#sigh i guess i should actually make a real tag huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratshaws · 2 years

Text

goodness gracious 23. brb x oc

(ill just repeat gifs guys)

a/n: I GOT MY NEW KEYBOARD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA yes YESSS yes ok yes. we're back in business guys. Also I kinda worked a little bit on Rooster's past??? Just tiny things really.

check out the fic's playlist made by the sweet @wiipes !!

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff ,Rooster being horny (do i even need to tag this anymore) and supportive.

chapters:

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!)

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21

“He said yes?”

“He did!” Beatrice says with the phone on her ear, holding it up with a shoulder as she folds her laundry, “Didn’t even hesitate.”

“Huh…I mean, you did tell him he’d be like fresh blood on shark infested waters right?”

“Yes, Leo, I made that very clear.”

Her brother on the other end ‘huh’ed again, the sound of kitchen utensils being washed in the background, “Brave man. I get freaked out sometimes and it's my family too…did you just call me to tell me that?”

“Kind of,” Beatrice changes ears while propping the laundry basket to her hip bone, “I just wanted to ask you when we get there, to let him in on some info, who to not talk to.”

“Like the Bitch Trio?” while she wouldn’t call her cousins that, Leonardo wouldn’t be wrong, “Those would be the first ones he should avoid.”

“I don’t get why people keep inviting them.” the brunette huffed, walking up the steps to the loft area, Jolene following her right behind, just waiting for her to drop the laundry basket so she could hop inside and enjoy the warmth.

“‘Cause they are family, which is some bullshit. Everyone knows they love starting drama. Especially Melinda,” he makes a disgusted noise, “I swear, aunt Martha is just too nice, I would never invite them to any celebration.”

Beatrice chuckles, kneeling to the floor with the basket by her side, giving Jolene a sigh when she hopped inside immediately. Instead of pushing her off, she just scratched the top of her head as the pittie got comfortable, “I wouldn’t either. Is there anyone else you think he should be careful with?”

“Oh, oof, man…I think everyone pretty much is a huge warning sign before they meet him for real. I do think uncle Roberto will like him, maybe even uncle Elia.”

“Uncle Eli is coming??? He never joins celebrations.”

“The wedding thank you gifts are expensive wine bottles, Little Bitty. Do you really think he wouldn’t come?”

“You got a point.” she says, gently tapping Jolene’s butt so she could move and Beatrice finally could put her clothes in the armoire “Do you think he’s going to try and sing on stage, pushing the actual singer off?”

“Oh absolutely, he is the reincarnation of Louis Prima after all. With aunt Sonia following behind as his backing vocals.”

“Jesus.”

Leonardo laughs on the other end, shutting the water off when he’s done washing dishes, “But, I dunno, I think it’ll be fine. Him saying yes is already a good sign.” his sister’s less than enthusiastic noise doesn’t stop him from speaking, “Hey, you guys will sit with us, I’ll help him out the best I can. Plus, having Bibi there will help with distraction.”

Beatrice smiles looking down at her folded laundry inside the drawer, “I guess you are right.”

“She’s very excited to be the flower girl,” he begins, “But even more because she thinks the vineyard will have frogs that she’ll try to bring home and scare the fuck out of Cyn.”

Beatrice chuckles softly, remembering the time Bianca grabbed a bunch of frogs and put them inside the little bag she was holding. When asked by her mother what it was, she just opened and Cynthia shrieked in fear, running away to hide inside the house while Leonardo had to tell Bibi to let the frogs go. There was a knock to her front door that made Jolene scramble to her paws, whining all the way down since she knew who’d be, “Leo, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you before the wedding, okay?”

“Sure Little Bitty, just a tip, you should come by during lunchtime ‘cause everyone will be too busy to notice any car coming to the hotel.”

“Oh,you are right, thanks Leo.”

“No problem, talk to you later.”

She finished the call, rushing down the staircase with her bare feet hitting the steps loudly, the smile already on her face before she even reached the door. Jolene’s whole body shook with excitement when Beatrice opened it, the pittie immediately greeted Rooster by jumping around him and standing on her hind legs with her paws on his stomach. Beatrice allowed him to pet the dog first, knowing Jolene would neve leave him be if he didn’t, then leaned up to kiss his lips when he stood to his full height. “Hey,” she whispers, giving him another peck, “How was the gym?”

“Fine.” he smiles, fixing the duffel bag on his shoulder as he enters, Beatrice closing the door behind him, “By the way, I found out your friend Evelyn’s last name.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, Simpson.”

“Oh, oh yeah.” she smiles, oblivious as to why he seemed so elated on telling her that, “How did you find out?”

Rooster chuckles, “Well, yesterday Hangman tried to score up with her again right?” she nods, signaling she was still listening, “So he walks up with her through the base until he sees Cyclone, who’s a vice admiral and whose name is what? Beau Simpson. I wasn’t there but Nat was and she said that Hangman’s face lost all color when he figured out who her father really was.”

Beatrice blinked, walking into her kitchen with him following, “Oh…did that scare him off?”

“I mean, he looked terrified according to Nat.” she hums, which in turn makes him look at her, “What?”

“Well…Evelyn’s main issue with Navy guys is how they’d always freak out once they met her dad, running away.” Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in her, but she felt the two of them could work out, “I guess, I don’t know, maybe if Jake really is interested in her he could show he had no issues with her father being who he is.”

Rooster blinks in silence, then a smile slowly spreads over his lips, “You are so cute.” he says, stepping closer to kiss her, “But I’ve never seen Jake with a girl for more than twenty four hours, babe.”

“Maybe Evelyn is the change he needed.” she says it back, wrapping her arms around his neck while he does the same to her waist, he showered at the gym before coming so he smelled so fresh, “Would it be so weird?”

“Yes. It’s Hangman, Bea.” Rooster smiles at her little pout, rubbing the pad of his thumb on the plump flesh of her lower lip, “You are very sweet, but I don’t see Jake changing how he is just because of a woman.”

“I still think there’s a chance.” she murmurs, “If Jake wants to make the effort.”

He sighs deeply, making a face, “I don’t think it’s possible but I also don’t want to talk about Hangman anymore,” he cups the back of her legs to pick her up and set her on the counter, pressing a trail of kisses down her jaw to her neck, “It’s weird when I’m trying to kiss you.”

She giggles, leaning her head back to give him more space, her hand dragging up from his nape to the top of his hair, nails dragging on his scalp. He moans quietly, pressing his hips to hers while her legs wrap around his waist, “Brad…” he hums, keeping his teeth and tongue on her skin, “I thought you said you were coming with me to buy Halloween candy for tonight. Remember?”

The pilot groaned on her neck, dropping his forehead against the skin, “I did, didn’t I?”

“If you don’t want to–”

“No I do, it’s just,” he inhales her lavender scent with a happy groan “You are just so sexy I can’t think straight.” he pulls back from her neck, after pressing a kiss right under her jaw for good measure, tugging her out of the counter.

She just blushed even harder, laughing softly at him, “We’ll be back before you know it.” she pecks his pouting lips, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I haven’t eaten Halloween candy in years.” Rooster says, leaning his elbows on the back of the shopping cart while Beatrice was picking colorful bags of soft chewy candy, in her hands. Bradley followed the bag being dropped inside the cart with his eyes, picking it up for him to check what it was.

“Oh I used to sometimes.” she giggles, “Bibi liked to share hers with me. So I always had a little bit to myself.” Beatrice crouches down the aisle to pick another bag of candy, this one shaped like witches hats “Halloween was always a nice holiday for me.”

“Yeah?” he asks, not being able to keep the smile on his face when she nods, the movement shaking the french braid behind her head, “Was it your favorite holiday?”

“Christmas is my favorite, with Halloween in close second.” she walks forward a bit more, with Rooster following close behind, grabbing a few Nerds packets to drop inside too, “I loved dressing up for Halloween, it was always so fun.”

He smiles, pushing himself off the cart to step close to her, one of his hands touching her jeans clad hip as she struggled to reach a bag of cherry Twizzlers, easily grabbing a good amount in his hand, “I loved getting treats.” he says it while pressing a kiss to the edge of her jaw, making Beatrice smile and kiss him back quickly.

“We can’t make out in the middle of an aisle, Roos.” she whispers but still presses her lips to his once more.

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll…push you into a dark corner and just make sure you get out of breath just by kissing.”

“Roos!” the brunette giggles, pressing a hand on the middle of his chest, just to hold him back. “You’ll have to be patient.” he sighs, straightening himself before returning to his earlier position by the red handle, his lips pursing into a little pout. She smiles sweetly, going back on her quest to get as many candy types as she could, tossing a few Halloween toys in the cart as well.

His smile however, only got bigger when he noticed how excited she got while getting treats for the trick or treaters. When he got to her place earlier that morning, he saw the front of her house adorned with several spooky decorations, including a pair of fake pumpkins that glowed from the inside and a ghost made out of fabric and a wire stabbed in between her flower pots. She did tell him this would be her first time getting trick or treaters at her house and she wanted them to have a good time.

Hence why she was so pumped on getting a variation of sweets, of toys and things she knew kids would love. While looking down to the slowly filling cart, Rooster couldn’t help but ask her “What’s your favorite?” she turns her head to him in question and he nods to the candy bags inside the cart “Halloween candy.”

“Oh!” Beatrice purses her lips, “I don’t know, I always liked Twizzlers, the cherry ones…and gummy bears and Butterfingers. What about you?”

Rooster hums, looking around the aisle to wrack his memory “I don’t know,anything with chocolate I guess.” he chuckles, “But I do like Butterfingers too…and Sour Patch Kids. I loved those, I liked beheading them.”

That makes a laugh sputter out of Beatrice’s mouth, dropping a few more bags inside the cart, “Weirdly cannibalistic but very cute.” she smiles, “I used to do the same too.” she looks down at her phone, peeking her tongue out while checking her notes, “I think we got pretty much everything…I already have the baggies at home, so!I think we are done here.”

“I think the kids will love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, look.” he spreads his arms over the cart, grinning up at her “If I was a kid getting treats, I’d go insane for all of this.” her smile makes his heart flip with happiness, her cheeks dusting with red over his compliments. God he loved it, he loved her…he still had to find a good time to say it, which he wanted badly, but it had to be the perfect time. Nothing to interrupt them, no one to ask them questions, just two people confessing to one another.

Yes, the perfect time. He hoped it would happen soon.

Beatrice slid her phone back into her back pocket, “I hope so…” she walks next to him as he leads the cart for her, “I can’t wait to see their costumes. Some kids can be very creative!Or…their parents, in that case.”

“I don’t even know what kids watch these days.” he mutters, “Is Muppet Babies still a thing?”

“I don’t think so.” she chuckles, “They’ll probably dress up as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or something, they never go out of style.”

Rooster keeps her in his peripheral, her smaller hand covering his own when he moves the cart, so he decides to push it one handed to interlace their fingers together. They approach the cashier, who looks bored out of her mind with a bat fascinator on top of her head, who rings everything quickly, her monotone voice wishing them a ‘Happy Halloween’ before they leave the market.

Beatrice was so busy putting everything inside Rooster’s Bronco, that she did not notice the pair of eyes looking her way…but Rooster did. He looked over his shoulder to where a guy, a bit shorter than him, watched the two from a Chevrolet red pickup truck. He could only describe his appearance as an off brand Vanilla Ice with longer hair. While he was wearing his sunglasses, his head was turned right in the guy’s direction, so he was sure the dude could notice he was looking.

The guy moved his eyes from Beatrice to Rooster when the pilot stepped right in his line of sight. Clearly the guy wasn’t expecting him to move, nor the not so subtle nod of ‘what are you looking at’, he sent his way. He followed the guy with his eyes narrowed, watching him scramble to get into his truck and speed out of the parking lot.

Rooster stood behind Beatrice for a little while longer, just until she announced she was done. His annoyed façade dropped, turning into a smile when he looked down at her, “Let’s go then.” He didn't feel like sharing the info about the guy yet, he didn’t want to scare her with the news of a creep looking her way.

“Ohh,I’m so excited!” she said happily, shimmying a bit on her seat, his anger fading completely once he got in, “I hope this is enough, do you think it’s enough?”

Bradley laughs when he turns the car on, “I think it’s more than enough. You’ll make a lot of kids happy tonight.” her little smile only got bigger and brighter, clasping her hands together on her lap. “Are you dressing up too?”

“Oh, no, I’ll just wear black and call it a modern witch.” she giggles, “My costume is set for tomorrow.”

His ears perk up with interest, then his brain makes the connection “Penny’s Halloween Party?” she nods, unaware of how his jaw moved with a question “I didn’t know you were dressing up.”

“Oh,I mean, Penny said we could if we wanted to.” she shrugs, leaning on a hand while looking outside the window. He was quiet for a while, making Beatrice blink in his direction, finally noticing he wanted to know what she was going to dress up as “Oh! Julie Newmar’s Catwoman.”

It took every fiber in his body to not swerve in the road, choosing to instead clench the steering wheel tight enough to make the cover creak under his grasp. When he was a prepubescent boy, he discovered the Batman series by random. He couldn’t remember if there were vhs tapes or some channel was running the show again just for shits and giggles. But what he did remember was his crush on every single version of Catwoman from that show, but especially Julie Newmar.

He was just a young boy whose interest in girls hadn’t developed fully yet, he knew he liked them but not enough to be gobsmacked by one of them. Then he saw Julie Newmar’s Catwoman and his brain exploded, discovering that he was really into brunettes. But of course, it wasn’t only Beatrice’s hair color that attracted him to her, it was much more than that but it genuinely made him pay more attention the first time.

So to hear that her, his very gorgeous girlfriend, was going to dress up as one of his childhood crushes was doing something to him. He cleared his throat, accommodating himself on the seat when a sudden heat came from below towards his neck, definitely flushing the tanned skin, “That’s nice.” he croaked out, “I mean, you’ll look nice.”

Bea smiled, “Thank you, I’ve always wanted to dress as her and Ev knew someone who could make her outfit with my measurements.” he let out a shaky breath just imagining her with that skin tight outfit, shaking his head to refocus, “I don’t know what Shells will be dressed as, I know Penny will be Wonder Woman.”

“That’s nice.” he had to remember he was driving a car, in the middle of a road in the afternoon, with candy that could definitely melt if he chose to park the car somewhere and just figure out how flexible he could be in the front seat. “Do we have to dress up too?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips “If you want. I know some patrons will dress up…and Phoenix said she will too.” he arches his eyebrow at her “She said she’ll dress up as a cactus.”

He was about to say something, but knowing how Phoenix humor could be sometimes he chose to just keep his mouth shut. “I have an idea for a costume.” she tilts her head towards him, waiting for his reply “A strapping pilot who likes to wear Hawaiian shirts.” Beatrice rolls her eyes laughing, which in turn makes him laugh as well, parking the Bronco in front of her house “No, but seriously, I don’t have any idea what I could dress up as.”

“Well,” she unbuckled her seatbelt, pursing her lips, “You could be…hmmm…oh you’d be a great Gomez. You know, from the Addams Family?”

“I do look great in a suit.” he chuckles, stepping out from the car to open the passenger seat for her, helping her carry the bags “But I couldn’t be a Gomez without my Morticia, and you are dressing up as Catwoman.” her cheeks flushed under his words, “So maybe a second option is needed.”

Beatrice held two bags up, allowing Rooster to close the passenger door and lock the blue Bronco as she got closer to her door. She gasped, turning to him with a smile, “I know! Magnum P.I! He has a mustache and likes Hawaiian shirts too.”

Rooster couldn’t help but chuckle, “I mean, you have a point.” He waits until she enters the house, Jolene greeting both of them with leaps of joy, running between their legs, bringing her sock monkey as a welcome gift. Beatrice rushes to the kitchen where the colorful Halloween baggies were waiting to be filled inside a large pumpkin bucket, “I could do that.”

“You’d look really good too,” she throws over her shoulder, dropping the bags on her kitchen table -which she just got!! -, the different types of sweets spilling over the dark colored wood “You’d just have to use your shirt, no top underneath.”

With her giving her back to him, Rooster smiled, approaching her from behind to wrap his arms around her waist. “You just want to make it easier for you to take it off,” he kisses right below her earlobe “Which is completely fine by me.”

“Roos…” she bites back her smile “I have to set everything ready and you said you’d help me…” her pilot groans, letting her go with a heavy sigh but he’s smiling, removing his sunglasses to slip them on the collar of his tee, taking a seat next to hers. She was so happy, so excited to do this he had no other feelings but pure adoration towards her.

Every baggie had candies and a gift, a tiny notepad with crayons. She didn’t want to give the kids something that’d be too locked within a gender and pretty much every child liked to draw so it’d be a good gift! While they were busy, she was a lot faster than he was too, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to her backyard where he knew she was painting from the time he was deployed. “So…did you finish your picture?” she looks up from tying the baggie with a bright green bow “You said you were painting something when I was gone. Did you finish it?”

Beatrice slows her movements, her cheeks reddening “Oh…um…not yet.” she doesn’t meet his eyes, choosing to focus on filling the baggies instead. His eyes squint humorously, so she was hiding something from him, he was too used to her mannerisms for her to hide stuff like that.

“Do you still want to show it to me once it’s done?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?” his smile turns boyish, the idea it was probably something of a surprise for him making him feel giddy.

