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oblivious-idiot · 2 years

Text

London Calling

George Karim x gn Reader

Summary: You and George met while working for Fittes, you now end up secretly helping Lockwood and Co on cases. George has big fat crush and gets flustered.

Warnings: Fluff, spoilers to the season finale, swearing

Pairings: George Karim x gn Reader

Word count: 1.4k AN: I'm pretty sure I wrote this gn, but there might be a few slip ups here and there!

Back before George Karim worked for Lockwood and Co. he was working for Fittes, which is where he met you. The both of you worked on cases together and it was obvious that you two had become close - the sarcastic comments being thrown about by the two of you was enough of a sign.

Over a year had past since George left you with Kipps working at Fittes, not that you could really blame him. But every so often he’d use his little Karim charm to get some information on a latest case, because he knew that you wouldn’t say no to him, but he also used it as an excuse to see you again. He wouldn’t admit it, but George had a crush on you, and it had become so obvious that even Lockwood and Lucy had noticed.

Even with Lockwood and Kipps’ stupid bet on who could find the Bone Mirror first, you’d already started to help George and his team on cases and you wouldn't stop now, plus it would break you to see him lose his job you knew he loved. You didn’t plan on telling Kipps that you were helping George, obviously, he’d kick you from the team if you did, but it was a risk worth taking, and god knows Lockwood and Co. needed all the help they could get.

You were there when Lockwood and Kipps made their bet, if you rolled your eyes any harder they'd fall into the back of your head, but that case had been and gone now, even if you're still angry at George for what he said about himself, how he felt as if he wasn't needed. You needed that boy more than he would ever know.

A few weeks had passed since the Bone Mirror case and George is researching in the archives when you see him. You're off duty so you didn't have to wear your retched Fittes uniform, the thought of George wearing it still makes you laugh. You catch his eye from across the room and he motions to you to sit with him.

"What are we working on today Georgie?" you say as you slide down next to him

"You know, if you're so adamant on working cases with us, you should just join the agency" he says as he scrambles the papers into order for you.

You smile at his attempt to organise, you both knew the boy worked best amongst the chaos. "And miss out on pissing off Kipps and Barnes to sneak out with you? You would rid me of my happiness?" you laugh and elbows him playfully, he starts to go red in the cheeks.

You meet his eyes "You know I would George. It's not been the same working here since you felt. They really makes you feel disposable" you mutter out the last part, hoping he doesn't hear you.

George quickly adjusts himself and begins explaining the case to you. It seemed simple enough, a family had just bought a house which a Type One still resided in, so they agreed to the case - he made sure to mention to you how it took Lockwood some persuading, you both knew the boy was stubborn at accepting "easy jobs".

You arrived at the house before George, Lockwood, and Lucy showered up. It was still light so you pulled out the book in your bag you’d been reading about the Problem and just read until they arrived. One of the things George loved about you was the fact you were also interested in the Problem, he felt like he could talk to you for hours about the whole situation.

Once they arrived, you stood up to greet them - Lockwood and Lucy looked at each other when they saw your outfit, which if they didn't know any better, had George Karim written all over it. Under the scruffy leather jacket you wore, a pale green plaid shirt was visible along with an oversized band shirt tucked into your jeans. George looked a little flustered when he realised you still had the shirt you'd stolen when he worked for Fittes.

You all came together and set out the plan of what to do. You and George would set out on finding the source for the Visitor, while Lockwood and Lucy would keep it at bay.

You can’t say it exactly went to plan the way you wanted it to. Lockwood hadn’t gotten around to buying more supplies, so the team were all short on flares and salt bombs more than you would care for.

On top of all that, the Type One was more on the side of being a Type Two, making it a lot more unpredictable. George managed to find the Source, which was an old jewellery box, but when he moved the box it called the Visitor to his location. When you saw the ghost out the back of your eye, you called to George, but by the time he heard you the ghost tossed him across the room and away from the box, knocking all the air from his lungs.

Just as the ghost was closing in on George, you rushed to his side, rapier in hand, and managed to keep it at bay until Lucy threw a net over the Source. Your rapier dropped to your side as you helped George sit up and gather himself, he could see the look of worry in your eyes and grabbed ahold of your hand to let you know he was okay.

"George Karim, you are the most oblivious ghost hunter I know" you say, finally letting go of the breathe you were holding

He lets out a soft chuckle, his features soft as he looked at you. "What would I do without you y/n?" God he'd fallen hard.

"You'd be dead or had the Ghost Touch by now if it wasn't for me" you say as you pull him to his feet "and we all know Lockwood would go insane without his best researcher" you smile at him.

Once you and the team had cleared up the scene it had become light outside, you were all clearly exhausted and ready for some much needed rest.

"You should come back with us, to the house" George says to you "to rest up and eat I mean. You know my cooking is better than what you get at Fittes"

Lucy nods to you, you and Carlyle were becoming quite good friends over time. Lockwood just smiles at the two of you "You're welcome at Portland Row anytime y/n"

You spent the night, well early hours of the morning, asleep on a small fold out bed that Lockwood kept in the Lucy's room. George had lent you one of his oversized shirts to sleep in and a blanket. "Just promise you'll give it back this time".

You woke up early and got changed into your dirty clothes from the night before. You found the rest of the team were already in the kitchen, have a discussion that abruptly ended when you entered the room.

George set out four plates of food on the table and you forgot about the unheard discussion when you realised how hungry you were. Once you'd finished, you stood up and grabbed your jacket from the back of your chair.

"I'd best be off, before Kipps realises I'm gone and tells Barnes." you chuckle lightly "God knows he'll fire me if he finds out I've been working with you lot again."

You head up into the hall and grab your kit bag and rapier when you hear Lockwood call for you to wait up.

"George he-, he told us about your situation at Fittes, how unhappy you are there." he paused "I've seen how you fight, your researching skills are on par with George's. You'd make a great member of the team. Permanently."

You look at Lockwood, slightly taken aback from the proposal. "Lockwood I-"

He cuts you off and places a hand on your arm. "Think about it, but the job is yours if you want it. We all know George would be happier for it." He smiles and lets you go.

You nod and head out the door. You smiled at the thought of seeing Kipps' face when you tell him you're leaving.

#allie writes #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #george karim x reader #george karim #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co imagines #lockwood #lockwood and co x reader

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intheorangebedroom · 11 months

Note

Can we just pretend that this is Frankie whispering I love you to you?

I hope you are feeling better. I miss harrassing you with asks 🧡

@deadmantis my LOVE, I always feel good when you’re in my notifs. This one has kept me awake and drove me crazy, but anything for you. They’re so stubborn, and when they don't want to cooperate... Anyway. I'm not entirely satisfied, but I don't want to keep you waiting any longer. I did my very best for you, I always do, I love you so, so much 🧡 Happy Frankie Friday to you 🧡

Summary: Three words. It's not that complicated.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Gabrielle Tourneur (OFC)/French fem!Reader.

Rating: explicit but no filth, just my gothic heart 🔞

Word count: 1.5k

[series masterlist]

Drabble: To Bring You My Love

He enjoys driving home to you nearly as much as he loves staying home with you.

Tonight’s no different, and when Mick Fleetwood’s voice comes up on the truck’s stereo, Francisco Morales smiles to himself in the bright city night.

He kept his promise. He fixed it. Fixed everything. Or close enough, anyway.

Friday evenings are spent at the bar again, the same dim yellow lights, the same moist, yeasty cheap beer smell. The same table.

And Tom’s chair, loudly empty.

Most likely thanks to Will, if he had to guess, and probably on your account more than his. But even Ironhead’s unwavering loyalty can only abide that many faults before his hard, cold rationalism takes over and prompts him to take action.

If Tom’s absence is a consequence Frankie hadn’t anticipated, it’s one he doesn’t regret. He’s heard the man has moved down to Florida, but he doesn’t really care. The further away from you, the better.

Pope doesn’t seem entirely dissatisfied with this new order of things, either.

As for Benny, well Benny just follows suit, like he always does.

The air is still a bit chill between him and Frankie, but they’re getting there, step by step. Frankie’s resentment receding along with his friend’s heartbreak, one drink at a time.

It’s been only two years, and overall, there’s a refreshing, easy balance to their group.

And yet, however meaningful, Tom’s departure is not the most important change.

On Friday nights, like tonight, he’s driving back to you. Whether he’ll find you already sleeping or parking your small Ford after an evening out, you’re here. For real. For good.

He’s nearly home when his phone lights up on the empty passenger seat. His gaze rapidly flickers between the road and the screen, that glares in celadon green in the cabin’s relative darkness. It’s weather alert, forecasting heavy rainfall tomorrow, he’ll have to fight the urge to drive you to the bookstore himself. Maybe he can get away with picking you up at the end of your day? Maybe you’ll let him. You can be stubborn.

He should change that impersonal default lock screen. Put a picture of you, like Santi suggested. Santi, who proudly exhibits Yovanna’s gorgeous smile and luminous beauty to just about anyone who might look at his phone’s screen.

Well, Frankie tried. Turns out he can’t. Not that he doesn’t have any pictures of you in his camera roll. At this point, he has hundreds. And you’re dressed in most of them.

But putting you on display simply feels inappropriate. For years, you’d been his secret. A ghost, a memory. A feeling akin to a curse. He had kept your name silent, protecting the possibility of your existence and the reality of what had happened in the orange bedroom.

Distracted, he re-emerges from his recurring thoughts to find himself at the front door. He considers retracing his steps to check if he locked the tuck before getting into the house, but he can’t bring himself to care. He needs to see you. The living-room’s dark but the bedroom lights are on; he takes off his jacket and gets rid of his boots before walking briskly down the carpeted corridor.

He finds you sitting in bed, the warm glow from the bedside table casting soft orange hues on your soft face. You’re leaning over a thick book, wearing your favourite t-shirt of his, a shapeless grey cotton tee with red letters that spell “Buenos Aires” across the chest. A gift from Izzy, when he was still in the military.

He pauses briefly on the threshold; a broad smile dimples his cheeks.

Your eyes are still lowered on the page when you greet him in a light, happy tone.

“Hey, gorgeous!”

“Hey, querida.”

Your head shoots up at the unusual term of endearment. He steps quickly into the room and turns his back to you to hide his embarrassment, wincing as he undoes his watch and places it on the dresser across from the bed.

“How was the evening? How’re the guys?” you ask, and he can feel your eyes boring into his back.

“Good. All good. Will asked me to tell you Sunday works for him. Apparently you’re supposed to know what that means,” he adds, pulling his plaid shirt above his head.

“Oh, neat!” you exclaim, lying your book face down on the table, wiggling your feet excitedly under the sheet. “The Guggenheim has an exhibition about early 19th century Parisian painters,” you explain.

He smiles to himself again, and proceeds to take off his belt. The heavy buckle produces a metallic thud when it hits the wooden top of the dresser.

Behind his back, your voice comes in suddenly very thin.

“You don’t mind, do you? I never asked.”

He turns, frowning, “Mind what?”

“Me. Being friends with Will. You’re not… jealous or anything, right?”

He’s about to laugh it off, a quip on the tip of his tongue, but something stops him. Something striking, unsettling in its past familiarity and its recent scarcity. It’s in the earnestness of your tone, the sudden solemnity of your gaze.

“What if I am?” he asks instead, pivoting to face you. “What would you do? Would you stop hanging with him?”

“If you asked me, yes, I would.”

“Jesus, Gabrielle, no,” he sighs, and the sting in his chest is equal part anger and regret. The consistent stab that tears at him whenever you unwillingly reveal what you put yourself through.

He crosses the bedroom in two strides to come sit by your side on the edge of the bed.

“I’d never even consider asking you something like that, baby. Why would I–”

He trails off at your hardening face.

You’ve straightened up in his t-shirt, and his eyes dart to your legs; with two fingers, he pinches the white sheet covering them to pull it down, revealing your underwear, and a purple mark in the shape of a pear that his mouth drew on your inner thigh this morning.

He looks at it when he says, “You’re a free woman. And I know you’re mine.”

The contradiction settles like placid water in the amber light between your two bodies, inexplicably logical, perfectly natural.

And the words come up in his chest, from his gut, an ancient rising tide.

“I love you, Gabrielle.”

They ring out around you in the quiet bedroom, incongruous, not unpleasant. Warm, intimate, orange.

He loves you. Of course, he does. You know he does, you’ve always known. You’ve always loved him too.

You’ve loved him young and carefree when it was easy and it was just the two of you. You’ve loved him to safety through countless godless nights. You’ve loved him back to you, you’ve loved him sinful and hurt, you’ve loved him without shame.

Yet, your breathing stops, your eyes widen. You remain silent.

He lets out a disheartened chuckle, before the crease in his brow deepens and his whiskered jaw gives that telling tick that you dread. You follow his dark gaze, it’s strained on the mark on your thigh, and he swallows thickly, licking his lips and you can’t feel your legs.

“Please,” he murmurs, so low, nearly silent, and it’s right there, bright and burning against your ribcage, but it won’t come out, your mouth is too dry and your lips won’t open.

He doesn’t lift up his eyes, instead his hand goes to your hip. He gives it a little squeeze, and you register the sensation, it travels up your body in slow ripples.

He pulls you in, sits you in his lap in a straddle, his hands roaming over your sides under his t-shirt. You let him seek the contact of your skin, how many times have the two of you sat like that? On the bed, on the floor, on the couch. In the truck or under a tent...

His denim feels too rough under your soft flesh. You recoil from the heat of his palms when he cups your face, but he catches you, firm and strong and he will never let go.

His eyes are alight with unshed tears, or perhaps it is yours, because your vision blurs when they finally meet.

“I need to hear you say it back. Please.”

In that tiled bathroom with the yellow light, all those years ago, you had nearly said it. To tame the wild look in his dark eyes when he had realised and briefly got scared. So early but not too soon, and the words had felt far too small in comparison to the feeling itself. You had chosen to soothe him with your touch.

You’d been the hopeful one, then, trustful and fearless.

Today, he is guiding you. With a light pressure of his thumb on your lower lip, the sharp edge of his nose brushing along your temple, his hand at the base of your neck grounding you, so you won’t go missing again.

“It’s ok, baby,” he says, and you feel his words more than you hear them with the white noise filling your brain, “I know you do. Just say it. I got you.”

You close your eyes, inhale his scent. You take his hand.

“Je t’aime.”

****

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bloody-bee-tea · 10 months

Text

Almost too sweet to be true

Suguru is freezing. He really underestimated how quickly it got cold and now he’s paying for it with frost bitten fingers and cheeks. At least he’ll be home in a few minutes and then he can bundle up on the couch to warm up. If he’s lucky, Satoru might have some pity with him and warm his hands for him, too.

