#amber fanfiction

[teliphone]

Blackmail

Summary: You have been receiving text messages from an unknown caller. They know secrets that you didn't know yet. They use that as an advantage to string you closer to them. You need someone to treat you right.

Warning(s): Smut, Obsessive Behavior, Blackmail, Threats, Manipulations, Cheating, Praise Kink

Word Count: 6.2k

-

A buzz from your phone vibrates the table, cutting you off mid-sentence. Your eyes stare at your phone which is facing down towards the cafeteria table. It vibrates several more times, suggesting you received more than just one text. You decide to ignore it because you had a feeling it may be from the unknown caller. The sender has been messaging you since last week. At first, the texts were weird but easier to handle. You believed it was a prank, but soon the texts started sounding more personal. Filled with uncomfortable threats and blackmail. As if the person knows you or about you. Someone in this school. 

You uncomfortable shift your weight to the opposite side, away from the phone. Noticing you have been staring at your phone for too long, you look back up at your best friend, Amber. You give her a sweet fake smile. She follows your eyes and nibbles the bottom of her lips. 

“Aren’t you going to check?” She questions. She leans forward to grab your phone. 

It’s normal for her to check considering you two have been best friends since middle school. She’d sometimes toss her phone aside and scroll through yours instead. Which is acceptable to you because you had nothing to hide from her. Especially since you believe she’s just scrolling through your media apps. She claims that your feed is far more entertaining than hers. You trust her with almost everything. On the other hand, she trusts you with everything she has. You weren’t the type to snoop much but with Amber's absolute trust in you… you could look through every single app on her phone. It was a joke at first when she gave you permission. To tease her and make her panic. There’s no way she’s that nonchalant. You’d bite your lips and narrow your eyes at her, finger lingering over the search history or deleted photo albums like a trigger. She gives no response. Just a shrug and a classic Amber response of:

“I have nothing to hide from you.” 

You roll your eyes and a groan escaped your lips. Letting the mobile device slip off your fingers and onto her bed.  

“No fun,” You sigh. 

This time you do have a secret to hide. Those texts were something you did not want Amber to read or see. They consist of things even Amber does not know. The last thing you want is for her to be worried for you. As she reaches for your phone, you quickly snatch it away. Shoving it into your pockets. Her face is in shock. You have never been so defensive towards her. 

“It’s nothing really. It’s just Ethan,” You lie. You couldn’t look at her expression and focus on the forgotten meal in front of you. She returns her hands back to her side slowly. Her eyes never leave yours. She decides to not interrogate you in front of all the other classmates. She’s going to find out sooner or later. 

“Oh okay... What does he want?” She asks with a hint of annoyance. She hates your so-called “boyfriend”. She does not believe you two are meant to be together. 

“He wanted to hang out tonight. His parents are gone on a trip,” You half lie. 

“You didn’t read the text,” She informs, narrowing her eyes at you. You shoot her a look of annoyance. What is this all of a sudden? An investigation?

“He’s been asking me since this morning okay?” You protest, “I know it’s him because he’s been desperate and a bit horny…. I-“ You pause. Secretly glancing around you in case someone hears. Every other student seems to be invested in their own conversations to pay attention to yours. Amber leans forward because she’s intrigued.

“I haven’t been doing it with him,” You breathe out. At least this time you weren’t lying to Amber. She groans in response. Pushing her food away from herself as an expression she lost her appetite. 

“I’m going to start heading to class. Have fun with him tonight,” She cringes. She stands up and walks to your side. She leans down to give you a kiss on the head before walking away. Once she was out of sight, you pull out your phone.

Your boyfriend is cheating on you. 

You’re just a sweet slut for him to use. 

I see how you look at her.

He doesn’t love you. 

Break up with him. You don’t deserve him anyway. 

You feel a heaviness in your heart. There’s no way he’s cheating on you… right? You brush your head in frustration. You shouldn’t trust a random text message. You are not going to let this ruin your life. 

-

“I guess I’m not hanging out with him tonight,” You inform Amber as you place your phone down on your bed. She rolls herself over til she is laying on her stomach on the left side of the bed. She’s still wearing her clothes from earlier at school. You sit on the right side wearing a graphic t-shirt and sleeping shorts. Her face lightens up and smiles. 

“What happened?” Her question is a little too exciting. You bring your thighs up to your chest and rest your chin on top of your knee. 