“Yes.” she repeats, biting back her smile “You just gotta be patient..and we have to finish this now so we can’t focus on anything else.” he laughs but nods, offering a shrug in her direction as they continue fixing the baggies.

She peeks through the curtains again, the pumpkin bucket on her hand as she looks outside “There’s no one yet.” she murmurs, “What if they don’t come here,Roos? I don’t even know if this neighborhood has a lot of kids.”

He steps behind her, nudging his head on her shoulder to look out just like she did “They’ll be here, gorgeous.” she makes a sad noise, her crestfallen expression when she looks down at the bucket tugs at his heart “Hey, hey, they’ll be here. Okay? Give it a few more minutes.”

Beatrice gives him a look, the dark kohl around her eyes making them appear even bigger “Okay…” she couldn’t hold back the smile when he kisses her cheek, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, pretty girl.” he chuckles, “You sure you don’t want my help?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Just go ahead and relax, you are my guest after all.” she smiles, a soft laugh tittering out of her mouth when he presses a noisy kiss to her cheek again, walking back to the couch where Jolene remained. Beatrice couldn’t help but sigh happily, remembering that after she told him about the wedding, he suggested he could spend the few days before it happened if it helped her feel calmer. So he’d packed up his duffel bag with enough clothes and hygienic products for the time being, choosing to get the suit for the wedding early Friday.

It was comforting having him there, just lounging on her couch wearing his gray sweatpants and no shirt. It was…very nice to know he was in her space. Beatrice’s line of thoughts broke when she started to hear the sudden noise of voices approaching, “Oh my god, oh my god!!” she peeks through the curtain again, seeing a group of kids wander by “Roos!!They are here!”

Rooster chuckles, looking back at Beatrice who was bouncing on the spot with how happy she was, watching her open the door and greet the kids with as much joy as the kids had. He heard the kids gasp and thank her when she gave them the heavy baggies filled with candy, while his eyes remained on the tv, watching Kandy Muse and Tamisha Iman argue during Untucked.

Beatrice remained close to the window, while Bradley and Jolene stayed on the couch, watching Drag Race together. The pitbull’s large head resting on top of his thigh, her eyes blinking sleepily when he petted her head repeatedly, before she succumbed to sleep. He was so focused on watching Drag Race - it was a great show and he already shared his own thoughts with the others, especially Nat who was an avid watcher as well - he didn’t see the time go by.

His girlfriend was just so happy being able to give the kids a good Halloween night she didn’t even move too much from her spot by the window. She did however, blink in surprise when a black Toro pick up truck rolled to a park right outside, a large figure walking out of the driver’s seat to open the passenger door, where a tiny person rushed out.

She could only blink in surprise, seeing the large figure wobble closer, then the doorbell rang. When she opened her eyes immediately focused on her brother looking downright miserable,”Leo?” he purses his lips, then nods “You…uh…what are you doing here?”

“Bibi wanted to see you.” he gestures to the little girl, which makes Bea drop her gaze as well. Bianca was wearing blue overalls, a red shirt and a large red cap with a big M on it with her blonde hair pulled back into it. Not to mention, the paper mustache glued above her niece’s lips.

“Oh…I–”

“Its-a me! Mario!!” Bibi shouts with gusto, pulling out a tiny stuffed mushroom, playing that she bit into it, then bouncing as if she got bigger - much like Mario did.

Realization hits Beatrice, her eyes slowly dragging back to her older brother and his costume. It was a full green onesie with a sewn on head, big fake eyes staring down at her “Oh my God…you–”

“I am Yoshi, obviously.”

“No!” Bianca looked back at her father, “You need to make Yoshi sounds!!”

Leonardo sighed heavily, licking his lips and saying the word ‘mlem’ in the highest tone his voice could get. Beatrice sputters, biting her lips to prevent her grin, “Yes, yes laugh all you want.”

“I-I’m s-sorry..” she tried so hard to hold back her laughter, but only managed to cackle even harder, “I-I, you–” she snickers, covering her mouth with a hand while her brother looks at her unamused, “Oh…oh my g-god…I-I’m so sorry. You look-” a quiet snort comes out of her nose “You look gr-great.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo’s drone reply didn’t help the situation, “Bibi, ask auntie.”

Bianca blinked, holding up her pumpkin bucket, “TRICK OR TREAT!! YAHOO!” Beatrice, after wiping her eyes from laughing so hard, dropped a few of the baggies inside her niece’s bucket, smiling down at her when the blonde girl gasped, whispering a ‘cool’ when she opened the baggie already.

Rooster, hearing the commotion - and Bea’s laughter- decided to put on a shirt before he walked closer to the open door. His eyes widened briefly as he took in Leonardo’s costume, “Hey…Yoshi?” Leonardo nods, unamused, gesturing to his daughter who was sniffing a crayon, dressed as the Italian plumber. “Oh hey, nice costume.”

Bianca looks up, her paper mustache crooked as she gasps, “PRINCE ROOSTER!” she shouts, standing to her feet with her tiny arms up in the air “You are here!! Hi!”

“Hey, Bianca,” he smiles, “Nice mustache, you are going to make me jealous. It looks much better than mine.”

Bianca’s eyes widened, “I’m Mario!” she grins her few toothed smile, “I’m going to get all the candy and defeat Bowser!!”

“You do that, I believe in you.” Rooster replies, enjoying how the little girl growled out in triumph, her tiny fists in the air. He didn’t even notice his arm was around Beatrice’s waist, force of habit really, but he did see Leonardo’s eyes move to it immediately. He didn’t want to remove it, even if Leonardo’s eyes zeroed on it the moment he noticed it. But Bea’s brother just gave him a small smile and an even smaller nod - which with him dressed as Yoshi was downright hilarious- before grabbing his daughter’s fist.

“Come on BIbi, time to go home.”

Bianca frowned, looking back at her aunt and Rooster, “But I wanna stay! Can’t we stay daddy??”

“Uh… no, cause…mom is waiting for us.”

“Mommy is asleep!”

“Mommy is waiting for us while asleep, let’s go.” he swoops down to grab the little girl in his arms, kissing her cheek “Say bye, Bibi.” the little girl pouted, but did so, before pressing her cheek to her dad’s shoulder in annoyance.

“Bye!” Beatrice smiles, leaning onto Rooster’s chest as she watches her brother turn around to his car. The moment he does, her eyes just double in size, “Oh my god YOU HAVE A TAIL TOO???”

“SHUT UP!” Leonardo retorts, covering the plushy tail from his costume with a hand. “STOP LOOKING AT MY TAIL!” but his sister was already laughing and Rooster was trying very hard to not laugh a long, rubbing the tip of his thumb against his lips while looking away. Beatrice was still giggling when her brother got into the truck, telling Bianca to cover her ears as he dropped an ‘f’ bomb, but he was laughing just as hard. Beatrice in return, shouted she loved him as he drove off.

Her laughing diminished and she looked down at the bucket in her hands: empty. She did it. She had her very first Halloween in her house, gave out candy by herself and saw her niece and brother! It was a great night, so great she just turned to Rooster to wrap her arms around his torso, pressing her ear to his chest to hear the heartbeat, “That was fun,” he comments and she nods, “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” her body was also finally relaxing from all the excitement “And tired…but I had fun.”

“You did, it was really nice to see.” he kisses the top of her head, pulling her back inside, “What do you say we get something to eat?” she hums positively, letting go of him to drop the bucket to the floor. But she goes back to holding him,inhaling his cologne before her eyes move back to his, lashes fluttering with the promise of something else. Rooster’s eyes drooped, his tongue wetting out his lips, “Or…you have something else in mind.”

“I did say I’d make it up to you.” she whispers, biting her lower lip while grabbing his hand to lead him upstairs, “Didn’t I?”

“Hmhm.” he mutters, letting her lead him up before he looks back to where Jolene is sprawled on the couch, “What about Jojo?”

“She’ll be asleep…but if you are worried she’ll come upstairs, I have a pet gate that I use when I have to clean up here and she can’t come over.” she says, “I keep it in the laundry room.” She just laughs when he lets go of her hand to bolt downstairs, turning the lights on in the laundry room - her dog just lifting her head then dropping without much interest - before he comes out with the pet gate.

She had never seen someone set it up so quickly, but he did, rushing back upstairs to wrap his arms around her waist. Much to her surprise, he just tossed her over his shoulder, “Rooster!” she yelps, trying to balance herself the best she could, letting out a shout when she feels his hand immediately hit her ass. “Bradley!!”

“Can’t hear you! Going to get my treat!!”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw x reader

205 notes · View notes

neopuppy · 3 years

Text

Dive Into You: intro.

Preview: “Who is that?” You ask Mark. Eyes lighting up watching the boy- the man in conversation with the pastor.

“Oh.. that’s Haechan. The pastor’s eldest son.” Mark follows your line of vision with a sound of disapproval. “Don’t bother with him. He’s bad news.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, love triangle, brothers nohyuck, altar boy Mark(had to srry)

There will be smut.

Warning: sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption.

“It’s so unfair how you make me go to church every week. You never make dad go!” You protests from the passenger seat, your mother ignoring you turning the volume up singing along to her favorite gospel songs.

“How else will you ever repent for your sin’s without the lord’s guidance?” She taunts in return. Overshadowing the mention of your father using Sunday football as the reason he cannot attend. “You should be excited! A new church! A new town! An opportunity for you to finally break free from your shell and make friends!”

“I have.. friend..” you roll your eyes, tapping your forehead into the window. Eyeing over the small mom and pop shops on the way. Why did your dad’s job need to relocate the summer before college? Why did you always have to be the one to sacrifice?

“I would love to see you get proactive in this new church! I’ve heard at work they have an amazing choir. Your falsetto isn’t so bad.” She nudges you with her elbow pulling into the parking lot. The church building is nothing spectacular, quant, small town defined.

“I’m a terrible singer mom” you slam the car door shut, tugging at the collar of your stuffy dress. A frigid garment your mother insisted you wear to impress today.

“Ah, that’s not true sweetie!” She licks over her thumb, rubbing at your cheek. You grimace pulling away in embarrassment as eyes linger over you.

“Mom please, it’s bad enough you made me wear this.” You continue whining, pulling at the hem of your dress. She dawns a bright happy smile walking into the church with an arm around your shoulders.

“Ah! It’s so beautiful! I love it so much already!” Your mom cheerfully spins as you enter together. You cough out swatting at the dusty air. What the hell was so beautiful about an old stuffy building full of judgement.

“That must be Pastor Lee! I read so much about him in the town’s facebook group! Wonderful man!” She pulls you down the aisle toward the front of the church. Pastor Lee stands there decked out in old robes covered in symbolic characters greeting everyone arriving.

“Pastor Lee!” Your mother calls out with an excited wave. The pastor’s eyes widen with an inviting smile.

“Welcome! I recognize you from the facebook group!” The pastor, quite handsome actually replies, with his arms held out. “It’s always a honor to invite new members into the community.”

“Oh pastor, the church is just gorgeous! You can really feel the lord’s energy in these walls! I really cannot tell you how excited I am to help out in any way!” your mother’s over joyed vocals catch the attention of other church goers. You duck your face trying to hide from the curious eyes.

“And I am so excited for you to provide assistance! We can always use helping hands around here! ..and who might I ask is this lovely young lady?” Pastor Lee leans toward your direction with a warm smile.

“My daughter! My only one! My little gift from the heaven’s. She’s overwhelmed with joy to be here.” Your mother grits out words between her teeth, squeezing a hand on your side. You force a smile onto your face with a nod.

“Ah, that’s just wonderful. I have two of my own about your age. I will have to have them show you around town sometime!” The pastor expresses patting over your arm.

“Oh that would be so wonderful Pastor Lee! My little girl has a real difficult time making friends!” Your mother nearly shouts out.

“Mom!” You squeak, ducking further into yourself.

“Well! Speaking of making friends! Mark!” Pastor waves over a young man, can’t be much older than yourself. Dressed in altar boy garments. “This is Mark, my nephew. He will be a pastor himself one day.”

“Welcome!” Mark waves with both hands dawning a friendly smile. The definition of a wholesome boy, one your parents could only dream of.

“Please, do show around our new members Mark. I have to just finish setting up for today’s sermon.” He waves you and your mother off, walking over to the podium.

“Of course pastor. Please ladies, let me show you to the best seats.” Mark directs you toward pews in the front. Your mother excuses herself to use the rest room, shoving her bible into your chest.

“Be a dear and hold onto that while I tinkle.” She whispers scurrying off.

“So, just moved huh?” Mark questions clasping his hands together. He’s excruciatingly polite, a perfect future pastor.

“Yea..” you take a seat, not much for conversation with new people. Taking in the setting before you. Mark lingers for a minute before turning with a nod.

“Wait! Who is that?” You ask Mark. Eyes lighting up watching the boy- the man in conversation with the pastor.

“Oh.. that’s Haechan. The pastor’s eldest son.” Mark follows your line of vision with a sound of disapproval. “Don’t bother with him. He’s bad news.”

“What do you mean? That’s the pastors son??” Your eyes widen admiring the attractive man in a black leather jacket. Whatever he’s discussing seems to be getting heated.

“He just is, has a reputation around here. Don’t get me wrong- I mean that’s my cousin and all, of course. Him and his younger brother used to be active in the church with me but.. bad seeds..Every family has to have them I suppose.” Mark shrugs.

“Reputations are usually full of lies don’t you think?” You question Mark’s words. How stereotypical would it be for the small town pastor to have a bad boy son. Right??

“Hah.. yea well, I warned you!” Mark laughs shaking his head.

“Excuse me..” Haechan approaches the two of you, eyes quickly moving over your figure.

“Speak of the devil” Mark mutters, raising a brow toward Haechan. “Hey dude, what’s up?”

“You’re coming to Jeno’s welcome back party tonight right? Don’t be a fucking square.” Haechan shoots him a glare, lifting a finger toward his face.

“Yea yea.. ” Mark swats his hand away with a sigh. “I’ll be there. Can’t believe Jeno’s been gone for a month already, he’s probably super excited to come back home.”

“Sure, I guess..” Haechan looks your way again, lifting a brow. “Who are you?”

“Oh.. I just.. I just moved... I’m new! My mom uh..” you stammer out nervously, admiring over his delicate features. Haechan’s brows furrow together, scanning your seated body again.

“You look like you’ll fit right in here.” He laughs to himself. “But hey, you should come tonight! The more the merrier right?.. maybe don’t wear that.” Your mouth opens, releasing nothing as embarrassment courses through you. Haechan waves at someone entering the doors.

“Later prudes!” he walks off leaving you seated there awkwardly near Mark with your mouth hung open.

“Is he single by any chance?...” your eyes follow Haechan’s retreating form. Chewing at your lower lip with frustration.

“Single? He’s... a whore.” Mark scoffs out with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway! Would you like to join me for the get together? It’s really not a party, maybe like 20 of us at most. It will be here in the bible study room.”

“Here? Oh, it really isn’t a party then huh.. but Haechan will be there?” you mumble to yourself, eyes still stuck on the man in question.

“Yea yea, hopefully too high off his ass to start any drama again.” Mark groans, words muffled to your uninterested ears.

“Sounds great! What time?”

Part 1–>

a/n: I’m going to hell after this, anyway! Reply/PM for taglist🤗

Tag: @seuomo @unknown5tar

1K notes · View notes

imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

175 notes · View notes

mandos-sluts · 3 years

Text

The Payment

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vibrator usage, bondage, dubious consent

Summary: The Mandalorian detains your criminal boyfriend you barter for his release

A/N: Please message us or comment if you want to be on our tag list!!

You’ve been tailing the Mandalorian for about half a mile, keeping a long enough distance behind him so that he doesn’t know he’s being followed. He and his bounty finally reach his ship and enter the open hatch. Once he disappears behind the walls, you sprint to the ship and tip toe up the ramp. You’re lucky he didn’t close the door as soon as they entered.

“Let him go.” You say holding a blaster in the air with two hands. It’s pointed directly at the Mandalorian’s back. He jumps and turns around quickly, reaching for his blaster on his hip. Once he lays his eyes on you, however, his stance relaxes and his hands fall back to his sides.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian sighs in annoyance.

“Let. Him. Go.” You say as confidently as you can, staring him down, arms straight out in front of you. Why isn’t he alert? Why isn’t he trying to get you to drop your blaster? Ugh, why isn’t he intimidated by you?

“He your boyfriend or something?” He returns casually.

“I’ll say this one more time.” You state slowly. “Let him go, or I will shoot you.” Your arms begin to shake.

“Listen sweetheart, your little boyfriend is already in carbonite, and I'm wearing beskar, so good luck shooting me.” The Mandalorian says in a condescending tone.

You lower your blaster in irritation. This is not at all what you had envisioned this playing out. You thought he would at least be semi threatened by you?

“How much do you want for him?” You ask bluntly.

The Mandalorian let out a chuckle.

“Come on.” You say. “The bounty on his head can’t be that high. How much do you want?” You honestly weren’t even certain the exact reason for the bounty. It was probably embezzlement or fraud or something involving the illegal methods he used to amass his wealth.

The Mandalorian is barely paying attention to you. He’s unloading and his blaster, or organizing his blasters, or doing some trivial task in his weapons armory. “I’m not gonna let him go, I don’t care how much money you offer.” The Mandalorian says without lifting his head. “But consider yourself lucky.” He turns to look at you. “Now you can go off and find yourself a real man. Someone who can actually satisfy you.” He turns back to whatever it is he was doing.

