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cute-sucker · 15 days

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stupid boy (part 1/2)

[13.04.2024]

note: this is like a childhood series that i kinda wanna do...enemies to lovers obviouslyyyy!! (depends on what y'all want - but i might do a series for it/i will be adding a part 2 thooo) words: 1,180

⊹˚. ♡

rafe was someone constant in your life.

from when you were little, with scraped knees, lolly pop in hand. you had moved to kildare when you were seven years old, and couldn't fit in at all. you felt like a lost cause, moping around the house. you didn't know who he was, yet you knew there was a bold boy next door, who climbed trees and claimed to have seen peter pan at night.

yet, you didn't know this about him when you were a small seven-year-old, no you met him at your lowest.

when your parents told you they were getting divorced.

"honey, your dad and i.." your mother began, and both of them shared a knowing look, and then your mother leaned closer to you. you felt the turmoil in the air, yet little seven-year-old you didn't know what was going on.

"your mom and i are getting a divorce." your dad finished the sentence.

divorce.

the word sounded foreign to your lips as you tried to whisper it out, the words were too cold as you tried to stretch it out. it didn't sound good.

"what does that mean?" you asked slowly.

at this your mother winched, "we'll be having a break. you won't see your dad a lot. maybe for a while," she finished, giving your dad a cold look. he seemed to cave into himself, and when you tried to meet his eyes he gave you a sad smile.

you heard your voice go shakey, "divorce?"

"honey-listen, you'll have two christmas, two birthdays-" your dad began almost to console you.

instead, you felt your heart race and hot tears pool in your eyes.

the question you begged to ask was 'why,' and then you wanted to scream, yell and tear the house down.

but you did none of that, instead, you sat there, your hands shaking and hot tears streaming down your face. as a seven-year-old this was too much to process, too much to think about.

your pretty dress was drooping, and before you knew it you were sprinting as fast as you could, a horrible croaking coming out of your mouth. the wind whipped in your face, and your chest heaved as you made it to the park.

the park with its whimsical trees, and its cool wind. you picked berries nearby, and let yourself get dizzy on the swings. the slides were high and daring. it was the place of adventure, and to you, it was a place of safety.

suddenly a small hand tugged at your hair. you gasped looking up to a roguish boy who squinted down to look at you. he had deep cobalt eyes, and eyed you with distaste. you knew him...he was rafe cameron, a year older than you and lived nearby.

"why are you crying?"

your lip wobbled, as you felt your tears fall to the ground. he pulled your hair again, and you cried out.

"get off me!" you cried out, wincing as you held your hair to your head. he seemed to go still but peeked at you curiously. you felt annoyed now, and instead of crying you glared at him.

he looked confused now. "look you're not crying anymore."

"yea' cause you're a big idiot." you spat at him, still rubbing the spot on your head. he was a daring boy to do such a thing to you, and if you weren't so messed up you wouldn't hesitate to beat him up.

"why are you crying?" rafe asked you again, and this time you sniffed and turned away from him.

"just cause."

he shrugged now, "i make my sister cry sometimes," he confessed sheepishly, "i shave her barbies hair off, and dad told me i should stop."

you frowned at him, "that's not really nice."

"well, you're not nice either 'cause you're lying to me right now."

that was a fair point, and you found yourself defensively clutching your dress, your hands reaching for something to ground you.

"my parents are getting divorced."

saying out loud made it more real.

"that's it?"

you felt your anger bubble up now, giving another cry. "what do you mean that's it? they were talking about different holidays, and i heard them fight. they scream and yell and- and i'm really scared."

at this, the boy sobered and kicked the weeds under his foot.

"sorry."

you shook your head at his apology, swatting him away. he was an idiot this boy, a mean one at that too. you couldn't believe what he was saying to you. this small idiot of a boy.

"can you leave now?" you told him, ordering him almost. yet he didn't respond to you. finally, you raised your voice, fists balled up. "leave me alone!"

"why?"

he looked confused, dangling his feet below the bench, and staring at you with that intense look. you wondered where his parents were, and then second you wondered if your parents were looking after you.

you struggled for words now, "i don't like you very much, and you're mean, and-and i don't like people seeing me cry."

"i'll tell you a secret."

this piqued your interest, and you tried to pretend like it didn't. but the rafe seemed to notice the way you twitched in interest, and grinned at your curiosity. he inched closer to you, bumping his shoulders next to yours.

"what is it?" you asked him annoyed, yet you couldn't help but look up at him.

"you look ugly when you cry."

your breath caught in your throat, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. the fleeting moment of curiosity evaporated, replaced by a surge of hurt and anger.

"how dare you?" you muttered, your voice trembling with indignation. "that's not a secret, that's just mean!"

the rafe's grin faltered, his cobalt eyes widening in surprise at your sudden outburst. but instead of apologising or backtracking, he seemed to double down on his callousness.

"hey, i'm just being honest," he retorted, his tone defensive. "if you don't like it, tough!"

"why do you hate me? you don't even know me," you cried out.

finally, he stiffed, and then folded his arms, and then whispered something under his breath. you couldn't help but gruffly sigh, as you noticed he wasn't going anywhere.

"what did you just say?"

rafe scowled now, "i was gonna tell you to smile more, 'cause you'll look pretty then, but you interrupted me!"

"-and that will make what you just said to me?"

rafe's scowl deepened, but beneath the defiance in his gaze, you caught a glimpse of something else—a flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even regret.

"i thought you might feel better," he muttered giving you a dirty look. yet behind his eyes, you saw confusion.

"well, it didn't."

with that, you turned on your heel and stormed away, refusing to give him a piece of your frustration.

he was a stupid boy.

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chubbyreaderchan · 1 year

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Pinky Promises | Michael Myers x F!Reader

Summary: Michael’s childhood friend finds her way back into his life. He becomes obsessed with her when he remembers their promise to each other.

1, 2, 3, 4 (???? Maybe)

A/n: This is actually going to be a series I finish. I have part 2 halfway written already and I think it will be about 3/4 parts. The warnings won’t apply to this one other than the childhood trauma of being torn from the best friend, but in future parts, they will both be adults and there will be adult content that I will label at the beginning.

Also, there will be yandere situations with Michael and reader is morally grey as an adult.

"Michael!"

The small boy turned his head and stands from the dirt pile the young boy was playing in. He walked to the chain link fence and looked down the sidewalk at a young girl running towards him. She pushed a bright pink baby buggy towards his house and he tried not to smile.

"Hi," she giggled, out of breath before Michael.

"Hi," he repeated after her.

His fingers gripped the cold metal wires and he peers at what was in the stroller. Often she'd bring a variety of toys in the familiar vehicle. Wooden swords, "cooking" dishes, and her baby doll that she called Mickey Jr.

"Do you wanna play with me again today?" She asked with a bright smile on her face.

His heart pounded in his chest at her cheeky grin. He looked up at her, nodding before unlatching the fence with a clink. The sound of metal against the sidewalk seemed to harmonize with the sound of wind chimes in the late summer afternoon.

"Do you want to play mommies and daddies? Or--"

Her toys were strewn about the Myer's front yard. Michael was holding tight to the small doll in his hands, following anything that the small girl had planned for him.

He simply nodded.

Just as Michael passed the doll to (Y/n) a car pulled up in front of the house. Judy and he boyfriend exited the dark blue car, he pinched at Judy and she giggled as they raced up to the house.

"Hey, Mikey," the boyfriend cooed. "Is this your little girlfriend?"

"Come on, Danny. Before my parents get home," Judy said tugging him into the house.

Michael looked at (Y/n) his head cocking to the side at the word Danny used.

"Michael!" The shrill voice filled his ears again.

"Do you want to look at clouds with me today?" She asked, cocking her head to the side slightly once she was in front of his house.

He popped open the gate again and she grinned. Michael's heart fluttered as she dropped to the ground. Her feet were bare and caked in dirt. Her toes wiggled against the grass as the found the perfect spot for cloud watching, not far from either of their houses.

"We were planting a tree in our backyard," she said when she noticed he was staring at he toes. Then she spun and flopped to the ground with a laugh.

Michael stiffly sat down and laid next to her. He froze when he felt the slightly taller girl cuddle up to his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

The boy felt his face heat up, and her hand tangled with his.

She squeaked in delight as she pointed at clouds above them with her free hand.

"Look that one looks like a pumpkin," she giggled.

He didn't look.

He was looking at her. That was until she looked at him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I love you Michael," she whispered.

She smelled like fruity candy and honey shampoo.

"When we are all grown up, can we get married?" She asked, looking at him.

He looked at the sky, thoughtful for a moment.

"Yes,"

"Pinky promise?" She held up her pinky.

He hooked his into hers.

"Promise,"

A big smile cracked along her face and Michael's heart pounded in his chest.

Fall was in full swing.

Michael could hear screaming. At first he thought it was just another Halloween prank. But then (Y/n) was running down the street screaming.

Her parents on her tail as she ran to Michael pushing the gate open and running to where he was standing on his porch.

"Don't let them take me, Michael" she shouted, pulling him into her vice grip.

He returned it, protective hold even at the age of six he was quite strong.

"We are moving to California. I don't want to move. I don't wanna!" She said.

Her parents' hands moved to pry them away. Michael felt his own mother and sister grab him.

"No!" She screamed, piercing his ears and sending ice into his veins. Her tears tracked down her cheeks and his heart went numb.

"Michael don't let them take me,"

He reached for her hand and she was torn from his grip.

"Michael!"

"Daddy let me go! We pinky promised," she shouted.

#michal myers x reader #chapter 1 #part 1 #michael myers x reader #michael myers x y/n #slashers x reader #slasher huggers #slashers imagines #slashers romance #childhood friends to lovers #Pinky Promises | Michael Myers x F!Reader

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astratheodora · 8 months

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Promise (Ghost x F!Reader)

Summary: Ghost and you are sent on a mission to gather intel from a target hiding out in a busy nightclub Word Count: 4,045 Rating: Explicit/Mature Warnings: Hints of light torture (choking of a hostage) Notes: Friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, readers call sign is Mirage

AO3 / PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3

Ghost had his arm linked with yours as he walked beside you. His words were sharp as he glanced down at you, pulling you into the building. “Be on your best behavior. I’m not playing around here.” He whispered.

You tighten your hand on Ghost’s bicep, the grip angry. “The only person who needs an attitude check is you… put on a smile so you don’t look like you beat me behind closed doors.” You angrily muttered back while you plastered a barbie smile, making it look like you were happily chatting. Your eyes scanned through the crowd of people, “lead the way.”

“We’re pretending to be happy, remember? So don’t use that little pissy tone when you talk to me.” His hand slid further down your arm, gently squeezing as he gave you another sharp glance.

You lessened your grip on his bicep.

“Good girl.” He muttered, looking away.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, trying to hide the slight blush as he called you a “good girl”. This was going to be a long night.

Shifting back into the mission, “do you see him yet?” Your eyes still scanning the crowd through the flashing lights and thumping music. It would be easy to disappear in this sea of people… if you know where all the exits are.

“He’s over there.” He responded, his hand moving upwards so that it rested just under your shoulder.

Ghost turned as he noticed a man heading towards the bar, his focus fixed on the target.

“That’s him.” Ghost muttered.

You followed Ghost’s gaze until you were both looking at the same man cutting through the crowd. He was tall and well kept. His hair an almost perfect fade into a carefully messy top, his facial hair freshly shaved. All to match his expensive clothing that made his tan skin almost glow under the club lights. Your job was to seduce this man and get him back to the hotel room, which would be you more or less during and then kidnapping the man.

You let out one last deep sigh, the adrenaline starting to rush through your veins. “I’m ready. Don’t take your eyes off me.”

“Of course not.” Ghost responded as he turned to face you again. His face showed nothing other than a blank expression, but you had the feeling that he wasn’t actually looking at you properly, instead he was scanning the room to make sure you were safe.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” He asked, his voice still cold and rough as ever.

You looked into Ghost’s eyes, the deep blue pulling you in. His voice was cold and stern, but you could see the fear deep down. He knows you can handle yourself if you need to, but he didn’t want to have to lose anyone else again.

“I can handle this. I promise.”

You slipped from his grip and started walking towards the bar. Ghost kept his attention on you, despite how he clearly wanted to look elsewhere. He watched as you walked away, your hips swaying seductively as your glossy lips slightly parted. Ghost had to look away for a moment, his face heating up as he felt his breath hitching in his throat slightly.

Parting through the dancing bodies with ease until you reached the end of the bar, perching yourself on a barstool in direct eyeline of the target. You gently waved your hand at the bartender, getting his attention.

“What can I get for you?”