The thought drives him to walk even faster, and he reaches home before another one of his fingers can lose feeling.

“Goddamit,” he mutters as he fumbles the key several times before he finally manages to open the door.

He is met with a wall of warmth, Satoru clearly having cranked the heating up to max and for once, Suguru is thankful for it.

“I’m back,” he calls out, not really expecting Satoru to answer.

In the months they have lived together, Suguru learned that Satoru is basically just a cat in human form; he certainly will be napping right now, probably bundled up in his bed, cosy and warm.

Suguru is going to do the same, at least until the feeling in his limbs return.

“Welcome home,” Satoru’s voice unexpectedly rings out and Suguru just barely rid himself of his jacket before Satoru is right there.

He clearly just got up, because his hair is sticking out wildly and there are still pillow creases on his face. The sight makes Suguru so incredibly fond that he almost immediately warms up.

“I’m back,” Suguru repeats, softer this time, and his heart certainly does not do a funny thing when Satoru gives him a sleepy smile, before he collides with Suguru, pressing himself as close as he can get.

“I’m cold,” Suguru warns him, just a moment too late, but it doesn’t seem as if Satoru cares too much, because he just presses in closer, tucking his face into the crook of Suguru’s neck.

“Have to warm you up then,” Satoru mutters and slides his warm, warm hands under Suguru’s sweatshirt.

Suguru sucks in a surprised breath, Satoru’s hands feeling like brands on his cold skin and it almost hurts for a second, before Suguru really leans into it.

“Better?” Satoru asks after a long moment, his breath fanning over the side of Suguru’s neck and making him shudder for reasons other than the cold.

“Better,” Suguru gets out and he regrets speaking for a moment when Satoru pulls away from him to give him another bright smile. It’s stupid how much he misses Satoru pressed close to him almost immediately.

“You done for today?” Satoru wants to know and he takes one of Suguru’s frost-bitten hands in his, gently rubbing the fingers before he moves on to the other one.

It feels as if Suguru’s entire body is heating up with having Satoru this close, this attentive, but Suguru is not going to complain. It might make Satoru pull away, and Suguru couldn’t stand that.

“I’m done,” Suguru agrees with a deep sigh.

“Perfect. Napping without you simply isn’t as great,” Satoru says and doesn’t waste a second anymore.

He uses the grip he still has on Suguru’s hand to pull him towards the couch where a nest of blankets speaks of his earlier nap. Suguru guesses it’s still carrying Satoru’s warmth.

“Come here,” Satoru impatiently says when Suguru doesn’t follow him as quickly as he clearly would like him to and Suguru huffs out a chuckle.

“You just napped. You can’t be tired again,” he says and brushes his fingers over the still very evident pillow crease on Satoru’s face.

“You don’t have to be tired to nap, Suguru, come on,” Satoru whines out. “You were gone the entire day, and I haven’t gotten a single hug yet.”

His words make Suguru’s lips twitch with amusement because if he had known that Satoru would grow this addicted to his hugs he’d–have done the exact same thing, actually. Hugging Satoru is kind of his favourite part of the day as well, so there really is no reason to deny Satoru this.

“How horrible,” Suguru teases him and tries to hide his smile when Satoru pouts at him.

“The worst,” he agrees, as if Suguru was completely serious and really, there is not much Suguru can do against that look.

Satoru is back in his arms a moment later and even though the couch is right there and Satoru was so insistent about napping just moments ago, they spend several minutes just standing there, hugging each other.

Suguru feels entirely spoiled even though it’s Satoru who’s humming contentedly.

“Better,” Satoru decides eventually as he pulls away, though he doesn’t quite let go of Suguru. “Napping now.”

“You’re so spoiled,” Suguru softly chides him, though it’s not as if he’s trying to stop Satoru.

“And whose fault is that?” Satoru asks, a cheeky grin on his face, and it’s not like Suguru can say anything in his defence.

He is spoiling Satoru rotten, and if there was even more he could give, he would gladly do that, too.

Satoru seems to know that there’s nothing Suguru can say for himself, because he doesn’t hesitate to pull Suguru to the couch, where he immediately pushes him down. Suguru goes easily, allowing Satoru to manhandle him however he likes until they have found the perfect position.

Satoru is soft and sweet against him, slotting into places Suguru is sure were made for him and they are both completely swaddled in blankets, just like Satoru likes.

It’s the perfect place to be in, in Suguru’s opinion.

~*~*~

Suguru struggles to get the door open yet again, balancing the slice of cake precariously on top of the coffee in his hand and he lets out a relieved breath when he manages to enter the apartment without spilling anything.

“I’m back!” he calls out in greeting. “And I brought you something!”

“Oh?” Satoru’s head sticks around the corner, his eyes lighting up immediately as they fall on the goodies in Suguru’s hands. “Welcome back and good day to me!” Satoru excitedly says and immediately takes the cake and the coffee out of Suguru’s hand.

“I went to the coffee shop you like so much. Why do they have your concoction memorised?”

“I think they wrote it down at one point,” Satoru gives back, peeking into the container with the cake. “And you got my favourite, too!”

“Of course I did,” Suguru grumbles, taking his shoes off now that his hands are finally free. “When do I ever not?”

To Satoru’s credit he doesn’t even have to think about the answer. “Never,” he determinedly replies and then leans in to nuzzle his head against Suguru’s cheek like an overgrown cat. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Suguru says with a sigh and follows Satoru into the kitchen, where he immediately gets the cake out.

“Where’s your slice?” Satoru asks, and when Suguru turns around he’s staring into the container as if a second slice magically would appear if he just keeps looking for long enough.

“Didn’t feel like cake,” Suguru tells him with a shrug and busies himself with making coffee.

He could have gotten himself a black one at the coffee shop as well but Satoru buys the most amazing coffee beans for their home and Suguru really prefers that over anything else.

“And you don’t like their coffee, either. Why did you even go there?”

“Thought you might like some,” Suguru off-handedly says as he watches the machine make his coffee.

He does pay more attention though when silence falls over the kitchen.

“You okay?” he asks when he turns around and finds Satoru still staring at the slice of cake as if it could hold all the answers to this universe.

“You’re the best,” Satoru says when he finally lifts his head and looks at Suguru. His voice is lacking his usual playfulness, it’s all serious and earnest and it’s almost enough to make Suguru uncomfortable.

“And don’t you forget it,” Suguru gives back, trying to lighten the mood but Satoru continues to stare at him.

“I would never,” he promises before he finally gets two forks out. “You want a bite?”

An entire slice hadn’t tempted Suguru at the shop, but a bite or two really can’t hurt. They do make phenomenal cakes after all.

“If you’re willing to share, sure,” he says with a nod, grabbing his coffee and joining Satoru at the table, who readily pushes the cake into the middle so Suguru can reach it more easily.

“With you, always,” Satoru says, right before he digs into the cake and it almost takes Suguru a beat too long to follow his example.

Satoru gives so much to Suguru, always, and what he doesn’t give, he allows Suguru to take without complaint. Except that one day, Suguru will take more than he should, more than Satoru is willing to give him, and Suguru really doesn’t want to find out what’s going to happen then.

But that day hasn’t yet come and so for now, Suguru takes whatever Satoru is willing to give him, and especially if it’s a piece of his favourite cake.

~*~*~

Suguru wakes up to hair tickling his nose. When he blinks his eyes open he is met with a sea of white softness and it’s enough to make him melt back into the pillows. It’s not the first time Satoru has stolen into his bed in the dead of night, and it probably won’t be the last time, either.

Suguru sighs as he lazily nuzzles the crown of Satoru’s head, tightening his arms around him. It prompts Satoru to cuddle even closer and just like on the couch, it feels as if Satoru was made to fit into Suguru’s arms, long, gangly limbs and all.

It fits too well, Suguru realises with a heavy heart and when he moves slightly away from Satoru, putting a little bit of space between them, it feels like one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

“What are you doing?” Satoru complains sleepily, blinking his impossibly blue eyes up at him and Suguru wants to lean in and kiss him, wants to pull him back into his arms and never let him go ever again but he knows he can’t do either of these things.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Suguru says, his voice rough from sleep and immediately Satoru frowns.

“What?”

“Coming in here whenever you please, sleeping with me like that,” Suguru explains and he is sure his face grows hot at the words.

“Why not?” Satoru petulantly asks, already reaching out for Suguru again because clearly he doesn’t understand that one of these days Suguru is going to snap and take all of Satoru for himself.

“Because–” Suguru rings for words and it doesn’t help when Satoru’s gaze stays on him. “One day you’ll fall in love with someone,” Suguru finally stupidly says and Satoru huffs out a laugh.

“Not gonna happen,” he gives back, his voice steady and certain, as if he already knows how his life is going to play out.

“You don’t know that,” Suguru argues but Satoru only shrugs.

“I do, though. So I don’t see your point.”

“My point is that you can’t keep giving me so much,” Suguru says, because even like this, with Satoru in his bed, in his arms, it feels as if it’s a gift Satoru is giving him.

“I give you exactly as much as I want to, though,” Satoru tells him and that almost makes matters worse.

Suguru should really not be allowed to hold so much of him.

“But you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t let me take so much. Someday someone else will be entitled to that and then I–” Suguru cuts himself off because even like this it’s hard to admit that he has grown so accustomed to being allowed so many liberties with Satoru that it’s going to hurt him a whole lot when he has to stop.

“Suguru,” Satoru whispers and scoots closer until he can rest their foreheads together. “We both have so much of the other; do you really think that someone else would even get a chance for the same?” Satoru asks him and Suguru wants the answer to be a resounding ‘No’, but Satoru is too charming for his own good and one of these days someone will catch his attention and manage to hold it.

“You never know,” is the lame answer he comes up with and he was not prepared for the full-bodied flinch Satoru gives in response.

“Are you–have you met someone?” Satoru asks and Suguru gets the distinct impression that he’s forcing himself to give voice to that thought.

It’s a ridiculous idea though, with Satoru always in reach of him. Suguru could never even look past him for long enough to notice someone else.

“No. I haven’t. I was just thinking–”

“Don’t. Don’t think,” Satoru implores him and slots himself right against Suguru again. “Can’t we just have this?”

Suguru wants to say yes, wants to agree and never touch on this matter again, take whatever Satoru gives him and then some, but it doesn’t feel right. Not when he wants so much more, when he wants to be greedy with Satoru.

Not when all of this means something else to him.

“Satoru, I’m in love with you,” Suguru forces himself to say, keeping his arms lax so Satoru can move away from him easily. “You can’t keep doing this, because I’m in love with you.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out and it doesn’t hold the panicked or disgusted note Suguru was half expecting to hear. “Yeah. Yeah, me too, actually,” Satoru goes on before Suguru can ask what that one sound even meant and when he pulls back a little bit, Suguru is almost blinded by the smile on his face.

Happiness has always looked so good on Satoru.

“Satoru, you can’t just agree to that,” Suguru chides him, even though it almost tears his heart apart.

“I’m not, I’m not,” Satoru rushes out. “It’s just–this is just us, right? I never gave it much thought, because this is just how we are, but–of course I’m in love with you. I just never–it’s always been like that.”

Satoru is not wrong about that; it’s always been like this with them. Shoko has complained about their weird, touchy co-dependency almost from day one and even with that it took Suguru almost a year to realise that he is in fact in love with his best friend.

And Satoru was never one to give things more thought than necessary, not when they are going well and he’s happy, so it would make sense if he never thought harder about this.

A contemplating look passes Satoru’s face.

“You’re asking all of this because you want to take even more, right? You want me to give more?” he asks and Suguru can feel himself flush bright red. “What else do you want?”

“I–” Suguru doesn’t know. If he’s being honest, having Satoru in his arms like that is everything he really wants and he already has that.

“There is not that much more I can give you, because you already do have all of me,” Satoru says, “but I can give you this as well.”

He moves in, brushing his lips right over Suguru’s and it’s indeed something that they haven’t done yet, something of Satoru that Suguru hadn’t been allowed to have before. And yet it still feels less important than Satoru’s warm, soft body against his own.

Suguru should have realised much sooner that Satoru had already given him everything.

“You don’t like that?” Satoru asks when they part, earnest concern on his face, and Suguru is quick to kiss that look right off.

“No, that’s good, that’s great,” he whispers against Satoru’s lips.

“But?” Satoru wants to know because he knows Suguru too well to be fooled.

“But this is so much more important,” Suguru gives back as he pulls Satoru towards himself again, feels him slot into all the places that were specifically carved out of Suguru to make Satoru fit against him just like that and that really means so much more to him.

“You already had that before, though,” Satoru tells him, even as he nuzzles his face into Suguru’s neck, going lax against his body. “That was already yours.”

“And I should have realised,” Suguru admits and shivers when Satoru laughs lightly against his skin.

“Just like I should have,” he replies. “So maybe having this talk was good. Can we go back to sleep now, though?”

His question makes Suguru laugh, because it’s just so Satoru, and of course there is only one possible answer to that.

“Yes.”

Satoru lets out a satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to Suguru’s chin and clearly drifting right back off to sleep. Suguru is not that far behind tough, incredibly content to hold all of Satoru in his arms and knowing that he’s allowed to.

That it’s wanted, even.

And it’s the best sleep either of them has gotten in a while.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #stsg #no curses #soft #fluff #cuddling and snuggling #love confessions #feelings realisations #getting together #domesticity

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satan-s-favourite-book · 2 years

Text

Satan, Sleep With Me! [ Obey Me!SatanxMC]

Pairing: Satan x MC

content: fluff, sfw, piggyback ride, slight adoration, mc being drunk and stupid, mammon being jealous, fluff, satan finally giving in to mc, them finally sleeping happily ever after, did I mention fluff?

warning: mentions of drinking

<–×–>

"Satannnn... where are we going?" MC asks, hiccuping.

"To your room, MC. You're clearly drunk," Satan replied calmly, turning to a corner.

"Whaaat... no *hic* I'm not."

Satan ignored MC, adjusting their legs on his back. It was the first time Satan was ever giving anyone a piggyback ride. Especially MC.

They reached MC's room. A strange scented wafted around the room. It was invigorating, to say the least, but Satan tried to be composed and paid no heed. Satan gently let MC off his back and onto their bed carefully, and held their body lightly. He adjusted a pillow under MC's head and tucked them in. He was just about to leave when MC grabbed his jacket.

"Satann, sleep with mee..." MC said, gripping tightly.

'No. Good night, MC. I hope you had fun." Satan refused, trying to rid himself of their grip.

"Buut, it'd be fun-ner if you slept with me, Satan," MC grinned listlessly.