“Excuse me?” You say, crossing your arms. The Mandalorian doesn’t respond or look up, and you stand there in silence for a moment. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but my boyfriend satisfies me just fine. Now...how about two thousand credits.” You ask awkwardly.

“That pretty boy?” He asks pointing at the carbonite chamber, not acknowledging your offer. “Ha. The fight he tried to put up was laughable. There’s no way he can fuck you good.” The Mandalorian says with ease. “Which is a shame, because you seem like you need a good fuck.”

“I–”

“I’m gonna depart now.” He cuts you off. “So unless you wanna go to Nevarro, I’d get off my ship.” His voice is deep and unsympathetic.

Who does this Mandalorian think he is? Why does he think he knows anything about your relationship? You feel like you should feel insulted, but it’s your boyfriend he’s insulting, not you. In a fucked up way, he is sort of complimenting you– implying that you deserve better than your boyfriend. You have a feeling the Mandalorian knows exactly what he was doing.

You open your mouth but pause for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “Five thousand credits.” Is all that you can think to say.

“Little girl.” The Mandalorian exhales. “Your credits are worthless to me.” He says peering at you. “...but...” He pauses as he considers if he actually wants to do this. The Mandalorian is a highly respected professional bounty hunter after all, and proposing this kind of trade is anything but professional. Yet at the same time, you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen; he’s never wanted to fuck someone more. And he just apprehended your pathetic and weak boyfriend, he knows you haven’t been properly taken care of. He knows he can take you to a level you’ve never been to before and give you the best pleasure you’ve ever felt. That concept in and of itself fills the Mandalorian with arousal.

“...but perhaps we could arrange a different form of payment.” He says taking big, slow steps closer to you. *see gif*

“….A different form?” You say hesitantly as he continues to approach you. You can’t believe what you are hearing. You’re well aware of the reputations that Mandalorians boast, and you would never guess that one of them would propose something so risqué. To be honest, you’d be lying if you said that a small part of you wasn’t really turned on by the situation at hand. The Mandalorian was the opposite of your boyfriend. Sure, your boyfriend was conventionally handsome, but he is cocky while the Mandalorian is confident. The Mandalorian is big, strong, and tough, and your boyfriend has been waited on his entire life.

You’re frozen where you stand and your heart is racing as the Mandalorian creeps into your personal space. He puts his gloved hand on the bottom of your chin and pulls your head up so that you’re looking directly into his visor.

“Let me fuck you, and I’ll let this loser boyfriend of yours go.” The Mandalorian says in the deepest, sexist voice you’ve ever heard. But snap out of it! Your attraction to him doesn’t matter. You’re here to save your boyfriend.

“Fine.” You say, trying your best to project a neutral demeanor. “But I’m not going to pretend to enjoy it.”

The Mandalorian lets go of you and presses a button on the wall. “You won’t need to.” He says removing his gloves as the hatch closes. He sits on a bench and leans back, spreading his legs. He has an unmistakably large bulge that he’s not at all trying to hide. His arms stretch out on either side of him to rest on the back of the bench. You’re standing a few feet away from where he sits, and his helmet is glued to your image.

“Take off your clothes.” He commands in a flat modulated voice.

Your heart has fallen to your stomach. The idea of this was hot, but now that it’s actually happening, you’re terrified. What have you gotten yourself into? Why would you agree to have sex with a Mandalorian? Mandalorians are ruthless. They are feared across the galaxy for a reason!

You shake with fear as you struggle to get your shoes, pants, and shirt off your body. You discard your clothes on the cold metal floor and are left standing in just your tiny thong.

The Mandalorian stares at you for what seems like forever. “C’mere.” He says sitting up straight.

You walk over to him and he pulls you to stand in between his legs. You look down at him with what you hope is a poker face. He runs his bare hands all over you. His hands are so big wrapped around your waist, you feel like he could snap you in two. He gropes your ass and your tits and pulls you even closer. Your skin is so frikin smooth against his rough hands, and the Mandalorian can’t get enough of it.

“Fuck.” He spits out. “You’re so fuckin sexy. I can’t believe you settle for such a coward. He must be loaded or something.” He maneuvers one of your legs over his.

“Why you with him, huh?” He asks in a patronizing tone.

“None–”

“Doesn’t matter.” He interrupts. “I’m gonna show you what you’re missing.” He says as he lifts his thigh to meet your crotch. He begins rubbing his thigh between your legs, and the friction against your clit feels amazing. You bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from letting out a little pathetic moan.

He removes one of his hands from your butt and brings it to his belt. All of the sudden, he clasps handcuffs on you, binding your hands in front of your body. Your body tenses up. “What are you doing?!” You exclaim. Any arousal you had is now overridden by fear. If you were nervous before, you are petrified now. The panic you feel is written all over your face.

“Don’t worry, little girl.” The Mandalorian says in a low, soothing voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says as rubs your cheek with the back of his hand. Then, he abruptly stands up and throws you over his shoulder.

“Ah!!” You scream. That’s it, you’re pretty sure you’re gonna die. He carries you deeper into the ship. Your ass is in the air, and your handcuffed hands are swinging down by the Mandalorian’s legs. “Wha– what are you doing?! Where are you taking me?!” You shout as distress pulses through your veins.

Without responding, he enters a room, and gently lays you down on a bed. Then he reaches over you and attaches your handcuffs to the head of the bed frame. You lie on the bed with your hands bound and stretched up above your head, completely naked except your panties. The Mandalorian loosens the handcuffs and lengthens the cord between your hands so as to spread your hands further apart from each other.

You take a deep breath and begin to feel a little bit better. Although the position he’s put you in screams danger, you for some reason feel safe with him. Your body still trembles, though.

The Mandalorian can sense your unease. “Relax, pretty girl.” He says with his modulated voice. He’s standing on his knees with one of your legs between his on the bed. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. Just breath.” He says quietly as his hands travel down your sides. He alternates between softly caressing and aggressively kneading your body. The way he’s touching you, the way his visor is swallowing every part of your body, it makes you wet. You feel so small as he kneels over you, you can hear his breathing, and you can tell he’s holding back.

The Mandalorian is holding back. He can tell that you’re scared and shy, and he knows you’re inexperienced, so he’s trying his best to be gentle. He’s restraining himself from treating you like the whores he fucks the shit out of in brothels. The Mandalorian scoots back and runs one of his hands up your thigh before dancing his fingers on your clothed cunt.

“Fuck. You’re already leaking through your panties.” He spits looking up at you. You say nothing in response and try to give off an uninterested look. The Mandalorian moves your thong to the side, exposing your glistening pussy. “What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he drags his fingers through your wet folds.

The feeling of his fingers trailing through your pussy sends shocks through your body. You let out a high-pitched breath and bite your lip to stifle any more from escaping your lips. You really don’t want to give the Mandalorian the satisfaction.

The Mandalorian slyly reaches under the bed and grabs a small, roundish cylinder-shaped object of metal, of which you could tell is beskar. He gently pushes your thighs apart, and repositions himself in between them, your legs laying flat on the bed. He flips a switch on the object and it begins vibrating. He brings it to your groin and starts circling the vibrator on your clit.

You gasp and bring your knees into the air and plant your feet on the bed. Your back arches and your legs impulsively open up wider, almost inviting the Mandalorian in for more. You can’t even attempt to look inexpressive anymore. Your breathing picks up and your exhales are laced in moans. His other hand is on your thigh, and his thumb is stroking your skin. You close your eyes.

“Open your eyes. And keep them on me.” The Mandalorian orders, squeezing your thigh. He wants you to be looking at him as you come apart at his will. He wants you to see the things he’s doing to your pussy. He wants you to have to face the fact that he is bringing you such immense pleasure. The Mandalorian flips another switch and the object begins vibrating faster. You clench your teeth down on your bottom lip as you try to keep your moans as small as possible. Your pussy is so wet you can hear its gushing sounds over the vibrating.

“You like that?” He asks.

“N–no...” You respond. You wish that was true. It should be true. You’re handcuffed to a bed on a dirty old ship, forced let this vulgar Mandalorian fuck you to save your boyfriend. You should not be liking it.

He scoffs. “Your mouth is telling me one thing, but your pussy is telling me another.” Your denial of the obvious truth just turns on the Mandalorian even more. He loves watching your pathetic struggle to hide and contain your reactions. It makes him all the more determined to break you; he loves a good challenge.

Keeping the vibrator on your clit, he teases your entrance with his middle finger before pushing it inside of you. “Fuck.” You mutter out between breathy moans as he starts thrusting his long thick finger in and out of your hole.

“Of course you’re tight as shit.” The Mandalorian says under his breath. “Tell me, baby girl, have you ever cum?” He asks in his deep voice.

“I– I don’t know.” You respond as he continues pumping his finger and circling your clit with the vibrator. Frankly, you didn’t even know if you could cum. You know that it's possible for women to orgasm– you’ve heard your friends speak about it before. But you're fairly certain you’ve never cum before.

“Awww, poor girl.” He says in an arrogant tone. An “I don’t know” is a “no” and both of you know it.

Suddenly, he starts circling your clit and thrusting you even faster. He adds another finger and this just about sends you over the edge.

Alright, you don’t have the energy to pretend anymore; you’re over trying to put on this charade, which you know isn’t fooling him. Now all you care about is chasing this high you’re feeling creeping into your pussy. Your body has never felt this way before, you can feel the pleasure pulsing in your cunt. Your heaving breathing is now unapologetic moans.

You can tell you’re approaching a climax. Your legs are twitching and your back is arching so much. But then the Mandalorian begins slowing things down, though still persisting.

“Plea–Please.” You moan out, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. If you could, you would grab his arm and guide him to finger you faster, but your hands are still bound above your head.

“Please what?” The Mandalorian inquires. “You want me to stop? Or you want me to keep going? Be a good girl and use your words.”

You wrap your legs around him. “Keep going. Harder. Fas–Faster. Please!”

The Mandalorian lets out a satisfied grunt as he grabs one of your legs and brings it on his shoulder, opening your pussy up even more and affording him a better angle. He cranks up the vibrator’s speed and his two fingers pump you with unmatched rapidity. Your mouth is open wide as your chest heaves. Your eyes fall shut as you can feel your orgasm on the horizon.

“I said, eyes on me.” The Mandalorian orders with a stern voice. “I want you looking at me while you cum for the first time.” You force your eyes open and glue them on his visor.

He watches you scream out and come apart on his hand. “Ahhh!! Mando! Fu– fuck ahhh yes Mando! Yes!!” You cry, maintaining eye contact with his visor. Your entire body is shaking as your orgasm rips through you, a sensation you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl.” He says, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. “You look so pretty when you cum.”

“Mando, I– I want your cock.” You stutter out, coming down from your orgasm.

“Oh yeah?” He asks caressing your thigh.

“Can you let my hands go, please?” You ask in the most begging-little-girl-voice you can.

The Mandalorian sighs out. “Sure...You’ve been a good girl.” He says taking your handcuffs off. You bring your hands down and sit up while you move your hair behind your ears. You take a deep breath and move your hand down to cup his bulge. You’re so turned on that you’ve completely forgotten why you’re here. All you want to do is release the Mandalorian’s cock and pleasure him the same way he did to you.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Payment Part Two

**********************************

Masterlist

**********************************

Taglist:

@pinkninja200 @raspberrymama @stevie75

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mando x reader #pedro pascal smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #mando x you

422 notes · View notes

rqnvindr · 3 years

Text

delicacies

pairing: baker!childe x gn!reader

genre: fluff, modern bakery!au, suggestive

w.c: 1.5k

warnings: making out lol

synopsis: moving to a new country was quite the adventure. and you found new areas to travel further within the cute boy right down the road’s ocean eyes.

it had been a total of two weeks since you arrived in italy. getting settled was your top priority, but now that you’ve got your place set up and are getting used to college life in a new country, it was about time you started checking off some of the more leisurely activities on your checklist.

the streets were clearer, less busy than usual, on the weekend you enter the bakery. it seemed like an unpretentious, small business, with the simple, yet homely, beige walls and the old vinyl in the corner playing soft tunes. the bell rings when you enter, but no one seems to be behind the counter when you examine the array of cakes in the front display.

“welcome! i can help you when you’re ready to order!” a perky male voice interrupts you in the middle of eyeing a slice of strawberry cake. you look up to see a ginger with a warm smile, the crinkles around his blue eyes genuine.

“hello! i was hoping to get this slice of cake right here.” you point to said strawberry treat.

“ah yes. my older brother has been WAITING for someone to try his new signature strawberry cake. but there honestly can’t be anything special about something that tastes the same no matter what.” you can practically hear the way he rolls his eyes as he takes the cake out to put it in a box.

you raise an eyebrow. “complaining about your own products? that doesn’t seem like a very good marketing strategy, but i suppose reverse psychology will do its job.”

“you sound like you know about sales quite a bit.” he smiles wryly. “are you a business major?”

“yup! i actually just moved here to study at the local university for an overseas program.” you only knew this guy for a maximum of 30 seconds, and he had already seemed so open and was able to read you like a book. it made you want to know more about him in exchange.

“so your family bakes everything here?” you ask.

“yes we do! my parents usually do the baking while my siblings and i work varying shifts here up front or stocking up the inventory. but we too, also experiment with different recipes to sell new things.”

you hum in response. “you must have a lot of siblings then.”

the boy chuckles in response. “i do. i don’t know what i’d do without them.” he sounded so happy while talking about his family and it made you feel warm just hearing about how they worked together.

“is this a competition for how much we can learn about each other within a span of a few minutes.” he smirks. “when we haven’t even learnt each others names yet?”

you inspect his attire, pausing at a name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. “ajax? nice to meet you, i’m (y/n).”

“well, (y/n), hope to see you again after trying my brother’s cake. hope it makes you realize that you gotta go for the chocolate or vanilla, not something that wasn’t meant to be a dessert in the first place.”

“i mean it was good so i came back for another one?” you can’t help but laugh when the same boy you met at the counter last week shakes his head.

“and you came to order right around closing time too, huh? guess this makes you a new challenge for me.” you avert your gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling nervous from his chastising.

“fine, you can lose the pouty face. i’ll accept your questionable taste just this one last time.” he pushes his hair back with a sigh after packing up your order and you catch yourself staring.

and of course, just when you allow yourself to indulge in the sight of a mysterious sea of unanswered questions in his blue eyes, he locks eyes with you. he knows you’re checking him out, causing him to smirk coyly.

“ajax,” you begin, preventing the atmosphere from heading somewhere more tense. “have you lived here all of your life?”

“as a matter of fact, no i haven’t. my family has been around, but i think we’ve finally found where we’re supposed to belong here. i’ve been living here long enough for people to start calling me by two different names too. ‘tartaglia’ and also ‘childe’.”

hm. so he was attractive and went by multiple names....

“‘tartaglia’? interesting, sounds like you’ve even earned yourself a name amongst the locals here.”

“i don’t know why they named me after the guy from that one play, though. maybe it’s because i leave a little bit of a stutter in people’s lives.” childe winks.

stutter, huh.

you thought he was just being a boastful young man. until you found yourself just happening to visit the bakery during times you predicted he’d be there.

childe was like a peacock strutting his stuff out in the open, captivating, and divine. you had never met someone so adventurous yet down to earth at the same time. one moment he’d be bragging about his ventures with his friends, and then next thing you knew he’d do a 180 if his little brother called in the middle of your conversation.

it wasn’t just his actions. he grew more bold with his words too. eyes shooting stars as he looked you up and down, noticing the new outfit you wore just for him when he purred about how good you looked and how it was always a treat to have someone as sweet as you visit after a long day at work.

he was always full of surprises. you’re reminded of that when you find him standing behind the counter in a hoodie and jeans instead of his usual work attire.

“what’s up? disappointed that i’m not wearing the apron?” childe exits the space separating you two, and stands dangerously close to you. “don’t worry, i can put it back on when i show you the new frosting i’m working on.” he chuckles and rubs your shoulder, the small exchange of body heat making you feel warm all over.

“a new product, huh? is this to help your family business or to compete with your siblings?” you watch him count the cash at the register with your hands tucked underneath your chin.

“sweetheart, even a guy like me can take on baking as a hobby rather than just a way to make ends meet or pick fights.” with that, he slides the cash register drawer closed. “come on, it should be processed by now.”

you slowly follow childe into the back. as promised, he puts the apron over his casual clothes, the sight rather domestic.

he dips his finger into the light pink frosting after giving it one last stir and licks it off. the sight makes you shiver and lick your own lips.

“mmm. so i guess strawberry does taste pretty good. if done right of course.”

“what made you change your mind, mr.strawberry-anti?” you smirk.

“baking is a delicacy. i was never a ‘strawberry-anti’, just wary of how it’s supposed to mesh with desserts for the sake of compliancy. i made this frosting to test it out some more, and as a special treat. for you.”

before you can receive his gesture to claim your treat, childe gives you the same glimmering look that he always uses before pulling at your heartstrings even further.

and it becomes way too much for you to handle when he leans his face closer to yours.

“here, have a taste.” childe teasingly presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he continues to leave gentle pecks on your lips, and you let out shaky breaths every time he pulls away.

“why did you stop?” you whine and he hovers over your entire body this time, pushing your hips onto the counter.