“Can you make me a Shirley Temple?”

The bartender nodded and turned to make your drink. You could feel a set of eyes on you, the target already making his move, sauntering over to you just as the bartender sets the drink down. “Put it on my tab,” he cuts in as he sits in the stool next to you.

You give him a shy giggle, “what a gentleman.”

Ghost watched intently, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched as he watched the target lean towards you, his fingers bushing against yours. Ghost’s eyes darkened, a flash of anger shining through as he noticed that hand starting to linger near your exposed thigh. He moved his focus away for a moment, not wanting to interfere and cause a scene.

You chewed on your lip playfully as you felt the target's fingertips trace up and down your thigh. “Can I get your name, handsome? Afterall, you did buy me a drink.” Your voice came out smooth and sultry, but in your head all you wanted to do was barf, this man was a dog.

“Oh, how rude of me not to introduce myself.” The man replied with a seductive smile. “I’m Damien, Damien DeMarco, but you can call me anything you want.” His finger traced around the exposed area of your thigh; his gaze hyper fixed on you. He looked like a lion stalking his prey and you were an antelope.

You giggled playfully again, “nice to meet you, Damien. My name is Lavinia.” A fake name, but a pretty one, enough to keep his attention.

Damien leaned into you, his hand gently brushing against your thigh again. “The pleasure’s all mine, Lavinia.”

Ghost shifted his stance slightly, his eyes widened as he noticed how Damiens hand moved closer to your ass. But he remained silent and still.

You resisted the urge to flinch and pull his hand away as Damien squeezed gently at your ass. He leaned in closer; you could smell his cologne but also the alcohol on his breath. You hummed happily, “a man who knows what he wants.” You played into what Damien wanted but your stomach churned.

“Oh definitely,” Damien purred, his head moving close to your neck and his breath tickling your skin. His hand slipped back up your thigh, his fingertips slipping beneath the hem on your dress, gently touching the soft skin on your inner thigh.

Your heart raced with fear, your hand instinctively slammed down and startled you both. You quickly laughed and smiled playfully, “in such a rush. What a naughty boy…” Your voice low and seductive. You playfully danced your fingers on Damiens hand. “How about we go back to my room and finish this conversation more… privately?”

Damien let out a groan of excitement, his hand slipping further into your dress. “Absolutely,” he replied, biting his lip as he looked at you lustfully. “Shall we get going dear?” He purred. “I can’t wait to taste you."

Ghost shifted again, trying to focus on something else, anything else other than what Damien was doing to you.

You took a quick glance at Ghost and gave him a gentle nod, signaling him to follow. You slipped off the barstool and took Damiens arm, leading him out of the bustling club and out into the quiet street. He followed without hesitation, his arm slipping down and wrapping around your waist, looking down at you with a sultry expression.

Ghost tailed both of you, using the shadows as cover as he stayed out of sight, listening from a distance.

“Darling, I can’t wait to see what I might find under that dress.” Damien whispered in your ear.

You hummed warmly and fingered at the buttons on his shirt, “you’ll have to be patient, naughty boy.” You teased at him before pulling away and walking a few steps ahead of him. Turning back to see if Ghost was trailing. A rush of relief overcame you for a moment as you eyed his figure hiding among the shadows. “Come on Damien, it’s this hotel here.”

Damien’s lips parted in a smug grin as you pulled away, his eyes traveling the length of your body. “No rush darlin’, as long as you show me what I’ve got to work with… it’s fine by me.”

Ghost kept himself hidden, following the two of you into the hotel. The adrenaline making your heart beat faster as you were both almost to your room.

You could feel your heart pounding in my chest, it roared in your ears. You led Damien into the hotel and down the hall, making sure he never had a chance to glance at Ghost tailing closer and closer behind. All of Damiens' touches lingered on your skin and you couldn't wait to get into a shower and scrub it all away.

You stood in front of the door and unlocked it. Before entering, you turned and stood with your back to the door. Letting Damien trap you between him and the door. You looked up at Damien with doe eyes and fluttered your lashes. "I have such an exciting evening planned for you," you whispered.

Your eyes quickly glancing at Ghost behind Damien with a syringe lined up against his neck. Within seconds it's inserted into Damiens neck.

The syringe slid into Damien’s neck, the cold liquid pumping into his body instantly. Damien’s eyes widened in shock for the briefest second before his body grew lax and he slumped down against you.

Ghost stepped forward quickly, dragging his unconscious body into the room. You followed close behind, locking the door behind you.

“We’re all clear.” Ghost murmured as he dropped Damien into the desk chair, his hand moving to close the curtains. He looked over at you for confirmation that you were alright.

You glanced at Damien and shivered in disgust and dry-heaved at the thought of him touching you. "God, fucking FUCK!" You groaned. "I swear that man was hard at the bar already."

You took a few steps closer to Damien and lightly kicked his leg. "Disgusting mother fucker... we should get him bound to a chair in case he's been partaking in party favors tonight."

Ghost crouched down and grabbed some handcuffs out of a duffle, quickly snapping them around Damien’s wrist and chaining them together.

He stood back up and looked at you again. “You okay?” He asked gently.

Ghost's gentle voice took you off guard. You felt a pit growing in your stomach, "no but I will be..." You hugged my arms around yourself before sitting on the bed.

Ghost nodded and continued his attention with Damien, gently sitting him up on the chair. The man’s body was almost like a heavy doll, it’d be easy to move him. Ghost grabbed a towel and quickly gagged Damien’s mouth before walking over to you.

“Are you sure you're going to be okay, or do you need a break?” He asked again. Ghost sounded genuine with his concern towards you, wanting to make sure you were alright.

You took a moment to look at Damien's body secured to the chair, slowly coming out of his drugged sleep. He looked powerless and pathetic. Not the same man you met in the bar.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "I'm okay, thank you." You said softly looking at Ghost. "It looks like he'll wake up soon, let me go change out of this."

Ghost seemed to understand, he could tell that you were still in shock and just needed time to settle down into your normal self again. His expression softened as you spoke to him.

“Yeah, you do that, I’ll keep an eye on Damien here.” Ghost murmured as he sat down in the desk chair, watching Damien as he slowly started to wake up.

Ghost sighed in relief. “Go get changed, love.”

You looked at Damien, the anger in his eyes was so sharp. You kept my face neutral, which only seemed to piss him off more. You turned around slowly, aiming your back towards Ghost. "Could you unzip me?" You asked Ghost in a soft sultry tone, messing with Damien.

Ghost’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you. Damien looked angrier at the fact that Ghost was right there, unable to do anything to you. He could see the smug look on your face as you continued to toy with him.

Ghost came over and started to unzip your dress slowly, the fabric peeling downwards. “You enjoy doing this, don’t you?” He asked as a smile formed on his lips.

A soft sigh of relief escaped your lips as the tight fabric of the dress loosened. Resting your hands over your chest to keep covered, holding the dress up. "I enjoy doing a lot of things..." You hinted in a low tone.

Ghost watched you in awe, he was starting to realize just how smart you really were. His eyes went to Damien, who was still tied up but was now wide awake. He was angry as he saw you leave the room, his eyes flicking between you and Ghost desperately.

“I enjoyed watching that too.” Ghost murmured; his lips slightly parted as his eyes trailed over your legs again.

It was something about you, and a certain look you gave that did it for Ghost. You knew exactly how to get his attention. You could wrap him around your finger.

You looked back at Ghost over your shoulder and gave him a sly smile before sauntering into the bathroom. Quickly changing into a pair of black jeans and a plain black long sleeve shirt. Any loose hair was tied back into a bun now.

When you walked back into the room Damien pulled at the cuffs that held him to the chair and angrily grunted against the fabric gag in his mouth. He scowled at you as I walked over to him. You looked down at him, taking your hand and cupping his cheek. "Oh Damien," you clicked your tongue, "I'm going to make you a deal, ok? You behave and I'll make all this as painless as possible."

Damien grew even more furious as you cupped his cheek, looking down at him like he was a pet dog and not a man.

He tried to say something through the gag but it was hard to tell what he was trying to say exactly. He let out a few grunts that sounded like a growl, and his eyes were filled with anger. He didn't want to play your game, but you'd make sure he didn't have a say in it.

A dark smile spread across your face as Damien fought against the request. "Aww, you don't want to play?"

You wrapped one of your hands around his throat and squeezed. Keeping his head tilted back so he'd have to look up at you. You looked deep into his eyes, your face neutral, your voice low and monotone. "I won't kill you, but I'll push your body to the point you wish you were dead." Your grip on his throat tightened, your fingers would leave bruises at this point as you constricted his breathing now. "Do you yield?"

Ghost's eyes widened as he watched you, feeling himself growing tense. His hands were clasped together tightly as he sat up, ready to do something if you didn't let Damien go.

"Y-Yes." Damien finally replied, a low raspy voice as he choked. "I... yield."

You held onto Damiens throat for a moment longer. You wanted to make sure the message got through to him. You let go quickly, taking a few steps back. Damien sputtered for breath and cough roughly.

You breathed deep and took a glance at Ghost. "I think he's ready to talk," you joked softly.

Ghost remained sitting on the desk, his gaze flicking between Damien and you. When you let Damien go Ghost let out a quiet huff and relaxed himself. Damien was gasping for breath, his eyes darting between you both as he tried to catch his breath. His skin was turning red from the lack of oxygen.

“Jesus Christ, Mirage.” Ghost whispered.

You took a few steps back and crossed your arms over your chest defensively. Damien was a disgusting man, and he was lucky you didn't kill him right then and there.

Damien’s jaw was clenched as he looked up at you, hatred radiating from his eyes. “What do you want?” He growled.

Ghost looked at Damien and took a few steps closer to him. His expression was serious as he looked Damien up and down. Ghost leaned down so he was level with Damien, his eyes shifting to you as you stepped back.

“What are you doing here Damien?” Ghost asked calmly, waiting for Damien to reply.

Damien was panting, still gasping for breath. He swallowed a few times before finally replying. “What does it look like genius? You’ve ruined my evening.” He narrowed his eyes at Ghost and looked at him with disdain.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed loudly, "as if you could ever get a chance in bed with me, you disgusting prick." You bit at Damien before laughing. "You don't just happen to be in this country to go clubbing…"

"Fine so I'm in town for other reasons, what does that bother you sweetheart?" You could see Damien getting annoyed again now, looking at you as he spoke.

Ghost looked at Damien, then back at you, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "What other reasons do you have for being here Damien?" He asked in a calm and collected tone.

Damien's jaw clenched at Ghost, the way he spoke to him wasn't one that Damien appreciated, and you could tell that he was annoyed with you now. He let out a grunt of annoyance as he turned his focus back to you.

"Why are you looking at me?" You ask sarcastically. You were waiting for Ghost to hit him at this point. Damien was too cocky for his own good and it was getting on your nerves.

"What are you doing here Damien?" Ghost asked again, ignoring what you said as the man grew annoyed at his tone. Damien didn't appreciate being spoken to like a child, he wanted Ghost to be a little more respectful towards him.

"Why don't you tell us about your little mission?" Ghost replied calmly.

Damien let out a deep grunt, his jaw clenching. His eyes widened as he looked at Ghost, he hated the way Ghost spoke to him but he didn't say anything.

"Fucker." You mumbled before walking over to the duffle bag. You slipped on work gloves and pulled out a metal wire. You stood and marched behind the chair Damien was cuffed to, twisting the metal in your hands. You lowered your arms around Damiens throat, the wire against his throat. You put your mouth against his ear and spoke low. "Answer the man's question Damien."

Damien’s eyes widened in fear as the wire wrapped around his neck. The man gasped for breath as he looked at you through panicked eyes.

"L-let..." Damien let out a few gasps of air, his breathing erratic and uneven. “Let... l-let me go.” He begged, his voice low and rasped.

“Answer the question, Damien.” You growled in his ear.

Damien let out a deep grunt and started talking, "I was hired by someone and asked to keep an eye out for you." He grumbled. "That's it. I wasn't given any names."

"Hired?" You asked Damien. "By who?"

Damien shook his head. "Don't know. Just someone I do odd jobs for."

You looked over at Ghost as he listened, his expression grew slightly worried.

Damien’s eyes darted between you and Ghost and he swallowed heavily as sweat built on his forehead.

“Who did you do the job for Damien?” Ghost asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Damien let out a grunt, his neck straining under your grip. “I-I don’t know.” He grunted, “just some dude I met at the pub, alright?”

Ghost leaned over and grabbed Damien’s phone off the desk. He turned the phone on and quickly started going through Damien’s messages and contacts.

You could see Damien fidgeting in the chair, he knew Ghost was about to find out who hired him.