“He suddenly-“

“You know what? I don’t care,” She quickly cuts you off. You give her a soft smile. 

“You don’t even love him. It’s a waste of time,” She bickers, shuffling around uncomfortably. Her shoulders bumped against your feet a couple of times.  

“I don’t love him… yet,” You correct her. She stops moving and you watch her chest move up and down fast. She quickly sits up which makes you widen your eyes. She scoots closer and places her hands on your knees. You lean back till your head hits the board of the bed.

“Do you like having sex with him?” She challenges. Her eyes glisten from the lamp beside the bed. The only light source in the room. Your eyes glance down to her plump lips and flicker shut. Turning your head to the side.

“Sometimes,” You admit, staring at the wall. You suddenly feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Amber tilts her head as she slowly analyzes the side of your features. 

“That’s not enough,” She breathes, staring at your lips. Her short fingernails graze against the skin of your knees. You shallow the knot in your throat. You look back up to meet her dilated dark eyes. She looks a little insane. She smiles, tilting her head slightly. Your heart quickens embarrassingly. Your legs drop from your chin into a cross position in an attempt to cool off. She bites her lips playfully. 

“What do you like?”

“What do you mean?” You whisper. 

“During bed,” She deadpan. You furrow your eyebrows and brush her fingers off your knees. The small circles she had been drawing were driving you crazy. 

“Why would I tell you?” You giggle. She leans forward and rests her head on your shoulders. You swear she could hear your heart hammering against your chest. 

“Come on. We’re best friends. We share everything,” Her breath fans against your neck. She snuggles closer and you squeeze your eyes shut. Her scent clouds your thoughts and it took every muscle in your body to gently push her away.

“Amber stop,” You hesitate. In another second you would fall into temptation. She groans in defeat and falls back onto your bed. Her hair spread across your pillow. She’s visibly upset, but you didn’t really understand why. You had a boyfriend and you hate cheating. She should know that. But you also didn’t blame her for feeling frustrated. You can’t hide your attraction toward her. It’s so obvious. It’s like a game between you two. Truthfully, it’s toxic… and you hate that you enjoy it. A game where you will end up breaking your morals and submitting to your thoughts. She lets out a loud sigh and pushes herself off the bed.

“Where are you going?” You puzzle. You want her to stay next to you. She fluffs her hair and adjusts her clothes.

“I have to go home. My parents told me to be back for a dinner party with some neighbors,” She explains.

“I see,” You try to not sound disappointed. Usually, she would stay til late. To the point where you will have to beg her to leave so that her parents wouldn’t get angry at her. She hides her smile and walks towards the bedroom door. Stopping at the door frame she turns around. 

“Don't miss me too much. I’ll come to pick you up for school tomorrow,” She promises before leaving you alone in your room. You pout and fall onto your bed, inhaling the lingering scent of Ambers perfume. You close your eyes and feel your body start to relax.

Buzz. Your phone vibrates and you ignore it. 

Buzz. 

Buzz. You shuffle.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. 

You groan in frustration. With eyes still closed you brush your hands around the bedsheets to locate the phone. You bring the phone to your face and start reading the text. 

Y/n I have news for you.

Do you really think Ethan is studying for his econ exam right now? 

Are you that naive?

He’s too easy to please. 

Btw you look good today baby. 

Especially now in those shorts. 

You feel panic zap throughout your body. The room suddenly feels cold and too dark. You run to your windows and shut the curtains as fast as you can. Clutching the phone close to your chest. You take a seat back on the bed. With shaky hands, you text back. 

Who are you?

A second later you get a reply. 

Yay I finally got your attention! 

Do you want a surprise? 

How do you know what I’m wearing?

You’re asking so many questions. I can tell you’re nervous lol.

Answer me. Two minutes pass.

Not yet, baby. The nickname makes you sick in the stomach. 

I’m sorry I made you feel anxious. I don’t mean to. Here’s the surprise as an apology. 

File attached 

You nervously hover over the link. Clicking it causes a photo to appear on the screen. At first, you couldn’t figure out what it was showing. You narrow your eyes and look closer. The photo is blurry and a bit dark. The only light source coming in is from the gaps between wherever the photo is taken. You zoom in on the bright area. A portion of Ethan’s body is evident. He’s in the motion of putting on a shirt. Your eyes widen in realization. The unknown caller is hidden in your boyfriend's closet. You jump out of bed and open your phone to call the cops. A text notification appears above the phone dial before you could finish pressing the last number. 