“hm, not enough? come closer then.” you wrap your arms around his neck, this time, getting a real taste of his creation when he claims your mouth whole.

you grip onto his hair when he adds more pressure into the kiss, pulling especially harder when he nibbles on your bottom lip. as if having unlocked the key to your greatest depths, he effortlessly slides his tongue into your mouth, and you moan upon tasting the lingering strawberry flavor mixed with the feeling of your tongues connecting.

much to your dismay, you both pull away for air. your breaths mingle hotly before he coaxes you into taking a bit more for yourself. not long after you savor the sweetness, childe’s lips are back on yours. the way he sucks the cream off your lips makes your head spin, making you forget about everything else but this one boy in front of you, the mystery boy in a foreign country who sent you through a rollercoaster during only your first month of living here.

“ajax...” you breathe out his name when he lets go of your now swollen and red lips. the boy proceeds to kiss your cheek and jawline gently, laughing softly against your skin.

“i can’t help it, baby. it tastes even better on you.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #childe x reader #childe fluff #childe imagines #childe scenarios

307 notes · View notes

todomochi-uwu · 4 years

Text

Of Unspoken Troubles & Sudden Worries (2/3)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader

Warnings: Angst

Author’s Notes: Finally! The amount of time this took is stupid, but I hope you enjoy it :) Also I´m trying to cope with Jongdae leaving, so please stream “Hello” to understand my pain.

“Hey Crybaby.”

Previous Part: First Next: Second&Half Third

The same eyes who found were now expecting an answer out of you, they were comforting, soothing but also serious and demanding; words simply didn´t come out of your mouth and you avoided looking at him, choosing to focus on the scratches on your hands and knees.

“Know I won’t tell anyone what just happened, I just want to be able to help you.” He said.

Your voice was trapped in your throat; how ridiculous would you sound if you told him your boyfriend was a piece of shit?

“Did anyone hurt? Is someone harassing you?” He tried again.

This time you shook your head.

“Okay, then did you fight with your team?” You stayed silent this team. “I see, maybe we could try talking to your captain? You are from Shiratorizawa, so your captain is Ushijima, right? Let me just…” When he turned around in an attempt to grab his phone you quickly held onto his jacket sleeve, preventing him from going any further.

To this, he gave you a confused look, “Okay now you need to tell me what´s going on.” He was firm, his tone had changed drastically and his tone was lower.

Sigh, “I made something stupid, and now I can’t face them.”

“And what exactly is something “stupid”?” He air-quoted.

You knew you just had to tell him at this point.

…

Kuroo had his head in between his hands, trying to understand what you were trying to say. “Manager not girlfriend, what the fuck does that even mean?” He mumbled.

“So you managed to catch Ushiwaka’s attention, and even though HE was the one to ask you out, he’s being a fucking asshole.” You simply nodded, “Okay, it’s good to know he’s bad at something, to be honest.”

“Wakatoshi is not the monster everyone makes him look, he’s just weird.”

Kuroo giggled, “Well let me tell you he does have the kind of face that says ‘I’m going to punch if you so much look my way’ You know?” To this you giggled, “Would you like at that? Crybaby can actually smile.”

“Stop it, I’m not in the mood.”

“I know, just trying to cheer you up.” He sighed, before looking at you straight in the eyes, “Do you want my advice or were you just looking for someone to bent?”

“Apparently my rational thinking is not good, because I just keep going to back to him.”

“Because you are not being rational, you are just thinking about how much you love him and how much you wish for him to change, even though he´s not going to.” He was direct, no tenderness, making you flinch “Thinking rational would be to tell you to dump him, he’s not worth it. You are here trying to make it work while he´s just establishing rules as if it was a business contract.” Small tears threaten to come out of your eyes, another knot forming at the bottom of your stomach, “But… I completely understand what you are going through, so you are not letting him go that easily. So I’m going to do something that worked for me in the past, okay?”

You nodded.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Yes. “Did things change in some way?” No. “Okay. Has it been getting worse?” Yes. “Do you sometimes question his love?” Yes. “Are you genuinely happy?” No. “Is this what you thought it would be?” No.

Kuroo sighed, before taking your face in between his hands “Is he’s not loving you the way he should; if he’s not cherishing you; if he’s not trying his best for you; if he´s not fulfilling the compromise he made to you. Then it’s not there. There´s no other way to put it.”

A loud sob escaped your lips, things you already knew were now coming out of someone else’s mouth, making it seem real, making it hurt even worse.

“However, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say his intention is not that, he’s not trying to hurt you, he’s just… an idiot.” He looked away, “But everything and everyone has their limit, including you, no matter how much you love him.”

There was nothing much you could say, he was right, you love Ushijima, but it was becoming too much.

“So tonight we are going to go sleep because my god am I tired from trying to block his fucking spikes, I know you say he´s not a monster, but he sure does spike-like one.” You giggled, “Tomorrow you will fulfil your duties as a manager, but nothing else. You will take notes, refill water bottles and give out towels, what you normally do as a manager. No cheering him, no lovey-dovey looks, no midnight escapades, no girlfriend stuff. If he wants you to act like a manager you will, but he will also experiment what losing someone who loves you feels like.”

“Why are you doing this?” You questioned, you knew he didn´t have any malice intentions, but still, you were the crazy person who appeared crying in front of the gym at one a.m.

“Because I know exactly what it feels like to give out love and receive absolutely nothing, and I’m not letting you continue this destructive cycle; it’s what I wish someone had done for me.”

You didn´t ask any further questions, believing every word he said. You turned around to leave, needing to catch some sleep.

“Hey, Crybaby. You forgot something.”

…

It was now morning, your eyes felt heavy and were swollen, fingers bleeding from all the biting and your body kept trembling from the anxiety, but you had to reaffirm yourself, put yourself first.

And so, you made your way into the kitchen, getting ready to prepare breakfast along with the others managers, who could only give you a sympathy smile and a pat in the back, clearly having heard you cry.

Before you even noticed, the teams were already making their way into the cafeteria, the noise filling the entire building. You started serving plates, placing them in the table for the boys to come and collect them.

“Hey, manager-chan.” A familiar voice said. Tendou.

“Hey, Sato. Did you get a good sleep? You need to be prepared to be able to block some of those quick attacks from Karasuno” You smiled, taking him by surprise.

“Yeah… Um, I didn´t know you got along with Nekoma?” His eyes were looking straight into the piece of clothing in which you were currently drowning in.

“Oh yeah, their captain was nice and gave it to me, he said I looked cold.” Shit, you completely forgot about that. Well, fake it ‘till you make it.

“Okay…” He said while returning to his table, Ushijima was already sitting there looking over the notes from yesterday’s practice. “Hey, Wakatoshi-kun?”

“Yes, Tendou?”

“Have we ever had any other training camp with Nekoma?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Huh.” Tendou was confused but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. There was no need to worry just for a silly thing, right?

It wasn´t until he turned around to have another look at you did he notice your eyes were positioned on another table, another team, Nekoma. Then Tendou noticed their captain looking directly at you, intensely and without even blinking, before he gave you his signature smirk and a quick wink, then sitting down next to his libero.

Tendou´s eyes once again returned to you, and this time it shook him, the peachy pink in your cheeks and the shy look in your eyes incriminating you.

…

Tendou didn´t like it one bit, not when you and Ushijima had something, but after last night´s events, he didn’t know what to think, were you two still together, or was that the final straw?

He saw it during breakfast, he saw during their practice match, he saw it during breaks, Kuroo and you, looking at each other, laughing, talking, a relationship he had never seen before.

When in the fuck had you met Kuroo Tetsurou? And what in the fuck had happened for you to look at him that way?

…

“Wakatoshi-kun” He whispered, careful of not raising anyone´s attention.

He hummed in response.

“Are you and Y/N still together?”

“Tendou, I already told you…”

“No, Ushijima. This time I´m serious, are you and her still together?

Ushijima´s eyebrows were furrowed, there was no point in denying it any more, he guessed. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because for one, she´s wearing Nekoma’s jacket, two she hasn´t even bother looking your way, which I don´t blame her after what you did last night, and third the looks Kuroo has been giving her aren´t exactly friendly.”

“What do you mean?”

Goddammit are you fucking blunt, Ushijima, “I mean, she disappears for the entire night, no one in the team knows where she is, and all of a sudden she is friends with Kuroo?”

“I don´t get your point.”

“What I mean…” He raised his voice, clearly exasperated, he tries again calming himself. “What I mean is, this morning she was wearing his jacket, she has spent all of her breaks with him and she hasn´t even come to greet you.” He hoped this would wake up something in Ushijima, but he simply stared at him, clearly not connecting the dots.

Well, fuck.

This time, Tendou pointed your way, Ushijima was confused, what was so bad? And then, everything made sense.

Kuroo had taken your phone away, keeping it at a height impossible for you to reach, you were jumping trying to get it back, it wasn´t long before his arm was around your waist hugging you while laughing, you pouting.

And to this Ushijima couldn´t help but wonder.

What was this strange feeling? And why did he all of a sudden had the urge to punch Kuroo Tetsurou?

Tags: @samanthaa-leanne @missalienqueen @anime-weeb-bnha @minnieminnie00-got7 @ama-suhen @iiwah @saeranoppa @4ambagelbites @sunaswife @puma-d-a @lionhearteddame @ix-elastix @dudejuststop @pruemania @salty4tsukki @wonderblogger @animexholic @kenmascateyes @aralynxo @decaffeinatedcheesecakemiracle @tsibba01 @softkookyy @nnessworls @xxitsaeonxx @hallothankmas @sinex @shinhiromi @killuaking @icedberrytea @foreverdebbie @nati-08 @amoursa @lilolpotatobig @bigtitmisfit @itzgabz22 @holographicwriter @aonenthusiast @flmshneverbreaks

1K notes · View notes

here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Afternoon Naps (myg + pjm)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jimin x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5.5k

Tags: Smut, Consensual Somnophilia, Vampires, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Untouched, Established Relationship, Vampire Sex, Vampire Biting/Blood Drinking, Sleeping Medication, Consensual Necrophilia (Technically), Temporary Character Death, Vampire Min Yoongi, Human Park Jimin, Bottom Park Jimin

Summary: Jimin finds out his boyfriend's biggest secret, and reveals his own biggest kink. They realize that this can benefit both of them.

A/N: Fifth Kinktober fic, day 7: somnophlia; this fic is also filling a request from ages ago. @sujigguk requested a fic with “you’re not human”

A/N 2: The fic contains technically necrophilia -- vampire lore in this fic has the vampire "dying" (i.e. heart/breathing stops, body goes cold, rigor mortis sets in) while resting in their coffins. All sexual acts are discussed and consented to by both parties prior to this.

“Jimin!” Yoongi’s voice was sharp… And not all that happy when he opened the door of his apartment. Jimin smiled sheepishly.

“Surprise?” He said softly.

“What are you doing here?”

Yoongi looked tense as he stood in the doorway. From what Jimin could see over his shoulder, his blinds were drawn, and his apartment was still mostly dark. Strange, given it was nearly ten in the morning.

“Did I wake you?”

Yoongi hesitated. “No.”

Jimin’s smile faded a little. “I wanted to come by… It’s been a week.”

“We’ve been texting.”

Jimin’s smile disappeared completely. “I disturbed you. I’m sorry.” He backed up, ready to head down the hall.

“Wait, no, Jimin. Don’t go. You just surprised me, I’m not used to visitors coming by unexpectedly.”

Jimin looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being sincere. Jimin and Yoongi had been dating for nearly six months. It was great. Yoongi was always there for him, their dates were fun, and they never ran out of things to talk about. The sex was mind blowing. Sure, they fought a little, but never a big thing. The one oddity in all their time together… Was that Jimin was never invited to sleep over at Yoongi’s. Yoongi had stayed at Jimin’s a few times, and Jimin had come over once or twice, but never for more than a few minutes.

The last time they were together in person, Jimin had hinted at wanting to stay over at Yoongi’s one night. Yoongi had seemed okay with the idea, but also a bit stiff about it.

“I should have texted,” Jimin finally said.

“Yes,” Yoongi agreed. “But… You’re here, I can spare a few minutes.” He sighed heavily and stepped aside, letting Jimin in.

“Dark,” Jimin commented as he entered. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.” He reached out for Yoongi’s head, only to have Yoongi jerk away.

“I’m fine.”

Jimin scowled then, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with you?”

Yoongi blinked at him.

“You’re acting weird. I’ve been with you half a year, I know when you’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

“It…” Yoongi’s shoulders sagged. “It’s very hard to explain.”

“Well try. I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark. Literally or figuratively.” Jimin went to flip on a light.

Yoongi grabbed his wrist. His hand was frigid, and his grip was tight. Jimin gasped.

“Don’t.” Yoongi’s voice was sharp.

“Wh… What’s going on? You’re kinda starting to scare me.”

“I don’t mean to.” Yoongi let go of Jimin’s wrist.

“Why are you so cold?” Jimin went forward. Yoongi backed away but Jimin ignored him, grabbing his face. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Are you sick?”

“Not exactly,” Yoongi mumbled.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Jimin, please…” Yoongi leaned into his touch, his eyes screwed shut. “Please just go home… I promise, I’ll explain everything tonight.”

“No. You can explain right now, Min Yoongi.” Jimin crossed his arms and stood in front of the door, facing Yoongi.

“It’s not easy,” Yoongi muttered. Jimin remained silent. He sighed. “Fine. I… I really wanted us to last.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, not liking how this was sounding. Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I’m a monster.”

“What makes you a monster?” Jimin pressed.

“Fangs? Death? Drinking blood?” Yoongi shrugged. “Any number of things. I mean a literal monster.”

Jimin laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, come on, don’t be silly. Yoongi, what is it really?” He asked. He flicked on the light. Yoongi winced visibly, raising his hand to shield from the indoor light.

Jimin’s entire body went cold. Yoongi was standing in front of him. His Yoongi – lean muscle and a sweet, round face, gentle eyes and guitar callused fingers… But not his Yoongi at the same time. The person in front of him was paler than Yoongi – his face almost grey it was so pale. His eyes were dark. Not just dark, but the pupils seemed to have expanded, filling the whites of his eyes and giving him a demonic gaze.

Yoongi let his hand fall, his expression timid despite the horror his features implied.

“You’re not human,” Jimin whispered.

“I’m a monster,” Yoongi agreed. “A vampire… Specifically.” He looked down. “Are you going to run away screaming now?”

“Make me, you troll,” Jimin grumbled. He let his arms fall and took a cautious step forward.

“I’m a vampire, not a troll.”

Jimin grinned at that, seeing the curve of a smile on Yoongi’s lips. “I’ll get it right eventually… Am I in danger? Standing here like this?”

“No. I have excellent control over my feeding… Why aren’t you scared?” Yoongi looked up, meeting Jimin’s gaze.

“I am.”

“You aren’t showing it… Aside from a fast heartbeat… I can’t see any fear on your pretty face. And your heart beats fast around me all the time.”

Jimin smiled. “Flirting isn’t gonna get you out of the doghouse… Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You’re right.” Yoongi snapped his fingers. “I always forget. When is the right date to tell your new boyfriend you died and came back as a bloodsucking creature of the night? That once a week you have to spend a day in a coffin literally dead or you get wildly sick? Isn’t it the third? Or no, the seventh?”

Jimin slapped Yoongi’s shoulder with some force, smirking when he cried out, rubbing it. “Weak for a vampire.”

“I’m immortal, not immune to my boyfriend’s abuse,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Do you drink blood?”

“Of course I do.”

“Human?”

“When I can.”

“From live people?”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Mr. Park?”

Jimin glared. “You lied to me for six months, I’m allowed to interrogate you.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I’m frankly just… In amazement that you’re still standing here. And no… Not live humans, not for a very long time. You may proceed with the interrogation – but I insist on us moving out of my hallway and to an actual sitting location.” He pointed to the couch.

“Do you have anything to drink? If I open your fridge… Will I find bags of blood?”

Yoongi made a noise of offense and crossed his arms. “Of course not, I’m not some barbarian. You’ll find a recyclable bottle of that’s filled with blood. But my sodas are in the door.”

Jimin went over to the fridge and opened it. Sure enough, there were three large water bottles filled with a very suspicious reddish liquid. He grabbed a soda from the door and went over to the couch, sitting next to Yoongi.

“How old are you? I’m guessing that twenty-seven was a lie.”

“I was twenty-seven when I died. Thirty-one years ago.”

“Oooh, I bagged myself a silver fox, huh?”

Yoongi huffed once more. “I died at twenty-seven.”

“Mhm… And now you’re fifty-eight.”

“Jimin, I’m gonna…”

Jimin giggled. “I guess I shouldn’t tease you… You might bite me… Would you?”

“Bite you? Not unless you asked.”

“Would it turn me into a vampire?”

“No. There’s a very specific ritual for that.”

Jimin nodded. “Cool. So, what does a vampire do? Aside from drinking blood… What’s special about you? I’ve seen you in the day. You complain a whole lot, but you don’t sparkle or ignite like a firework. We’ve taken plenty of pictures together… And you eat way too much garlic. You also sleep at night, and probably too long… And you aren’t any stronger than I am.”

“You’re making me feel real great here, Jimin,” Yoongi joked, smiling as he spoke.

Jimin laughed. “Sorry—I just mean… You seem human. I’ve never… Really assumed anything was off about you.”