You felt that pit in your stomach grow as you realized who would have it out for us. "It's Graves, isn't it?" You asked quietly.

Damien went stiff in the chair and the air in the room shifted. It had to be him.

"Ah hell..." Ghost growled, a deep sigh of annoyance escaping him.

“Yeah... it’s Graves.” Damien grunted.

“Goddamnit.” Ghost whispered.

He put Damien’s phone back on the desk and turned to face you. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves in a mess now.” He sighed.

You ran your hands over your face and sighed heavily. "Call Price and get Damien out of here."

There wasn't anything more Damien could tell you about Graves that you didn't know. At this point you were beyond drained and ready to crawl into bed. You wanted Damien far away from you.

Ghost nodded and quickly got to work. He called in to Price and told him to send a team over to pick Damien up and take him to a secure location.

You needed a break after all of this, you just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep it off.

Damien was soon gone, being transported to another location far away from you. Relief washed over you. You walked back into the hotel room and over to the bed. Letting your body fall back into the mattress with a soft oof.

"Do we ever stop fighting?" You asked quietly, your voice exhausted, almost melancholy. Eyes fixated on tracing the brush lines in the paint on the ceiling.

“I don’t know if we do, I wish I did." Ghost replied quietly to your comment, you could see the exhaustion in his face now. He sat down on the bed next to you. A small sigh escaped him and his eyes locked on you. “Still doing alright?"

"I'm exhausted... Damien took a lot out of me and I am so thankful I don't have to see him again." You sighed heavily before sitting up. "I just need five minutes where I don't exist.. where I'm not fighting for my life." You leaned towards Ghost until your arms were touching, your head balancing on his shoulder.

Ghost looked at you, seeing how tired and exhausted you were. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what exactly would cheer you up and make you feel better.

“Do you mind if I hug you for a moment? I’m sure that’d make you feel a little better.” He asked in a soft tone.

Your eyes widened at his offer. He wasn't typically a touchy guy, but you know he cared deeply. "I would really like that actually."

A small smile appeared on Ghost's face at your response. Ghost scooted a little closer to you and slipped his arms around your waist, he carefully pulled you into a hug and held you against him.

His body was warm and firm, you had never felt someone so protective over you before.

“There.” Ghost murmured, “Is that better?”

You snaked your arms around his waist and pulled him closer. Burying your face into his chest and sighing. His cologne filled your nostrils, it smelled amazing. He was warm, the way his arms held you, everything was perfect. You started to feel tears sting your eyes and you blinked rapidly to hide them. You hoped he couldn't see your face right now.

"Can we stay like this for a bit... please?" You mumbled shyly.

"We can stay like that for as long as you want." Ghost murmured, his free arm running through your hair gently.

He could feel the tears that fell down your cheeks and he knew that you needed to have this moment together. This wasn't the usual Ghost; this was a moment unlike any other.

You could feel his heart pounding a little quick, he didn't normally get this intimate with people but with you it felt natural.

"How about this… I'll hold you until we fall asleep." Ghost whispered.

"Deal." You mumbled into his chest. You knew if you kept your eyes closed for a few minutes you would be dead asleep. Especially wrapped in his arms. You felt so safe and protected. "I really like your cologne." You let out a soft laugh and breathed in his scent again.

Ghost’s hand moved upwards and slowly caressed your cheek, wiping away a few tears. He smiled and let out a soft chuckle at your comment.

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mrghostrat · 2 months

Note

AU Writing suggestion? (Perhaps) 👀👀

I've been reading a lot of your work, and you do an incredible job at everything, especially slow-burn. From your work, I couldn't help but think you would write an incredible story of Aziraphale and Crowley in an arranged marriage AU. (Enemies to lovers???) (Whatever era you'd prefer) It may not be your cup of tea, but I wanted to share the idea in case it ever intrigued you.

It would also be a very creative one at that, considering how you're always able to put Good Omens references in your stories in subtle ways. (Those references are always enjoyable to see) Love your work. Keep it up!

rotating this idea in my mind like a microwave

#my only problem with writing arranged marriage #is i have no idea how arranged marriage works #i know some cultures do it #and i know nothing abt those cultures ththgthp #another Married At First Sight au? MAFS Australia to collide our worlds??? (mafs aus is fucking ART i swear to god)#good omens/#ask a rat #ratwips #edit: jesus chfikn christ i did it again i answered 1 part of your message and completely ignored all the #AMAZING WONDERFUL THINGS U JUST SAID TO ME #WTF Thabk you that’s so freaking sweet 😭😭😭😭#edit edit: NEATLY ADDING ‘ARRANGED MARRIAGE ENRMIES TO LOVERS’ TO MY REGENCY AU IDEA PILE………

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

If You Want It To Be - Part 1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s one of my entries for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event! ❄️ Hope you enjoy Part 1 of 3. (I will release one chapter per week! Possibly sooner. 😉)

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,900 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Bickering, fluff, jealousy, angst, friends to lovers, (eventual) smut.

Part 1: December 23

“I never thought I’d miss my own bed as much as I do right now,” you mutter.

Though your body’s weary, you manage to heft your duffel bag onto your shoulder. Soon enough, you’ll be out of this craptastic motel.

More specifically, away from the cot that nearly broke your back while you weren’t sleeping on it. Who could sleep on a bed of rusty-ass springs?

But while Sam is already loading weapons and his things into the Impala, Dean seems to be taking his sweet time, fiddling with something by the solitary nightstand in between the two queen beds. Your extra cot is laid out in the corner (may it rot in hell).

Dean glances up at you at your remark.

“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on all week,” he quips. And he smirks when you send him a mock warning look.

“Don’t mess with me right now. Haven’t gotten my beauty sleep in three days.” You have to adjust your duffel on your shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

Dean’s smirk fades the longer he concentrates on trying to put on his watch.

“Trying to…damn it, think this strap is done.”

Sighing, you set down your bag on the bed and sit down next to him on the edge of it. You peer over his shoulder and see that the leather band is indeed broken.

“Aw, that sucks. I can replace it for you if you want, since I’m the one who wrangled you guys out here,” you say with a frown.

You called them for backup when you discovered the coven of witches. If you’ve learned anything about hunting over the years, it just isn’t safe to go after a group of those demon-worshipping assholes without help. And it gave you a reason to get back in touch with Sam and Dean…

If you’re honest, it gave you an excuse to see Dean.

You haven’t seen him in months, but he and Sam came when you called. The three of you managed to take out all four of those bitches, after having to track them down across the plains of Indiana.

At least it only came at the cost of Dean’s watch.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. He tries to wave you off, but you shake your head stubbornly.

“Really, I mean it,” you say. “I’ll buy you a new one. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and while you love this time of year (and your own bed), part of you isn’t looking forward to going home to an empty apartment.

Dean looks up at you with a rueful smile. “Really, it’s okay. This one was my dad’s.”

At that, your guilt intensifies. “Oh…guess there’s no replacing that. I’m sorry.”

“This’s just what I get for hauling my ass out here, pulling yours out of the fire,” he remarks. Some humor creeps back into his smile. “As usual.”

“Hey, if anything, I saved your ass,” you tease back, even though you still feel guilty. “That he-witch was about to grate you into Swiss cheese.”

And then you shot him between the eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean raises his brows at you. “And when Barbie girl locked you in her cellar, that was what, you taking a nap?”

Your lips purse in response. You enjoyed seeing that platinum blonde bitch go down hard—with an iron chain wrapped around her neck. Dean held her down while Sam finished her off with two shots to the chest.

Trust Dean to try and take credit for the whole thing. You get up to your feet with a roll of your eyes, collecting your bag. You feel his presence burning behind you as you both head out of the motel.

“I would’ve figured it out eventually,” you say.

“Right. Where have I heard that before?” Dean says dryly. He follows you to your car and watches you throw your duffel into the backseat. Maybe he admires the curve of your ass in those jeans for a bit too long while you’re bent over.

But his eyes snap back up to yours when you straighten, turning back to him with a wry look. For years, this is how things have always been between you. Playful, sniping, not entirely flirting, but not quite not either.

Sam then comes around the Impala to give you a friendly hug goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says with a smile. You return it, giving his plaid-covered chest a light punch.

“You two are the ones with the packed dance cards. I’m lucky I got you guys to even answer my call,” you quip. “I’m down to goddamn smoke signals here.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you into his arms next. “If we’re screening anyone’s calls, it ain’t you, sweetheart.”

You huff at that, but your smile is more genuine when you hug him back. For a brief moment, you let yourself revel in his warmth, his spicy aftershave, the solid feel of him wrapped around your whole body like a perfect man glove.

It’s so familiar to you, but bittersweet. Because all too soon, you have to let go.

“It was good to see you,” you say, a little softer than you meant to. Dean’s lips quirk at a warmer smile. There’s something in his eyes you can’t name when he releases you.

But with a sigh, you turn and get into your car—an old Ford Focus.

“You’re really still rockin’ that rusted out piece of shit, huh?” Dean asks, watching you with crossed arms as you climb in. The door creaks loudly when you shut yourself in. You flash him a wan smile and lower the window (with the embarrassing hand crank).

“Since 2003. Good old Hubert hasn’t failed me yet,” you reply. And then you turn the ignition.

It splutters, but doesn’t start the car.

What the fuck?

Frowning, you try it again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

The brothers Winchester still stand between your car and the Impala in the parking lot. Sam shares a glance with Dean, who brushes a hand over his mouth as he watches.

Finally, you look up at them with a grimace when your car just dies. Kaput. There’s the sound of pressure releasing, along with your high hopes of making it home tonight.

“Goddamn it, Hubert.”

That’s how you find yourself a guest of Le Bunker a few hours later, after Dean tows your car all the way to Lawrence, Kansas.

“You’re welcome to stay for the holidays,” Sam tells you once the three of you make it inside. He leads the way down the winding staircase. Dean follows behind you.

“That’s right! Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” you reply with a smile.

Your family loves Christmas, but it’s just you this year. Your father is on an extended cruise with his new wife, technically your stepmother. When your dad asked you how you felt about them going on this trip, they seemed so excited about it that you didn’t feel like you could say no.

So between watching Halmark movies by yourself all day and hanging out here with your friends, there’s really no decision to make. You agree to stay.

Sam nods back at you and continues into the bunker. He goes on to greet Castiel and Jack in the living room.

When you reach the ground floor, Dean lays a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

“I’ll take a look at your car, see if we can’t get it running in a couple days,” he says.

“By Christmas? That’s a tall order,” you reply with a grin. “Even for Dean Winchester, Un-Certified Mechanic.”

Dean smirks back at you, crossing his arms. “That a challenge, sweetheart?”

You pull out your best Charlie’s Angels narrator voice. “I guess it is. Your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

His gaze is warm with playful scrutiny, from your dirty sneakers to your jeans and black V-neck top, to the messy ponytail keeping your hair together. But you can’t help but blush at the lazy, damn near flirtatious way he does it.

“All right. Challenge accepted,” he says, crossing his arms. “What do I get if I win?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “My undying respect.”

He just hums and leans against the iron guardrail of the stairs, hands sliding into his pockets.

“Not enough for you?” you ask.

He shrugs, unimpressed, like he can take it or leave it. You step up on one of the stairs and fold your arms on the guardrail, so you can be level with Dean’s eyes.

“Okay. If you manage to miraculously get my car running by Christmas, you get one consequence-free request,” you offer. He raises a brow at that.

“Anything I want?” he asks.

“Within reason,” you amend, though you’re starting to blush. It curves his lips.

“No questions asked?” he hedges.

You think about it for a moment…

“None,” you shake your head. “We got a deal?”

Dean smirks back at you and crosses his arms.

“Deal.”

Maybe the little bet is silly. You know very well Dean can fix your car in two days. Just as you know you need to keep a tighter lid on your feelings…

Now that you’re here in the Bunker, unable to escape him, there’s too much potential for spillage—of things you’ve long kept hidden.

It just never seemed like he was seriously interested. Even if he ever is, you also know very well that Dean’s not the dating type. And you…you just don’t think you can handle being another “hit and run” for him.

Or a “sometimes” girl.

Or even worse, a “when it’s convenient” girl.

If you think too long about it, that would just about rip your heart out.

So you ignore the thought of Dean again for a while. After you shower and change into some pajama pants and a loose top, you pad barefoot into the kitchen. Castiel is there to greet you, staring into a glass of orange juice. You raise a brow at him.

“You okay, Cas?” you ask.

“Pulp or no pulp, that is the question,” he muses.

“Um…pulp?” you reply.

He nods and takes a sip. “Pulp is good. Increased levels of Vitamin C. But I’m thinking no pulp is best. It eliminates the possible choking hazard.”