Satan stared at MC's stupid, flushed face in the darkness. They look so pretty. I hope they stay a longer time than before. It's times like this when I believe I know them. He brushed the stray hairs from their forehead. "So pretty," he whispered under his breath.

Suddenly, MC shrieks, "EVERYONE! SATAN THINKS I'M PRETTY!"

Satan quickly covers their mouth, rueing the moment he spoke.

In the distance at the party, everyone turns their heads at the sound. "Do you think they're doing something naughty ♡?" Asmo remarks.

"Dunno, but they shouldn't be. Yeah, I should go and check, y'know, make sure of it..." Mammon curses under his breath.

"Hold it, Mammon. I'll go check. " Lucifer gets uo from his seat.

As Lucifer trailed off in the distance, Mammon grumbled, "Stupid Lucifer, always thinking he's so great..."

Lucifer reaches MC's room, and asks calmly, "MC? 𝙎𝘼𝙏𝘼𝙉? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚?"

Panicking, Satan replies, "Nothing!" He quickly pulls the sheets over MC and the blood pounds in his ear. He steps away and as if on cue, the door clicks open. Lucifer opens the door to a supposedly asleep MC and a flushed Satan. "What..." Lucifer scowled.

"Hey, Lucifer. Is Solomon still at the party? I need to ask him about this spell,' Satan noisily excused himself, squeezing himself between Lucifer and the doorway.

Lucifer whispers, "We talk about this later in my room." He glanced back at MC and closed the door.

At about 3 in the morning in Devildom, MC calls Satan on their D.D.D. It ringed for a while until he finally picked up. "What are you doing?" MC asked drowsily.

"MC, it's 3 in the morning."

"Don't you think I know that. Anyways, come over to my room."

Satan sat up on his bed. "MC, no."

"MC, yes. My way, my way or the highway ♪~"

"I'm hanging up."

"Satan, noooo," But the last part was clipped off, and MC was alone, sad and lonely in their bed.

After a few minutes, MC's door opens quietly, and there stood Satan in his cat-themed pyjamas.

"Satan? Is that you?" MC sat up. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could make out the faint outline of the cats on his clothes. "Are those..."

"Yes, they are. Move over now." Satan gestured.

MC shifts to make space for Satan. He lied next to them and MC remarked, 'I'm bored. Satan, turn over. I'll spoon you."

"Why would you? I should. You turn over." Satan said.

MC resigned from an argument and turned over. It was only later in the morning when Asmodeus came to wake them up, that MC realised Satan held them in a death grip in his sleep.

❥———→

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed! I'm always open to requests, although I might take time getting to them. Thank you for reading!❤️

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ja3gerb0mbb · 11 months

Text

bloodsucker chapter 4: invasion

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: brief description of a break-in

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“night, eren!” sasha mocked me as soon as i walked into the dorm. she followed it up with kissing noises. “would you shut up!” i groaned in embarrassment; shaking my head to get rid of the remaining sleep.

she giggled, continuing the torment, “so.. were you making out with eren all that time,” she wiggled her eyebrows. “i heard he’s good.” the smile on her face turned into a wide smirk.

“who knows,” i shrugged, heading to my room. i knew my lack of response would make her go crazy. “y/n!? are you really not gonna tell me,” she followed right at my footsteps. entering my room, i put the bear down on my bed, “come on you have to tell me,” she continued with an iron hard resolve. she spun me around with my arms, gripping each of them tightly, “pleasee!” she dragged out the ‘e’ at an obnoxious volume.

i clasped my hand around her mouth “shh! stop it!” i laughed at her. “i’m just fucking with you. all we did was go on the ferris wheel.” she stood straight on her feet again; disappointment covered her features. “that’s really it?” she pried one last time. “hate to break it to you.”

“so boring.” she rolled her eyes with force. sasha picked up the bear, laying down on the bed with it. she did a double take, examining the bear. “wait, did he give this to you?” she squealed.

“no, he stole it,” a smile broke through at the memory, “plus it’s an apology bear. why are you so certain something’s going on anyway?” i teased, but i was genuinely curious. maybe her answer would give me more background on him?

“it’s hope, more than anything. you saw how he was today- he was never like that before. maybe if he was into you it would bring him back? i don’t know it’s wishful thinking.” her face was gloomy; like she might start crying if she thought about it anymore.

“sleepover in my room?” i ask the question like we aren’t separated with just a wall. “duh!” her mood instantly lightens; shooting an exiting the room. in the quiet, my mind runs over the day. i realize that i’m still weaning eren’s jacket. i pull the soft leather closer around me, tucking my face into the neckline. it doesn’t smell like anything. that’s weird, i saw him wearing it all day, but the only scent is faded detergent.

my mind doesn’t fully process it before sasha runs back in. three pillows and all the blankets she can hold in tow. she runs over to the bed, throwing them on before getting underneath my sheets. “come on, i’m tired!” she whines, opening her arms to invite me in. her body heat keeps me warm and comfortable, allowing me to doze off. in the distance, i hear a jangling but my mind is too far gone to investigate.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

jean walked close by my side on our way to get coffee, coming back from philosophy. “y/n,” he started, “i really don’t understand anything in chem,” his voice dragged, waiting for me to extend an offer. “oh no that’s awful,” i feigned compassion, “what will horseface do?” he was constantly nagging me about doing this and that assignment or asking for a tutor. i enabled him by giving in, so i didn’t have room to complain.

“tch,” he pushed my body further from his, “you could help ya’know,” still pleading.

“yeah i know.. but i wrote that behemoth essay for you literally last week. i’m all burnt out.” he shot me a dirty look; knowing he shouldn’t be asking for anything right now. “whatever i’ll just ask sasha,” his face lit up like he just had the best idea.

i laughed at his ignorance, “dude, sasha is doing worse in chem than me.” looking over at his face, he looked crushed. “we don’t even have the same professors, can’t you just ask someone in your class,” i probed.

he gave a hefty sigh, “they’re all sick of me asking.”

“huh, who would’ve thought!” it was my turn to push him, sticking my hand out in an attempt which failed. “i hate general requirements,” he groaned, throwing his head back.

we walked into the coffee shop on campus. the air was weighed down by the thick scent of coffee beans but it was familiar. but today, the atmosphere felt different. my heart rate picked up; hairs sticking up on my neck like eyes were on my again. i looked around, but no one was looking at me. not even jean. shaking it off, i checked my phone as we stood in the pickup line.

eren >:(

are you free for the project today?

you:

lol i forgot

but yeah i’m free rn. meet me at the roast?

eren >:(liked a message

“no-go on those plans tonight, jean. sorry.” i said, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “no it’s cool. you found someone with a bigger dick, finally?” he shot me a nasty smirk. i rose to my tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “just eren.” he rolled his eyes as a response. he reached out for yet another shove, but i raised my hands in surrender, “hey don’t shoot the messanger! we have a project due.”

“yeah whatever,” focusing his attention on the baristas in from of us. “jealous jean-boy? i knew you were in love with me,” i laughed a little too loudly, gaining the attention of a few around us. i shot my head down as a response to the attention.

“so in love,” he smirked in my face but turned at his name being called. his coffee sat on the pick-up counter. grabbing it, he bid me goodbye. i went back to the cashier to place an order for eren. vanilla latte, i think?

i didn’t wait long before he walked in. he must’ve been close by already. i almost choked on the sip i took; his hair was down again. his face was the fullest i had seen it; his eye bags a light pink, almost gone entirely. he didn’t look as harsh as usual. he looked.. good.

eren noticed me immediately, eyes flickering up and down. “nice jacket,” he laughed through his nose. my brows furrowed as i looked down. shit. it was his jacket. if i remembered i was wearing it today, i would’ve shoved it in my bag. i played nonchalant, “yeah, just found it laying around,” i returned his smirk. his name was called and he looked at me with confusion. i smiled and turned on my heel, walking to the open table in the corner.

as i sat down, i saw him walking over, coffee in hand. “i hope you brought the book, because i didn’t” he admitted, “just got out of a different class.” yikes, i gave a nervous laugh, “so did i..i was hoping you had it.” just to be sure i trifled through my bag, but no sign of the textbook.

“fuck..” i met his eyes. there wasn’t a sparkle yet, but they looked less cold. maybe it was the absence of the deep bags? just an illusion? i couldn’t be sure. “we can just go back to my dorm,” i trailed, “i actually have furniture this time, promise,” i chucked at myself; happy to no longer have a study-beer table. “yeah, whatever works,” as if it really didn’t matter to him.

leaving the roast, we changed directions to the dorms. the air was still cold, but the clouds from yesterday were mostly gone, sunlight peeking through the clouds. eren walked to my right, but a pace behind so he stood closer to my back. “what’s your major anyway?” he probed me for a change. “mm journalism.”

he gave a badgering laugh, but didn’t say anything. i whipped around, fully face him, “what’s so funny?” he met my gaze, but shook his head in disregard. “what’s you major then?”

“literature,” he started ahead at the path in front of us. “huh, well isn’t that pointless,” i poked the bear, turning back to continue the walk. we were pretty close to the dorms now. i was lucky to live so close to a coffee shop.

“no it’s not i’m goi-” he cut himself off. he looked in the distance, eyes going cold like they usually did. “what?” i look to him.

“nothing.” i look in his eyeline’s direction but nothing peculiar was there. as if he could sense he was freaking me out, “i just got a weird feeling.” his eyes bore into mine, oncing me over before walking again. he was deliberate in walking in front of me, but i kept pace close behind him. his face was serious, and within an instant it seemed to become sharp and hollow again.

as we approached the hallway to my dorm entrance, my door was swung wide open. the fuck? sasha must’ve just forgotten to close it. maybe even hitch. eren continued walking towards the door. the overhead lights were off, and the room was dim and hard to make out despite it being daylight still.

eren forced his hand in front of my torso, stopping me from walking. both of us had remained dead silent, gears turning in different ways. i moved his hand, attempting to walk into my dorm with him. “i’m sure it’s fine, i have two roomates you know,” i attempted to persuade him, and myself.

“stay out here,” he barely spared me a glance. i rolled my eyes at his vigilant nature, but my gut told me to listen to him. something felt wrong. i could feel it in my bones. eren walked further in, not bothering to turn on any lights. from my view, i could see my room door was open. the window barely lit it up, but i could tell it was trashed. clothes strewn about, my mattress ripped off of the frame.

i instinctively took half a step closer; trying to get a better look. it looked like someone must’ve broken in. eren noticed my movement, “i told you not to move!” he raised his voice before storming back out of the dorm, grabbing my hand before dragging me back down the hallway. “eren! sasha might be in there! hitch too,” my mind became frantic at his reaction. his own state made me anxious; i began sucking in quick and shallow breaths.

i stomped my feet into the ground, trying to get him to stop his pace. “sasha and hitch!” i repeated, my voice high out of fear. it was taxing pushing out words with my distressed breathing. “they’re not in there. no one is,” eren’s voice was even again and he gave my hand another yank. “how can you be sure?”

“because i am, move,” he demanded harshly. i glanced back at the dorm, what if something happens to th-, “y/n!” eren pulled me out of my thoughts. “will you fucking trust me? NO ONE is in there,” with another pull, i let my body move again. i couldn’t be sure, but if sasha was in there, eren wouldn’t just leave her. his pace picked up, and my feet moved on their own. as he led me to the parking lot closer to classrooms, he never let go of my hand. not until he opened his car door, motioning for me to get in. i sat in his car, shocked. someone really broke in?

“text your roomates. see that they’re fine for yourself,” he snapped me back to reality once again. my hands shook as i pulled out my phone, immediately calling sasha.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

clouds were quick to cover the sky. rain pittered on eren’s windows. his apartment was in inner sina, a part of town i haven’t really explored. it was hard to makeout the view with the water; but the buildings were tall and lit up with the beginnings of moonlight. on a clear day, i wouldn’t doubt that he has the best view in the entire city.

my nerves were settled now. or, at least, a lot more than they were getting in eren’s car. knowing my roommates were safe put my mind at ease. sasha was with connie; positive she locked the door on her way out this morning. she let me know she’d be safe with him for the night. a text from hitch told me that she hadn’t even been in the dorm for three days, but i doubt she’d be coming back after this fiasco.

staring at the blurry view before me, i thought about what could’ve really happened. the dorms were safe; you needed a keycard to get in pretty much everywhere, and they were only given out to students living on-campus. so it had to be another student, right? but break-ins were rare; students don’t steal from other students like that. every bit of logic spun my head further around. if there was no rational reason for someone to break in, then why did they?

movement in my peripheral forces me to turn my head. eren laid another blanket next to me. he sat in the alcove next to me, body facing opposite the windows. “thanks. are you sure you don’t want it?” i tipped my head to his body. he was wearing a long sleeve shirt, but it didn’t look warm.

“no i don’t really get cold.”

“must be nice,” i laughed, taking the blanket and adding another layer around my body. my nerves must’ve made me extra cold. my phone pings, i turn my attention to it and grab it.

horseface:

y/n

holy shit

are you okay?

sorry i didn’t even see your messages

i was in the art studio

you:

it’s ok haha don’t worry i’m fine.

horseface:

where are you? are you safe?

you:

yeah i’m just at eren’s apartment.

he didn’t want me staying on campus

horseface:

okay.

let me know if you need me to pick you up.

don't hesitate.

you:

okay i won’t. love you jean-boy

horseface disliked a message

i laughed at jean’s reaction. my stomach unknotted, and i felt lighter knowing that everyone i was worried about had been contacted. i couldn’t do much about the situation, but i’d at least accomplished what i could. “was that sasha?” eren drew my attention to him. he sat further on the alcove now, his legs half on, facing toward me.

“no it was jean,” a smile still on my face, remembering his initial spam of concerned messages. so tough, huh? eren’s face stayed still, like he didn’t register the name. “are you dating?” he asked. my face must have shown confusion; eren mimicked it. we started at each other for a few moments, “i thought you weren’t going to dig in my past. i’m holding up my end,” i said it with cocky confidence, knowing it would bother him.

he frowned, shooting me a death glare, “it’s not the past, it’s a present question.” i laughed at him, “no.” it was a definite answer, “why, do you wanna date him?” i teased, leaning in to keep eye contact with him. eren rolled his eyes with his neck, getting up from his spot next to me.

he didn’t walk far before turning around, “come on, i’ll put on a movie. anything you want.” his hands were in his pockets, but i could see his fingers twitching. “anything?” i asked with a growing smirk; already having my pick ready.

he looked confused at my happiness, “yeah, anything i don’t care.”