“The great thing about humans, is that you all really like to assume everyone is like you. You avoid the things that support the opposite. Inhuman behavior, to some degree, so long as it’s not shocking or jarring, you can brush off as an odd quirk, a funny trait. I’m close to human, yes, but I am not human. I complain in the sun because my skin is sensitive. Bursting into flames is a myth, but I do burn far easier than most humans. My skin’s melanin has decayed over the years without cellular growth.”

“Which is why you’re so pale too.”

Yoongi grunted an affirmative. “Garlic is a myth, as is the no reflection thing. I’m sure hundreds of years ago, maybe? There might have been some truth to it, but modern technology and modern mirrors work different, so I can see myself the same as you. I am stronger than you, but I do well at hiding it most of the time. Any displays of it, you either don’t see, or brush aside. I do also sleep at night, yes – because I’ve put myself on a human schedule. I do this so I can live among you all without problems. Once a week though, I must sleep during the day. Sleeping at night is akin to a human living on a series of short naps at mid-afternoon. It’s not fully restful and it’s dangerous to do long term. I compensate by sleeping through the day one day per week, in the appropriate resting place.”

“R… Resting place?”

“My coffin.”

Jimin’s eyes bulged. “Coffin?”

“Yes, I am dead. I have a coffin.”

“That you sleep in?”

“Once a week. Otherwise, I sleep in the bed.”

Jimin nodded, his brows furrowed.

“Gonna run yet?” Yoongi asked.

“No… Is there anything else different?”

“Well… We’re excellent in bed,” Yoongi joked. Jimin glanced up. “I mean it. We have a… Special thing about us. You’ve had sex with other men before me, right?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Haven’t you ever noticed that when we have sex… I’m much—”

“Harder.”

Yoongi nodded.

Jimin pouted. “I assumed it was because I just really turned you on. It’s because you’re a vampire?”

“Well, no, you really do turn me on... A lot. But a few days after I do my daytime sleep, I get naturally more rigid. I’m not sure why – I think it has something do with… Ah, well it’s gross. But it just happens.”

Jimin sat back, sighing softly. “You’re immortal.”

“Yes.”

“Honestly… I think that’s the thing that bothers me most about this. Not that you’re undead or drink blood or… But that you’re gonna never grow old. And I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispered.

“If we work out…” Jimin began. “And stay together… You’ll turn me, right? You’d have to – for us to… Be together.”

“Not necessarily. While I wouldn’t hate the idea of someone’s company in my life… I know that a limited existence is so valued and important. It’s something that I would be willing to discuss… If we work out, and when you are older.”

Jimin nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Yoongi pressed. “That’s it?”

Jimin shrugged. “We all have secrets, Yoongi.”

“I doubt you have a secret as big as this, Jimin.”

“No… But I have one that… People have left for.”

Yoongi seemed to perk up a little at that, his brows furrowed. Despite the difference in his eyes, the sleek black, Jimin found his expression endearing and sweet.

“I like your eyes like this… Can you change them at will?” He asked.

“No. They’re like this because I’ve not fed for a while. I have to keep myself fed and rested or they shift; they’ll be back to normal after I wake up and drink… What secret could you have that’s so big, Jimin?”

“Well… I…” Jimin winced. “God, it’s weird as hell, I’m so sorry.”

“I won’t run,” Yoongi promised. “You’re sitting here next to me after finding out I’m a living dead monster. The least I can do is listen to your secret and try to understand.”

Jimin smiled softly at that. He nodded. “I like… Sleep sex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I like the idea of… Having sex with someone while they sleep or are unconscious. With their consent! I mean… I’d never… Do something nonconsensual.”

Yoongi remained silent a moment, thinking. “Do you want someone to have sex with you while you sleep? Or do you want to have sex with someone while they sleep?”

“Both, I guess. I like the idea of both. I’ve never done it. Most people stop talking to me after I tell them.”

“Why would they?” Yoongi pressed. “We all have kinks and fantasies.”

“Yeah, but a lot of them see it as a form of rape. And I get it, it’s a super grey area. You can’t change your mind while you’re asleep, so like… If you say it’s okay, and then as you drift off to sleep decide you don’t want it… Then it becomes nonconsent.”

Yoongi nodded in understanding. “Well I think that can be resolved just by open communication,” he said, touching his hand to his chin in thought. “If you trust your partner and they trust you, you two should be able to communicate what is and isn’t okay. I don’t think a kink like this is unsafe or unhealthy, as long as – like you said – it’s done with full consent.”

Jimin smiled cautiously, his heart skipping a beat. “You mean… You don’t find it gross?”

“Not at all.” Yoongi smiled. “I’m glad you shared it with me. I still don’t think it’s worse than me being a blood sucking monster… But I know it’s a secret you hold close, so I appreciate your trust. But… Would you want to try this with me someday?”

“Would I ever?” Jimin asked. He chuckled a little. “I fantasize about it a lot.”

Yoongi smirked. He moved little closer, pulling Jimin to him. “Would you want to try it today?” He asked softly.

Jimin’s eyes widened. Yoongi continued. “Look… When I sleep… In my coffin. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I am… For all intents and purposes… Dead. I don’t decay, obviously. But my body goes very cold, my lungs and heart go still… And my body stiffens, as a corpse would. That includes… My dick.”

Jimin remained quiet, processing what Yoongi was suggesting. Yoongi slid his hands over Jimin’s shoulders slowly as he spoke. “So, if someone… Say my very curious, very human boyfriend… Happened to get horny while I was sleeping in my coffin… He could climb in and use my body… Ride me… And I’d remain fully unconscious no matter what.”

“Because you’re dead…” Jimin clarified.

Yoongi nodded. “Temporarily. I wouldn’t wake for anything, unless you shined sunlight on my body. So… If you want to do this…”

“Would you fuck me when you wake?” Jimin said quickly. “If I was sleeping, would you… Return the favor?”

“I wake in the late afternoon usually. You’d likely still be up.”

“Not if I took a sleeping pill,” Jimin suggested. “I have some, I used to get nightmares and they help. I don’t use them often, but I bring them just in case. I could take one after… And you could… Help get rid of your afternoon wood with my body.”

Yoongi shifted visibly on the couch. His tongue darted out, swiping over his lips. Jimin smirked. He leaned forward, sliding his hands up Yoongi’s thighs. “Does that idea sound good? You like it.”

Yoongi nodded. “I do,” he breathed.

“We can do it today?”

“Yes but… Jimin… You understand what I mean. When I lay in my coffin… You will be looking at the equivalent of a corpse.”

“I understand. But you’re still you. You say you’ll only be still and cold… You won’t be decaying or rotting or anything you associate with a dead body. And you’ll be waking up and… We’ll be together.”

“Of course.”

“Would it turn you on? Knowing I used you while you… Rested?”

Yoongi smiled softly, lowering his gaze. “Frankly? That’s… An incredibly sexy thought. The thought of you climbing into my coffin with me alone is enough to… Well… I’ve thought of it more than once. I never even imagined you’d be willing to… Let alone wanting to… Do more.”

“Should I stay in the coffin with you? After I finish?”

“I’m afraid not.” Yoongi shook his head. “Waking from my rest is a very jarring thing. I fear I might accidentally hurt you. I have a bed in my room next to the coffin, you can sleep there.”

Jimin nodded. “I do want this as long as you do. And I do want you to… Do the same.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin gently.

“Hey… You’re a vampire… Don’t you have fangs?”

“They retract. When I’m resting they will come out, so don’t kiss me – you could get poked. But when I’m awake I can pull them in and out as needed.”

“Can I see them?” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi seemed to be thinking about it. He grinned then. His wide, gummy grin suddenly became something much more frightening… And sexier, when Jimin realized his canines had lengthened and transformed into sharp, deadly points. Jimin’s breath left in a rush.

“Oh wow…”

Yoongi’s smile dropped again to a relaxed expression. “Satisfied?” He asked, his tone slightly breathier with the fangs in the way.

Jimin nodded. “I think you need to go to bed soon,” he murmured.

Yoongi smirked, one fang peeking out of his lip. “Horny bastard.”

“Not my fault.” Jimin squeezed Yoongi’s thighs. “Should I wait out here?”

“Please. Though it’s not disturbing I do like going to sleep alone. You’re free to come in in about fifteen minutes… I’ll be resting by then. The lube is in the top drawer of the dresser in the bedroom.

“See you in the evening,” Jimin said. Yoongi rose and leaned forward, pecking Jimin’s mouth gently.

Fifteen minutes had never been so damn slow. Jimin finished his drink and paced around the apartment, trying to distract from the ticking clock. He took the time to explore Yoongi’s place; he’d never had a chance to before. He had quite a number of interesting trinkets that Jimin wanted to ask about when he woke up. He pulled off his coat and tugged on one of Yoongi’s hoodies, hugging himself in it as Yoongi’s scent drifted into his nostrils from the warm fabric.

Finally. Fifteen minutes had passed. Jimin entered the bedroom carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the room, even darker than the living room. He found a lamp near a comfy looking bed and flicked it on, looking around. The light was soft, diffused by the heavy shade. In the center of the room was a large, dark coffin. Jimin approached it carefully, his heart in his throat. Inside was Yoongi, looking much paler than usual. He was entirely still, arms resting across his bare belly. He was in his boxers, his cock comically rigid, tenting the front up obscenely. He was stunning.

Jimin hurried over to the dresser and opened the drawer, finding the lube easily. He shucked his jeans and boxers, crawling onto the bed. He set his sleeping medication on the bedside stand and relaxed into the pillow. It smelled richly of Yoongi’s scent, his cock thickening against his thigh. He moaned softly, stroking himself. He looked over at the coffin, his stomach clenching. This was really happening. He poured some of the lube on his fingers and spread it over his hole, sighing contentedly as he pushed a finger in to prep himself.

When he was ready, Jimin rose, sliding the lube and his phone into his pocket. He went over to the coffin, taking a moment to gaze down at his beautiful lover. A vampire… He knew he’d likely have a moment of realization down the line – the understanding that this simple confession had flipped his life upside down. But he’d never been one to shy away from the macabre or bizarre, and he always wondered if supernatural creatures existed. Yoongi’s confirmation of that was… Unexpected, but not unwanted.

Jimin carefully straddled Yoongi’s lap. He knew he couldn’t wake him, but the fear was half the fun. Yoongi was still hard, his position entirely unchanged from the first moment Jimin saw him. Jimin pulled his boxers down just under his balls, smirking when he saw the tip was a deep purple red. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked gently, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Yoongi really was a living dead person.

A surprising twinge of arousal spiked through Jimin, making him shudder. He wondered if Yoongi could still come in this state. Only one way to find out.

He shifted over, taking the lube from his hoodie with shaking hands and adding some to Yoongi’s cock, and more to his own stretched hole. He moved over and began to settle into Yoongi’s cock, muffling his quiet gasps in his other hand. Yoongi’s cock was so hard it was almost painful. There was none of the give he was used to, forcing his ass open wide to take the tip, and sliding deep into him. He whimpered, shuddering hard when he took his entire length.

“Yoongi,” he whined softly. Curious, he reached out, touching Yoongi’s pale, cool face. He held his hand by his nose for a moment. Nothing. No movement of air, no shift, nothing. He moaned again, reality slowly sinking in. There was nothing normal or right about this. But God, it felt good. He dropped his hand down, pulling Yoongi’s top lip back. As promised, there they were, sharp fangs, glinting dangerously. Jimin touched one, ever so tempted to prick his finger on it, let Yoongi taste him… But no. Jimin pulled his hand back. That could be discussed at a later time. He settled back on Yoongi’s stiff cock and whimpered. There was no give. He was gonna lose it fast at this rate.

Jimin began to ride him, moaning openly as Yoongi’s cock slid over his prostate. He reached into his hoodie and removed his phone, holding it up. He found his camera app and angled it to show his face first, his cheeks mottled red with arousal. He moaned openly as he pressed record, not bothering to shy away from looking and sounding obscene.

“Your cock is so hard, Yoongi. You’re gonna break my ass in half, oh!” He shuddered, biting his lip and twisting his hips down. “Fuck, I’ve never had something this hard up my asshole, Yoongi… I’m gonna gape for hours after I’m done with you.”

He whined, his throat clicking as he struggled to swallow. He turned the camera, filming Yoongi’s body before turning it and balancing it behind him, so he could film himself riding Yoongi. He glanced back, smirking when he realized the camera was catching each long stroke, Yoongi’s cock sinking back into his ass. He spread himself and leaned forward, giving more light for the camera. He fucked himself hard and fast onto Yoongi’s cock, moaning and begging for more, not hiding the pleasure he was getting. He reached back and grabbed the phone, holding it up again.

“I’m gonna come, Yoongi,” he whined. “I’m gonna come from using your thick, hard cock, right here in your coffin. Wanna see?”

He turned the camera and lifted the front of the hoodie. His cock was bouncing with each thrust of his body, slapping gently off Yoongi’s still stomach.

“I’m so glad you slept shirtless,” Jimin panted. “Make me come, Yoongi… Oh God, please… Fuck my ass harder…” He moved faster, whining high in his throat. It shifted to a shout when his cock began to spurt, shooting ropes of come over Yoongi’s hands and belly. He stroked himself, still riding Yoongi’s cock as he milked the last come from himself. He shuddered and giggled, moving the camera behind him as he pulled off Yoongi. He held his ass open, feeling the cool air tickle him far more intimately than it should.

“Look at that gape,” he mumbled. “Too bad it’s not dripping with your come.” He pulled the camera back as he crawled out of the coffin.

“I think I’m gonna leave you like this… Covered in my come, boxers down… Just so you wake up and know what I did to you.”

He walked back over to the bed in the corner. “Now, Yoongi… I’m gonna leave the lube right there.” He angled the camera to show himself setting it on the nightstand and picking up the sleeping pill. “And I’m gonna take my sleeping medicine.” He angled the camera back to his face to show him swallowing it.

“Now I’m going to sleep just like this… No shorts… And I would love it, if you want to… To repay the favor and use my ass while I sleep.” He smirked. “I wonder… Is your come as cold your body was when you first come back? You should let me know… I wonder how that feels inside me…” He shook his head. “Sleep well… See you soon.” He ended the video and sent it to Yoongi, forcing himself to stay awake long enough to hear the buzz of Yoongi’s phone in his coffin. He let himself drift off to sleep, dreams full of sexy, arousing thoughts.

Jimin’s ass was on fire. He moaned softly, opening his eyes blearily. The first thing he saw was the coffin. He turned his head, spotting the clock… Nearly seven hours since he’d gone to sleep.

“Morning Sunshine,” Yoongi murmured. Jimin turned, spotting him at his desk. A cup of deep red liquid sat next to him as he worked on something. “How’s your ass?”

“Sore,” Jimin mumbled, reaching back. He was met with a gush of body temperature fluids, pouring from his gaped hole. He whined. “Fuck…” His cock throbbed against the mattress. “What did you do?”

“Me? I simply did as you asked in your video… Very sexy, by the way. Would you like to watch?”

Jimin rolled over, groaning weakly. His cock was hard despite the pain in his ass. It was perfect. “Show me,” he whispered.

Yoongi rose and grabbed his phone. He went over to the bed and sat on it with Jimin, passing him the device.

Yoongi did far less teasing and talking in his video. He set up the phone at an angle on the nightstand, allowing it to capture most of Jimin’s sleeping body. Yoongi slicked his cock, looking into the camera as he sank into Jimin with a moan. He began to thrust into him quickly, holding Jimin’s ass open as he did. He maintained looking at the camera most of the time, his eyes the same black they were when he went to sleep.

As Jimin watched himself get used on the phone, Yoongi pulled him onto his lap. He’d withdrawn his cock, Jimin could feel. He hissed and whined softly when Yoongi dragged him over and slid back into his come lubed hole.

“It’s sore,” he whined.

“You can get off then, I don’t mind,” Yoongi said, letting his hips go. Jimin smirked. He shifted to get a better angle to watch the video and began to bounce lazily on Yoongi’s cock.

On the video, Yoongi had picked up speed, grunting as he fucked Jimin’s sleeping body. He tossed his head back, shouting and baring his teeth.

Jimin moaned, catching sight of Yoongi’s fangs. He touched his own neck, a little disappointed at the lack of bite marks. Yoongi on video shuddered, his hips going still. He leaned forward, kissing Jimin’s shoulder.

“There’s my first load, Jimin. It was as cold as ice… I’ve never felt your hole squeeze me so tight. Next time I’ll do it when you’re awake… I bet you’ll squeal so pretty when it fills you…”

Jimin moaned, leaning back against Yoongi. “I wanna feel,” he confessed.

“I’ll make sure you’re awake next time,” Yoongi promised. “Wanna see the rest?”

Jimin nodded, riding Yoongi a little faster.

On video, Yoongi picked up the pace, fucking Jimin’s ass harder than before. He used him for nearly forty minutes, filling his hole three times. Finally, he sagged his shoulders, kissing over Jimin’s back.

“You’re so fucking sloppy, baby,” he grumbled. He grabbed the phone and angled it down. Jimin’s ass was red, his hole swollen around Yoongi’s cock. He pulled out slowly and come bubbled out, obscene sounds filling the air. Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll leave you like this. When you wake up I’ll give you one more, if you want it.”

The video went black. Jimin leaned forward, his ass aching at the new angle. “I want it,” he whispered.

Yoongi shifted, pulling out only long enough to get onto his knees. He sank back into Jimin’s already filled ass, and they both moaned at the sloppy noises. Jimin leaned up, wrapping his arms back around Yoongi.