Don’t call the cops or I’ll kill him. 

You gasp and drop your phone. 

“Oh my god!” You cry out. You rush to your closet and pull down your shorts to put on jeans. Fumbling and breathing heavily. You feel yourself sweating from anxiety and fear. You have to get to his house and save him. 

-

You knock vigorously against his front door. The thick wood is starting to hurt your hand from how hard you’re pounding on the door. 

“Ethan! Ethan, are you okay?! Open the door!” You pant. You continue knocking for who knows how long. A dark figure appears behind the blurry glass and you’re breathing hicks. The door opens revealing Ethan wearing his boxers and a blue t-shirt. His hair is disheveled as if he had just woken up from a nap. You stare at him in shock and confusion. You start touching him to check for any bruises or cuts. Turning him around and checking up and down his body. 

“Woah babe! What’s wrong?” He gasps at your action. 

“Is there anyone in your room?” You worry. He widens his eyes slightly for a split second before averting his gaze to the left of you and back. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand. 

“What? Why would I? I have no one over,” He answers. His answer didn’t satisfy you. 

“Let me check your room,” You demand. You try to walk past him, but he holds you back. You look up and let out a frustrated sigh. He is desperately trying to reach the same level of concern as you, but he didn’t understand a single thing happening. 

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?” He inquires. You attempt to push his hand away, but his grip is firm. Your eyes start to water from intense anxiety. His hold softens and he reaches up to hold your face. 

“I- I received a picture of you. Someone is hidden in your room. I was so worried I came here as fast as possible. I was afraid someone was going to hurt you,” You fret. He finally understands your actions. 

“Hey, I am okay. I’m here with you right now. It’s alright,” He comforts. You sniff and reach up to hold his triceps. He pulls you into a deep hug. You stay in that position until your breathing starts to calm down. His warmth comforts you. His fingers tip gently grazing on top of your scalp. 

He never let you check his room that night. But that was okay because you trust him. As long as he is okay like he claimed to be, there shouldn’t be any need for you to check. 

-

The next morning you sat extremely quiet in Amber’s car which is now parked in front of school. Who is the person texting you? Will they actually harm the people you love? How did they get a picture of Ethan? Did they set up a camera? Is there a camera hidden in your room? So many thoughts flood your mind that you didn’t realize Amber was talking to you. She waves a hand in front of your face. You blink and look up at her. Her eyebrows furrow with a concerned look. She places her hand on your cheek.

“There you are. Did something happen last night?” She worries. You tilt your head away from her palm and look down. Her eyes flash with hurt as she returns her hand back to her side. You don’t know if you should tell her about the text messages you have been receiving. You didn’t want her to worry. You also didn’t want the unknown messenger to start threatening Amber if she were to find out. On the other hand, you knew you needed someone to be there with you. You can’t handle this alone. The only person who you fully love and trust is her. Amber. 

“Amber,” You finally whimper. A tear rolls down your cheek as you look at her. Waves of emotion come crashing down. All you need is for her to…to… no. All you need is her. Everything about her will help. She quickly engulfs you in a hug. She doesn’t ask you any questions but waits til you start to catch your breath. You slowly pull away from the hug first. She waits patiently. You lick your lips and pull out your phone. Quietly pressing onto the unknown contact to reveal the messages that have been haunting you. You hand it over to her. You watch as she scrolls and reads the texts. Her face starts to turn into pure anger. She grips your phone. Her eyes enlarge and glisten. 

“How long has this person been texting you,” She demands.

“Almost two weeks,” You confess. She angrily rubs her hair away from her face. 

“Why haven’t you called the cops?!” 

“B-because I am scared! They threatened me! If I called the cops, what would they do to Ethan?! What would they do to you?! I cannot let anything happen to you two, especially you!” You explode. Thinking about any harm being inflicted on her makes your blood boil. Your hands start to shake without noticing. She looks down at your shaking body and pauses. 

“Do.. do you think this person is trying to help you?” She wonders out loud. 

“What?” You look at her in disbelief. 

“Think about it. This person has been warning you about Ethan. How you shouldn’t trust him. Maybe he’s been lying to you and-” She rambles. 