“okay, perfect! twilight,” i smiled ear to ear before getting up myself, walking over to the couch carrying all of my blankets and plopping myself down. “no, not twilight.” he was definitive; there probably wasn’t anything that would make him put it on. probably.

“you have something against edward cullen? you said anything, that is anything,” he stood his ground; not budging an inch. “eren,” my tone was flat, “my dorm just got broken into.” bringing the blanket up to my face, i hid the smile that wouldn’t go away, already knowing i won.

he turned his head up to the ceiling; groaning. “fine,” he spat at me; seeming genuinely unnerved in my choice. he grabbed the remote on the counter before stomping over the couch, and dramatically sitting down with a huff. he sat on the other arm of the couch, the distance of a few cushions between us; i frowned. despite his hissy fit, he began playing twilight.

‘i'd never given much thought to how i would die,’ came through the speakers as i brought the blankets even closer to my body. the outside atmosphere set the perfect mood to watch twilight in, and just a few minutes in, i had forgotten why i was at eren’s apartment to begin with.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

my consciousness smelled maple bacon before i opened my eyes. as they fluttered open, i immediately felt the twinge in my neck. “ah-” i closed my eyes with force, moving my head in circles while trying to massage out the ache. it didn’t fix it, but it wasn’t throbbing with pain anymore.

“finally,” came from an already annoyed eren. guess his good mood from yesterday has worn off. he lifted my phone, holding it in the air to show me, “sasha’s been blowing up your damn phone.” immediately i got up from the warm blankets on the couch, running to grab my phone. was she okay?!

eren was right, there was a long slur of messages, but the first one i saw said ‘call me,’ so i did. after two rings she picked up, “finally. i was beginning to think eren ate you for breakfast,” laughing, i looked up at eren to see a scowl on his face. “i’m sorry, i just woke up! what was so important you sent me fifty thousand messages?” i poked fun at her desperation.

“you know, nothing crazy,” she giggled through the speaker, “just jean’s lakehouse for the week,” she squealed. “really!?” at the mention of the house, i was ecstatic. we had only ever gone as a group once; his parents were adamant about keeping it pristine. “hell yeah!” i moved the phone away from my ear with her loud yells.

she started murmuring again, “we’re gonna leave tonight probably. we’ll just stay there until they fix our dorm. or give us a new one, i really don’t know what the fuck,” she sighed. i had almost forgotten. mentally, i slapped myself. how could i forget that? “but i’ll keep you updated, love you byee!” she ended the call abruptly for how desperately she was trying to reach me this morning. i chuckled at the blank screen.

“you know about the lakehouse?” i ask eren who’s building me a large plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. “yeah, sasha wanted to tell you herself though. seemed very siked,” he deadpanned the last part. he pushed me the plate, and i immediately took a slice of bacon. i looked toward the empty spot on the couch. eren must’ve known what i was thinking, “you fell asleep thirty minutes in. i planned on offering you a bed, but i didn’t want to wake the beast.”

“oh, how sweet of you,” i faked a smile. “so you watched the movie without me?” the thought of eren intently watching twilight made me giggle. “no, i turned it off as soon as your eyes closed,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “chick flicks,” he muttered.

he leaned against the marble counter as i ate; looking through the windows. “you’re not gonna eat?” i felt like a pig scarfing down food when he had nothing in front of him. “i’m vegan,” he pointed to my plate, “and i already ate pancakes hours ago. you sleep in, apparently.”

i opened my mouth to chide him, but he interrupted me, “shh, hurry up and eat, we should be leaving soon. the drive to marley’s longer from this part of town.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

spotify playlist

#eren jaeger #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager #attack on titan #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein

17 notes · View notes

captain-lessship · 2 years

Text

Roommates Pt.3

The entire campus was buzzing with talks about a school dance and you were working on your outfit. White was the color and you were usually your embroidery skills to spice up an old dress vest you had. The plan for your outfit was white pants, light grey shirt and the white pearly vest that you were embroidering gold into. As you sat outside and sewed the threads into the vest. You heard a voice. “Well if it isn’t Friday?”

Bianca. You turned to look at her, “Hi Bianca. And you know I have a name.”

“I know. Just playing, what are you doing?”

“I am just fixing up a vest. It looked boring as hell.”

She welcomed herself to sit down, moving your box of threads, “So you and Ajax?”

“Yea… crazy.”

“Oh my god-“ she paused, waiting for you.

“They were roommates.” You finished with no hesitation.

You both laughed. She pulled a tiny spindle of blue thread. “So… I might need your help.”

“With?”

“My dress. A few of the scales are loose and I was wondering if you could fix it? I could definitely pay you.”

You had gained a reputation for being the school tailor so you expected this, “Yeah and no, you don’t have to pay me. I have a lot of blue thread I need to get rid of. I am also fixing Yoko’s dress and repairing a button on several guy’s suit jackets.” You motioned at the pile of clothes beside you.

“Wow. How are you going to get yours done?”

“Well, I can sew the buttons on quickly, then I will do yours and Yoko’s dresses and then finish mine up. I still got two days.”

She nodded and handed you her dress and a small pack of the scales in case some were too damaged. “Hey…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you said smiling, “You’d do it for me.”

You continued finishing the patch of your best you were on when you felt a pair of hands cover your eyes. “Guess who?”

“Hmm. Enid.”

“Ding ding!” The girl said, moving her hands and walking to sit beside you. “Can I ask you something? And like my life depends on it.”

“Yea?”

“Does Wednesday like girls?”

“She hasn’t said she doesn’t.”

Enid smiled, “Alright, one more question: would you like, gut me if I asked her to the Rave’N?”

You thought for a moment, “No. no I wouldn’t.”

She hugged you, making you slightly jump, “You are the best! Thank you!” She then looked down, “I also have a favor to ask…”

“Which is?”

“Can you fix this sleeve?”

You were brushing your hair, getting all the sand you could out of it. You were laser focused as you put in your gold hair clip that would keep part of your bangs out of your face. You looked at it from every angle , you decided it was good.

You then got the small eyeshadow palette Enid had let you borrow as thanks for fixing her coat. You openly it and looked at the gold and silver color. You grabbed one of your brushes and started to put the silver on the upper eyelid, then blending it with the gold that was along your eyelash line. You decided to add a little black eyeliner to sharpen the corners of your eyes.

You took a steps back from the mirror and for once, you felt handsome. You smiled as you slipped off your robe and grabbed your button up shirt and began buttoning like your life depended on it, you tucked it into your pants and grabbed your vest. You were finally ready.

Ajax was waiting by the entrance for you. He’d gotten ready in Xavier’s room. He was getting a little anxious but then he saw you.

You were walking quickly to him, “I am so sorry I am late. I couldn’t find my earring.”

“It’s,” he looked you up and down, “Fine.”

You breathed and straightened your up, you put your arm around Ajax’s shoulders and walked in with him.

“I love the outfits!” Mrs. Thornhill said, smiling. You liked her and her smile radiated.

“Thank you, did you get new boots?”

“Oh! Yes! Thanks for noticing. Have a dance for me you two!”

You were mildly amazing when you walked in and saw the decorations. Climate Crisis was the theme. Everything was icy and crystalline, sparkling in the lights. You looked at Ajax, “Do you wanna walk around and grab drinks? Then we can dance?”

Ajax nodded, he was talking louder than really needed which made you laugh. Ajax and you made your lap, laughing and joking with friends as you walked, bopping to the music.

“Enid?” Ajax asked, looking at a guy and someone on the floor in front of him. Sure enough, the girl peered past the guys legs.

You were confused on where Wednesday was but you didn’t want to embarrass or intrude on Enid’s night so you and Ajax walked to the dance floor.

It was a very loud pop song but you and him just bopped along, sliding past each other. It was awkward but it was fun. Ajax reached for your hands and you both pulled each other’s arms, making a see-saw motion. He then spun you out and pulled you back, making you laugh was you collided with his chest a little harder than he expected. He steadied himself as you turned to make sure you didn’t break your date.

“My bad, I never was a a dancer.” He said, getting back into the groove.

You just smiled, “It’s fine! I should’ve slowed myself. “

You began to sway more as you got into the groove but the song ended. You huffed, “Hey, I’m going to get some drinks, want one?”

“Yea! I think imma see how Xavier and Bianca are doing.” He said, turning.

You walked to the punch bowl and poured up a drink for Ajax first and then yours. A voice made you jump, almost spilling your drink.

“Mr. Addams, enjoying the dance?”

It was Principal Weems, you looked up at her, “Yeah! I think it’s going well. Who all decorated?”

“Several members of the student body and Ms. Thornhill. I have a question, is Wednesday planning on attending?”

“I-To be honest, I haven’t really talked to her in the past two days. I got distracted.”

Just as you finished your sentence, Principal Weems looked up. “Ah, there she is.” You turned around to she her, dressed in black and followed by the Normie from the Weathervane that ruined Xavier’s mural. You got an off vibe from him.

You picked up your glasses and walked to Ajax. “There’s something up with him.”

“Wednesday’s date?”

“Yea… there’s just something off. Ya know?”

Ajax looked at him, “I mean, it’s what I am not getting from him that’s off putting.” He took a sip from his glass.

You raised your eyebrow, “Which is?”

“He doesn’t have the normal normie vibe.”

“Yea… I guess that’s it.” You sipped from your drink, “So, after we finish this, wanna dance again?”

“Yeah. But like, I’m a really bad dancer.”

You looked at him, “No, you’re not.”

“Sure.”

You scoffed playfully, “I plowed into you and no body knows how to dance to those pop songs. It’s just hopping and yelling til it’s over.” You downed the last of your drink, “I can teach you how to slow dance if they play one of those.”

“It’s a school dance. Of course they’re going to.”

You laughed a little, “Yeah” you yawned after. Ajax looked at you.

“Are you getting sleepy?”

There was a consequence to your power: you never truly knew when you were tired and could stay up for days and then you’d crash. Yawns were a telltale sign of a crash.

“No, no. I’m good. Maybe if I move around or something.” You turned to the dance floor.

Ajax grabbed your hand, “Then let’s move.”

You softly smiled, you followed him and when you got to the dance floor, a slower song began to play. Perfect.

You showed him where to hold you and you set the movement slow so he could get used to it. It was so peaceful.

“Ajax?”

“Yea?”

“I’m sorry I’m getting tired.” You yawned again.

“It’s fine, babe. Remember the time I stoned you?”

“Which one?”

“Exactly.”

You smiled as your rested your head in his shoulder, slowing your breath, closing your eyes.

Ajax knew you were out. He sighed happily. It was easy to dance with a sleeping person but he knew he’d better get you to a seat. He looped his arm under yours and walked to the table where Xavier sat.

“Hey dude.”

“Hey you… two? Is he asleep?”

“Out like a light, man. Do you mind if I sit him in the chair? He just needs a few minutes.”

“Yeah. It’s just me here… how do you’d do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have a seemingly loving relationship? Doesn’t you two being two different species mess with things? Like I don’t wanna overstep but… I dated Bianca and I was always worried about her powers.”

Ajax looked at his friend, “Well, yea we love each other and well, that kinda just makes it worth it” he looked at you, your upper body slumped over on the table, “While we’re both outcasts and we can relate on that, we are both very different and there are a few struggles. Like I have stoned him and he’s put me to sleep but neither of us would do it to be rude. That’s what you were worried about? It being used to prevent you from feeling fully?”

“Yeah… Deep down I know she loves me and I love her but it’s the thoughts that get in my way. Don’t you ever think that he wants to put you to sleep?”

“No, I don’t think he does. And I trust him not to. I think you just need to trust her. She really does care about you. She wouldn’t put up with this shit if she didn’t.”

Xavier looked at him, “He’s a bad influence on you. You’re becoming too honest.”

“It is what it is, dude.” He said, shrugging, “Now go find her and tell her. I gotta take care of sleeping beauty.”

The DJ made the final dance announcement, Ajax looked at you: no sign of waking so he decided to stay seated beside you. He watched them dance for a few minutes then he saw red drip on the table. He stared at it, then up and at that moment the sprinklers turned on, spraying something red all over the place. He shook you awake.

You jerked up and saw him covered in red and screamed. “Ajax! Blood? What happened?”

#rave’n #dancing #slow dancing #school dance #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax fluff #ajax wednesday #ajax x you #ajax petropolus #romance #them them them #netflix wednesday #addams!reader #enid sinclair #tyler galpin #xavier thrope #bianca barclay #wednesday addams

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xydamcg · 2 years

Text

Newest member 6

Ghost x f character!

Cw: Abuse, intrusive thoughts, anxiety, crying, angst

Summary: Jail, he deserves jail time.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

“What do you mean you don’t know why he’s here?! He’s your ‘best friend’ for crying out loud Price!” Ty yelled from her pace along the floor. She had managed to keep calm as she pulled Price into a quiet room on the way back on base. “We don’t talk every minute of the day Ty, I actually haven’t heard from him in months. Him being here is just as much a surprise to me as it is to you. Why are you so worked up about him being here? You should be glad to see him—that’s your father.” Price sighed causing her to halt mid-step. Her father? “That man is not my father..not anymore. Price if you ever cared about me and the relationship we have. You will get rid of him and fast.” Ty said as she tucked her shaky hands into her jacket pockets. The older man watched her for a moment before putting together the pieces in his head. “Has he hurt you Lu?” In so many ways. “Price—will you just get rid of him?” She asked causing him to put his hands up and nod. “I’ll do what I can.” Price said making her shake her head this time, you don’t understand he can’t be here. “Whatever, I must be a fucking joke.” She scoffed as she turned on her heel and left the room. “Hey! Tyliu!” Price hollered at her retreating form. The door slammed behind her in response. She needed to clear her head or she was going to snap.