“Bite me when you come,” he whispered.

“You sure?” Yoongi was fucking him hard, his cock twitching.

“Yes,” Jimin promised. He reached down, stroking his cock in time with Yoongi’s thrusts.

Yoongi was huffing erratically, holding tight to his middle. His fangs grazed Jimin’s shoulder.

“Are you mine?” Yoongi panted in his ear.

“Yes—“

“Give yourself to me.” Yoongi grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off his cock. “All the way. Are you mine, Jimin?”

“Yes, yes!” Jimin moaned.

“I’m yours as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi whispered. He slammed his cock deep. It began to throb, spilling inside Jimin. At the same time, Jimin felt a sharp pain and then a pressure on his shoulder. Pure pleasure washed over him. His cock began to spurt ropes of come, jerking hard enough to make them land on the floor in front of him. He shouted Yoongi’s name, reaching back and holding his neck as Yoongi drank from him.

The two collapsed on the bed as their orgasms faded. Yoongi kissed and licked at the wound on Jimin’s shoulder until the blood clotted, sliding his softening cock carefully from Jimin’s aching ass.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, nudging Jimin’s shoulder with his nose as they cuddled back to chest on the bed.

“I’m great,” Jimin whispered.

“No regrets? Still okay with it?”

“Fully… You?”

“It was so exciting,” Yoongi admitted. “When I woke and felt your come on me… And then saw you sleeping… And that video was stunning. You were so beautiful.”

Jimin smiled shyly. “We’ll have to go easy the next few nights… I’m really sore.”

“Of course. I’ll be gentle for a while, let you heal up.” Yoongi kissed over his shoulder. “Did the bite hurt?”

“No. It felt good… How often can you drink from me?”

“I’d prefer not to often. Living human blood, not bagged, it’s… Very rich and sweet, almost like candy. It can become addictive. I’m honored you let me, but I’ll save it as a treat for myself, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course.” Jimin turned as well as he could. His gaze searched Yoongi’s face, finally dropping down to his mouth, lips pink and cheeks mottled. “It was so interesting. Seeing you in your coffin.”

“I know it can be frightening.”

“No…” Jimin shook his head. “I think it sank in… That I was looking at someone who wasn’t alive. But knowing you’d be awake soon after, it was… This bizarre sort of… Taboo but sexy thing? I’m a freak, aren’t I?” Jimin’s shoulders sagged.

“No more than I.” Yoongi nudged him again. “We can be freaks together.”

Jimin grinned. “Yoongi?” He said softly.

“Hm?”

“I feel gross.”

“Because of what we did?”

“No, silly.” Jimin laughed. “Because your come is gluing my ass and legs together. I need a shower.”

Yoongi laughed brightly, nodding. “Agreed. Let’s get one... It’s almost dinner, you’re probably starved.”

“You aren’t,” Jimin teased, rising slowly. “No, but I could eat. I’ll take you out after the shower.”

They walked together to the bathroom. “How does eating human food work with being a vampire?”

“Same as it works being alive,” Yoongi said, turning on the water. “It’s just empty calories for me – Which is why I never eat much.”

“There’s so much I feel like I have to learn about what you are… How life is for you.” Jimin crossed his arms as he waited for the water to warm. Yoongi straightened up and wrapped his arms around him. Now that Jimin was aware, he could feel that Yoongi was a few degrees cooler, his skin just a bit paler than human.

“You can ask anything you need. We have time, and I’ll tell you all you want to know.”

“Yoongi…” Jimin leaned against him, hugging him tightly. He could hear Yoongi’s heart, glugging along at a lethargic pace. He smiled softly. “Can I confess something to you?”

“Hm?” Yoongi asked, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” Jimin whispered.

Yoongi went still, his heart skipping a little faster. “Jimin… Say that again,” he said.

“I… I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Jimin could feel Yoongi’s lips curve up into a smile against his shoulder. “In nearly sixty years of existence… I have never heard more beautiful words,” Yoongi admitted. “I love you too, Jimin… I feel like I’ll love you forever.”

Jimin pulled back, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. His eyes were back to their normal soft brown. He smiled. “Coming from someone who is immortal… That’s the most beautiful thing I could hear.”

Yoongi leaned forward, kissing Jimin deeply. He pulled him close, and Jimin melted into the touch. Yoongi may have cold skin, may drink blood and die once a week – but Jimin had never felt safer or warmer than he did at that very moment in Yoongi’s arms.

#thebtswritersclub #yoonmin #jimin x yoongi #yoongi x jimin #jimin smut #yoongi smut #jimin #yoongi #mywriting

76 notes · View notes

youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

Text

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 2

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2075

Additional note: In Norway, you are of age at 18.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

"... don't start eating until your brother joins us."

As he pushes himself down the large hallway leading to the kitchen, Ivar can hear Lagertha's assertive voice. He knows exactly who she's talking to and his suspicions are confirmed as soon as he enters the room, as a very displeased and apparently famished Hvitserk looks at him with irritation before letting out a muffled, "it's 'bout time."

"Sorry, I must have dozed off." Shrugging, Ivar wheels up to the kitchen table, the smell of pizza tickling his nostrils. He must be hungrier than he thought.

"You look like Hel." Sigurd sneers in greeting.

Ivar, without bothering to look up, just tilts his head and hisses through clenched teeth, "coming from you, dear brother, I take that as a compliment."

He can feel Lagertha's gaze upon him and when he turns his head toward her, she is staring at him, the worry obvious in her eyes.

"I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that but Sigurd isn't wrong." She crosses the room and leans over, her brow furrowed. "You look exhausted, sweetie, what's going on?"

Ivar almost wants to laugh. He looks exhausted? No kidding? Yeah, guess what? That's what two sleepless nights in a row usually do to you. At least that's what they did to him. What you did to him, haunting his nights and even haunting his dreams, waking him up with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the few times he managed to fall asleep. At least, he'd made up his mind early this morning. Hopefully, now that the decision has been made, he'll sleep better. Saturday night, he'll see you again. His heart is racing at the thought and he inhales deeply, trying to calm down.

Unsurprisingly persistent, Lagertha asks again as she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "Ivar, are you all right?"

He wishes he could just ignore his stepmom but knows she won't let it rest. Unwilling to admit that he owes his restless nights to a girl - to you - he decides to keep his answer vague. "So-so," he mumbles, slightly rocking his right hand.

"You're in pain? Do you need more meds? I could run to the drugstore really quick."

For once, he doesn't resent Ubbe for his well-meant yet patronizing kindness, nor for the pitying look he gives him. Actually, he silently thanks him for the good diversion. As long as his brothers and Lagertha believe that it's his legs that bother him, keeping him awake, his secret - you - will be safe.

Faking a small, sheepish smile, Ivar shakes his head. "Thanks bro, but that's okay, I have everything I need. Guess I should just double-up the tramadol tonight." He winces for good measure, knowing fully well he won't even need a single dose. The pain in his legs today is barely at four, nothing he can't handle.

Once the meal is almost over – which in plain English means that everyone but Hvitserk has finished eating, but thanks to Lagertha principle 'no one leaves the table until everyone has finished, boys', they're all stuck here – Ivar decides it's time to break the news.

"I'm gonna go to the party."

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the kitchen falls quiet. Even Hvitserk stops chewing, putting his last slice of pizza back on his plate.

Not knowing what to do with the silence, and feeling a little awkward, Ivar explains further, a hand on his neck, "the midsummer party, I mean. Harald's party."

"We heard you just fine, sweetie." Lagertha is the first to pull herself together, even though the disbelief is clear in her voice. As Ivar looks up, his brothers are staring at him, slack-jawed, bewildered, probably wondering what's got into their baby brother.

"Let me get this straight." With widened eyes, Ubbe starts running both hands through his hair, "you are considering attending Harald's party, right? That's... That's what you said?"

"Yep." Ivar shrugs as if it was no big deal. Who is he kidding? Of course, it is! Attending the party is a fucking huge deal for him. There's no way in Hel he'll admit it, though. Not in front of his brothers. No fucking way!

"I'm not sure I understand..." Ubbe sounds cautious and it infuriates Ivar to no end.

"What part of 'I'm gonna go to the party' don't you get, brother? Huh? Too many big words for you?" He wants to keep going but when Lagertha clears her throat and gives him a stern look, he faintly raises an apologetic hand while muttering under his breath, "okay, okay, I'll stop."

Heaving a sigh, he shrugs once more. "Seriously, you don't all have to look so surprised. I just want to go to Harald's party. It's really not that big of a deal."

"But you never wanted to, sweetie. Why now?" Lagertha's eyes are wide open and there's a frown on her forehead as she crosses her arms.

"Why not?" Ivar can't help but raise his voice. "I'm sixteen, Lagertha! Thought I was entitled to a change of heart. Was I wrong?" Pointing a finger successively at each of his brothers, his free hand grabs his push rim, his knuckles white. "The three of you attend every year, why shouldn't I?" Looking directly at Lagetha once again, he asks in a clipped voice, "You're not going to tell me I can't go, are you?"

"Of course not, sweet–" She begins but Ubbe cuts her off.

"Listen Ivar, no one is saying you shouldn't go, not yet at least. As a matter of fact, no one would be more pleased than I if you were willing to go out more. Playing pool, going to the movies, or just having drinks, you know you're always welcome to come along with us. But..." Ubbe groans, rubbing his hands over his face and Ivar stiffens, grinding his teeth, "Harald's party, really? It's not going to work. You know it takes place on the beach, it's not exactly wheelchair-friendly."

Reluctantly taking his eyes off his slice of pizza, Hvitserk jumps in. "Ivar is our brother, if he wants to go, we find a way. That's it - I'll carry him."

Positively surprised, a small smile playing on his lips, Ivar thanks his brother with a nod, glad – and relieved too, because two are always better than one, right? – that Hvitserk, as so often, backs him up. Of all his brothers, he's the only one who sees him first as a sixteen-year-old and not as a cripple.

Ubbe is having none of it though. "Hvitserk, just stay out of this, okay?" He's practically shouting, chin up and chest out. "You don't have a say! I'm the oldest, not you! I don't think it's a good idea for Ivar to attend Harald's party, period."

Hvitserk furrows his brow and for a short moment, Ivar thinks his brother is going to fight back but eventually he lowers his gaze, defeated, before shoving the whole slice of pizza into his mouth. Ivar knows all too well that his brother, who's not the most tenacious of them, hates confrontation, especially with Ubbe.

Unlike him, Ivar is always ready to pick up a fight, even when it's not worth it, even when he is wrong. Today, though, it's definitely worth it.

His nostrils flaring, he smashes his fist down on the table, his face crumpled with anger. "Who do you think you are, Ubbe? You may be the oldest, but you're not my father, okay? So please, just do me a favor, brother, and read my lips." His voice dripping with sarcasm, his bottom lips quivering, Ivar is absolutely livid, "You. Don't. Have. A. Say. Period."

Ubbe is about to retort, his hands clenched into fists but Lagertha raises a hand, shutting him up. "Boys, boys, boys!" Glancing at Ubbe and then at Ivar, she shakes her head, not exactly thrilled with their outburst. "Now, calm down, both of you. Ubbe, Ivar is right. You may be his big brother, you may be an adult, but you're not his father. I know you mean well but as Ivar's guardian, I have the final say." Turning her head toward Ivar, she cracks him a reassuring smile. "We'll talk about this later, okay? Just the two of us."

***

Slamming the door shut, Ivar wheels up right next to his bed and, angling his chair just right, transfers over onto his bed before punching the wall, a roar escaping his lips. Big tears of frustration and anger run down his cheeks as Sigurd's words linger in his mind.

He had been surprised when his less-favorite brother had stayed out of the conversation.

He should have known better.

No sooner had Lagertha, Ubbe and Hvitserk left – she to make a phone call, they to join Margrethe – leaving them to tidy up the kitchen, than Sigurd had lashed out at him with harsh words and eyes full of spite.

"You messed up in the head, huh? It's a fucking beach, Ivar, you do realize your front wheels will get stuck in sand, right? Now tell me, little brother, do you really think we are going to carry your crippled ass around all night? Let me tell you, it's not going to happen! There will be so many better ways for us to spend the night. Girls, you know? Lots of them. Am I going to let you embarrass me and ruin my night? No! Not in a million years. And anyway, why do you even want to go? Get real, Ivar, you don't belong there, you just don't. You're a fucking cripple, a freak, an abnormality. No one wants you there. No one wants to see you. The sooner you accept it the better."

He knows Sigurd was intentionally trying to hurt him. And fuck, he did succeed. Ivar had felt so humiliated that it had brought bile to his throat.

At some point, while Sigurd was spitting his venom, Ivar had grabbed the large knife lying on the table and it took all his self-control not to stab his brother. No doubt his shrink would be proud of him.

Now though in his room, and even if he is boiling with anger, the nagging thought that Sigurd had a point, that he wasn't completely wrong, doesn't leave him. And he can see now that, in his own weird way, Ubbe was trying to protect him. By preventing him from going, his big brother wanted to spare him humiliation, pity, and mockery. Hvitserk, of course, had been willing to help, but let's face it, Sigurd once again was right. Piggy-back riding is not really an option anymore, he is too heavy. Plus, if he's being honest, even if it were still possible, it's the last thing he'd want. The mere thought of you seeing him on Ubbe's or Hvitserk's back makes him nauseous. Which puts him back to square one.

The beach is a problem and a huge one. Wheeling in sand is a no-go. It's just fucking impossible. If he doesn't come up with an idea soon, he's not going to be physically able to attend the party. And that's something he doesn't want to consider.

"I need a fucking genius idea!" He speaks out loud, cracking his knuckles, his eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck.

He just wants to see you. Y/N... Just you. And he won't be able to.

Fuck. Fucking sand! Fucking beach! Fucking legs! Fuck– Stop.

Wait.

What... What did he say?

He needs an idea... A genius idea. Genius. That's it.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Good thing he knows an authentic genius, right?

Grabbing his phone, he frantically slides his pointer finger on the screen, sighing with relief as he finds the contact he is looking for.

"Hello, Ivar," the man answers after two rings, and his voice brings an even bigger smile to Ivar's lips, "it's very sweet of you to call me."

"Hello to you too, you spindly legged, knock-kneed old fool. There might be something that you can do for me. I want to attend Harald's party. It'll take place on the beach. My brothers won't carry me and I can't really crawl about, can I? I wonder if you could help me, Floki?"

Ivar's godfather lets out a high-pitched chuckle before answering, "I'll figure something out, dear Ivar, I'll figure something out."

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

97 notes · View notes

seiijohhh · 3 years

Text

the slow demise [2/?]

summary: He’d found you coated in blood, surrounded by death, and decided then and there, you were perfect. pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!gojo!reader a/n: this has been reposted from my original account @justauthoring - so, if you recognize it, that’s why. im also tagging those who originally requested to be tagged in it, so they know where to find future parts. tags: @thatprofessionalfangirl - @sugarandsoft - @honeyy-honeyy-sweets - @strawberryflavoredjeans - @flowersbloominthedark - @juliajempire - @princess-bumblebee - @sageandberries-png - @yue-caelum - @a–nonymousse - @aryksworld - @godsentkita - @kat-su-ki

part one - part two - part three - part four

“How is there only four first years? Isn’t that too few?”

“Well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?”

Pausing in thought, the tip of Itadori’s popsicle remains in his mouth, before he tips it towards Fushiguro; “nope.”

“That just proves how small a minority jujutsu sorcerers are.”

Leaning against the railing beside Itadori, you glance away from him and Megumi, taking a moment to gather your surroundings. Gojo has left waiting here for quite a while, and honestly, you were getting bored.

“Also,” Itadori speaks up, pulling your attention back on him. “Didn’t you say I was the fourth?”

“Their entry was decided a while ago.” Fushiguro explains, nonchalant as ever, “you know what our school is like. Everyone has unique circumstances.”

Leaning towards Itadori with a mischievous grin, you hold your hand up to give the impression of telling a secret but don’t bother to lower your voice. “They were trying to find a replacement for me,” you grin, bright eyed at the dull look Fushiguro sends you.

“You were the one who said you’d never been apart of our school in the first place,” he quirks a brow, “how could we replace you, then?”

Blinking at his quip, you’re mainly surprised he’s able to come up with one.

“Moo,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “No fun.”

“Sorry for the wait.”

Blinking at the new voice, your straighten out at the sight of Gojo waving at the three of you. He makes his way steadily over, before pausing, head tilting in curiosity, lips parting; “oh? Your uniforms made it in time, I see.” Then, his eyes drift to you, meeting your gaze. “Though, I’ve had yours waiting in my closet for a while.”

Glancing down at your uniform, you pull at the jacket, eyeing it curiously. The outfit was the same colour as Gojo’s and Fushiguro’s, as expected, a deep, dark purple. Yours was slightly different then your male counterparts however, and you’d found a pair of tight fitting dress pants, a white button up, and a cropped jacket with a high collar at your door this morning.

“Yeah,” Itadori grins, sending him a thumbs up. “It’s a perfect fit. Though it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s,” he pulls at the material, “it has a hood, for one.”

“That’s because the uniforms can be customized upon request.”

“Huh? But I never put in any requests.”

With a sigh, you cross your arms over your chest, nudging Itadori lightly; “that’s because he did.” And when he turns to look at you, you shrug. “I didn’t put in a request for mine either. Though, I’m pleasantly surprised that mine came with pants.”