“Are you serious right now?” You glare. She quickly shuts her mouth. She knew she messed up. You are starting to feel like you regret telling her. You unlock the passenger door and walk out. Slamming the car door behind you. 

“Y/n!” Amber cries out. You ignore her and continue walking at a fast pace. A few students hanging out at the front glance at you two. She stumbles over her own footsteps to catch up to you. 

“Baby I am sorry! Y/n, please! I am just trying to make sense of this situation!” She calls out again. You stop walking and took a deep breath in. She finally catches up, leaning over to collect herself. You swallow your pride. 

“I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to get mad… it’s just. I just wish you are wrong. I couldn’t imagine if you were right. I trust him. You of all people should know that,” You admit. Before she could reply, the school bell rings. Signaling that it is time for all students to get to class. You two glance at each other and quietly walk to class. 

-

Two classes have already passed and you are currently sitting at your third. A few students whisper among each other talking about whatever topic is floating around. You drum your fingertips against the wood of your desk. Your eyes stare around at your classmates. Could one of them be the unknown caller? Tara sits next to you on the right. She is currently wearing a blue sweater. Her hair was slightly curled and a few front strands tied to the back. She is bored as she scrolls on her phone, waiting for class to start. She stops scrolling and side-eyes you. She catches you staring at her. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Nothing,” You answer. She returns her attention back to her phone. It can’t be her. Amber and she are closer than you are with Tara. There’s no reason for her to distress her friends’ best friend.  You look ahead and see Wes. He is wearing a gray t-shirt. He is currently organizing his desk. A perfectly sharp pencil to the left of him and a clean page in the front. You’ve talked to him a few times. He’s an absolute sweetheart, yet Amber always liked to pick on him. You couldn’t tell if she was just joking or if she actually hated him. 

Buzz. Your heart quickens again. You pull out the phone from your pocket. 

Hi baby!

What do you want?

Wow, what a fast response! I am starting to feel like we are becoming good friends! 

Stop texting me. Please.

Awh you’re begging. Sorry I can’t, but no worries. I have another surprise! 

Break up with Ethan today during lunch hours. You blink. 

Publicly announce it. If you don’t before lunch ends… I’ll give everyone a taste of what your boyfriends’ been up to. Don’t test me, baby. 

Your ears muffle the surrounding noises. What just happened? What did they mean by “a taste of what your boyfriends been up to”? There’s no way they would-

“Y/n,” Tara’s voice brings you back to life. 

“W-what?” You stutter. She points to the front of the room and your eyes follow her direction. The teacher stood with her arms crossed as she stares. 

“Put away the phone. Class started,” She barks. 

The teacher goes on and on with her lesson, but of course, you did not listen to a single full sentence. You mostly stared at your desk in deep thought. Afraid of what is going to happen. Class ended rather fast… or slowly. You couldn’t tell anymore. You rush out down the halls and see a familiar figure. It's Amber. She is currently talking to a few classmates. One hand holding a textbook while the other she uses to brush her hair. A classmate giggles and playfully slaps Amber's shoulder. You roll your eyes and walk up beside Amber. Her full attention immediately falls on you and you smile. She waves her hands as a signal for the nameless classmates to walk away. They glare at you as they walk by. Funny how fast their face changes once she’s not looking. 

“They hate me,” You mumble, leaning against Amber's locker. She giggles and touches her heart chain necklace. You watch as she rubs against the heart. 

“No one could hate you. You’re perfect,” She corrects as she softly pushes you off her locker. You obey and rest on the locker next to hers. She opens it and places her textbook inside. You watch her closely, tilting your head against the metal doors. Looking at her calms you. She catches you staring and smiles, tilting her head to match yours. You two stare at each other until a name calls for you. Amber rolls her eyes and slams her locker shut. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. 

“Hey there babe,” Ethan greets. He grabs your waist and pulls you close to his. Peppering kisses around your face. You giggle awkwardly before pushing him off. Amber's face remains expressionless. 

“Ready for lunch? There’s no econ group project to work on today, so what better use of time than to eat with my girl,” He beams. Amber makes a gagging sound. You pinch her arm. Ethan looks at Amber and awkwardly rubs his neck. 