Finding her way to her barrack, she ignored the unfamiliar faces greeting her as she moved by. Her eyes were glued to the ground so much so that she didn’t notice Ghost coming around the corner until it was too late. Her body collided with his leaving her body staggering back as she tried to steady her feet. Ghost grabbed her waist as she struggled to stay up right. “Sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” She said pushing herself away from him, she didn’t need him knowing. But he already knows. “Are you alright?” Ghost asked stepping back to give her space. “I’m fine, yeah.” She assured but who was she trying to convince herself or him? Both. Her eyes danced around the hall as she avoided his gaze, knowing that if she looked at him she might just cry. “Look at me.” He ordered, the slight authority in his tone sent shockwaves through her body. Fuck. Quickly blinking back the forming tears, she raised her head high to catch his cold brown eyes. “We both know that’s not true..” he pushed as she leaned against the wall. Of course she was lying, she had to. “I don’t know why he’s here and I don’t wanna know why. I just know I want him as far away from me as possible. He isn’t here to just see his daughter, he’s here to bring me hell. No one can see who he truly is because he built up this huge facade—“

“Excuse me Lieutenant Avery..” a sergeant approached mid rant. Ty dropped her eyes before smiling toward the Sergeant, her attention shifting. “Yes sergeant how can I help you?” She asked. The woman seemed uneasy which could be because Ghost was still present or because of what she needed. “Captain Avery wishes to speak to you in debrief room 200..privately.” She informed as she looked toward Ghost when she emphasized privately. No, no, no, no. “Tell him I’m busy right now and I’ll find him later.” She denied only to get a nervous laugh from the sergeant. “I’m sorry unfortunately lieutenant, he said it’s urgent.” Ty felt her smile falter slightly, he knew her too well. Better than she knew herself. Ty didn’t want to cause anymore trouble for the sergeant than already given so she caved. “Okay I’ll speak to him, thank you.” Ty dismissed with a nod. Turning back to Ghost, she smiled that same fake smile. “Duty calls.” She mused jokingly trying to muster the strength to face her greatest fear.

She wanted him to say something, anything to keep her from leaving. Please say something, don’t let me walk away. Her eyes pleaded in ways she couldn’t verbalize and Ghost unfortunately didn’t have the words to console her even though that’s all he wanted to do right now. “See ya later Ghost.” She said over her shoulder as she began to walk away. He didn’t want her to walk away, he wanted to say something but he didn’t know what exactly. He took a step forward to catch her but she was already disappearing down the hall. He shouldn’t have let her walk away.

——————————————

“You wanted to see me sir.” Ty said quietly as she entered the empty debrief room that was only occupied by her father. “Yeah come sit.” He motioned to the chair near him. Her feet felt like they were heavy with lead as she stumbled stupidly toward him, subconsciously reminding herself of how far she was away from the door in case she needed to run. Run now! Don’t do it. Carefully sitting in the chair beside him, she placed her hands in her lap anxiously. “So how’s the military life been treating you?” He asked looking up from his parchment papers. Was this a trick question? “It’s been okay..I can’t complain.” She said shrugging slightly— if you complain he’ll make your tongue bleed. “So this is where you ended up after all that time, under Price’s supervision..” he mused tapping his pen along the table. Was he referring to her running away? He was. Why wouldn’t he? “Um actually no..I only arrived days ago. I was originally stationed at Eden.” She confessed watching him set his pen down and turn toward her, Ty shifted back into her chair frowning. “You wanna tell me why you left Shanghai without a word to me?” I left to get away from you. Her leg started to bounce as she picked at her fingers and nails, a habit that was triggered when she was unbelievably unnerved. Richard didn’t appear to like her lack of focus and even worse, the lack of response he was getting. “Hey! Don’t shut down now. You didn’t do that when you catching that helo to Eden now did you? You knew I’d find you didn’t you? Come looking. Of course I would Tyliu, why? Because I’ve giving you everything in life I could give and you disrespect me by running away and not even a simple goodbye.” He snapped, his fist hit the table so hard she was afraid he’d break it in half. Ty flinched, cowering back into her chair as he grabbed her leg that wouldn’t stop moving.

“I raised you to be smarter than this but you can’t seem to put two and two together.” A pained gasp came from her feeling his nails sunk into the tissue around her knee cap. The bone pulling from the muscle the tighter he squeezed. “Please..let me go..” she cried, her hands prying at his steel grip. Richard tugged her closer, so they were face to face. “Let me explain one thing Tyliu..” he pointed as a small sob rippled from her chest. There was hell to be dealt and there was no running this time. “You don’t get to just up and leave whenever you feel like, I run this show whether you like it or not. You don’t get to say when you’re done, I do! You belong to me! Or have you forgotten?!” He yelled as he smacked the side of her head not once or twice but three times, her mind spinning as she lowered her head in submission. No more please. Her hands no longer prying at his grip but now protecting her head. “You’re coming back to Shanghai with me Wednesday. Do you understand?” Richard growled softly, his hand collecting her jaw so she was looking at him. No, I won’t. I’d rather die. “Do. You. Under-stand?” He seethed yanking her even closer, she would bruise by the morning. “Y-yes s-sir.” Ty chocked out through uneven breaths and a million tears. Seemingly satisfied with her response, he dropped her head and released her leg. “Get yourself together before you leave this room. You’re a mess.” Fuck you. “I’m going to break the news to Price that you want to leave. Better tell your little boyfriends the same.” He mumbled collecting his things and leaving without another word. Boyfriends? Soap and Ghost?

Now left alone with nothing but her thoughts and crippling pain she struggled to catch her breath. Her chest heaving as she tried to take in more oxygen than her body would allow. Her body trembles as anxiety coursed through her in waves, each hitting harder than the last. She tore her jacket from her body as she felt like she was over heating, her hand clutching her sternum that felt like it was being pinched in a vice. She needed to calm down or she’d pass out. She couldn’t get help, they’d ask too many questions. The phone was too far and the door even further. Picking a battle she staggered to the door, the world beginning to spin as she pushed her way into the empty hallway. Tripping through the hall she used the wall for support, her breathing still ragged with each step. If anyone saw her now they wouldn’t be able to recognize her through the snot and tears that soiled her face. Only recognizable feature was her reddened auburn eyes that wasn’t focusing on any of her surroundings.

Ty felt as though she walked six miles when reality she was only a few feet from the room she had just left. Sinking to the ground in a heap she pressed her back to the wall and clamped her hands over her ears in a attempt to stop the sensory overload. Pressing her eyes closed she began to count out loud. “One..t-t-two..three….four…f-five..” Between each number she forced herself to take a full breath, and soon enough she was stabilizing.

She had been gone for nearly an hour and forty five minutes when she finally stepped foot into a public space on base. She just had to pick the cafeteria, Soap wasting no time in bombarding his second lieutenant with his foolishness, oblivious to her state. “Double T! Me and Gaz were just— woah are you alright?” He asked as she moved along with the line. “I’m fine J.” She lied, smiling slightly to the older workers in the kitchen as thanks. “Have you been crying?” Soap poked gently grabbing her arm to get her attention. Still running on fight or flight she tensed visibly, her puffy cheeks and red eyes glaring violently at him. “McTavish! Drop it.” She ordered pulling her arm from under his touch, he definitely knew something was up now. Not only because she settled for calling him McTavish when she was royally annoyed or pissed off at him but because he could see how destroyed she was behind those eyes and the reddens to her jawline. “I said I’m fine.” She confirmed again a little softer this time not truly meaning to yell at him. She just didn’t want to deal with any questions right now, she was so upset again that she found herself giving her tray back to the staff and leaving.

Her next and final destination was her dorm, there she could be alone and actually think about how she was going to survive the rest of her life on Shanghai base. Just wanting something to go right for once she gently tried to open her jammed door only for it not to open. She laughed to herself in anger before beginning to throw herself into the door to get it open. Behind her the slight creak to Ghost’s door distracted her momentarily. “Need a hand?” He quirked coming up behind her, the heaviness of his presence made her shrink away. Her eyes dropping to the floor to avoid his gaze, she nodded before whispering. “If you pleased.” Moving to the side against the wall she let him to the door. She was grateful her hair was down to curtain her face. Her head dropping slightly. “What did he want?” Ghost asked as she began to pick at her fingers again, her cuticles red and firey from her picking. “Nothing..” she said with a shrug. “He talked to you for two hours about nothing?” He continued. Ty shook her head and huffed. “Can you just get the door open..please.” She nearly begged. Ghost paused his attempt to open the door, she wasn’t usually this quiet nor had she looked at him once this whole interaction. “Did he hurt you?” Ghost growled dangerously making her brace for no reason, Ghost wouldn’t hurt her. Not like he had.

“Jesus Simon! Can you just open the god damn door!” She shouted now looking up at him angrily. Again she didn’t mean to yell, she just really wanted people to stop sticking their nose in her business. He cares—no he doesn’t. Ghost didn’t utter another word because all the evidence he needed was on her face, literally. He could make out the bruising along her jaw forming and her skittish outburst behavior. Gently pushing open the door he stepped aside to let her in. Ty felt her eyes water as she moved inside the room, the door closing behind her. “Fuck..” she whined placing a hand on her face. Why was everything going wrong all of a sudden? “You wanna tell me what happened or do I have to go ask him myself?” Ty let out a squeak as she whipped around to find ghost standing near the door. She didn’t know he had invited himself in! “You scared me, what are you doing?!” She asked but he wasn’t changing the subject. “You want me to go ask him? Got it.” He said turning to leave, Ty lunged forward snatching his vest into her grasp. “No, stop. Please!” She cried, Ghost turned again looking down at her crying form. “I-I’ll tell you, please just don’t go looking for him.” Now she was begging, if Ghost went looking for her father and her father somehow caught wind she said anything—she would be dead. So much more deader than dead.

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Tag List: @ellouisa17 @hypernovaxx

#@ellouisa17 #@hypernovaxx #call of duty #ghost #modern warfare #fem reader #original content #simon riley #mw2 #original character #simon ghost riley #john price #captain price #romance #fanfic #fanfiction

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littlcfreaks-archive · 9 months

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she was supposed to be cleaning out her apartment - she was moving into a bigger place and wanted to do the whole get rid of the things that don't bring you joy thing before she had moved, so of course, halfway through, she had been distracted rummaging through a box that was tucked in the back corner of her closet. yanking open the top like it was a present and not most likely a box of junk that she didn't need - instead what she found was a box of pictures, notes, a jacket, some dried flowers - it was her jude box. one that she hadn't looked at in too long, one that immediately made her miss him. she opened one of the letters - it wasn't anything special, just something that he had written her when they were still young, before she had messed everything up with him and he was detailing plans to take her to see a movie - one that she hadn't remembered they even saw together, but was still one of her favorites.

in less than a minute, she was out of the door and on her way to jude's apartment, the note still clutched in her hand. she had never really lost track of him. upon arrival, she didn't even know if he was home as she banged on his front door with one fist, "jude? jude! are you home? i need to talk to you!" and then realizing he might not recognize her voice, she tacked on, "its ellie!" @introvrt

#ft. ellie & jude #ft. introvrt #ellie > para.

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chronicsunshincs-a · 1 year

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open for: f/nb/m ( males welcome, just pls keep in mind that he's closeted and it might change the vibe/dynamic of the thread! ) made with beta editor plot: wil's a street racer, and your muse has been coming around for more and more of his races for.. whatever reason. it's flirty as hell.

THE GLORY LASTS FOR A FEW MINUTES before the next set of drivers begin setting up. he spots the other almost immediately, though he doesn’t make his way to them just yet, instead stopping to get paid. a thick envelope gets handed to him, boldly opening it up and thumbing through and counting the large stack of cash like it’s second nature before he’s satisfied, tucking the envelope into the inside sleeve of his jacket. hands shove into his pockets before moseying on over to the familiar face, a sly, cocky grin pulling at his lips. " well.. was that good for you? kinda boring for me. " wil teases with a grin, " i might have to get rid of you as my good luck charm. it’s getting too easy now. "

#indie rp #indie roleplay #open rp #wil * / starters.#wil * / interactions.#etc * / starters.#let's boogie

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your-fav-poster · 2 years

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And now, I present to you. This.

screaming at the top of my lungs, violently sobbing, throwing up, eating my phone, pacing around in circles, mumbling, tucking my hair behind my ear, swinging my legs, yodeling, doing cartwheels, punching somebodys grandma, getting a little silly, a little delusional, a little crazy, shaking my fists angrily towards the sky and cursing the universe, on my knees, begging, pleading, I'm going absolutely insane I need him, I want him, I have to have him or else I might lose it. barking, screaming, growling, howling, on my knees, begging, pleading, hands shaking, on the roof jumping, angrily shaking my fists towards the sky screaming and cursing, running in circles, running laps, laying on the floor and sobbing, banging my fists on the floor, punching holes in the walls, losing my marbles, my clothes? gone. my sanity? gone. screaming, shouting, howling, doing cartwheels, doing backflips, running laps, sitting in a corner crying, on my hands and knees banging my fists on the floor while "I want you" by mitski plays in the background, running laps, laying on the floor while tears run down my face, angrily shaking my fists towards the sky as I curse the universe, running down the street and punching every grandma I see, on my knees, begging, pleading, hoping, and wishing, I am miserable, I am turning towards my delusions for comfort, I am going clinically insane, screaming and crying in a straight jacket while being in a padded cell, I am losing it, I need them either or I don't mind, I can't go on like this, I want him, I need him, I can no longer tell what is reality or what is my delusions. running around the block, doing jumping jacks, doing backhand springs, doing cartwheels, I'm in a corner screaming and crying, I'm aggressively vacuuming, changing lightbulbs, I'm freaking out, im running around while flailing my arms, im losing my mind, I can no longer do this, I'm eating my phone, scrubbing the walls, blasting mitski, planting bombs, I need help, psychiatric help, I need to go to a mental institution, I need a lobotomy, help me please. I'm screaming and running in circles, doing a somersault, doing a front handspring, doing the splits, doing a handspring, doing a cartwheel, tumbling, doing a handstand, sitting in a corner mumbling, laying outside in the rain, gathering crystals and manifesting, i NEED the universe to hear me out or else i'mma lose it, barking, growling, howling, rearranging my room, painting the walls, laying down and banging my fists on the floor, reading the Bible, praying, begging, pleading, hoping, wishing, singing, screaming and crying, talking to a therapist, cleaning the house, having a conversation with the invisible camera, running up the walls and losing my mind, trying to connect with nature to rid my mind of my delusions, planting flowers, going on morning jogs, eating healthy, doing self care, falling back to my delusions, the voices are winning, getting sent to a mental institution to get a lobotomy , receiving psychiatric care, I need you to hear me out 🙏 giggling and blushing, twirling my hair, drawing hearts in the sand, swinging my legs while looking at my phone, rolling around on the floor while giggling and kicking my feet, gathering crystals and manifesting, I want him, I need him, I have to have him or else I will lose my mind I will go clinically insane, I'm on my hands and knees while banging my fists on the floor and begging the universe for him, I need him I really need him good god, you need to hear me out, you have to hear me out, you're going to hear me out, look at him I'm giggling and blushing so hard, I'm squealing, I would let him call me slurs and I would bat my eyelashes at him with a huge dorky smile on my face and look at him as if he hung the stars, Im staring at my phone with heart eyes. BARK BARK BARM BARK BARK PANTING HOWLING DROOLING, SLAMMING MY FOOT AGAINST THE FLOOR IN EXCITEMENT, GROWING HEART EYES TURNING INTO A LOONEY TUNES CHARACTER, PLAYING THE FLUTE VIOLENTLY, SHAKING MY CHEST AROUND, MY HEART IS STOPPING, IM OPENING MY CHEST CAVITY TO MOVE MY HEART-

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unknownjpegs · 8 months

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sire

She pauses in front of the diner because the thing parked horizontally across two spaces — an asshole thing to do, were it not two in the morning — catches her eye.