Utterly and entirely too proud of himself, Gojo grins at you brightly, sending you a thumbs up; “I thought you’d appreciate not having a skirt.”

And honestly, you can’t argue with that.

“Whatever, I guess,” Itadori shrugs.

“Be careful,” Fushiguro calls out, “Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that.”

“More importantly,” you speak up, raising your head as you poke your head out. “Why are we meeting up in Harajuku?” Just as you finish speaking, Itadori moves to a stand beside you, pulling your eyes on him briefly before blinking back over at Gojo.

“Because it’s what she asked for.”

“Hey!” Jumping at the sudden pike of excitement in Itadori’s voice, you turn to him as he grins excitedly at you. “Popcorn! I want some!” Without any real warning, he grabs you by the wrist, grip gentle but firm, and pulls you along, whilst you stutter in surprise.

“H-Hey! I never said I wanted some–!”

–

“Um… P-Pardon me?”

It takes you half a second to realize that the older man stood in front of you, is talking to you. His lips are curved into a hopeful, somewhat hesitant smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he regards you. “Are you on the clock right now?”

Your lips part, surprised flooding your features. You take a glance back at Itadori, Fushiguro and embarrassingly enough, Gojo, stood a little ways back from you as they watch on with varying expressions of interests. Itadori just looks curious, maybe even a little lost (and honestly, it’s a little endearing), Fushiguro seems rather annoyed and Gojo? Well, you have no idea.

Despite knowing the man for so many years now, you still can’t really gauge what half of his mischievous looks are about.

“Uh, no, I’m not,” you answer, turning back to the man, before raising your hand with a soft shake of your head. “But I’m not–”

“You see,” he cuts in, plainly ignoring what you’d had to say. So much for being hesitant. “I’m looking for potential models.” You take a quick glance at yourself – what about you currently screams model right now? “This is who I am,” he continues, thrusting a card in your face. “Would you be interested?”

You miss the pair of keen and careful eyes that watch you.

“Sorry,” you bow gently, feeling suddenly incredibly uncomfortable. “I’m not really interested–”

“Oh! Just hear me out–!”

“Hey, you.”

A new voice calls, and your eyes land on a hand that’s latched itself to the man’s shoulders before glancing upwards. You’re surprised to see a girl, your age, in a similar school uniform to your own, instead hers consists of a pencil skirt.

The man turns to her with a startle.

“What about me?”

You blink at her boldness, unable to stop the grin that grows on your face.

“For the modeling gig, dug,” she continues, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m asking what you think about me.”

“Oh, um! I’m in a hurry at the moment!” He offers a small smile, a nod your way, before moving to walk off.

She doesn’t let him off that easily.

Tugging him back by the collar of his jacket, she growls; “don’t run from me! Come out and say it!”

“Please, I’m sorry!”

“Um,” stepping forward, you try to placate the girl in letting the man go, offering a nervous smile. “Maybe you should–”

“Hey!”

Sighing in relief at Gojo’s voice, you move to rush over to him and the boys, falling next to Itadori, and spinning to face the girl with a grin.

“Okay, once again.”

Gojo gestures to the new student, and with ease, she moves to introduce herself. “Kugisaki Nobara,” she introduces herself, hand on her hip. “Be happy, boys. There’s now two girls in your group.”

Head tilting, you let out a laugh at the expressions on Itadori’s and Fushiguro’s faces.

A moment of silence passes, Nobara simply just stares at the three of you, though you notice her eyes are solely on Itadori and Fushiguro.

“I’m Itadori Yuji,” Itadori grins, leaning forward as he gestures to himself. “I’m from Sendai.”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

She stares. Then, huffing: “I always get stuck with unfortunate circumstances.”

“She took one look and sighed,” Itadori deadpans.

“Well,” moving so you’re slightly in front of Itadori, you grin brightly at Nobara. You don’t have many friends, and even less of them are female, so you’re hoping that she won’t have the same reaction towards you. Especially with what happened earlier. “I’m Y/N Gojo, yes, as in Gojo-sensei,” you thumb at Gojo, “but we’re not related by blood, I only took his name–”

“–Hey, how come you didn’t tell me that right away!”

Sticking your hand out, you meet her eyes; “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She stares, and you feel your chest tighten in worry. But then, her eyes are brightening and the brightest (and maybe only) smile you’ve seen on the girl since meeting her curls onto her lips as she eagerly takes your hand. “I’m relieved to not be the only girl!”

And it’s like a weight of your shoulder.

“Hey!” Itadori calls, pouting, “how come you don’t like me!”

“Are we going somewhere?” Fushiguro cuts in, clearly tired of the conversation.

Gojo lets out a mischievous laugh; “we do have all four of you together.” He nods to himself. “Not to mention, two of you are from the countryside. So, of course we’re going on a tour of Tokyo!”

Almost immediately, as if on cue, Nobara, Itadori and Gojo all jump together, bright grins and sparkling eyes as they chant; “Tokyo! Tokyo! Tokyo!” Before, Nobara and Itadori move to stand beside each other, hands clasped with sparkling delight. “We love Tokyo.”

Shoving your hands into your pockets, you watch on with a tilt of your head.

“TDL!” Nobara cries, Itadori latching onto Gojo; “I want to go to TDL!”

“Idiot!” Itadori turns to her, “TDL’s in Chiba! Let’s go to Chinatown, Sensei!”

“Chinatown’s in Yokohama!”

“Yokohama’s part of Tokyo! Don’t you know that? Look at a map!”

Nudging Fushiguro lightly, you turn to whisper to him; “he’s not taking them on a tour, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Fushiguro nods, watching the two with disdain on his face. “Without a doubt.”

“I will now announce our destination,” Gojo calls, silencing Itadori and Nobara almost instantly.

“Roppongi!”

Turning to each other, you swear you actually see stars in their eyes; “Roppongi?!”

“I almost feel bad,” you mumble, unable to tear your eyes away.

“Don’t,” Fushiguro mumbles, “they’re idiots.”

Staring you at the building that looks quite frankly haunted, you bite your lips.

“There’s a curse here.”

“You liar!”

“You were toying with us country folk!”

With an everlasting grin on his face, Gojo adds; “there’s a bit cemetery nearby. The double whammy of that and an abandoned building brought out a curse.”

With a pat on the back of sympathy for Nobara, who continues to grovel in disappointment, clearly pissed off, you listen in as Itadori speaks up – surprisingly, he doesn’t seem all that upset about the whole lying thing anymore.

“So they really do pop up more often around graves?”

“The issues isn’t the cemetery itself,” Fushiguro explains, “it’s the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear.”

“Oh,” his eyes brighten in understanding. “It was the same for schools, too, wasn’t it?”

“Hold up!” Nobara calls, finally straightening out, “he didn’t even know that yet?”

Scratching at your chin, you let out a nervous laugh; “well…”

“He swallowed a special-grade cursed object?!” She all but screeches as you explain, instantly creating a distance between her and Itadori, disgust clear on her facial expression. “Gross! Unbelievable! That’s so unsanitary and disgusting! No way, no way, no way!”

“What?”

“I agree with her.” Fushiguro cuts in.

“Y/L/N!”

You bite your lips as his eyes fall on you, clasping your hands behind your back while you rock on the heels of your feet nervously. “Um…” You start, voice drifting, “it was kinda disgusting.”

“What?!”

“I want to know what all of you are capable of,” Gojo cuts in, hands in his pockets as he regards the abandoned building. “Just think of this as a field test. Nobara, Yuji, you two go exorcise the curse inside that building.”

Brows furrowing, you turn to Gojo. Why was he..?

“Huh?” Itadori mumbles, “but I thought only curses could exorcise curses, right? I can’t use any jujutsu yet.”

Gojo turns to Itadori; “you’re basically half a curse already,” he reminds. “There’s cursed energy flowing throughout your body. Though controlling that energy isn’t something you can learn overnight, so use this.” Your eyes widen at the familiar looking weapon, if you remembered correctly that belonged to a second year. “It’s the cursed tool, Slaughter Demon. It’s a weapon imbued with cursed energy. It’ll work on curses, too.”

Pulling the cover off the weapon, Itadori eyes it gleaning eyes.

“Lame,” Nobara scoffs, pulling your attention on her as she moves towards the building, pulling a pouncing around the belt hoops of her skirt.

Itadori moves to follow her.

“Oh, one more thing,” Gojo calls, “don’t let Sukuna out. If you use him, you’ll get rid of all the curses nearby in a flash, but you’ll also drag everyone around into it.”

“Got it!” Itadori grins, sending Gojo a thumbs up, “I won’t let Sukuna out.”

“Hurry up now!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Go on, now!”

“Man, I finally join the school like you’ve always wanted me to, and you kick me out of my first official mission.”

Letting out a laugh, Gojo sits down beside Fushiguro as you frown down at him. Leaning back, he glances up at you; “sorry,” he grins.

“I still think I should go, though,” you mumble, glancing back in the direction of the building, eyeing it with worry. Biting your lip, you frown; “I mean, Itadori’s still new and everything. And Nobara’s never been in the city…”

There’s an echo of silence, before Fushiguro adds; “I think I’ll go too.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Gojo calls, “either of you. You’re still recovering.”

Huffing, you nudge Fushiguro’s foot lightly, signaling him to scoot over which he does without complain. Falling into seat beside him, your shoulder lightly touches his own, an action that completely misses you, but Fushiguro however does not. And fighting back the faint blush that threatens to grow on his cheeks, Fushiguro distracts himself by turning back to Gojo.

“Y/N’s right,” he mumbles, “someone should keep an eye on them, especially Itadori.”

“True,” Gojo nods, “but the one we’re testing this time is Nobara.”

Complying, you let out a sigh, leaning back on the palms of your hands, tilting your head up to glance at the curse practically oozing from the building.

As you do, you miss the way Fushiguro keeps eyeing you.

“That Yuji…he’s missing a few up here,” he taps his head for emphasis. “He has no hesitation when it comes to killing these things that take the form of living creatures, albeit bizarre-looking ones, to try to kill him. And it’s not like he’s been familiar with curses for a long time, like the both of you.”

You glance at Gojo, meeting his already awaiting gaze.

“They won’t leave me alone!”

“Yes, darling, but… but you’re scaring me… you’re scaring us!”

Shaking your head, a wave of heat rolls off of you, almost pulsating, and it causes those around you to flinch in fear, pushing away from you. You don’t understand, no one will listen to you – they don’t understand. They won’t understand…

You’re not trying to scare them.

“Mama, please, just–”

She holds a hand to you, stopping you from approaching – it feels like your heart might just break.

“Papa,” you turn, swiftly, desperately, but he looks at you with those same eyes. Those same fearful, disgusted eyes and you can feel the tears welling, your sight blurring. “P-Please…” You cry.

“You have to stay away, Y/N. It’s not safe for us.”

“I’m not safe!”

The words leave your voice in a screech, and you hate the way everyone backs away. This is your family, your mother and father, and your older brother and they’re all avoiding you because they’re afraid of you. They won’t listen to reason. It’s not your fault, you’re not trying to scare them – you’re scared…

You’re terrified.

But they don’t care.

“They won’t leave me! They just follow me! I’m not… please, listen to me! Mama, papa, onii-chan!”

It’s useless. They won’t listen.

They’re too scared.

You feel your heart swelling, anger flooding your senses, and the only thing in your head is; they need to understand.

In a second there’s screams. Your eyes snap open to find red, just… red. There’s so much of it, the smell of it floods your senses and makes you feel sick. The monsters that haunt your dreams, that never leave you no matter how hard you try to make them, fly past you in blurs; the red coats them.

The screams never leave your mind.

They never will.

And in the sea of red, amidst your own sobbing, you see a glow of white, and it shines so brightly you think;

that must be my saviour.

The one you’ve been waiting for.

“Yo!”

He pulls his blindfold back, and the sea of blue you see is just so beautiful, your young heart soars.

“So little to be covered in so much blood.”

“–This is a boy who used to live a normal high school life.”

Blinking at the sound of Gojo’s voice, you’re pulled from your thoughts with a startle. Ignoring the pang in your chest and the way it sits uncomfortably heavy, you ignore the sidewise glance Fushiguro sends you, placing your focus back on what Gojo has to say.

“You’ve both seen plenty of jujutsu sorcerers, even those with talent, give up in frustration because they couldn’t conquer their fear or disgust, haven’t you?”

You glance at Fushiguro, and the answer is obvious.

“So today I want to confirm how crazy she is.”

“But Kugisaki has experience, right? Little late for that now, isn’t it?”

“Curses are born from human minds,” Gojo reminds, “so their strength and numbers grow in proportion to the population. Meaning…”

“Is Nobara aware that curses in Tokyo are on a different level than those in the countryside,” you finish with a nod, leaning forward to eye Gojo. Honestly, despite being an annoyance most of the time, Gojo was good at bringing the best out of his students – so you shouldn’t be all that surprised by his tendency to search for the best either.

Still, it shocks you.

“And when I say ‘level’, I don’t just mean the amount of cursed energy they have,” Gojo continues, “it’s their cunning. Monsters that have gained wisdom often force cruel choices upon you…–”

“It’s just a kid… right?”

“–with the weight of human lives in the balance.”

Gojo’s words hang in the air, and, with a frown, you glance over at Fushiguro, only for his eyes to already be on your own.

Without having to ask, you already know why.

“Megumi–”

You’re cut off by the sound of glass breaking, your eyes snapping up towards the building, only for your eyes to widen at the sight of a curse.

Fushiguro shifts beside you; “I’ll exorcise it.”

“Hold on.” Gojo halts,

And Fushiguro almost looks appalled, stood, waiting, a second later you feel the same – only for spikes to appear through the curses body, it’s eyes bulging, and in the next second for it to simply dissolve.

“Nice,” Gojo grins, and honestly, you have to agree. That was impressive.

“She’s crazy, all right.”

“I live over there! Thanks again!”

You watch the kid Itadori and Nobara had rescued for a moment longer, even as Fushiguro and Gojo move to walk off. Peeking your head around the corner, a fond, soft smile curls onto your lips at the mother who opens the door. Obviously relieved that he sons okay, she doesn’t waste another second quickly wrapping the small boy up in her arms and practically pulling him off his feet.

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt a mother’s love.

“Y/N?”

Blinking at the sound of Fushiguro’s voice, you turn around, eyes wide at having gotten lost in your own thoughts.

“You coming?” Shoving a hand in his pocket, he tilts his head curiously at you.

“Yup!” You call, popping the ‘p’ as you push back your thoughts. Running to catch up to him, you fall in step with him, bumping his shoulder lightly with a grin to which he turns away, a light dust coating his cheeks, causing you to giggle. He was too easy to tease.

“Good Joseph!” Gojo calls to Itadori and Nobara, who decided to wait on some steps. “We made sure the kid got home.”

Almost instantly, the two stand.

“Now, shall we go grab some food?”

“Steak!” Itadori cries.

“Sushi!” Noabara follows.

With two thumbs up, Gojo grins; “leave it all to me! And, you two?”

You glance over at Fushiguro, rolling your eyes when you notice he’s on his phone, not paying attention. Shrugging, you decide to join in on the fun, pumping your first in the air; “you can’t forget about desert!”

“Of course not!”

“Y/N!” Itadori leans towards you, and you blink at the tears in his eyes.

“You finally understand!” Your eyes widen when Nobara follows him, leaning towards you with an almost proud look.

Tilting your head, your lips part; “huh?”

“Last call, Megumi!”

He continues to ignore Gojo.

“He’s just cranky he didn’t get to do anything today,” you whisper to Itadori and Nobara, giggling when he sends you a glare.

“Well,” Gojo says, voice sickly sweet, “let’s go.” And he simply tugs the three of you along, ignoring Fushiguro, who almost immediately perks up when he notices he’s being left behind.

You let out a laugh as he rushes to join.

“Oh,” Nobara calls, “I forgot about my biggest haul today. You,” she sharply points at Itadori, “go fetch my things.”

“Huh? Why should I do it? I thought we were even.”

“We won thanks to my cursed energy. Got a problem with that?”

“What about my raw strength?”

“Your monstrous power from eating weird shit?”

“It’s not just that,” Itadori cries, “right, Fushiguro, Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you snort.

He just pouts. “Fushiguro?”

There’s no response.

“Huh? What’s the matter, Fushiguro?”

“Nothing–”

“Y/N said it right,” Gojo laughs, “he’s pouting because he didn’t get to join in.”

Letting out a laugh, you nod; “totally is!”

“Puh, puh,” Nobara giggles, a hand to her mouth, “what a child.”

Megumi lets out a grunt, hiding his face behind his collar as the rest of you collectively let out a laugh. And as you share in the moment, glancing around, you’re starting to forget why you were so adamant on spending life alone.

85 notes · View notes

young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Cult Girl goes on a little solo excursion while Hannibal works.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: (fake) blood, mentions of death overseas, anti-choice harassment, discussion of abortion

Archie and Max leaving the picture was a problem you couldn't bring yourself to deal with when you awoke the next day. You anticipated a massive downward spiral if you didn't do something for yourself and fast. You'd spent so much time worrying about your schoolwork and your baby that it was long past due.

You made a couple of phone calls and found a GameStop a little out of the way with a used copy of Pokémon Alpha Sapphire for sale. About twenty minutes drive. Hannibal had back-to-back appointments clogging up his day, so it gave you an excuse to go on a little excursion.