You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you nod. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You pause in your quest for a snack to look around the bare furnishings of the bunker.

“What the hell’s going on here?” you ask. “It’s literally Christmas Eve. Where’re all the decorations?”

Jack comes in the kitchen, pausing from watching reruns of Judge Judy to join you and Castiel. He doesn’t know you very well, but he’s just as curious about you as you’re curious (and maybe a little wary) about him.

You know Dean hasn’t totally warmed up to the Nephilim, but he seems kind, and you find his honest, natural inquisitiveness endearing.

“I know about Christmas,” he says, smiling like he’s proud of that fact. “It celebrates the day of Jesus’s birth. Even though December 25 itself is not historically accurate, society has made up for that fact by intertwining pagan traditions and overbearing commercialism.”

“A very good way of putting it,” you say after a moment, chuckling. “Well done.”

Jack grins at the praise. Castiel shares an amused smile with you, but his is more fond.

“I don’t believe Sam and Dean are big on celebrating Christmas,” Castiel says, finally answering your question.

You cluck your tongue and level both angelic beings with a determined look.

“Well, that’s just not gonna cut it, guys. If I’m spending Christmas here, we’re doing it right,” you say.

And with a growing smile, “Buckle up. We’re going to Walmart.”

As it turns out, “doing it right” takes pretty much all night. But you’re impressed with how everything came out.

There’s now a large tree in the living room (a real one, bought in the Walmart lot of Christmas trees), decorated with three packs of lights, ornaments, and a nice star on the top, with a lacy red ribbon that overlays down the front.

You worked your hardest on the tree, but you also directed Castiel and Jack with a new tablecloth for the war room table. Red candles in “fancy plastic” gold holders, tinsel and ornaments and several other Christmasy things that now brighten up the entire place with festive wonder.

And all on the cheap. Though your wallet is going to smart a bit, considering you might’ve gone a bit overboard. Not just on decorations, but on some groceries, a few gifts, and maybe a couple of things for yourself…

You just don’t anticipate later falling asleep on the long table in the war room, with a roll of ribbon curled around your hand and tinsel in your hair.

You wake up to a hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. You groan, squinting against the twinkling lights, no matter how pretty they are in all their multi-colored glory.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

“Huh…?”

“You’re drooling on the table. I’m guessing that’s a new tablecloth.”

“Whathefu…” You manage to open your eyes and raise your head, finding Dean smirking down at you. You blink up at him sleepily.

“Aw shit,” you utter.

“That’s one way to greet somebody,” he intones.

You just grin with exasperation, but you accept his help in sitting up with a groan. Every muscle in your body aches in protest from having slept on a slab of hard wood.

His hand doesn’t leave your back until your bare feet are firm on the ground, though you lean on his arm for a minute while you rub sleep out of your eyes.

“Damn, I wanted to see your faces when everything was put up,” you say ruefully. Sam comes in with a smile and two mugs of coffee, one of which he hands to you.

“It’s incredible! How’d you do all this?” he asks. “And thank you. You know you didn’t have to.”

You waved him off. “I wanted to. Plus, I had a little help.”

You raise your mug to Castiel as he walks by with an iPad and a multigrain bar. It’s such a far cry from the angel you had met years ago—socially ignorant of human ways—that you have to smile. He returns it.

“Jack’s still putting the finishing touches on the Christmas village,” Cas says.

“Village?” Dean frowns.

“We had him set it up in his room,” you tell him. “He was fascinated by the train part. And the fake snow. And all the little people…”

“Great, another nerd,” Dean remarks.

“Be nice,” you chide. He shoots you a certain smirk.

“What do you mean? I’m Mr. fucking Nice Guy.”

“More like Scrooge,” you counter.

“All right, Sweeney Todd. Might wanna fix the nest you’ve got going on there,” he retorts, gesturing at the wild state of your hair. You’re still picking out tinsel.

You narrow your gaze at him. “Big talk from the guy wearing fuzzy slippers.”

Dean frowns, glancing down and shuffling his slippered feet. In his defense, the floor is cold.

“All right, I’ll just get started on breakfast then,” Sam says, cutting through the familiar bickering with a resigned grin. After a parting amused look at you, Dean follows him into the kitchen.

“Wait, wait. You don’t know how the hell to make eggs. Let me get in there.”

Rolling your eyes, you share a conspiratorial look with Castiel, who smiles before taking his iPad into the living room. You take the opportunity to shower, brush your damn hair, and fix yourself into an actual human again.

Suddenly inspired to put some effort in, you pick out a dress for once. It’s not the new one you might’ve splurged on for Christmas dinner tomorrow, but it’s a “just in case” dress you always take in your bag…just in case.

It’s a black, comfortable fabric with simple long sleeves and a skirt that drapes above the knee. It’s just casual enough to wear around the bunker. But it can also be dressed up with some heels if you need to. This is not one of those times, thank God.

You even take pains to do your makeup, light on the eyes but popping with a bit of red lipstick that you typically save for going out. Tis the fucking season.

And maybe you want to wipe away that asinine smirk from Dean’s face.

When you return to the kitchen, all four men are sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, talking, and drinking coffee. That all pauses when they see you.

“Morning, again,” you greet them. And you hum to yourself as you grab another cup of coffee. But you stop in your tracks when you realize they’re all looking at you.

The ones who have tact (Sam and Dean) manage to return to their phone and iPad, respectively. But the angels are a little slow to look away.

“You look different today,” Jack says.

Your lips twitch at a smile. “A good different?”

“Yeah,” he says, though the way he looks at you makes you wonder if he’s sure. You share a glance with Dean, whose face strains with an awkward I don’t know what to tell you smile.

You don’t know it, but Dean’s gaze follows you as you putter about the kitchen. The sight of your smooth and shapely legs are enticing, especially the way the skirt of your dress keeps swishing along your thighs.

Sam clears his throat, catching his brother’s gaze with amusement. Dean’s lips purse at being caught in the act of checking you out, but he swiftly ignores his brother to glance back down at his iPad.

Shaking his head, Sam gets up after he finishes his breakfast and brings his plate to the kitchen sink.

“You going out or something?” he asks you. “There’s some eggs for you in the pan, by the way.”

You nod at that, grabbing yourself a plate from the cupboard. You’re starting to reacquaint yourself with where everything is in the bunker.

“No, but it’s funny how you guys seem to think I live in my hunter gear all the time.” You arch a brow at Sam. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a woman. Capable of wielding lipstick.”

Sam grins, raising up his hands in surrender. “By all means, wield away. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” you say dramatically. He snorts in response and moves to get around you. But that’s when Jack pipes up.

“Oh, look,” he says, pointing to a spot above you and Sam. “You guys are under the mistletoe.”

Your eyes widen. You glance up at said sprig, which hangs from a long string stapled into the ceiling, then at Sam as a blush starts to warm your face. He looks similarly caught off guard.

“Who put that there?” you ask, cutting your gaze over to Jack in suspicion. His boyish grin is pleased, while Castiel fights a smile of amused embarrassment for you.

Dean is oddly quiet though. His expression hides behind the hand he’s leaning his chin on, while his elbow rests on the table. You meet his eyes for just a moment, before you crane your head up to look back at Sam.

You shrug with a grin and beckon to him with your hands. “All right, come ‘ere.”

Sam’s face is a bit crunched with an awkward smile, but he obliges you by wrapping you up in a friendly embrace.

You take his face with both hands and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. You feel his prickly stubble against your lips, but you don’t mind.

“Merry Christmas,” you say with a giggle. He chuckles in response and rubs your back warmly.

“Merry Christmas,” he echoes, pressing a hand to your cheek. You’re one of those friends he counts as his family, and he’s truly grateful that you’re here with them for the holidays.

You have similar warm feelings for the gentle giant as you pull out of his embrace. When you glance over at Dean, you don’t know what to expect to find. By the mild grin he’s sporting, he just seems amused by the whole thing.

You inwardly shake your head at yourself, wondering if you should’ve just kissed Sam. Maybe then you’d figure out where you stand with Dean.

And once you know for sure he doesn’t see you in any kind of way, then you can try to actually move on from Dean Winchester.

You’re forced to sit across from him after you heat up your eggs and make some toast. He’s just scrolling through his iPad without a care in the world.

But in reality, you couldn’t know that Dean is fighting not to look at you. Because the truth is, he didn’t like what he just saw…the obvious warmth between you and his brother.

“We need stockings,” Jack notes, before he turns to you. “Wasn’t that on your list?”

“Ooh, you’re right. I think I forgot,” you reply. “To be fair, trolling around Walmart on three days of no sleep is ill-advised at the best of times, let alone at 12:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve.”

Sam chuckles at that. While Dean gives a slight smile, he’s still quieter than usual.

“Want to go grab some at the store?” Jack asks. You rub your chin in thought.

“Well, I wanted to get started on baking some cookies for later.”

“I can take him,” Sam offers. Jack nods along with the idea.

“Okay, great,” you reply.

“Need anything else while we’re out?” Sam asks.

“Hmm, nope! Nothing that I can think of,” you reply. Sam nods, and soon after, he and Jack leave for the store.

You turn to Dean, intending to ask if he’d like to help you in the kitchen. Realistically, you know he’s not going to do much but stand there while you do most of the work, but it’s a chance to hang out, just you and him.

You’ve almost worked up your nerve to ask when Dean gets up from the table with his iPad. He says nothing to you before he starts toward the garage, making you frown.

“Hey, Dean,” you call to him.

He hesitates, turning back to you with an expectant brow. You want to ask him to stay but…ultimately, you lose your nerve.

“Gonna work on my car?” you ask instead. He flashes you a smile that doesn’t completely reach his eyes.

“Un-certified mechanic, at your service,” he dryly quips with a lazy salute.

You quirk a smile as he continues on his way, but somehow, you feel unsettled. You turn to Castiel, and you remember the rest of your plan for today.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yes?” His head raises from his book.

You give him a conspiring smile.

“I have a special mission for you.”

AN: The stage is set, folks! Let me know what you thought of Part 1. 😘

Next Time:

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you again, with a smirk.

“My turn,” he remarks. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he says.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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queenquinzel715 · 1 year

Text

1. Werebear Toric pt 1

Wrd count 2,313

Warnings: Angst in the beginning, implied smutt, fluff, women power lol

(Y/n) P.O.V

Finding your mate is supposed to be an unworldly thing, and is cherished by many people. Being the daughter of the moon goddess that made me extremely excited to find mine, because I knew my mother would find me the perfect one. When I actually found my mate I thought he was this sexy, powerful man. He was the son of an Alpha, and he had so much confidence. I felt we would make a great couple, and when he brought me back to his pack I thought he was happy.

I was extremely wrong. Once he brought me back I met his parents, and his girlfriend. I understand he wasn't a monk, so I just assumed he would break up with her. He wouldn't let me stay in his room, because he said he wanted to get to know me better before completing the mate bond. He would just spend time with me during the afternoon after training.

"(Y/n) honey why aren't you outside?" His mother, Agetha asks confused. "I thought training was about to start soon."

"I don't go to training. Minson told me to stay inside until he came to get me." I tell her truthfully.

She looks at me confused, and it seems like something hits her. She takes my hand firmly but softly, and leans me upstairs. She walks us toward Minson's room, and I hear the most awful high pitched moan squeal sound. I stop in my tracks as Agetha gives a Luna growl. I can't believe I am given this type of mate. When Agetha marched inside the room I ran outside, and shifted. I howl in agony as I come to a stop in the middle of the woods.

I stay there until the sun starts to set. I slowly walk back to the house, and grab a blanket that is kept behind the trees. When I walk inside it's deathly quiet. I just go to my room to put clothes on. I have so many questions in my head, but they stop when Agetha knocks on the door.

"(Y/n) I honestly can't tell you how sorry I am." She hugs me in a tight embrace. "Are you okay? I mean hurting?" She's the sweetest woman.

"I feel okay, just confused." I sit on the edge of my bed. "Why even bring me here, why not just reject me?" I talk out loud.

She sighs as she hugs me from the side, but before she says anything Stewart, Minson's father walks in. He puts his hands on his hips while shaking his head.

"I even tried using the alpha command to get him to break the bond, but his heartless ass won't do it." He growls in frustration.

"Then I will." I stand up. "I will break it, and I will go home." I give them a soft smile.

They follow after me as I walk toward Minson's room. As I go to knock it opens, and Priscilla steps out.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd leave by now." She giggles. "You might want to leave soon, you wouldn't want to see your mate celebrate his baby shower with another woman would you?" She laughs like she said something hilarious.