And then, the person sitting alone at a table within snatches her attention entirely.

There’s a little bell that jingles as pushes the door open and glides in. Her chunky heeled boots clack arrhythmic on the tile — one of them is hollowed on the bottom.

“Not interested,” he says, sparing not even a passing glance over his mug. “Keep on.”

“That is rude.” Ina slides into the booth across from him, fisting her long fingers together and ignoring the sticky tabletop beneath them. She kicks both feet up, two different color sneakers, to either side of his knees.

“I like your ride.” She says it like, I want it. Give me the key. Give me the key, or I’ll find it myself. I’ll take it.

The man looks at her now, eyes darker than the disgusting looking slop in that mug. No cream, Ina notes. No sugar.

“Why’s it gotta be mine?” He lifts a shoulder. “Could be anybody’s.”

Ina’s mouth curls at the word. Anybody. She glances around at the near-empty diner, eyebrows arched condescendingly. The kitchen door swings — the waitress with the sun-leathered skin and crinkled lines framing her mouth has retreated. Perhaps, if she’s intelligent, at the sight of Ina.

“Hers?”

He shrugs again.

“His?”

Now he turns in the seat, which Ina thinks is… funny. Maybe a little naive — or, maybe, it’s naive of her to assume that of him. Anyway, he turns. It puts her in his peripheral, and her eyes fall to his neck. Dark brown skin, unmarred, smooth. She’s not particularly thirsty; old, grungy trucker had bought her big give me a ride, hitchhiker’s eyes not a moment ago. Hadn’t been smart enough, or lacked the proper low-light vision, to see the crimson of her irises.

There’s another trucker tucked into the far corner of the diner, arms crossed over a barrel chest and beer gut. He’s got a Gone Fishin’ hat pulled over his eyes. He’s either, Ina thinks, asleep or dead or too drunk to have any semblance of awareness the former states might offer.

“Fuck no,” the man across from her says with an amused scoff. “‘Sides, dickhead looks like he’d prefer to drive a Harley — ” He snorts. “Right through the front of a Cabela’s, hey?”

Ina’s mouth curls in a slow, delighted grin. “You are far from home.”

He turns back to her. His stare’s lingering amusement has dampened slightly by a new, careful assessment. “So are you.”

“I’m longer from home than you think.”

“Longer?” His lips twitch now too. “Not farther. You look young.”

“Would you believe I still get carded?” Ina tilts her head, smile widening. “And you? Where’s your home?

He slides a hand from his jacket pocket. A wooden stake, hand-carved, is placed in the center of the table.

“Not here, that’s for fuckin’ sure. I’m on my way to see a friend.”

Ina rumbles a low, chilling laugh.

He says it like a warning and a promise. Says it as young women often do, when they fear someone knows they are alone and will be for some time. There’s someone waiting on me. Someone that loves me. Someone that is expecting me, so if you hurt me or if you kill me, I won’t just disappear. If you hurt me, you won’t ever get rid of me fully. I’ll make your life worse, even in death, because if I can’t escape, you won’t either. They’ll know, and they’ll come looking for you.

“Will it work, do you think?” She points at the stake.

“Been known to, on occasion.” He volleys back. “You’d be surprised at the problems a little piece of wood can sort out.” He spins it with one finger, eyes on her. “Figure if you try anything, I might as well try anything too.”

“Is that where you’re traveling? To find a herd to cull?”

He sits up slightly in the booth when she shifts. She hasn’t moved — hasn’t twitched or fidgeted or breathed since placing herself across from him.

“Still think it’s mine, then?”

Leather jacket, black t-shirt, several chains of varying weights around his neck, a holster or a harness of some sort crossing his broad chest. Ina’s smile widens. She tosses herself to the side, inky hair spilling over the shiny, squeaky red seat. It catches on a tear in the cheap upholstering as she glances under the table — dotted with decades worth of unscraped gum.

There is a scrape on the toe of his boot where the leather has worn down. Mark that is specific to a pair of shoes that knocks between the starter, the brake, and the gear shift.

Ina slow lifts up, peering at him from the edge of the table with one glittering red eye. It’s set behind thin, crimson-tinted glasses shaped like flames.

“Not for long.”

It is a battle, and a fucking fierce one at that. Perhaps one of the most wild she can remember as of recent — and that memory stretches centuries. There is a spark there, held tight in his chest and zipping through veins like the red water of life. He puts that spark in his fist and swings it, incensed by the light and heat.

But it is, after all, a fight that can only end in one way. Ina is Ina; he is young and alone, passion and fury aside. At the end, she feels no anger even though she has been hurt. It only makes her prideful. She chose right. Chose well. Yes, she’s torn raggedly by the end, flayed and burned and missing bits — but eventually, quickly, it will all heal into smooth and unmarred flesh. She’ll be made whole again, as she was. As she always has been.

He is not so fortunate. He will be whole soon, because he’s proven himself, and Ina will let him heal.

“It may be,” Ina whispers as she withdraws from his throat, wiping the back of her hand delicately over her mouth. “Thou shalt be as we.”

“Fuck — off.”

Her other hand softens from its cruel wrench of his head backwards, petting instead over this cheek to cup it.

“Thank you,” Ina says, because thirst quenched is a gift given. She wipes her palm over the punctures and its sluicing blood, offering him a bit of dignity in cleanliness as his arteries pump it to the ground. Although she’s sated, now overfull, Ina licks it from between her fingers. Disrespectful to waste.

He glares up at her, fading and fight long gone; yet, remnants of that fury uglying his face in a callous, bitter sneer. For now, he hates her.

You’re supposed to say, ‘and ye?’, she thinks as she parts the thin skin of her palm with a fang. It bisects that tattooed moon, rends the image of it into a waning gibbous. There is nothing he can do as she lifts the wound to his mouth, which is mottled wetly red from an injury of his own. There is nothing he can do while she squeezes it onto his tongue.

“Do you know that one, know how it ends? Cain says, and ye? and Lucifer responds: Are everlasting.” She shakes her head, grin sly. “You have got to hand it to them. That’s good stuff, ah? They get some things right. Everlasting… so I give you this, a bagong buhay.”

“Quoting — Byron…and you — “ he gulps wetly, air retreating from lungs that compress for the final time, alveoli that pink with blood for the final time, and bronchi that draw breath out of necessity for the final time. “Call — me — stereotypical? Fuck — you.”

They are the last words that leave his mouth in this life. Ina shrugs and watches closely as it slips from him.

Not all fledglings survive the next part. Physically, of course, none of them do. But Ina has lived long enough to know that most breathing things can survive bodily. There is a certain, rare strength for one to mentally endure. To resist horror. To embrace what comes after. There would be no drink, no eat, no breathe without the mind beckoning the body to do so.

Some don’t have that strength. For as many as Ina has created she has ended perhaps double. She could weep at the number, because she tries to remember each. Some she bestows this gift upon are maddened by the transition. So unmade by the making that it’s a merciful kindness to themselves and others to feed them to a tall, tall fire.

Anyway, the nature of gifts is not to be received - but to be offered in the first place.

So, having offered and honored, Ina watches.

He goes limp. His mouth slackens. When it does, she shuts it gently with fingers beneath his chin. The flesh is cooling, already. It will soon become warm again — not with life, but the burn. His eyes flutter next, then fix cloudily distant to a point over her shoulder. Finding, somewhere, that thing that Ina herself has only seen once before.

She maintains her gentle touch as she drags that broad, limp body upright. Maneuvers him to her back with her jacket as a swaddle, its sleeves tied tight around her waist.

Ina carries him like she thinks she might have once been carried as a child. She encircles his arms around her shoulders, legs crossed and tucked to her hips. She’s sleight, more than half his weight, but it makes no difference to her strength.

She begins walking. Begins their journey.

Halfway through, his breathing slows to a rate that would kill him if he were not already going. Already gone. Ina knows this metamorphosis intimately, as she might know a centuries-old lover. The change requires days to take. First this black-void fever, then death without rot. They have time for her to pace and enjoy the scenery as it passes.

Alone and yet companioned, with time to spare, Ina ruminates:

What a sweet thing it is, what a mercy, to taste the end. To continue, even after you’ve been shown your end, cauterized, and allowed to wet the frayed edge and weave more.

Blood is a life, a life, a life, continued. That is love — that is what Ina gives. A new beginning is not a curse, but a blessing. Go again, and keep on.

Keep on.

He understands. He’d said that to her in that diner. How could those words have been anything less than a sign? She would drink from anyone, but she would be, as the foolish ones said, damned if she shared this with just anyone.

Because, circumstances and bureaucratic requirements of this turning aside, she would likely find him worthy to be made new regardless. She saw it in the pulse of veins and thrum of a heartbeat, the unwavering tenacity and instinct in their fight.

He would not be a simple number on paper, nor a diagonal tally upon the wall, nor a body among the rank and file, nor someone’s substitute or plaything or surrogate. She would not allow it.

You, she sneers, are not a replacement. A stand-in. That bitter, wretched thing did not deserve blood in the first place. Monster. Monsters.

Their destination is a grand old manor, hidden in the countryside. This land, although ravaged with a familiarity that aches in her chest, still has such places. Veiled, secret, ancient ones. Where the inhabitants are fickle, but welcome her nonetheless.

The first words from his new mouth, same mouth, in this new life, same life:

“What have you fucking done?”

She expects the cold, embittered edge. Would be disappointed if she didn’t hear it tucked within the words, because even in life he’d held that iciness in him up to top of his skull. Overfull with it, as she had been overall with the sweet metallic warmth of blood, of platelets, of cells. Life received, life given in turn.

Buried deep, below the unforgivingly gruff exterior, is a sense of justice that she respects. Kindness. Most importantly, a mean streak. She likes that best.

“What else could I have done?” She says. “What more? I gave you eternity.”

Gave herself, gave life, gave power. She explains this from her seat at the end of the grand canopied bed. This room is Ina’s — Jacqueline and her partner keep it empty for her visits and visitors alone.

She gestures vaguely to the bedside table, where she has stacked a variety of books. Not just Byron, because that’s funny, but more. Rarer. Better. The entire room is full of them, full of knowledge that he will not find elsewhere.

“To pass the time, when you find there’s too much of it.”

“I’ll off myself.” He promises, and then firmly shakes his head. “I’ll kill you. Then I’ll off myself.”

“Ah,” Ina sighs. “Yes, there’s some Kafka in the stack too. I think a first edition!”

He glares at her with such intensity that a distant pull in her chest beckons her backwards, slightly. But he doesn’t move forward — he falls to the mattress. Weak, unconscious; the brief flash of strength pulled from him to fuel the anger gone. Tears streak down his cheeks and Ina wipes them away.

Benji dies at twenty-five. He wakes three weeks later, at twenty-six.

It’s hard to tell how long she tends to him. The days muddy together in a painful, confusing stretch of hours and thirst and aches. Rebirth is not fucking pretty, as it turns out.

There’s anger, beneath the cloud of it all, and resentment. Each time she makes a sympathetic noise, shares a story that barely makes it through his hunger and the shivery fever, he snarls. Tries to bite at her sometimes, if she comes too close — and even manages to draw blood a few times.

And still she helps. Still, she presses a comforting hand to his cheek and speaks in an unfamiliar language when the pain is unbearable. Urges him to endure. Accept the adaption.

She sits there and sometimes she sits there and talks and sometimes Benji responds. It’s loneliness, he assures himself. It’s not her sharp wit, or their easy rapport. The strange compulsion he feels to crack her odd, even demeanor into a laugh or flash of anger is nothing more than that — a compulsion. Whatever disgusting magic exists between a sire and their spawn.

Ew, she sneers at him, when once he tosses that word at her with bitter condescension. You’re my equal, you freak. And I’m not your mother.

Then what do I call you? He hisses back, eyes slit. Gonna let me come up with somethin’ worse?

Her wide, plush mouth spreads in a charming smile. Ina. You?

…Benji.

He plays nice as the new, confused, agreeable fledgling. When Ina disappears one evening (and doesn’t return) he discovers that escape might be difficult. Worse, as he comes into contact with the others, he finds that by the day, leaving is less a necessity and more of a maybe.

Begrudgingly over the first few months of his new life, he grows attached to the cloistered bunch. Benji’d not call them lonely, or solitary. They have each other, even if they are all a bit unsocial. But they accept him as one of Ina’s. None of them say it with any sort of malice or, and he’s gotta laugh, dehumanization. Not like he belongs to her, but that he is of her. Accepted alongside.

Well. Mostly accepted.

Dr. Sullivan isn’t kind, per se, but they let him borrow books. Offer to teach him a language, how to hunt in the city, the countryside. Jacqueline, their spouse, is a French vampire who claims to have drunk from Joan of Arc and found the holy taste bitter. She requests he call her Jack, and she shares with him stories of science and ingenuity that span centuries. And she encourages him to get to know the other manor residents: a trio of flighty, spoiled dhampir.

Benji likes the youngeset the best. Matilda is sarcastic and wild, but sentimental. Sweet, if you catch her at the right time. Isaac is quiet and shy, but the least volatile — he teaches Benji signs for hello and my name is and what’s a vampire’s favorite fruit? Blood orange. Leo, the eldest, Benji thinks might be more mental than even Ina. He latches desperately onto a ghoulish, eerily impenetrable perfection. Grits his jaw, tears too violently into a meal in a way that makes it seem like he’s not hungry for the blood, but the rip. Even still, Benji kisses him three, maybe four times in the decrepit statue garden on the grounds.

And admittedly, he learns a lot — more than he never wished to know. About this life, about being a vampire and not just how to kill them.

He also learns how to read ancient languages from Dr. Sullivan. How to fight with a rapier, with honor, from Jack. How to fight with dishonor from Matilda, how to make protective trinkets from Isaac, and Leo…how to use his newfound strength.

“Good throw,” the blond says, shaking himself of ancient drywall and cobwebs. He glances back at the hole in the study wall with a wry grin. “Maybe one day soon you’ll win against me for real.”

“Tosser,” Benji scoffs, and fists hands in Leo’s tattered Black Sabbath shirt to pull him down for a biting, bloody kiss.

Much later, after his escape from that manor and its occupants, he finds his way back to a small two-bedroom flat. The second he steps foot in the door, clarity washes over him with a chill icier than his death. His lungs burn, but not for air — from the protective sigils Maran had carefully carved into the door-frame.

