. You've told me about a thousand times." I finish for him, knowing he's smirking at my words, though I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking in his direction, aware of the fact that he's most likely staring at me and able to see me in the dark, what with his vampire vision and all.

"So I don't see why you can't just accept what I'm offering you." He pushes, the vampire taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand, blowing the smoke out a few seconds later with an audible sigh.

Rolling my eyes, I clench my jaw before replying, annoyed that I have to go over it all again.

"Because, unlike you four, I'm not used to drinking blood every night, and I'm most definitely not used to killing people to get it, and the whole idea of doing either one of those things is not one I even want to think about! We've been through this countless times, and every time you just ignore me. Maybe it's time you actually listened, for a change." I snap at him, shocked at my own tone, though it is understandable after all the pestering he's put me through in the last five months.

For once, David is silent, somehow unable to come back with a witty comment or remark, a first for the cocky vampire.

"Maybe that's because I don't want to hear another rejection. I'm just as tired of this as you are, (Y/n)." He finally admits, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

"Then why do you keep doing it?!" I exclaim, looking over at him to find that he has his head bowed, though I can tell from his posture that he is uncomfortable.

"Because I want to spend eternity with you! It's got nothing to do with the bond or whatever, I genuinely love you!" David retorts, voice laced with raw emotion, a sigh escaping his lips as he tries to calm himself, "At this point, I've run out of ideas so I've got nothing better to try than this."

Confused, I go to speak, only to be cut off when I feel his leather clad finger against my lips, telling me to keep quiet, his hands moving to hold onto mine as he goes to kneel in front of me, taking a deep breath.

"Look, I don't do this often, and it will very likely never happen again, so know that I am being as sincere as I can be. I want you to turn because I can't face an eternity without you. I've felt alone for the longest time, even with the boys hanging around it's nothing compared to how I feel when I'm with you. You make me feel as if I still belong in the world, and that I'm not some abomination that was created to spite the traditional idea of living then dying. I know the idea of killing people isn't a pleasant one, but I swear to you that it gets easier, and controlling yourself can also help with this. You don't necessarily have to kill anyone, and drinking blood doesn't sound as bad when you're like me; it's just like drinking normally, but much more satisfying trust me." He stops for a moment, looking down briefly as I try to come to terms with this new approach, barely recognising the needy vampire before me, "Please, (Y/n), I need you to stay with me. I need someone to ground me as much as you do. I, well, I don't tho k I'll be able to face the rest of my life without you. Please turn, (Y/n), please. For my sake?"

For a couple of minutes, I remain silent, my eyes wide at David's heartfelt words; I knew he loved me, but I never realised just how strongly he does, the ulterior meaning behind the words making me feel much happier about the relationship. I soon find my voice, my mind spinning from the different outlook on what he's been trying to get me to do, my response a little shaky.

"Are you begging me, David?" Is all I can manage, my head still trying to wrap itself around the idea. David doesn't beg, not for anything.

He seems to stumble over what to say, until it clicks that that is, in fact, what he is doing.

"It's the only way I can think of that will convince you, (Y/n), so yes, I am begging you to turn and stay with me until the end of our days. Please, (Y/n). I'm begging you."

Again, I take some time to myself, rubbing my thumbs over his gloved hands to reassure him a little, a low ache starting in my head as I think it through properly. I'd never considered that he had become dependant on my attention, but it makes sense: he's spent so long living as the leader of a group of unruly boys that he's most likely missed out on the affection and care that comes with having a lover, so much so that it's made him needy enough to beg for me to join them properly. We'd be able to spend endless days together, enjoying the perks of being immortal vampires through the decades, and God knows I crave doing that, spending time with the vampire I've come to love with all I have to give. But, as always, one thing keeps me from agreeing on the spot.

My thoughts stray to the imaginary images my mind conjured up, recalling the visions of terrified people being torn into by a ravenous, vampiric version of me, dying at my hands simply because I need to feed. But what he'd said earlier strikes a chord within me, reminding me that I don't have to kill, if I learn how to control myself before I become addicted to the thrill.

"(Y/n)?" His concerned voice breaks through the trance-like state I've put myself in, shaking me from my thoughts. I look him in what I think to be the eye, relaxing myself a little before speaking.

"David, I honestly want to spend eternity with you, I really do, but I have to consider the whole killing thing again. You say I can learn to control myself, but none of you guys can, not even Dwayne, who is one of the most controlled people I know. It terrifies me, honestly, having the choice to kill someone or let them live, depending on how hungry I am, and then almost always choosing to kill them anyway, because the bloodlust is just too strong. You have no idea how much that scares me." I confess to him, looking down at my lap in the dark, hoping he won't see the embarrassed flush rising to my cheeks. Quietly, he shuffles around until he's sat beside me again, wrapping his arm around my body and pulling me into his chest as he always does, letting me muzzle into him for comfort, breathing in the familiar scents that always accompany him.

"We can all help you, (Y/n), and you know that I will never give up on you, no matter how stubborn you get. I want, no, need to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens." He says to me, voice low and comforting as he buries his face into my hair, holding me tighter against him.

"I believe you, David. I just need time to think." I reply, moving my head so that I can look up at him, knowing his icy blue eyes will be focused on me.

"I'll give you time, (Y/n), but you know how impatient I get."

I giggle quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of platinum blonde hair back into its correct place.

"I promise you, David, I will make a decision soon, but if I do turn, you have to swear to me you will help me try not to kill people. Please?" I assure him, watching him for a reaction, though it is nearly impossible in the black night.

"Of course, I'll do anything for you." David hums in agreement, leaning down to capture my lips in a gentle kiss, lifting a hand to cup my face, pulling me closer as I gladly reciprocate.

Pulling away, he rests his chin on top of my head as I return my face to his chest, intent on staying there until he has to move, knowing he is only too happy to oblige.

"I love you, David." I whisper to him carefully, resting a hand on his chest.

"I love you, too." He replies, his voice low as he murmurs this into my hairline, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands continue to caress my sides and back, lulling me into a sense of safety and comfort.

#joel schumacher #the lost boys #vampire #david(thelostboys)#paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#kiefer sutherland #marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)#request

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