"You are pregnant?" Agetha asks, shocked. "That stupid boy."

"Of course I am. We haven't left each other since he's been back." She taunts.

"ALRIGHT!" I shout pushing her back. "Malet guol imotrell qet ne bentul!" I chant the old magic of chaos.

She falls onto the couch with a shocked expression. I go to finish my punishment chant to remove her bond to any future mate, and then Minson walks in with a deep growl. I lock eyes with him, and I feel something completely snap. My body begins to glow white.

"(Y/n) stop!" I hear my mother's voice.

She appears like she's walking in from the balcony, and has a look of pure concern. I can feel my body fighting with itself, but when my mother puts her arms around me I collapse. My mother lays me on the couch as she stands tall. My mother steps toward the scared couple.

"You stupid boy. You have caused so much imbalance, and caused a future goddess to break into chaos." She turns to his parents. "I will give you a choice as his parents, and as a thank you for treating my daughter as your own. Either he loses his wolf, or you chain him until I deem him free. As for that pack whore, she's to be outed to the rogues until she gives birth, because she has her own problems ahead." Mother uses her Goddess voice, making everything she says an unbreakable punishment.

"Moon mother, I would like to chain him, so the pack will know he will never be Alpha." Stewart timidly tells my mother, but still has a strong voice.

"What?! Father I haven't done.." Minson tries to argue, but my goddess roar stops him.

"Her chaos has been let go, because of what YOU did. I knew I shouldn't have given her a mate, but her father wanted her to have a normal love life." She scoffs as she rants. "You have no idea how much pain it takes for a Goddess to lose for her chaos to take over!" She starts losing her composer the more she speaks to him.

That night he is forcefully carried, in front of the whole pack, to the underground dungeon. The pack watches on as they yell at him. Priscilla is shamefully walking behind him, sobbing like it would help her. Once everyone learned what I actually am they sent gifts of apology for their leader.

The next morning, my mother and I went back to my father's kingdom, which is now mine since I am of age with no mate. Father apparently wanted me to be normal, but I guess he didn't think of me getting my heart broken. Once home I immediately went to work on the kingdom.

1 Year later

It's been almost a year since I got back home. My kingdom is widely known for trading, and its unbreakable military. This whole year I've never stopped working, or studying more strategies. Honestly it kept my mind in order, so I could lock up my chaos.

With everything going so well I decided to throw a ball in honor of not only my success, but the kingdom's. I invited everyone from the townspeople, to Minsons parents. Throughout the year Agetha and I would send letters to each other to make sure everything is going alright. I even allowed Stewart to trade in the market, and my ports.

Once I got back to my kingdom I heard of this Orc woman, Kiva, who does amazing work. Sadly I only went to the kingdom for a short visit, so I didn't get to get any dresses. However I sent my dresser to Silentdew to see if this Kiva could make me a dress, and she delivered. She made me a dress fit for a goddess. When I first got it I couldn't stop looking at it. My jeweler gifted me with a lovely crown of stones he calls moonstones.

I could hear the violins playing as I came down the stairs. The ballroom was already filled with so many different people. As I walked in everyone stopped, and bowed. I waved for the music to start, and as the piano picked back up everyone got back to dancing. I couldn't stop my smile as I danced around the couples to get to my throne. While I start to sit Minson's parents come walking to me with wide smiles.

"Oh (y/n). Everything just looks amazing." Agetha rants as she hugs me.

"Thank you so much for coming." I tell them both.

"We are so greatly appreciative of you allowing us to come." Stewart bows to me.

"Oh please you tw…" I'm stopped by a whiff of pine and rain, making my head snap up.

"(Y/n)?" Agetha asks, concerned.

"Um… excuse me for a moment." I walk to the edge of the room, following where that smell is coming from.

When I tell you time itself stopped when the loudest, deepest growl came from toward my throne. Everyone stops, facing toward my throne, and standing where I once stood is a man. I almost whine when I see him, I can't even describe him properly. He is the tallest, strongest looking man I've ever seen. His honey-colored eyes move around the room until they catch mine. He holds his hand out to me as I take timid steps. People part for me as I let my wolf do what she needed. She makes me rush to his side, and just hide in his chest. Everyone starts to cheer when his hand rests on my head.

The ball picks back up as he holds me to his side. I was moved there when he walked us to the side where the curtain would cover us. I'm almost too scared to actually look at him, because what if he is just as vile as my first mate.

"Babybee, can you look at me?" His voice is so deep, but soothing.

I take a deep breath before I look up at his honey brown eyes, and my body all down to my soul relaxes. He moves his large hand to hold the side of my face as he smiles at me. I can feel myself getting bashful from him just looking at me.

"My name is Toric. Could you tell me your name?" He leans onto the wall, making me lean against his chest.

"(Y/n)." I timidly tell him.

"I'm glad to have found you (y/n)." His voice is so soothing. "To believe I almost didn't come when my brother invited me." He doesn't take his eyes off my face.

"I finally have a mate. I can actually feel it this time." I take a deep breath of his scent.

"This time?" He steps back confused.

I sigh. "Come with me."

I take his hand to walk him to my office. His big form takes up the whole couch as he sits down. I can't feel my body get nervous to the point I'm shaking while I shut the door, my back leaning against it.

"Toric I don't know how to begin to explain." I sit on the edge of my desk, locking my hands together. "You…I… okay. I'm not just any wolf. My mother is the moon mother." I test him with that, but he doesn't even move an eyebrow. "I have had a mate before, but he wasn't the best mate. My mother and his parents had him locked up for punishment. That was a year ago." I look down at my hands. "I didn't think she'd give me another mate."

I snap my head up to him standing. I honestly thought he was leaving, but he walks toward me with a blank expression.

"What did he do to you?" He simply asks.

"He brought me to his pack only to get his girlfriend pregnant." I look into his eyes with honesty. "I even told him to reject, his father even tried to use his Alpha command, but he just kept on." I sigh wanting to reach for him.

"Tell me." He rests his hands next to my hips after a couple of moments. "What feels different now than before?" He asks, leaning down to my height, practically squatting down like I am a child.

"I feel safe, I want to constantly touch you. With him I worried if I said the wrong thing he'd be angry." I slowly move my hands to his warm arms. "I didn't mind being away from him, but with you just the thought of you leaving this room makes me want to grab hold of you." I look into his honey brown eyes as I give him my thoughts.

"I will give you anything you wish Honeybee just actually say my name." He leans his forehead against mine. "You said it so quickly.

"Toric." I giggle at him. "Does that mean everything is okay?" I anxiously ask him.

"Honeybee, I am your mate. He doesn't matter." My legs open when he pulls me closer to him. "Besides…" He stands to his normal height. "My name sounds better coming out of your mouth than his."

"You don't even know his name." I slid off my desk to stand in front of him.

"Doesn't matter." He waves his hand while he walks to the door. "Let's get this party over with, so I can have my mate to myself." He keeps his growl low as I walk toward him.

I rest my hand on his chest giving his honey eyes one last look before stepping out of the room. However I didn't get far. I'm pushed against the wall with Toric lifting me to his height. I grip into his hair as his lips connect with mine. His arms tighten around me with a final push of his lips.

"Sorry Honey Bee, I couldn't stop." I giggle at his bashful face.

"It's okay Toric." I smile at him as he slowly lowers me back to the floor.

We rejoined the ball, getting many questions as to where we were, but Toric would turn the conversation. I couldn't leave the warmth from under his arm. Minson's parents introduced themselves. I told him how we stay in touch, and how sweet they were to me while I was with their pack. He thanked them for their kindness. As the night ended Toric gave word to his brother, who is a full werewolf and a Duke for King Jule of Silentdew, to send his belongings here.

Pt2 is up!

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vitamin-zeeth · 15 days

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Watching house I already love the medical malpractice squad theyre the most toxic found family in the world

#making this a thread #zeeth watches house md part 1 #apparently this lady had a worm in her head what a loser #house made two of his children break into her house about it #also im going into this with the idea in my head that house and wilson are lovers and nobody can stop me #house md

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mad-prophet-of-the-airwaves · 7 months

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Rest in peace, Michael Gambon (1940-2023).

#michael gambon #rest in peace #the cook the thief his wife and her lover #gosford park #path to war #the life aquatic with steve zissou #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #harry potter and the goblet of fire #emma #harry potter and the deathly hallows - part 1 #harry potter and the deathly hallows - part 2

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 8 months

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Sweet Music Playing In The Dark (Be Still, My Foolish Heart) [Part One]

I'm super excited about this "fic" and am so happy to finally start sharing it with you guys! It's really gonna be more of like... a "not-fic" and mostly me rambling on and on about this world I've got in my head.

Some things will probably be contradictory because i constantly think of new things and ways to do things as i ramble, but it's just a loosey goosey overview of the thing! That I'm posting cuz i hope you guys will enjoy it too!

It's all pretty much based on inspiration I've gotten from listening to Bring Me The Horizon so it's almost all gonna be their songs, if i get the links to post! And i hope you enjoy listening to the songs as well! I'll post the song that inspired each part on each part!

It's a friends to lovers au! There will be some Buckingham as well, because Chrissy and Robin are together and have a band together and are Eddie and Steve's besties! Steve is with Nancy at the beginning but there's really not gonna be much details about them aside from the breakup! Eddie also has a partner at the beginning (i haven't decided who yet shh shh shh shh), but there will also be a breakup. Or maybe I'll just have him not able to find the right person. We'll see what happens! But i hope y'all enjoy the ride with me!!!

{ Cute little bat banner is by @1-800-shedevil }

What if they know each other vaguely from robin and chrissy. They aren't close really, just see each other around. Passing in the studio sometimes. Or at events. They're each others besties friends. Besties in law maybe?They chat here and there.

And then covid happens. They're in lockdown. And chrissy and robin get tagged in some musical video challenge that's going around. So they do it, cuz they live together, and because they've been dying to see steve and eddie sing together, they tag them and pass it on. They have each others numbers because of chrissy and robin importance. So they'll both see it. And eddie sends steve a song name, some 80s song, he remembers them chatting about how they love 80s music at an event when they'd both run to hide in the bathroom to be away from the crowds for a bit. And steve text back,

"???" so eddie sends the post, and steve is like,

"oh!!! Oh my god yes let's do it!" So they do a little face time split video thing and its not a huge deal. Its goes a little crazy for a day or two and then calms. But then steve wakes up to robin calling him, and like 10 missed calls from her already. And he answers all groggy in the middle of the afternoon, lockdown, he can sleep when he wants damn it. And he's like,

"whats happened?" And she SHOUTS his name into the phone, he groans. But then she tells him to check Eddie's instagram, and then promptly hangs up on him. And he's like blinking himself awake still but he clicks it open and pulls up Eddie’s. It's actually the first thing that pops up on his feed cuz he really doesn't follow that many people... like... at all. He can see eddie, sitting on his bed, guitar in his lap and one of his little music machines next to him. Steve clicks it and feels himself blushing because of what Eddie's saying.

Basically, he starts of with,

"okay so normally i wouldn't comment or respond to like... assholes in the notes and comments but, I'm locked in my apartment and haven't talked to anyone face to face in like a fucking month an half and am just scrolling through all these stupid fucking comments so lets break this down." He shakes his hair out of his face, it's even longer than normal, his bangs are falling into his eyes. He settles back in, leans closer over his guitar, pointing into the camera.

"All you assholes. Calling Steve's music like... bland pop whatever blah blah blah. Have you listened to his stuff??? Cuz like, not to get TOO into it. Just... oh fucks sake hang on." He leans off the bed, making a weird strangled noise as he stretches. He manages to get hold of a hair band and shoved his hair up into a severely messy bun. Pushing his bangs to the sides he settles back in with his guitar and plays a bit of one of Steve's songs.

Steve feels his face getting hotter and hotter. He's still with nancy. But she's locked down at her own place and it's not even attraction making him blush. It's the fact that eddie munson, heavy metal rockstar man, is playing one of his songs, peice by peice, and laying down some serious music theory on his fans.

He plays it bit by bit until a small section of the song is playing out over his little recorder. And its acoustic and not electric like the actual song. But all the parts are there, and it sounds good. Steve can't stop watching. Barely blinking. Eddie stops playing and looks back into the camera, eyes a little wild, he's really been going at it for awhile. And he's like,

"steve might be, technically, a popstar, which, isn't really even THAT true. He jumps genres just like we do, but thats not the point. The point is, there are so many fucking... the fucking layers??? The goddamn depth of the composition of these songs he's making? He's a musical genius okay? Like... his songs are bonkers when you break them down okay?? So of i see one more of you cunts come into my comments and tell me to stop associating with popstars, which is a whole fucking OTHER topic im choosing to ignore. Dont fuckin tell me who to associate with you pretentious fucks. Anyway. Dont fuckin talk about his music until you fucking LISTEN to his music. The skill and precision it takes to make music like this? And in all the genres he ventures into, the skill level stays. Like...." eddie makes a wild flourishing motion.