“Y-you can join us too, you know,” He offers. Amber gives him a knowing look. Something you didn’t understand, but he did. When did he talk to her enough to understand this? From what you remember: Amber hates him and Ethan is scared of Amber. What are you missing? There’s an awkward pause in the air. As if the two of them were speaking through their eyes. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Sure,” Amber finally speaks up. Ethan smiles and nods his head in satisfaction. As if he wanted you to congratulate him for his effort in trying to get closer to your best friend. You take a step forward towards the cafeteria. He reaches his arm over your shoulders while Amber links her arm around yours. You stop in shock as the two stare at each other. Amber is the one that removes her arm from you. She swears under her breath. The three of you reach a table. Ethan goes off to grab some food while Amber sits in front of you, snacking on some chips. She is disinterested in the chips. Her attention is more on you and… Ethan? She has not spoken a word. Your leg bops up and down in nervousness. You think back to the texts. You have to break up with Ethan soon or… You look up at Amber. Her eyes dilate and glisen. She tilts her head to the side and smiles widely. Plopping a chip in her mouth. You shift uncomfortably against her gaze. Ethan returns with two trays.

“Here babe. I got your favorite,” He chirps. You feel sick in the stomach from the anxiety. Food never looked so unappetizing til now. He starts chewing on his food and secretly glances up at Amber. She could not care less about him right now. She continues looking at you. As if she’s waiting for you to do something… say something…? 

Time ticks by. How long has it been? How long have you been pondering and begging for time to stop? Your heart pounds harder. Sweat starts to appear slightly on top of your forehead. Ethan seems awkward in the silence, not knowing what to do or say. Amber starts to look bored. 

“Ethan…” You hesitate. This gets both of their attention. 

“I- I have something to say” 

Ding Ding Ding. 

“Shit,” You cuss.

It’s the sound of the school bell.

Lunch is over.

The students start getting up from their seats and cleaning their area. Amber crumbles her bag of chips and tosses it on Ethan's tray. You want the earth to swallow you so you could disappear. 

Suddenly many buzzes start echoing throughout the cafeteria. The students halt their movement to retrieve their phones. Gasps can be heard from all around you. You look around and everyone is staring at you. Some looked disgusted, some in shock, some cheering and some were whistling at you. It is such a mixed reaction, you didn’t understand. Ethan opens his phone and freezes. His face immediately turns red with fear and shame. Amber opens her phone as well and widens her eyes. She hands her phone screen to you. 

“Oh my goodness… Y/n… You have to look-”

“No! Don’t look!” Ethan begs. He grips her wrist with a frantic look. He’s begging her to stop. She glares at him and tries to jerk her hand away. You decide to listen to her and grab the phone. The picture on the screen was Ethan. Nude. Doggy styling some girl, but the girl was cropped. Unidentified. But you could not care less who the girl was. It wasn’t you. 

“You’ve been cheating on me?!” You scream. The whole cafeteria quiets down. Ethan licks his dry lips and brings his hands up in an attempt to hold you. You take a step back away from him. He disgusts you now. Tears start to build up and fall over your cheeks. You bring the back of your hand to wipe the tears. You can’t let him or any of these students see you cry, 

“I- I-”

“How fucken dare you!” You cut him off, “ I trusted you! All you do in return is sleep with some bitch?! You’re fucken pathetic,” 

“Y/n… That girl… She’s-”

“Shut up!” Amber orders, “You’ve messed up enough. Don’t talk to Y/n again. She hates you.”  She gets up from her seat and walks towards you. She wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you away from the crowd. Away from all this betrayal and embarrassment. Ethan pushes against the crowd. 

“Let me explain!” He begs. You quickly turn around and shoot him the deadliest glare. 

“We are over,” You swore. His shoulders drop in defeat. The crowd shallows him with many comments and questions:

“Bro what the fuck man. Why would you do that to her?”

“I didn’t think you’d be that bad.”

“Of course. I knew he was too good to actually be good.”

“I feel so bad for Y/n.”

“Yo, that was insane!”

Amber successfully dragged you to the front of the school. A place where there are no students currently. You sob uncontrollably. You feel so frustrated, betrayed, and embarrassed. You attempt to push away from Amber. To hide your face and run away from everyone. 

“Hey, hey stop it,” Amber begins. She holds you to catch a glimpse of your face. You fight against her. Nearly knocking her over.

“Y/n,” She begs. You surrender and let her do whatever she wants. You are too emotionally unstable to do anything. She brushes her thumb across your cheek. You whimper in an attempt to stop crying. Your lips quiver and her eyes soften. You sniff as tears continue to roll down. 