This is home — was home. He used to call it home, at least, because Maran was there. He doesn’t know if he ever can call it that, again. Doesn’t know, as he stands there in the shadows, if Maran will let him. And Benji has flitted between so many of them in his short span of years that he can’t place a favored one. His mum’s, couches at various exes, this flat, the manor. Now, nowhere. He thinks, with no small amount of anger, he’s been condemned to seek home for eternity.

Everlasting.

“Fuck’s sake,” Maran says, jolting from a deep slumber. “Benji?”

He hasn’t made a sound. The idea that his presence is so palpable, so familiar, that just him standing in that darkened corner is enough to pull his best friend from sleep is — well. It makes him cry once more.

“Maran,” he says, wetly laughing through the tears that slip down his cold cheeks, “We ‘ave got a problem, mate.”

Maran sits up and rubs his eyes, reaching for the bedside light and turning it on.

“Oh shit,” Maran hisses. His brown eyes are wide, but not scared, as they meet Benji’s newly crimson ones. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ say.”

#writing #ua #bp #it #vampire au

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planetdream · 3 years

Text

— SKZ AS ACTS OF SERVICE <3

this post contains: fluff. just the boys doing things for you.

💌 not much to say but thank you for supporting this series <3 read: physical touch | words of affirmation | quality time

CHAN … keeps a period tracker on his phone (if you get those, ofc) just so he knows and can get you the necessary things for that time of the month. when he gets home before you, he always tries to do something special for you—whether it's your favorite food, a nice bubble bath, or something he saw on the way home that he thought you'd like. classic boyfriend who opens and closes doors for you, and pushes your seat in at a restaurant—it’s the simple things. don’t like speaking on the phone to make an important call? he’ll do it for you!

MINHO ... will cook you dinner every time you ask (and even when you don't). you want him to run you a bath? he's on it. any type of massage? he's got you. i think minho really likes to show that he loves you by doing things for you—gets on you for forgetting to do things for yourself, but likes that he can be the one to help you with them. will pack you lunch the night before something important if you tend to forget. whenever he promises that he'll do something, he sticks to his word. likes to schedule your doctors appointments.

CHANGBIN ... loves planning date night. even if what he had planned doesn't work out—just wants to spend time with and do something for you. doesn’t want to intruded or anything, so he’ll ask you if you need help with any specific thing. loves when you call him over to do things that involve heavy lifting (and not just bc he wants to show off, kinda). is terrified of the spider in the corner of the room but he’d gladly get rid of it for you, all for the price of one (1) kiss on the lips. buys you refills on things when he notices you’re running low. always plugs in your phone when you forget.

HYUNJIN ... likes to help you wash you hair. let him pick your next hair style or your outfits for the next few days. matter a fact, let him rearrange your room for you, you know you’ve been meaning to do that. is sometimes forgetful, so he writes down little reminders that help the both of you. carries your bags/phone/purse for you. plans dates and things for you to do at home—surprises you with cute little set ups in the living area. starts the shower for you/runs you a cute little bubble bath.

JISUNG ... would literally do anything you ask him, he doesn’t care if it’s 3 in the morning, he’ll do it. now, he might mess something up a bit on the way but it doesn’t matter because he always adds a little extra. always takes out the trash for you. covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep on the couch. always offers you his last bite of food. likes to learn about all of your hobbies and do them with you. gives you his jacket when you’re cold, and holds you close for extra effort.

FELIX ... likes to help you with your night routine. dinner? taken care of. pajamas? all laid out on your bed when you're out of the shower. even tucks you in with a kiss. he cooks AND he cleans. helps you do wash clothes and fold laundry. likes making you breakfast in bed just so you don't have to worry about it. takes care of you when you’re sick—he’s so sweet, never leaving your side for longer than he needs to. if you hate a specific chore, he’ll learn to love it so that you don’t have to do it. always saves you a seat next to him.

SEUNGMIN ... will make an entire to-do list for you, and complete some of the tasks to lessen how much you have to do. when you're busy at work or studying, he'll send over coffee and a snack for you. half the time you don’t need to ask him to do something, he’ll just see that you need help and take care of it for you. randomly finds himself cleaning up around your apartment. if you ask nicely, he’ll help you do your homework. is on time to all important events.

JEONGIN ... will wash dishes for you—he offers to do them, even. plans a weekend for you to visit another place and go sightseeing, although a lot of it is spontaneous. accompanies you while running errands. will clear the snow off of your car. stops by the store before getting to your place in case you need something. always grabs your jacket and bag for you before you leave—helps you put your jacket on too. always orders/buys you something when he gets something for himself.

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thestoryden · 2 years

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vampire!eddie munson. that's it. that's the request.

Vampire!Eddie x Reader Warnings, Language, Graphic Death, Character Death, Blood, Tears, Vampirism, Angst, Terror Word Count:2.8k

A/N: This is not finished. I am trying to get through my requests, so i decided this for this to be part one in this series. This first part features far less reader insert than there will be in the rest of the series. I can do a tag list for the next part, so just comment if you would like to be added.

Materlist/Request: Open

Hunt the Freak

Jason had never experienced true power until he was turned. The rush that came with hunting down his prey. He had thought he experienced the best adrenaline rushes during games till he fed for the first time. It made his head flood with pure unabiding pleasure. Billy had turned him last year and Jason had slowly been developing a group since then. He only wanted the best so naturally he chose from his team first. Andy made an okay selection, which was then followed by Patrick, and now he had his sights set on Lucas. But there was one problem in his way, Eddie “The Freak” Munson. He thought that Lucas' attachment to his little friend group might cause issues down the line. Jason sought perfection and so he sought to rid himself of his problem.

Jason shoulder checks Eddie causing him to stumble.

“What the hell man!” Eddie remarks.

“I need stuff for the party tonight.” Jason says, “Meet me after the game ‘round back the school.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about man.” Eddie sneers.

“I’ll pay double.” Jason insists.

“Fine.” Eddie snaps.

Eddie walks off down the hall. Jason heads towards the lockers where you and Chrissy are chatting. He closes her locker gently and leans over her. Chrissy's face glows softly at the appearance of her prince. You look at them talking and notice a slight undercurrent of tension, but can not pin the cause.

“What was that about?” You nod your head gesturing to where Jason had just come from.

Jason grabs the edge of his jacket to smooth it down and looks at you.

He smiles, “Just being a good host. I don’t need a pick me up, but I figure a few of our party goers may need something to get them through the night.”

You swallow tightly and breathe out a stream of air. Teeth grazing over your bottom lips as you watch Eddie’s figure move down the hallway.

“Will he be there tonight?” You ask.

“No,” Jason answers flatly, “Why would we want a freak there?”

“Jason, babe it is okay,” Chrissy reassures him, putting a hand on his chest, “She was just curious.”

After school, Eddie waits behind the school leaning against a wall, one of his feet kicked out in front of him. It is almost dusk when Jason shows. He walks up to Eddie with a relaxed pace, but Jason is trying to stuff down a quiet excitement.

“Do you have the stuff I asked for?” Jason snarks.

Eddie is not in the mood to deal with a confrontation; he just wants to go home and relax. He thinks about how he would rather be chilling with Chrissy and you at his place. He mulls over the memory of kissing you in the kitchen after Chrissy had fallen asleep on his bed. He brings himself back to the moment. It was a little unreal to him that had been hanging out with two of the top cheerleaders just a few days ago.

“Do you need someone special K for Chrissy and Y/N ” Eddie asks.

“What the hell are you talking about freak?” Jason questions.

Eddie thinks back to the very first time Chrissy came over and smoked with him. They way she shook with fear when the conversation barely grazed past the mention of Jason. He thought they intentionally appeared as such a perfect couple, that it wasn’t possible for Jason to be the source of her stress. Something that Chrissy mentioned scratches at the back of Eddie’s brain. Jason was hiding something and even she didn't know about it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie says, “So, do you have the cash?”

“Yeah, oh course I do.” Jason insists.

He tucks his hand into his pocket, and pulls out nothing. Jason checks his other pockets. His scowls and irritation spreads across his face. His fangs prod his mouth with anticipation. He tries to hold back.

“Look I can’t sell to you if you don’t have cash.” Eddie reply flatly.

Jason looks up at him, “Ya know I think I just left it in my Letterman. Just come to my car with me and I’ll grab it.”

“Do you want to get caught?” Eddie scolds, “No, I am not doing that.”

“Dude, my car is literally at the other end of the school. I don’t want to have to walk back here. Plus I am pretty sure I parked next to your beater van.” Jason huffs.

Eddie thinks about it. He really did not want to make this take longer than it already has, and he knows he is going to make a decent chunk of change from it, so he agrees.

“Fine, it’s getting dark anyway, so I suppose it is unlikely we’ll be seen together.” Eddie justifies.

“Yeah, it’s kinda perfect.” Jason says under his breath.

Eddie writes it off as some stupid remark and doesn’t press. The parking lot is clear and there is not another soul lurking around the school. Eddie relaxes a bit when he sees his van next to Jason’s car, because even if the cops did show he knows he can just say that they were having car troubles.

“It’s just in the back here.” Jason mentions, “Hey, do you think you can just put the stuff in the trunk once I pay you.”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie, mumbles.

Something feels off to him, but he can’t quite place it. He pushes down the feeling, because he knows it will be worth the money. He rounds to the back of the car where Jason is standing. It is empty. Jason’s jacket isn’t there and there is no beer for the party. Eddies is about to turn around to question what is going on, when Jason shoves him into the trunk. Eddie tries to hoist himself out of his awkward position when Jason takes him by his legs and throws him back. Eddie hits head and his ears ring and his vision blurs.

“Christ! What was that for?” Eddie slurs. He means for it to come out more forceful, but his words string together like sludge.

Jason responds by slamming the lid of the trunk shut. Eddie hears the engine start as he struggles to reorient himself in the pitch black. The back of his head feels warm and when he reaches up to feel it his fingers become wet with blood.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes out.

The car bumps along down the road for a little while before Eddie feels it pull on to gravel. He can hear the rocks pop and ping against the undercarriage. Then it stops, the engine ideals then switches off. Jason lifts open the back and leans down. He loops his arm under Eddie’s torso and pulls him from the car.

“Sorry, about that,” Jason muses, “It’s personal, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“What?” Eddie says breathlessly, “I don’t understand.”

Jason doesn’t feel like he owes him an explanation, but he does want to taunt him. It always makes him feel empowered when his victims are scared. It’s not torture to him, just a justified ending for a problem.

“Look Lucas could go places, but I think that you and your little club are holding him back.” Jason ridicules, “But, if I get rid of their leader, then there’s no Hellfire, and then there is no problem. Then, Sinclair will be free to have a successful life, free from freaks like you.”

Jason's eyes gleam with excitement. His adrenaline makes his blood roar in his ears. His grin grows on his face like an infection. Eddie starts backing up as fast as he can. His body comes flat with a tree. Jason lips curls back revealing a gnarled set of fangs. Eddie is trembling as Jason leers closer.

“Jesus H Christ, man,” Eddie shakes, “Don’t do this please.”

Jason leans in to Eddie so that his mouth is just inches away from his ear, “Run.”

Eddie rips away from the tree and starts sprinting across the pine straw. His old sneakers slipping around as he tears off into the night. His lungs burn with exhaustion, and his bangs are plastered to his forehead. He is dripping with sweat. He sees a cluster of trees with overhanging branches that are thatched together with dead vines. He dives under it. He attempts to cover himself with leaves and branches. That’s when he spots Jason in the twilight. The setting sun catches in his eyes and reflects back an eerie red color.

“Oh, Eddie,” Jason calls out in a sing-song way, “Where are you?”

Eddie brushes his bangs out of his eyes to get a better look, but Jason has vanished from his line of sight.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Eddie whispers, “Where did he go?”

“Got ya!” Jason shouts with a hint of glee.

Jason seizes Eddie's ankles and pulls him out from under the brush. Eddie claws frantically at the ground. Eddie’s eyes are bubbling with tears, making small muddy rivers flow down as the mix with the dirt dusted onto his face. Jason snatches his hold of his wrist and brings him to his knees. Eddie claps his hands.

“Please, Jason,” Eddie prays in delirium, “I am begging you not to do this.”

Jason looks down at him as he quivers in fear, and laughs to himself.

“Of course, man.” Jason says evenly, reaching down his hand.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, “Oh, thank god, I thought you were going to kill me.”

Jason helps Eddie part of the way up, “Oh, I am.” He replies flatly.

Eddie's hopeful face drops immediately. Jason brings his head down on Eddie’s knocking him back on to his back. He stutters and cries, unable to get up as his head starts to spin again. Blood begins to streak down his face. Jason feels the urge rake his throat. His hunger is activated by the beauty of the horror he created. He smiles cruelly as Eddie tries to inch away from him.

“I’d like to say it was nice knowing you, Munson,” Jason cackles, “but it really wasn’t”

He descends upon Eddie pinning him to the ground. He licks the saltiness off of Eddie’s cheek and pulls his neck to the side with one hand. Eddie tries to wrestle away from him, but Jason's prey drive gives him an unprecedented strength that Eddie can’t resist. Jason bites into the side of his neck, going dizzy with bliss when his mouth begins to fill with blood. Eddie scratches at Jason’s face digging his finger into his soft cheeks. Jason sweeps away his arms with ease and continues to feed. Eddie starts to lose his grip on reality; his eyelids are heavy. He feels his body go limp, and the last thing he sees is Jason smiling sadistically as blood drips down his chin.

Jason pulls back in satisfaction. He looks down at Eddie to make a remark, but his eyes are closed and he’s not breathing.

Jason frowns, “Honestly, Munson, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.

He gets up off the forest floor and when the alarm on his watch goes off.

“Shit, I am going to be late to the party.” he says to himself, “Guess, I’ll take care of this later.”

Eddie wakes up to darkness. He feels around the pine straw trying to get his bearings. His whole body is ablaze like he has a fresh sunburn, but the nook between his neck and shoulder feels like it had been driven through with nails. He claws at it with his hand only to find a series of divots crusted with blood. He reels from the pain of touching it, but something pulls his attention. Hunger. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now he could feel it pulling from his stomach. A deep gnawing pain. He attempts to get to his feet but can only roll on to his stomach. He hears faint conversation in the distance and he spots the outline of the old burger joint. He desperately crawls toward it as a faint light of hope.

Eddie claws towards the gravely parking lot, his throat burns and his body feels like it is on fire. He sees the glow of the building through his blurred vision. He stretches an arm toward the outline of the person in the parking lot.