"This dudes fuckin nuts okay? He's got fucking bars. He's got fucking talent. And he's my fuckin friend. So shut the fuck up. Mind your own business. Or get with the fucking program and go fucking listen to his shit. Fuck. Got me all fuckin heated now. Bunch'a dumbasses." He shakes his head. Clicks the music play back off, and sets his guitar down next to him. He pushes his bangs up off his head, breathes out a deep breath and rolls his eyes.

"Just... be nice. Or stay out of my comments. He's a friend. He's a fucking hard worker. And i dont take kindly to people calling themselves my "fans", he does the air quotes,

"and then showing up and shitting on steve just cuz he doesn't sing metal." Eddie lets his eyes move away, and then back, and then he smirks, reaches for the camera and says

"Not yet, anyway." He winks, and the video goes black.

Steve is so fucking flattered he has no words. And it only gets worse when he scrolls and sees chrissy and robin cheering eddie on. But THEN he sees Jeff, Andy, and Gareth in the comments too, saying stuff as well. Jeff leaves a trail of fire emojis and then says,

"yes!!! We use Steve's stuff at warm ups alllll the time!!! His shit will rock your world!"

And steve is just, so fucking flattered. He likes the post and tries to think of a way to respond. He thanks eddie in the comments. After checking his own and seeing some of HIS fans saying similar stuff about eddie and his band.

So he comments and doubles down,tell HIS fans he feels the same. He doesn't tolerate hate toward his friends. And then, he grabs the box from under his bed. Pulls out his stack of Corroded Coffin ticket stubs. He's been to.... several shows. Like a lot. Not always front row. He and robin love lawn seats. So they hang back there, and party with the kids and make a good space for themselves, dustin had started a lawn mosh three or four times. But he just makes a video, says,

"its come to my attention some of you think i couldn't possibly be a fan of Corroded Coffin. And i just woke up like an hour ago and im not generally good with words so im not gonna say anything. I'm just gonna do this." He holds up the stubs, all stacked together at first, and then he slides his thumb and the stubs fan out, he's got like... 15 to 25 of them.

He smiles. Fans himself a bit with them, holds them closer to the camera so people can see they're actually Corroded Coffin tickets and then pulls them back. He gives a little toothy smile and a peace sign and then turns the camera off. He goes to take a shower and comes back to a comment from eddie under his video thats just,

"YOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! FUCKIN WHAT!?!? OUR BIGGEST FAN YOU SAY?? 🤣😈🔥🔥🔥💋💋💋"

Cuz he's an emoji slut and had been up for... over 24 hours making that video and just losing his shit a little. But then he also gets a personal text from Eddie and he's like,

"holy shit. Have you really been to that many of our shows?" And steve is like,

"yup. More actually. Ive seen you a few times at festivals from backstage too" and they get to chatting.

Steve tells eddie about dustin starting the lawn moshing and eddie loses his shit again cuz that was so cool to him and the guys, that the lawn had been moshing like the pit. And thats how they start really talking and becoming actually friends and not just semi sort of adjacent friends. Robin and Chrissy add them both to the same group chat and it just blossoms from there.

They dont really post anymore videos, alone or together. But then, after lockdown, a music award show comes to them both and asks if they'd wanna perform a song together as a suprise for the show. And Steve's kind of hesitant. Cuz he doesn't know if he can pull off a Corroded Coffin song. But eddie just claps him on the back and is like,

"dont worry. We're gonna play one of yours" and steves like,

"shouldn't we talk about it a little?" And the band boys chime in that they've been DYING to perform one of his songs. And steve is just so flattered. But he's also like,

"i dont... know. How's my song work with you guys and your style? Im not exactly a heavy metal guru." Eddie smirks at the word, throws his arm over Steve's shoulder and says,

"oh steve. Lemme open your eyes. Lemme show you what you can really do." He widens his eyes cheekily and he and the boys take him to their studio to show him what they have in mind.

When they perform, it starts with just steve alone with his guitar, the stage behind him dark. He gets through the beginning and then the band kicks in with their heavy style and the crowd 'ooohs'. Steve finishes the first verse and then the lights come up, the band goes harder and Eddie comes out from behind Gareth and starts playing his guitar, walks up to the second mic and starts singing and everyone goes CRAZY.

Steve matches Eddie's energy for the whole performance. Eddie jumping and playing and sliding to his knees when he's not singing. Steve jumping to the beat and playing when its Eddie's time to sing. Both of them leaning in close to one mic to sing and play their guitars in unison a few time. The crowd screaming making them both smile.

The crowd screams loud again when Steve leans against Eddie's back as they play, head falling back to lay on his shoulder. And then Eddie is hard core screaming the end of the song. Steve bouncing on his toes as he plays the final notes and the light fall and the stage goes black.

The comments on the videos online are almost all about how GOOD it sounds. And how well their voice go together. And a ton of Corroded Coffin fans being like,

"look at the little popstar man go!!! He's a little rocker at heart!" Cuz steve had been jumping around, keeping up with eddie as he played his guitar and yelled into the mic with him. And Steve's fans are like,

"holy shit! I haven't seen him look that happy on stage in ages!! He's a rockstar!!!" Everyone coming together and agreeing that rock agrees with steve! Even if he doesn't go their on his own in the future, they're glad he's friends with eddie and can venture there if he wants too, when he wants too. Because eddie is always happy to have him. They hug super tight at the end, eddie grabbing Steve's hand and holding it over their head as he screams,

"make some fucking NOISE!! FOR STEVE. FUCKING. HARRINGTON!" and the crowd fucking loses it as they smile and walk off, Eddie's arm draped over Steve's neck, both of them sweaty and hot and beaming.

#Sweet music playing in the dark #sweet music part 1 #steddie #steddie au #rockstar!eddie munson #popstar!steve harrington #friends to lovers #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #my writing #mine #my fic #steddie fic #Spotify

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justgowithitplease · 1 year

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Hey, this is gonna sound mad confusing, but I'm hoping you get my vision 🫶, dick grayson x catwoman reader, but their enemies as catwoman and nightwing, but without the mask there both best friends 🙀, In love 🙀🙀, and one day they get demanded and yeah fluffy angst type with happy ending xx

bby im not sure what demanded means in that context, so ima think of it as demasked. sorry if i got that guess wrong ;-;

This is Going to be a series b/c i cant write this all in one take and i want you to have something, so here's part one!

Part 2

CATS, BATS AND EVERYTHING THAT'S UNSEEN

"Hey Grayson!" You yelled, waving over the black-haired boy.

"Hey [Reader]!" He yelled back, jogging over to the porch you were sitting on.

"How are you today, my good sir?" You said, fake curtseying. You let out a little giggle as you stood up straight again.

"Absolutely Wonderful, My lady!" He said in a horrible british accent. "And how are you?"

"Why, I am just so peachy." You stated in an equally horrible accent.

"Peachy?"

"Yes, peachy."

"Speaking of peaches, a new cafe opened up, and they supposedly have the best peach pie in town..." he said, dangling his car keys infront of your face.

"Well then. i guess we have to do our duty and report on it to your family. make sure its safe and all that jiz," you replied, packing up your school work and throwing it in the dorm.

"That we must, m'lady, that we must."

"Hey Dick?"

"Yeah [Reader]?"

"RACE YA!" You yelled, snatching the keys and sprinting down the road to the car.

"NO FAIR YOU DID TRACK!" He screamed, chasing after you.

------------------------Time Jump To The Cafe---------------------------

"Mhm, Thith ith the betht pie eveh" Dick said, mouth full.

You nodded in agreement, swallowing the last chunk of pie on your plate. "Best Pie Place ever."

As Dick started to stand up from the chair, he winced in pain and sat back down.

"You Good?" You questioned, noticing the small, yet noticable hesitation to get up.

"Yea, I just- nevermind." He muttered, almost spilling his secret identity.

"No, what is it. What has hurt the invincible Richard Grayson?" You mocked.

"I believe it's called 'The Imbecilic Damian Wayne." He stated, putting his hands up and moving them away from each other, imitating a marquee.

"You lost again?" Raising your eyebrows is shock.

"Yes, Again." He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Sh-HE is a tough opponent."

"Hah, i can tell you all about tough opponents." You said, mildly annoyed and not noticing Dick's slip-up. Your mind temporarily wandering to Nightwing, the masked self-proclaimed vigilante. AKA, Your mortal enemy.

"Glad to know im not the only one."

"Yeah..." You trailed off.

Dick's phone pinged, and he looked up with a devilish grin.

"There's a gala tonight?" You guessed, giving your own impish smile back.

"Yup! Do you care to join me, m'lady?" He asked, standing up and offering his hand.

"why yes i do, ... m'man...?" You said, wondering if that was even a word.

"M'man. Adding that to the dictionary." He laughed, helping you up off your chair.

"Oh please, like you've never said anything that wasn't a word before. Also, i call driver." you stated, knowing he wanted to drive.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #friends to lovers #enimies to lovers #series #part 1 of many #anon request

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best-fanfic-trope · 1 year

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Round 1: Hurt/ Comfort vs. Best Friends to Lovers

Hurt/ Comfort:

The emotional pain that you go through is soothed in the end. All is well.

Best Friends to Lovers

Romances that are built on a strong friendship!

#hurt/comfort #best friends to lovers #bracket related #round 1 #round 1 part 3 #fic tropes #fanfic tropes #poll

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missmaywemeetagain · 8 months

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Velvet Sky, Part 1 ✨🌌💙

Hello, my babies! I’m not gonna lie, this Sugar Mama request was a challenging one for me and stretched my writing muscles a bit to write a more innocent-type reader paired with an older Elvis in late '73. This fic marries some of the mob vibes of Broken Glass with the star-crossed lovers feel of Romeo and Juliet (or at least that’s the intention! lol).

Once again, this request will be a two-parter cuz lord knows I’ve yet to figure out how to go small with anything, ever! 🤣

I hope you enjoy it and I love love love to see your comments, so don't be shy in telling me how you feel! 💖

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

Click to Read Velvet Sky, Part 1 ✨🌌💙 for FREE on Patreon NOW!! (because tumblr has been a beast about me posting fics here lately...)

Taglist Pt. 1

@eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen @paigevis @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-little-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @ohjustpeachy1 @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie @idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj @claire-elvisgirl @everythingelvispresley @louisejoy86 @deniseinmn

#velvet sky #part 1 #elvis presley #elvis #elvis x oc #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x dani #elvis x innocent reader #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis 1973 #italian mafia #star crossed lovers #sugar mama request

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girlwithherheadinthestars · 3 months

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The Last Villain (part 1/?)

c/w: mention of blood

a/n: this is part one of something i've been working on, let me know what you guys think! i hope you like it <3

“Tell me something.”

He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Her voice.

It still haunted him like a ghost of shifting white light that twisted and danced in the periphery of his mind.

“Tell me something.”

Anything. Anything. He would have told her anything in that moment, her eyes glassy and her lower lip cut down the middle and bright red streaking out of it like a madman had attempted to put lipstick on her. He would’ve done anything, said anything, killed kings, conquered oceans — anything.

He squeezed his hands into fists so tight they turned so white they were almost the same color as the shackles on his wrists that dragged and scratched against the metal table in front of him with every little motion of his hands.

He stared at the table with a ferocious kind of intensity as if he could replace the image of her face with the dull table’s metal in the sickly white light above him swinging in a draft coming in from the bottom of the door. A fly buzzed somewhere. Water dripped from a pipe. He saw her smile, her eyebrow arching in that little amused way of hers.

“Tell me something.”

The door opened and the smart clicking of expensive business shoes walking over and then stopped in front of him, drawing a chair that scratched on the floor like nails on chalkboard. One business shoe crossed over a knee. Arms leaned forward, thin fingers laced together.

“I see you’re committed to your vow of silence.” The newcomer said self-importantly.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even have to look up to know who the newcomer was. He’d been expecting those business shoes for two days.

“A hello would have been nice given how long we’ve known each other.”

Ah. The business shoes had a sense of humor.

The corner of the shackled man's lips turned up in a little amused smile.

The business shoes man sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Or if not a hello, at least some condolences.”

He stiffened and finally looked up at the pale, bony face of his interrogator. The interrogator said nothing.

But it was not much of an interrogation if you asked the alleged interrogatee, it was more of an intimidation. There was nothing they needed to know. They just wanted to see his pain. They fed off it.