You climbed into your car, picked an extensive playlist of your favorite songs and set off. You plugged the directions into your phone and let the map guide you. The roads narrowed as you watched your surroundings grow less and less familiar.

Soon enough, you pulled into a parking lot. Nestled between a Planned Parenthood and a used bookstore, the GameStop beckoned you. At the end of your tunnel vision was that game and nothing could stop you from getting it.

Certainly not from lack of trying.

"Stop right there!" A voice said. It chuckled, trying to make the rude interruption seem friendly.

An obstacle appeared in your line of sight: a plain-looking middle-aged white woman with dyed blonde hair. Just your garden variety Karen.

"Can I help you?" You said, giving your voice a distinct, annoyed bite.

She smiled, though not without discomfort. "Are you going, y'know, in there?"

She gestured to the building behind you. Uncertain of what she wanted or why she was making a trip to the GameStop so weird, you answered in the affirmative.

"Yeah, why?"

She wrapped her hand around your arm, as if to restrain you. Her touch made your skin crawl.

"I really don't think you should go in there."

You finally put the pieces together. This lady was just some anti-choice maniac, waiting outside a Planned Parenthood for any random pregnant woman to approach.

"Yeah, I totally carried this baby for five months just to get rid of it within a week of the legal termination threshold." You rolled your eyes. "I just want it to feel the maximum possible amount of pain when I destroy it."

The woman's face turned into one of abject horror and you smiled, feeling proud of yourself. You yanked your arm from her hand with full intent to walk away. That should have been the end of it.

"Wait!" She shouted, snatching you by the shoulder. "Please, reconsider. God gave you that little one because he wants you to be a mommy!"

"For the love of fuck, woman." You snarled. "Can you seriously not pick up on sarcasm? I'm not even going to the clinic. I'm going to the GameStop."

She wasn't convinced. "See, I think you're lying to me. I think you're telling me one thing and then you're gonna do another thing."

"What the hell is it any of your business, Karen?" You scowled at her. "Leave me alone!"

"Just pray about it, please!" She pleaded. "What if your baby grows up to be a soldier? Protecting your freedom?"

"Oh, then I should definitely kill it now." You snarked. "Would save him the trouble of getting blown up by other Americans in a senseless war like my dad."

Adda girl, [F/N]! You thought to yourself. Nothing gets nosy strangers to go away quite like revealing even more personal information!

She put both her hands on your protruding belly. "Don't worry, angel. Mommy isn't going to kill you! Aunt Laurie won't allow it!"

You vaguely remembered your obstetrician saying something about how twenty-week fetuses could hear the outside world. You weren't planning on subjecting the kid to violence this early on, but desperate times call for desperation.

You grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her down. She screamed, getting the attention of a few onlookers.

"Help!" She wailed, lying on the ground as if she couldn't get up. "I'm being attacked!"

You dashed as quickly as your legs could carry you into the GameStop. The lone cashier, a purple-haired girl with a nose ring, pretended that she hadn't been watching the altercation and looked back down at her sandwich.

"Welcome to GameStop." She said, hesitantly. "Are you... [F/N]?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I'm here for that copy of Alpha Sapphire."

"Tubular." She rummaged in a drawer beside her for the envelope.

A rather massive eevee plush displayed behind the counter caught your eye. "How much for her?"

The cashier placed the game on the counter and looked back at the massive eevee. "Fourty-four ninety-five."

"I'll take her too." You said.

The cashier pulled the eevee down from the shelf and scanned its tag.

"Aight, your total is sixty-nine eighty." She said.

"Nice." You snickered, reaching for your credit card.

The cashier smirked as you inserted the chip. "Hey, was that crazy lady accosting you outside?"

"I take it she does that a lot?" You asked.

She heaved a sigh. "You have no idea."

You looked behind at the large windows and saw the woman standing outside the door, waiting for you. You felt like a caged animal. Your eyes scanned the room and landed on a couple ketchup packets. A sick idea formed in your head.

"Are you gonna use those?" You asked, pointing to them.

The cashier glanced at the woman and raised her eyebrow. "Not if you have a better use for them."

The bell jangled as you walked out of the store with a shopping bag around your wrist and a ketchup packet in each hand. Just as suspected, the woman grabbed your arm.

"Oh, honey!" She exclaimed. "Before you leave, god put it on my mind to say a little prayer for the unborn soldier he's gifted you in your womb."

"I'd rather you not." You said, trying to yank your arm out of her surprisingly strong grip.

"You're brave, but foolish, girl." She barked, positioning herself in front of you. You fidgeted with the ketchup packets behind your back, opening them just enough.

The woman put both her hands on your belly. The second you felt her touch, you threw yourself backwards. You landed, not without pain, squarely on your ass.

"Oh my?" The woman covered her mouth with her fingertips. "Are you--"

You leaned forward and moaned in pain, clutching your baby bump with one hand while drenching your shorts in ketchup with the other. You pretended to cave around the pain, then threw yourself back, revealing a bloody stain leaking from between your legs. The woman shrieked.

"Oh my fucking god!" The cashier from the store said, rushing to your side. She put her hand on your shoulder and glared at the woman. "What did you do?!?"

"She pushed me and I think it hurt my baby!" You wailed.

"Holy shit, why would you hurt her baby?!" The cashier shouted, allowing you to slink your arm around her shoulder for support. She then snatched your shopping bag from the ground.

"I didn't mean to, honest!" She said, on the verge of tears. "I was just trying to spread god's love and joy-"

"By assaulting a pregnant woman?!" The cashier yelled. You were clutching your stomach in fake pain. She helped you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you to the clinic."

You conjured up some fake tears. "You killed my baby!"

"You wicked woman!" She cried out. Her voice faded out as you approached the clinic. "You don’t deserve a baby!"

You kept up the crying and wailing until you arrived at the Planned Parenthood. More interested in covering her own ass than begging for forgiveness, the crazy woman made herself scarce. Entering the clinic with an incriminating bloodstain on your pants was awkward, for a moment. But it was easy enough to explain and even earned a laugh or two from the doctors on staff.

Once you were completely certain the crazy lady had left, you scooped up your shopping bag, said goodbye to the cashier and climbed into the car.

Before you put the key in the ignition, you took a moment. You took a moment to do something you knew you shouldn't have.

You placed your hand on your belly and stroked it. "We make a pretty good team, huh?"

You didn't know why you paused. It wasn't like the fetus was going to answer.

"Sorry you had to see that." You said. "Or, I guess, hear that. I wish I could tell you that people aren't really like that in real life, but I can't. Either that or I'm just a magnet for insane people. Hope that it's not genetic."

It just occurred to you that, if your obstetrician was right, the fetus heard everything that you said about killing it. Logically speaking, you knew it wasn't developed enough to comprehend what you were saying, but you still felt like you owed it an apology.

"Hey, scamp." You said, appropriating a nickname your grandfather gave you. "I'm sorry that I talked all that shit back there. About killing you and whatnot. I don't want to kill you. I actually want you to live an amazing life."

Just then, you felt a kick. The doctor war right: there was no mistaking it. The baby kicked.

Your mouth hung dumbly open, delight and fear chasing each other around in your mind. "Holy crap!"

You drove home as fast as legally possible. You needed to get home. As you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that Hannibal's car wasn't there.

He'll be home any minute, you thought. Might as well stay out here to catch him when he arrives.

That was an hour ago. Not that you'd noticed. You would have sat in that car, talking to your baby for an eternity. It wasn't until you heard a tapping on the window did you exit your trance.

Hannibal examined the scene. The ketchup, the massive eevee and his suddenly very chatty fiancée shooting the breeze with her fetus. He smirked.

"Did we have a fun afternoon?"

#hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw abortion #tw pro life #Karen

85 notes · View notes

yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Now that the undatables are datable, can I see some thoughts on a jealous Diavolo who wants to hoard the mc? Just maybe a punishment for going on a trip to the human world with some of the bros and leaving him behind. Or he’s upset about how little time he can grab between the demon bros eating up all of their attention and his own duties. He’s just so cute, and I’m so happy he’s finally a surprise guest!!!!!

Bruh ask me!!!! Everyday I open the app to be welcomed by the handsome demon-king-in-making and my heart goes doki doki ♥ I decided I need a change of mind since I worked on the book for four days straight, so I wrote you a scenario instead of just my thoughts! Thanks for requesting and please enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Humming, you were led down the hallways of the Demon Lord’s castle. With a smile and short waves, you greeted the little devils that passed you, snickering and welcoming you back. You had only been back home in the human world for a weekend, but they all seemed awfully joyous that their exchange student had returned, even though you couldn’t pinpoint why that was.

Thanking the Little D that led you to Diavolo’s study, it swirled around you, giggling for a moment before leaving you alone, and you took a deep breath before knocking on the massive doors that separate you from the room. With a hint of anticipating nervousness, you waited for an answer, hoping Diavolo would be as happy to see you as you were to see him. Over your time in the Devildom - no matter how harsh the truths you had discovered were and how often you had questioned your capabilities since you met the brothers - you had grown quite fond of the Lord, always knowing he supported your progress and time here.

“Yes?” it called out from inside. You had no doubt that Diavolo knew everyone who knocked at his door, but it was still nice that his voice never lost a certain tinge of curiosity when he called someone in. With your smile growing wider, you entered, looking into the instantly brightening face of the man of the hour.

“[Name]!” he called out, jumping out of his chair like an excited child, and you greeted Barbatos quickly before focusing your attention on the Lord in front of you. “I am back!” you announced, holding up the small package with sweets you brought as a gift from your trip.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice urgent despite the smile on his face. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Huh?” you muttered in surprise. “I thought Lucifer was going to tell you that we were visiting my home for the weekend?”

“Is that so?” Diavolo grumbled under his breath, expression faltering and becoming somber for a moment before the corners of his lips curled up again. He opened his arm as he approached you, adding, “It’s good you’re back then.”

Even before he could reach you, you quickly handed over the package in your hand to Barbatos, who whispered a short, “His majesty was a little... tense this weekend.” Then spoke up louder, “I shall prepare some tea.”

With that, he was gone, and Diavolo pulled you into a hug, an affection you two had grown used to. It was wild for a mere human like you to embrace the future Demon Lord, but you weren’t complaining, especially not since it was Diavolo’s wish to act more normal with you. “I’m sorry. I really thought Luci was going to keep you updated,” you mumbled into his hug, and Diavolo let out a long, sad sigh that tugged on your heartstrings.

“I can think about why,” Diavolo revealed, and your curiosity perked up at that, showing in your face when you finally brought some distance between you two. “Why?” you asked, unsure what he could mean, but Diavolo’s answer kept you waiting while his eyes scanned all over you, inspecting all of you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. “It’s not a surprise. Anyone would want you all to themselves.”

Furrowing your brows, you let yourself be led to the discussion couch in the middle of the room, sitting down together with Diavolo on his urging. “If Lucifer had told me, I’d have insisted on tagging along. I am sure he wanted to be the only one to have all of your attention this weekend.”

Spluttering, you felt the heat shoot into your head as you shook it vehemently. “It’s not like that! I just showed him around my hometown, and we had all kinds of foods, and...” your words trailed off as you heard the door behind you open again, Barbatos walking in with an apologetic smile as if he had interrupted something, tea tray in his hands.

“As I said, it was just a change of scenery.” Clearing your throat, you tried to change the topic, looking Diavolo straight in the eyes as you spoke up. For a moment, you thought to notice a disapproving gleam in his eyes, but you merely spoke over the bad feeling his unusual stern expression and crossed arms gave you. “What have you been up to? I hope you didn’t just have to work all weekend!”

Prolonging his response, Diavolo hummed thoughtfully before sitting up straight and opening up his arms to receive the cup of tea Barbatos was handing to him, and afterwards to you. “That’s all, Barbatos,” he confirmed to his servant, the latter bowing before taking his leave. You thanked Barbatos too and took a sip of the hot beverage, letting the delicate aromas of the drink fill your nose.

“I’ve... I’ve been busy, yeah,” Diavolo eventually simply admitted, an uncommon short answer coming from him. Not like he had much leisure to tell endless tales, but usually, he talked in longer sentences. “It’s been a quiet weekend, and I actually wanted to ask you to join me for tea, but I guess my message never reached you.”

“Oh, no...” you mumbled, realizing that since your DDD didn’t have reception in the human world, you hadn’t even checked it once in all this time. Not even know had you charged it and looked at it, having come directly to the castle instead after your return. A crude mistake on your side.

“It’s no problem.” A short smile crossed his lips as Diavolo looked into your regretful eyes. “I am used to it. You are always up to something with the brothers, so I am not surprised when you didn’t reply.” But disappointed. The words he didn’t speak were plainly visible on his face, and you felt a sting in your heart knowing that your carelessness had upset him. Biting your lip as you thought, you decided to make it up to him in the best way you could come up with.

“I’m sorry, your Highness... But I am here now! How about I wait for you to finish your work and we can go out together and have dinner? Promise I won’t leave this time!” Laughing, you tried to lift the mood, and at first, he gave you a raised brow and a somewhat skeptical look, but soon enough, even the Lord couldn’t resist your smile, chiming in softly.

“Here, let me,” he prompted, taking your cup from you and filling it up with fresh, warm tea even though you hadn’t even finished. Being only able to see his back, you could only assume he even put sugar into the new brew for you, stirring your cup dutifully. It was an honor to receive such a treatment from someone like Diavolo, and you made sure to thank him plenty when he handed the cup back to you.

“I think spending some time with you is a good idea. This weekend I’ve just been a bit too gloomy for everyone in the castle, I think. Can you believe it? I broke half of the entire inventory on tea sets we own in my frustration.”

Diavolo laughed out loudly while you couldn’t help but feel concerned about what he just revealed to you. It didn’t sound very healthy that he’d let out his mood on the items around him, much less on the people who had to endure the chaos he caused. Giving him a forced polite smile, you decided it was best to let him talk while you sipped your tea. It was almost too sweet now to enjoy it, but since Diavolo went out of his way to prepare it, who were you to refuse the gesture just because it was a little sweet?

“Everytime they brought me a new one, I felt so lonely since you never responded. Eventually, Barbartos decided no more tea for me.” His laugh became even louder as you felt your stomach twist anxiously, not liking what you were hearing.

“But now you’re here.” Diavolo’s eyes focused back on you, blinking innocently as if he didn’t just reveal that he caused quite an unnecessary troubles. He opened his mouth, breathing in visibly before he continued to speak, one of his hands coming down to lay on your free one resting in your lap. “Let’s not talk about the past anymore. We should think about what we want to do when you wake up instead!”

“When I wake up?” you questioned, confused. Was this a dream? Did Diavolo meet you while you were asleep still? But everything and even his touch felt so real and warm, it couldn’t be. “Well, I didn’t think I’d stay the night. There’s school tomorrow, right?” you chuckled jokingly, nudging him slightly, but when you continued to talk, your voice betrayed you, cracking as you felt a nervous pull inside of you.

“I... I just thought we could go for dinner later, so we have enough time to prepare for tomorrow at home.”

As if on cue, the moment you finished your sentence, you looked back at Diavolo, feeling suddenly very light-headed. “I heard you, [Name].” Diavolo spoke slowly, sounding a bit like he was talking to a toddler, trying to pronounce his words clearly. “But you said it. You’re not leaving this time, and a promise is a promise.”

“W-What... What’s going on... ?”

Indifferent to your growing discomfort, Diavolo took the cup of tea from you, putting it down on the coffee table before inching closer to you. An arm wrapped around your shoulders while another pressed between your knees and the couch, all while you felt dizzy and dizzier, your body slowly but surely growing heavy. “I think I deserve some extra time with you, and tonight must suffice for now. Maybe even tomorrow? Let’s see how long the magic lasts. Do you like movies?”

Really, it was more of a monologue by now as you could barely manage to speak anymore, being hit by seemingly the weight of the world as Diavolo lifted you gently from the couch. “We could watch one of the new movies I sponsored. Rate if they did a good job.” Giggling like an excited child, your head fell against his chest, your breathing growing slow and steady despite the inner panic you felt just seconds ago. Your eyelids felt like they were solid blocks of cement, ready to bow to gravity and fall closed.

“I know, you're very tired, you don’t need to answer me right away. I promise we’ll have a lot of fun together later, and you can tell me if you like movies then. If not...” Diavolo’s words came to a halt while he carried you forward, doors opening for him with seemingly no effort as he simply kept going and going. But it was too hard to comprehend what was going on, only a feeling of fear and disapproval left bubbling inside of you for a few moments more.

“If not, I am sure we’ll find something,” he promised with a wide grin on his face. You felt his lips connect with the top of your head briefly before a second wave of tiredness overcame you, this time too strong to resist. Your eyelids refused to open while your mind was lulled into a dreamless sleep, your limbs hanging loosely from Diavolo’s arms. The last thing you remembered wondering was what he was going to do with you, but luckily, you didn’t finish this thought and rode yourself into more anxiety than the situation already gave you.

If Levi’s envy, Satan’s wrath, and Lucifer’s pride - feelings that were ever so possessive over you - were awful in your opinion, then you should have known better than to rise all of them in the strongest Demon that currently existed. Unless, that was, if you wanted him to catch you like a mouse with a piece of cheese?

If that was the case, you achieved exactly what you wanted.

766 notes · View notes

mxbeezkneez · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

193 notes · View notes