“Please help. Please.” He begs.

Chrissy looks up from where she sits on the edge of Jason’s Jeep.

“Eddie?” She questions.

The feeling suddenly hits Eddie. It is like his body has been taken over; it is all consuming. He finds strength within himself suddenly and climbs to his feet. Chrissy is heading towards him when he suddenly lunges for her. He pulls her down into him as they tumble towards the gravel. Her palms have road rash and are starting to bleed. He grabs hold of her hand and brings it to his mouth. Eddie inhales deeply and the metallic smell floods his brain.

“Eddie, what's going on?” Chrissy questions trying to pull away from him.

“I- I don’t - know.” He stammers, “I just, I need you-.”

“I don’t understand-” She is cut off by a sickening sound.

Eddie's mouth is clamped tightly into her flesh. He swallows deeply, pulling the blood from her hand into his throat. He inhales deeply, going to suck down more of her. Chrissy tries desperately to pull away from him, but her head is spinning.

“Eddie please, please let go,” Chrissy yells.

For just a moment her pleases break through the fog and Eddie releases Chrissy. She immediately scrambles to her feet and begins backing away. She then turns heel and starts running for the building. Her sneakers fling up gravel behind her and her legs burn with adrenaline. Eddie focuses in on the movement and in an instant he is right behind her. Chrissy fist meets the glass door of Benny’s old shop.

“Jason, Anyone, Please!” She screams.

Eddie pounces on her. The force knocks her forward and she hits her head on the metal door handles as he yanks her back. He rips into her neck pulling free her delicate flesh. He tears again shredding through the muscle. Finally he rips into her artery, it sprays blood onto his face. He digs his teeth deeper, draining her. Chrissy goes limp in his arms. When there is nothing good left he pulls back. Tears stream down his face tracing out patterns in the wet blood that is plastered to his face. Jason flings open the glass door to see the horrific sight.

“You bastard.” Jason screeches.

Eddie's face is riddled with distress. Rivulets of pain splash down on Chrissy's lifeless body. Eddie begins to shake and sob.

“What the fuck happened. What the fuck.” Eddie cries in confusion.

Eddie is gently shaking Chrissy’s arm. Her body is heavy and her eyes eternally frozen in the horror of her last dying moments.

“Chrissy wake up,” he begs, “I don’t like this, Chrissy wake up.”

Patrick and Andy had followed right behind Jason, and were now privy to the disgusting mess of a body that had once been their friend. A vicious fledgling creature hunched over her convulsing with overwhelming guilt.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Patrick whispers, a lump stuck in his throat. He is in utter shock. His stomach twists, he had never seen anyone feed from a body like that before. It never sunk in what that might look like when someone lost control. He always had Jason’s guiding hand, so it had never been a worry.

Andy pulls his face back into a grimace. He knows there were going to be repercussions for Eddie's act. He knows Jason’s revenge would be gruesome. The thought of what Jason would do when he lashed out scares him deeply.

“Grab him,” Jason orders.

His blood is boiling. His face is bright red with anger. Jason was supposed to be the only thing that kept Chrissy between life and death. She was his. Eddie had torn through his girl, and he thought his Eddie problem was fixed hours ago. The rage crept into his fists.

The two other boys grab Eddie and drag him to his knees. Teardrops bubble in Eddie’s eyes and drip down his chin, drenching his Hellfire tee in a mixture of bloody liquids.

“Please, you have to help her.” Eddie wails, “There has to be something that you can do Jason.”

Jason grabs the back of Eddie’s head and throws it down into his knee. He snatches Eddie’s mud soaked curls in his hand and yanks his head back. Thick brackish blood gushes from Eddie’s nose. Jason slams knee again and again and then pulls back Eddie’s face.This time the congealed dark reddish liquid flows from Eddie’s lips. He motions to the other boys to bring him into Benny’s.

“The fun is just starting, you freak bastard.” Jason seethes.

He reaches down and wraps Chrissy up in his Letterman and sets her in the backseat of his car. He sniffs trying to hold back some far off humanity that suddenly infested him when he saw her laying on the ground. It quickly burns back to anger as he thinks of Eddie.

“I’ll do this for you, Chrissy.” He says as he slams the door shut.

#eddie #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #vamp!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie munson #vampire eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson request #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #vampire eddie munson

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biisexualemma · 3 years

Text

boys ain't shit. oscar diaz

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing, lots of just angst and angry feminist energy and if this doesn't align with your beliefs, feel free to leave!

requested: 'Hey!! First I want to say that you are an amazing writer so talented! So I was wondering if I could request and imagine with spookyxreader and she overhears Oscar speaking about her or something like maybe she is to clingy or anything you think will fit and then she sort of starts to leave him alone does t opposite of what she heard he doesn't like drifts a little he sees the change questions her and she tells him why- and so angst to fluff If you hate please disregard And thanks anyway ❤️'

a/n: thank you for this lovely request, i only apologise that it took me so long to write! but i'm also glad it did because i kept re-writing this over and over again and it never came out right, but i really love this version! i changed it slightly from the request lol i was listening to 'your power' by billie eilish on a loop while writing this and a lot of anger and preaching came out-- oop-- but also not mad about it. i really like this and hope you do too! enjoy 🤍

on my block masterlist / main masterlist

anger bubbled in your chest but your cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment. your stomach lurched, a mixture of emotions swirling through you. you were angry at him for being such an asshole, but mostly you were embarrassed that you'd found yourself in this position and hurt that he would think to treat you like this. he was an asshole, he always had been, you knew it before you started dating but, somehow, he still managed to worm his way in. mainly because when you were alone he was careful, and sweet, and kind. he cared about you, he told you any chance he got, and you believed him. you were always convinced he meant everything he said, which is why this stung all the more.

"nah, it ain't even like that— she's everywhere man, how you s'posed to shake a hyna like that?" their laughter rang through your ears as you stood, feet frozen in place, out of sight to them. "shit's ridiculous. she's always on top of me."

"man— if i had a hyna that fine on top o' me all the time—"

"the things i'd do—"

you shook your head, blocking out their vulgar comments and trying to rid of oscar's shrewd laughter filling your ears. you were sick to your stomach hearing him talk about you like that, to hear him encouraging his friends crude jokes about you.

you couldn't stop yourself as the small scoff left your lips, catching one of the boys' attention. sad eyes, his smile faltering when he spotted you tucked around the side of the house, listening to every word. "shit," you heard him mumble, nudging oscar whose back was facing you.

oscar always had a thing about keeping up his reputation, which you understood, to some extent, but this had nothing to do with that. this was his friends, talking about you as if you were an object to satisfy their needs. and he was encouraging them. this was you they were talking about, when he claimed to love you.

this wasn't a side to oscar you ever wanted to see, or believe existed. you knew how his friends could be, but to hear him condoning the shit coming out of his friends mouths, made you feel unbelievably uncomfortable.

not to even mention that he was being downright mean, and sleazy in talking about you. you could feel your anger growing the longer you stood there. oscar glanced over his shoulder, his face falling when his eyes met yours. your hands clenched into fists, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

you shook your head, finally knocked out of your state of shock, turning and stomping away from the group of santos. your breathing grew heavier, sweat dripping off you as the sweltering heat started to get to you. you were so angry you could cry. you trusted oscar with everything, it took you a long time to get to that point, and this is how he treated you.

you could hear his muffled calls from behind you getting louder as you continued to march away from the house. you yanked your wrist away when you felt his hand latch onto you, and carried on your walk home.

he sped up, jogging so he stopped dead in front of you, holding out his hands when you tried to manoeuvre around him. "i don't wanna talk to you right now," you spoke calmly, trying again to move past him, his hands latching onto your shoulders to keep you still.

"just— hang on will you—"

you shook your head repeatedly. "no—"

"i don't know what you heard but—" his grip tightened when you tried to wriggle free.

"no," you repeated harsher.

"y/n— c'mon— that was nothing—"

"oscar," you raised your voice, cutting off his ramblings. his eyes never left your face, his eyebrows unknitting when your frown deepened. he scrunched his eyes shut for a second, frustrated he'd upset you. he was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. "no," you repeated once more. his hands slowly released their grip on you, letting you walk passed him. you heard his curse under his breath, walking away from him.

you felt your lip quiver, a lump now growing in your throat as your anger turned into heartache. you weren't sure you wanted to forgive him. but, for now at least, you were going to give him exactly what he wanted. space.

hours later and you were stood in the middle of a crowded party, your teeth clenched around the rim of a red solo cup, biting nervously. you hadn't wanted to come, you would much rather have been at home with a pint of ice cream. but your friend convinced you that getting out of the house tonight would be better for you than wasting away your life thinking about boys and eating ice cream. so far, you weren't so sure she was right.

you'd lost count the amount of times you'd heard loosen up and, you should smile more, thrown at you tonight. you weren't in the right headspace to be surrounded by people who were drunk out of their mind, constantly telling you to cheer up. you wanted to shout out to the entire party, fuck off, so everyone would know to just leave you alone.

so when you spotted his familiar face across the room, having just entered the party, you almost lost it. "no," you muttered to yourself. "not happening," you shook your head. he had been exactly what you came here to get away from. you let out frustrated sigh, shoving your cup into your friends hand and pushing yourself out of the crowd of people.

you hoped to god that oscar hadn't spotted you. you could not hash this out with him right now, that pint of ice cream in your freezer at home was calling your name, and you were ready to claim it.

"fuck me," you felt a hand graze the small of your back. you shivered away from the unwanted touch, turning with a deep-set frown on your face, towards the stranger who'd touched you. "you're hot when you're angry like that—"

"i'm also a fucking psycho when i'm angry so back off," you spat harshly, pushing away the hand he held lingering on your skin. "and don't touch me again," the man backed up, his hands held up in front of him. you huffed, continuing to the exit.

you wrapped your arms around yourself as the cool night air hit your bare skin. you'd left your jacket inside, turning to retrieve it, you saw oscar walking right at you. deciding it wasn't worth the effort, you left, you'd rather freeze than have a conversation with him right now.

"i know you hate me," you heard him call from behind you, his pace quickening as he tried to catch up with you. "but you can't walk home by yourself."

you ignored him, hastening your walk so you didn't have to do this with him. you knew he was right, you knew how incautious you were being walking home late at night alone. but you also desperately wanted nothing to do with him right now.

"ma," you shook your head, trying not to lose it on him in the middle of the street. "c'mon—"

"no— you c'mon oscar," you halted your stride, not able to ignore him any longer. you might as well get it out of your system if he was going to keep persisting. "i have had it with men today. i never wanted to have to include you in that."

he ducked his head, a crease forming between his eyebrows you noticed now you'd stopped to look over him. his eyes rolled, letting out a heavy sigh he'd clearly been holding in for a while.

"c'mon," he tilted his gaze away from yours for a second, trying not to cave under your stare. "you know what the santos are like— it's not my job to keep 'em in check."

"it is when it's me they're talking about," you gritted your teeth, looking at him in disbelief. you'd expected that this was how the conversation was going to go down. which is exactly why you tried to avoid it, you simply didn't have the energy to stand here and explain basic human decency to him. "not to mention— it is literally your job. you run the santos."

"it's not that simple," he ran his hand over his face, taking a small step closer to you. his eyes meeting with yours, begging you not to run off again as he held out a cautious hand towards you. "they didn't mean anythin' by what they said— you think if they did i'd let them 'in an inch of you?"

"you're perpetuating a violent cycle of sexism and objectification by letting your friends talk about any girl like that," you felt your throat tighten, tears had, at some point, welled in your eyes. "and that's not even mentioning what you said about me."

he closed his eyes for a second, his hand dropping back to his side. he turned away from you for a moment, releasing a deep breath he'd been holding. "i didn't mean it," he shook his head, swinging round to face you again. his brown eyes, that you'd always been a sucker for, were literally boring into you. if you hadn't been so angry you would've done anything for him. "i wasn't thinking and i never thought you'd ever hear—"

"that makes it ok then?" you frowned, eyes narrowing at him. "god knows what else you've said about me when i haven't been around to hear it," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep up your appearance despite the tears threatening to fall.

"s'not what i meant," he threw is arms up in frustration. he had, in all honesty, been talking without thinking about what he was saying. he was tired and stressed about how stretched out his time was at the moment. he was taking on more and more work, and therefore, more and more stress and he wasn't dealing with it well. he clenched his jaw when you sniffled, wiping under your nose with the back of your hand. his eyelids drooped. "nena.."

"i just, don't get it," you let out a shaky breath, holding out your hands to stop him moving any closer to you. "if i was being too much, all you had to do was say."

his chest tightened hearing you talk about yourself like that. he shook his head, trying again to reach out to you but you only stepped further away. "you're not too much," he spoke quieter this time. oscar loved you, more than he'd ever loved a girl before, that much was true. he might be bad at showing it sometimes, maybe he let his frustration get the better of him a lot, and maybe he didn't simply tell you enough how much you meant to him. but he loved you, much more than you were aware of.

"then why would you say it?" your voice was soft, breaking when you spoke again. exhaustion was starting to get the better of the both of you. you didn't want to fight with him, you just couldn't get his words out of your head. why would he say it if he didn't mean it?

"it's not you," he reiterated, his lips pursed. he used his forefinger and thumb to unknit the crease between his brows. "it's everything else. with cesar fucking around, shit with the prophets, cuchillos— and then you," he ducked his head, pressing the palm of his hand into his forehead. "i don't know how to manage everything and make time for you."

"why didn't you just tell me?" your features softened, eyes watching him move under your stare. "it's what i'm here for."

he scrunched up his nose, shrugging. "i don't want you involved in santos business," you understood more than you did five minutes ago, but you were still holding yourself back.

"i'm already involved, oscar, it's too late for that," this caught his attention, his brown eyes focused on yours again. you weakened a little. "but if you would just talk to me instead of keeping everything to yourself, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

he nodded faintly, almost uncertain of where you were taking this conversation. last thing he wanted was to lose you because of something so stupid on his end. he reached out, you letting him come close enough now so he could take hold of your hands in his. he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, tugging you closer.

"you know, i love you," you mumbled now he was only inches away from you. "i don't wanna do this again so talk to me, please."

he nodded again, giving your hand another squeeze of reassurance. "i'll try," the way his brown eyes stuck to you made you believe he meant what he said. "i'll do better. promise. i'll keep the santos in check, too. you don't need to worry."

you sunk into his chest, letting him engulf you in a tight hug. you released a shaky breath of relief. his arms wrapped around you, your face squashed against his chest and your arms tightened around his torso. "love you, too, by the way," he mumbled, his mouth pressed into your head of hair. "so much."

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