He looked away with a scoff.

“Don’t act so superior. You weren’t the only one who cared for her. I loved her very much. I know how you must feel — ”

“You know nothing.” He finally hissed, looking up at the little shred of a man before him. “You loved her but I love her. There is nothing I love but her.” His voice broke as he fixed him with a dark glare. “I shouldn’t be offering condolences. You should be begging for mercy.”

The man before him froze. “So it was true.”

“Tell me something.”

“Anything. Anything, my love. Anything.”

“What was true?” He snapped.

“I thought they were only… rumors. You did…you did truly… love her.”

“How could that have ever been in question?” He spat.

“I…I don’t know…I…didn’t think…”

“What? You’re upset the woman your father decided you would marry actually made a choice of her own?” He let out a bitter laugh that edged on manic.

The man pouted, almost offended. “I did love her.”

“No.” He crowed with laughter. “No, you didn’t. You don’t know what it is to love. Love is madness and chaos and…and happiness all in one single look. It's absolute pure insanity. No….no you don’t know what it is to love, my friend.”

“Tell me something.”

Her hair between his fingers, soft and dark.

The man is silent for a long moment and then finally, “Tell me.”

He looks up.

“Tell me what it is to love. Tell me what happened — what really happened.”

He hesitates for a long moment, shifts in his shackles, sighs. It was a long story but that man had it in him to wait. And anyway, if he was going to rot in prison, someone ought to know. Someone ought to remember. He didn’t care if he withered till no one even recalled he had ever existed but he could never allow her to be any less than the bright, shining light that she had been.

“Tell me something.”

He sighed. “Well I guess it was all because of the damned puppy.”

“Tell me something…"

Her eyes glassy. Her lip cut. The last look she would ever give him.

"Tell me something...

...was any of it real?”

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog

#writeblr #writing #enemies to lovers #hero x villain #villain x hero #villains and heroes #hero and villain #villain #spilled ink #my writing #writers on tumblr #snippet #part 1 #writers of tumblr #creative writing

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 7 months

Text

Cut It Loose, Watch You Work The Room

by Wormdebut

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Dustin Henderson, Jeff (Stranger Things), Gareth (Stranger Things), Unnamed Freak (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Rockstar Eddie Munson, Musician Steve Harrington, Enemies to Lovers, i guess lol, BOYS KISSING BOYS ON STAGE, Just let them kiss your Honor, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Eddie Munson is a Tease, Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, Sub Steve Harrington, Dom Eddie Munson, Dom/sub Undertones, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Praise Kink, Steve Harrington Has a Praise Kink, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Plot With Porn?, I dunno man they are so gone for each other it is embarrasing, minor buckingham, Oh, Eddie Munson has a dick piercing, the pet names are unhinged, Blow Jobs, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Spit Kink Words: 13,291 Chapters: 1/1

Summary

People knew who Steve was for sure, but that’s the thing really. SAILOR was bubblegum pop rock, layers of harmonies and bright chords and Corroded…wasn’t that. Corroded Coffin was loud and quick, dark and moody. Eddie liked things fast, sweaty and mind-blowing. Steve Harrington just didn’t fit, and he made Eddie frustrated because he made Eddie flustered. Eddie fucking Munson didn’t get flustered, he just didn’t. -- Five Times Eddie and Steve fuck around on stage, and the one time they decide to fuck...off of it.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #oneshot #part of a series #10-25k #5+1 things #au no upside down #rockstar eddie #musician steve #enemies to lovers

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eruden-writes · 2 years

Note

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

When I sat down to write this, I didn't anticipate it becoming a 4.5k story.

I'm also dabbling in 2nd person, so enjoy!

---

You wake up late that morning with a groan, sunlight trying to force its way in through your closed blinds.

Everything hurts. Your legs, your arms, your back, your head, your neck, everything throbs. Still groggy, you try to remember what happened last night. You’re still dressed in what you remember wearing yesterday. You’re even still in your shoes.

Thankfully, you're in your own bed as well, you eventually realize as you push yourself upright. The sight of your familiar rumpled comforter and room eases some initial concerns warbling about your brain. But there's still more to have.

Partying or anything strenuous hadn't been on your calendar last night, so what hap-

Your fingertips graze over something on your neck. Something that feels suspiciously like a bandage. Narrowing your eyes, you force your wobbly legs from the bed and duck into your darkened bathroom.

The lights buzz overhead after you hit the switch. An anticipatory horror swells in your chest as your eyes settle on your reflection in the mirror. A bandage is wrapped around your throat. The image reminds you of an urban legend about a woman whose head falls off after the removal of a lifelong bandage.

Your shaking fingers touch it as the faintest memories shift in your mind. Last night, you went to see a movie! It was an old black-and-white movie at the vintage theater a few blocks away. While your friends had all declined to go with you, there had been quite a few bodies in the theater seats last night. And on your walk home…

Your eyebrows furrow. On your walk home, it had been dark. Strangely dark. Like the streetlights had failed to come on well into the evening dark.

And you had been walking.

Then running. You remember the sound of your sneakers scuffing desperately on pavement.

And the echoes of something behind you.

Movement behind you startles you. It takes a short second to realize it’s the bathroom door that caught your attention. It’s not even moving!

Well… until it does begin to swing.

Your eyes widen, stomach dropping, as a clawed hand reaches around the edge of the bathroom door. Survival instincts spin you around, hands fumbling for anything nearby, as the door latches closed.

Everything in your floundering mind stills as the thing behind the door is revealed.

It looks like a person. It is distinctly person-shaped. A tall and lanky person, dressed in layers of musty-smelling disintegrating fabric; the cloth so ruined, you couldn’t discern its original color. Over everything, it wore a large and far more well-kept trench coat that barely hit its knees.

But its spindly fingers are still inhumanly long, still tipped with curving claws that you remember grappling against. And how easily it restrained you. And you remember - you remember - its face shifting in the dark. Its mouth widening, its teeth growing into vicious little points, its nose becoming flatter and ears growing large and pointy and its eyes glowing red.

The sudden rush of memories nearly topples you over. This had been the thing you’d been running from last night! Your heart races just remembering it.

Oh, you had no clue when you started to run. Of course not. You thought someone was stalking you, intent to mug or sexually assault you.

“Many apologies. This mus-” The thing reaches a hand toward you, spindly fingers and claws crooked.

You scream, grabbing the nearest items from the bathroom sink to wing at the creature. Empty and full bottles of a number of toiletries hurtles in the air at it. It doesn’t even budge. Even as a toothbrush and a hefty bottle of mouthwash and a stick of deodorant and more come flying at it. The most it moves is a wince as a hairbrush smashes into its face.

Your chest heaves with panting breaths as you look wildly around, your potential projectiles now depleted.

“As I was saying,” the thing continued again, though this time they made a concerted effort to not move toward you. “Many, many apologies for this intrusion.”

Sense finally broke into your chaotic swirl of thoughts. Even with near-hyperventilating gasps, you yell, “What do you want? What did you do to me? How did we get back here?”

“I’m very sorry! I just awoke from a very long sleep and was a bit disoriented.” Its face creases with concern and misery as their hands, those fingers, grasp at one another. It tugs and fidgets with its own digits, its pathetic red gaze nothing but wretched. “I saw you at the moving picture and something just…”

It trails off and attempts to find the appropriate word by raising its hands. Its fingers wiggle, the claws catching the light of the bathroom.

At your uncomprehending look, its hands fall and its shoulders hunch near its pointed ears. “I just got very hungry.”

“And how are we here?” You demand, motioning toward the bathroom and implying your apartment at large.

“I’m assuming you’re asking how I know this is your home,” the thing mumbles, pointed ears drooping as it returns to fidgeting with its fingers. Your expression hardens as you nod, making a gesture for it to continue. It radiates wretchedness as it answers, “The blood, you see, carries memories and-”

You groan, running your hands down your face with crooked fingers pushing against your cheeks. This couldn’t be real! This was some sort of hallucination or even a dream! You couldn’t imagine why you’d be hallucinating, though, and you knew you weren’t asleep.

You weren’t ready to accept what this thing was telling you. You weren’t even ready to accept it actually being a physical entity! If you did, then you’d have to come to terms with a blood-sucking, bat-like creature existing in this reality and you- Nope! Your brain shut down the line of thought, like steel doors shutting out an invasion.

“I left penitence at your bedside,” they mumble, their red gaze once more on their own hands. With as high as their shoulders hunch, they look about ready to fold in on themselves.

You throw the creature a glare, which it seems to feel - even without looking at you - as it flinches.

Better than being terrified, you clung to the annoyance as you edged to the bathroom door. Being irritated was better than breaking down into tears as the world you knew suddenly fractured as fictitious things became reality.

Opening the door and ducking into your bedroom, your eyes scan the area. It was mostly as you left it. At least the thing hadn’t rummaged through your belongings. Then again, if what it said about blood and memories was true, it wouldn’t have to.

With a savage shake of your head, you dislodged the thought. No, it wasn’t real. It was fictional. You were hallucinating and your brain was just giving you too much to work with! That was it. Yep.

Your attention finally lands on what must be the thing’s penitence. With narrowing eyes, you slowly approach the small box on your nightstand. It appears to be made of discreet metal, dingy and old. With a careful hand, you flip the lid open. It opens easily and you stare at the offering.

Inside, a small fortune of gold coins sits in the velvet-lined box. As you sift through the coins, a small carved statue catches between your fingers. You stare at it, eyebrows raising as it reminds you of those fertility figurines you’ve seen in museums.

Pensive, you glance back over your shoulder, to the bathroom. The creature hovers in the doorway, half behind the door. Skepticism tints your voice as you ask, “You’re giving me all this for one meal of blood?”

They give an awkward cringe of a smile. You try your best to not be distracted by their interlocking rows of sharp teeth as they sheepishly answer, “I was hoping to stay until the sun goes down.”

You narrow your eyes, giving a hum of disbelief. The weight of the possibly ancient fertility statue shifts in your hand as your thumb grazes its curves.

“And maybe another meal?” They squeak, ducking further behind the door. Shame radiates from them, as if just asking for a meal with a room was the height of disgraceful. Given how they ate, you supposed it could very well be.

At that thought, your hand goes to your throat. You press your fingertips against the bandage and an injury aches beneath the pressure. Your stomach twists as foggy memories of teeth sinking into your skin as you struggle lights up in your head. Of blood dripping, tickling your skin. Of the creature giving a contented deep-chested rumble as they held you tight. Conflicting sensations knot your insides up.

“I need to do some things,” you suddenly inform the creature as you pocket the statute and heft the box into your hands. A sudden thought blooms in your head and you turn to glare at the creature, who still looks at you with doleful eyes from behind the bathroom door. “You stay there. I’m opening all the blinds before I leave, so fair warning.”

After the creature nods in acquiescence and closes the bathroom door, you go about your promise of opening all the blinds. Light floods your bedroom and the parts of your apartment that the windows’ light reaches. Thankfully, the creature didn’t acknowledge or realize your small home had pockets of forever-shadow, where no natural light hit.

Hastily, you shake the thought from your head. You don’t know what else this thing can do, like read minds or sense intent. You try to keep your mind blank as you place the box in a bag, with your keys and wallet. After a quick Internet search, you shove your cellphone into the bag and head out, locking your apartment behind you.

You try not to think about how you possibly just locked a vampire into your home, as you head toward the nearest certified appraiser’s office.

x x x

When you return, afternoon daylight is still forcefully streaming into your apartment. You check that the bathroom door in your bedroom is still securely shut, before sitting down at your computer.

Eyebrows raised at the appraiser’s office, when you brought in the coins and statute. The former appeared to be a particular mint, lost at sea to some tragic shipwreck. The latter was harder to pinpoint and required higher specialty to assess.

You’d left the office with not only recompense for about a third of the coins - the other two-thirds still in your possession, along with the statue - but a URL to a particular forum. You’d visited it via the bus’s wi-fi while en route to another destination. From the forum, you were given a list of further necessities. Whether you raised suspicions, you weren’t sure.

Hell, part of you wasn’t even sure what you were up to. The shock still hadn’t worn off. Nor had you completely accepted the fact you locked a vampire into your bathroom.

Even with the support of the Monster Research Forum, the facts refused to sink in. You thought, maybe, when you picked up the garlic from the grocer or the wooden stakes from the hardware store or even the silver from the thrift store or the holy water from the church, you’d feel more secure accepting the knowledge.

But, no. You still felt like it was all a farce.

Even signing into the highly secure, invitation-only forum felt like a joke.

Something just refused to click and you were afraid only one thing would cement the realization into place.

Sitting at your computer desk, the webcam on but not connected to any app, you unwound the bandage from your throat. Another piece of gauze stuck to where the injury had dully throbbed earlier. You stared at it through your computer screen, taking a deep breath.

There was no point in dawdling. Reaching your hand to the square of gauze, you gently peeled it away, bracing yourself for whatever you saw beneath it.

There were no blood, no scabs, no bruising.

Only two circular scars graced your throat.

The world sways under you as you slap your hand over the scars, your brain unable to understand why an injury received just hours ago was now a scar. You breathe through your nose, staring blankly at your keyboard, trying to still the panic in your head.

Fear-fueled anger rushes to your head again. Your eyes fall on the bag of accumulated safety measures; the stakes, the holy water, the garlic, the silver cross. With a shaking hand, you snatch up the bag and storm to your room, to your bathroom.

You pause only long enough to grab a stake, douse it in holy water, before yanking the bathroom door open. The thought to stop, to think, to consider was ignored by the panicked hate in your head.

It was easier to strike in anger, than wallow in fear as your understanding of the world shattered.

Thoughts of the fight to come, the tussle for survival, the shrieks and possible pain frothed in your head. But this had to be done. You wanted normalcy back. Not this knowledge.

The only thing that finally stopped you was the sight of it, hanging upside down by the curve of their feet hooked on your shower curtain rod.

Its eyes were closed and its sleeping features held a solemn expression, hands crossed over its chest. While marveling at their dignified face, you almost missed the way their trench coat ridiculously bunched up around their shoulders, the excess fabric pulled by gravity. The rest of their clothes didn’t fare much better. Ragged, dirty cloth bunched up, showing off ragged sneakers and socks and ankles previously hidden by trousers. Not to mention the way the shirt drooped toward its chest, leaving their stomach on display.

All of this detail only had the barest of seconds to register. As the bathroom door slammed open, the startled creature’s eyes flew wide. They jolted and the force of their movement made the flimsy tension curtain rod wobble.

With a cacophonous clatter, the creature and rod and shower curtain crashed into the tub.

You dropped the stake as all vicious thoughts dissipated. Without thinking, you neared the creature, alarm and concern taking control of you. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” they groan, raising into a sitting position. There was further rustling as they freed themselves from the tangle of the shower curtain. When they finally managed to free themselves and set the rod aside, they looked ruefully up at where you stood. “Bit odd of you to ask, considering the stake and all.”

They nodded behind you and you looked, your eyes catching the forgotten stake on the floor, the wood still dark with the holy water.

You bristled, realizing they knew what you were up to. Your body tensed, bracing for retaliation, as you looked back at them. “What of it?”

“Just odd,” they shrugged. The creature still didn’t move to stand. They simply sat, legs crossed but knees awkwardly folded up awkwardly to fit the small tub, as they stared up at you. You got the impression they were simply resigned.

“You’re not angry?” Uncertainty hedged into your words, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“No,” their voice was soft as a sad smile teased at their lips. There was the briefest parting of lips, the smallest sight of their sharp teeth, before they caught themself. Their attention went to their hands, resting between their awkwardly squished cross-legged position. “Being irate with you would be highly hypocritical of me. I cannot be angry with you choosing survival.”

You tilt your head, comprehension settling into your thoughts. “Because that’s what you were doing.”

The creature doesn’t look up as they nod.

Silence stretches between you two as you struggle to figure out what to do with this information. It doesn’t fit neatly with your fear or anger. It hits on something else that’s been dwelling in your synapses. A quiet sort of curiosity. Which is met with a grudging sort of understanding.

“Do not get me wrong, I am not trying to excuse my actions.” Misreading your quiet as further agitation, the creature suddenly looks up at you. It raises its hands, its spindly fingers splayed but lacking its claws from earlier. “I was slumbering for such a long time and, as I said, disoriented. When I scented you in that theater I-”

Before it could babble further, your surprise makes you blurt out, “You scented me?”

“I, I…” Panic paints itself across the creature’s face, their eyes wide. Their ears droop as you stare at them and their shoulders hunch. Their eyes avert from your face. “Yes. You were the most tantalizing scent I came across, since waking weeks ago.”

You narrow your eyes, curiosity taking the reins fully from shock and fear and rage. “Why didn’t you feed for weeks?”

“I didn’t need to, at first. Then I didn’t want to,” the creature shrugs, their nose wrinkling. “Nothing smelled good.”

“Until me.” Your words bring back their shame.

Once more, their shoulders hunch, their fingers twisting and eyes watching them. The creature makes a strangled sound in their throat, not really wanting to answer but affirming your words.

Awkward fully settles over them as you think. In your pocket, the weight of the statue lingers.

“A third of the coins you gave me covers a year of rent,” you begin to say as you crouch beside the bathtub. The thought is not fully settled in your own head, so you feel it out, glancing from a blank spot on the wall to the creature. If this thing could provide you money to live off of, while you pursued more fulfilling careers, perhaps they weren’t so bad of an opportunity. “I have no clue how much the little fertility goddess is worth, but it could be a lot.”

Something in your voice must prompt the creature to look at you. You find yourself pinned by their red eyes, an uncertain hope threatening to shine in them. Their fidgeting fingers still, giving you their full attention.

“I’m not making any promises,” you say suddenly, leaning back a little from their attentive gaze. A strange warmth creeps up your body and you try to mentally shove it away. “But if you want to overpay for room and board, who am I to stop you?”

Their eyes narrow and what they must think is a shrewd expression crosses their features. “And meals?”

The place they last fed, where their lips and teeth last touched, throbs. A tingle traces down your spine and spreads into your veins. There is a thought, a realization, you can’t quite latch onto. Perhaps a memory from last night that was locked away, whether by your own shock or the creatures yet known abilities.

“Provided on the contingency they stop indefinitely when I say so.” Even as you say it, you feel it’s against your better judgment. The creature’s eyes light up, forcing you to anxiously add, “And that you don’t suck me dry. And if you do anything that makes me fear for my life, you accept I’ll end you.”

“Agreed.” They sit up so straight so fast, you nearly fall backward, forgetting how tall they are when not in a perpetual slump. An awkward hopeful smile pulls across their lips and, with their fingers twiddling once more in their lap, they ask, “I’m hungry now, if that is acceptable.”

You shoot them a withering look, but apparently they have gotten over their initial reticence. They smile, partly cheek and partly awkward, as their shoulders arch.

With a resigned sigh, you scoot closer to the bathtub and their ears perk up. They, too, situate themselves a little closer, turning at their waist to better access you.

“Do you need to feed as often as humans?” The words come out laughably calm, despite the mounting anxiety in your chest. As if you had this conversation a million times before.

“No,” they replied, just as conversationally. Faintly, you wonder if they have had this conversation before. You try not to stiffen as their hands grab your shoulders, turning you so they can see your neck better. “I think I am just particularly hungry after my long slumber and following fast.”

“I see,” you mumble, trying to shove away the feelings of being little more than a prime cut for this thing.

Whether they sense your frustration or simply ignore it, you don’t know. Perhaps they are already lost in hunger, as their lips skirt your throat and they inhale deeply. A delighted sound comes from their throat.

You shiver, biting down a whimper and wrenching your eyes shut as their lips find the same spot as last night. Their mouth and tongue are warmer than you expected, making your stomach flip. Their fingers tighten on your shoulders, those curved claws forming at their fingertips and biting into the fabric of your shirt.

They pull you closer, a hiss escaping their mouth as their teeth sink into your neck. First it’s just a prick of pain, then a hot agony as their fangs sink deeper. Instinctively, your body tries to jerk away, but they growl and hold your shoulders tighter. Against the cool lip of the tub, your fingers tremble.

Then you feel your blood being sucked from your body. A strange sensation of pressure and suction that pulls the hemoglobin from your vein. Not altogether painful or unpleasant, but unnerving.

Despite agreeing to it, despite the relatively certain comfort they weren’t going to kill you, tears still leak from the corner of your eyes. Your hands drift from the tub to their arms, your own fingers mimicking their hold on you. You don’t know if you’re trying to push them away or pull them closer as your head presses against their shoulder, exposing your throat more to their hungry mouth.

Something disintegrates in you. The pain still echoes in your body, but it’s joined by a sense of pleasure.

Pleasure that sends sights and smells and sounds and sensations all through your brain.

Grappling togas and spilled wine and wanton excitement. A litany of smiling faces, of desire-glazed eyes, of lips stained with red. Powdered wigs and skirts made of miles of fabric and sinful sweet scents. Heeled shoes clacking and full bodied laughter. The scent of the sea, the sound of a storm. The smell of gunpowder, of graveyards, of spicy-sweet smoke. Familiar and unfamiliar touches all over your body. Nails dragging across every inch of your body.

“Please, Tabaeus,” you gasp, not entirely sure what you’re asking for. All you know is now you’re pulling them closer, wanting to drown yourself in these sensations and these images. A million lifetimes of experiences, of delight and desire and pain and death and uncertainty and success.

Your words force them to yank away from your throat. They stare down at you, their chest heaving with excited breaths and eyes wide. You stare blearily back at them, confused. Your attention focuses on the red coating their lips and their chin.

The plethora of feelings flooding your head, your body, drains away. Leaving you feeling cold and hollow and more than a little confused. Despite the feeling of cotton in your head, you push your face from their shoulder. As you move, your throat twinges with pain and you feel the blood ooze down your neck.

“I-I am sorry.” Tabaeus’s fingers flex against your shoulders, as if they want to simultaneously release you while dragging you closer. “That is something that happens on occasion.”

“What was that?” The question comes out confused and perhaps a little harsher than you meant.

“The best I can guess is my past,” they release you as they answer, their shoulders once more hunching. “Or maybe the lives of those I’ve… feasted on.”

You stare at them, eye tracing along their shamed features as curiosity - more so than disgust - toys at their words. “You don’t know?”

“No. This whole thing is very confusing.” They heave a heavy sigh, unable to meet your gaze. Their hands move as they speak, putting their frustration into actions. “Despite what I am, memories do get lost to time and I never was fully, truly, orientated.”

“I see,” is all you can manage to say as your inquisitive mind fights against a sudden fatigue.

Then turn back to your abruptly, their red eyes earnest as they grip at the lip of the tub. “If this alters your offer, I understand. I-”

Without thinking, you cover their mouth with your hand, your eyes closing. A desire for quiet settles on your overstimulated brain. You miss how their eyes widen and their shoulders slump at your touch.

“Give me time to process this,” you say quietly, cracking your eyes open to gauge their reaction.

They nod behind your hand, concern prickling in their eyes. Their attention flicks to something on your face and you realize there’s still dampness on your cheeks from your tears. With your free hand, you hastily wipe at the tears stains.

“For now, we should get cleaned up,” you say even while your brain is still preoccupied with what just happened. You had finally accepted the reality of vampires, only to find the one you know may have limited answers.

Despite your preoccupation, Tabaeus seems to have more direction. They rise from the tub and tend to your wound, albeit after cleaning their bloody face. You still sit on the floor, leaning against the tub, until they are finished.

It is only when they softly say your name, you realize you’ve nodded off. Obviously, blood loss does that to one. But your brain latches onto another curious realization. “How do you know my name?”

Once more, Tabaeus gives their awkward-shy smile, the one that is more reminiscent of a cringe than a grin. “I told you, there’s memories in blood.”

“Oh,” you say weakly. You glance toward the door, the thought of your bed sounding very good at the moment. Without a word, Tabaeus gathers you up in their arms. You don’t even have the wits to fret, before you find them depositing you on your mattress.

You’re a little shocked to realize how dark it is outside. Where did the time go?

As Tabaeus moves to straighten up, likely to leave you to rest, your hand catches them by the front of their shirt. Startled red eyes stare down at you. Sleepily, your tone takes on a playful lilt as your lips pucker, “Don’t go skipping out on rent now.”

For the first time since you met them, Tabaeus chuckles. It’s soft and gentle. Just like their manner of speaking, you realize.

“On my word, I will not skip out on rent,” they reassure you, as they gently remove your hand from their tattered shirt. They press their lips to your knuckles and, though it sends a flare of heat through you, you tiredly chalk it up to sealing their promise.

You close your eyes once more, hand dropping to our bed. Tabaeus’s footfalls punctuate the air as you feel sleep dragging you further and further down.

Before the darkness completely swallows you up, part of you is alarmed to realize something.

You desperately hope Tabaeus is still there when you awake.

#vampire #exophilia #vampire lover #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x reader #vampire x reader #2nd person pov #Tabaeus #reader #room and board #room & board #rab #r&b #room and board part 1 #room & board part 1

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