“I am so sorry this happened to you,” All you could do is nod. 

“Take me home,” Your voice coarse. 

The whole car ride was quiet. Amber would glance over worriedly once in a while. You stare out the window. She nibbles the bottom of her lip. Her grip on the steering wheel was hard. After a while, she finally makes a turn into your house. You sit in silence in her car. She shifts in her seat to face you. You can hear her breathing.

“D-do you want me to stay with you tonight? You can come over to mine tonight if you want. My parents went on a business trip,” She whispers. 

“No. Thank you, Amber. I will see you tomorrow,” You answer, unbuckling your seatbelt. As you reach for the door, she holds your arm. 

“Text me tonight okay?” She requests. You didn’t answer, but she knew you would do it. 

-

You walk into your room and collapse onto your bed. You could no longer cry. You were so tired you had to close your eyes and sleep. About a few hours later you hear many knocks on your door. You stir awake feeling sick and uncomfortable. The pounding continues, forcing yourself to get up and towards the door. You open the door and see Ethan. His hair is messy and he sweats through his shirt. Seems like he has been running. You swing to slam the door shut, but he blocks it.

“Please let me explain,” He begs. You’re so sick and tired of hearing him. Sick of hearing his voice. You release your grip on the door. He walks into the room and takes a deep breath. He wastes no time seeing that this is the only chance you would let him speak.

“It’s Amber,” He confesses. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“W-what?” You breathe. 

“The girl in the picture. It’s Amber,” He could no longer look you in the eye. Your eyes begin to water again. A painful ache rises in your heart.

“Why? Why would she-”

“I don’t know. She wanted to have sex all of a sudden. We did it once. I swear,” 

“She wouldn’t do that to me,” You deny. He ruffles his hair and shakes his head. 

“She did. But she… This is so fucked… She kept moaning your name,” He rasps. His cheeks turn red. 

“What the fuck are you saying?” You cuss. This makes no sense to you. In fact, it is starting to creep you out. How many secrets did your close friends keep? How many more lies are there to break your heart? 

“Talk to Amber. She’s insane in the head. She’s obsessed with you, Y/n!” 

“Get out,”

“I will. I am so sorry for everything. Part of it is my fault. I am weak and I fell for her seduction. Please confront Amber. She has to tell you the whole truth,” He emphasizes. He leaves the room in a hurry, leaving you in disbelief. You collect your thoughts and take deep breaths. You are no longer sad. You are furious. Your body shakes in anger. 

-

You pound against her front door. Not caring how much it hurts your fist. The door swings open revealing a smiling Amber. God, you are so angry. 

“Jeez Y/n, you’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood! I said text me, not show up in front of my house like this. Not that I am complaining,” She jokes. You push her into the house, slamming the door behind you. She widens her eyes and furrows her eyebrows. 

“Tell me the truth,” You demand. She crosses her arms and shakes her head. She smiles revealing her teeth. 

“What truth?” 

“I am so sick of the lies. Ethan told me,” You fum. Her smile drops and she looks emotionless. She swallows a lump in her throat. 

“It was you, wasn’t it? The unknown caller. It has always been you,” You accuse. She blinks her eyes which threaten to glisten. Her lack of answers speaks volumes. 

“Do you hate me that much?” You whimper. Her facade breaks and she looks absolutely hurt. 

“Hate you? I love you!” She cries out. She paces back in forth in front of you, clenching her fist. You stare at her in shock.

“No, no this was not supposed to happen! Did it seem that way to you?! That I hate you? I tried so hard to reveal how much I care and love you,”

“You fucked my boyfriend-”

“Do you know why?” She giggles, getting close to your face. Her pupils were blown wide and dark. You stumble backward, but she continues to follow until you hit your back against the door. 

“I wanted to feel you. That lip of his has kissed you all over. He told me how you like to get kissed on the neck and down to your collar. That hand of his would grip your hips and pull you close to his body. His bulge would stick uncomfortably in his jeans. Your hands would unzip his pants and play with his staff. His dick burying deep inside you,” She lets out a soft moan. You clench your teeth. 

“Feeling your wet cunt rub against his dick… I can’t help but crave it. I don’t care about Ethan. Never. I cared about how I got to feel what's been in you. It turns me on so much. If I could not have you, I will take the nearest thing that got the privilege to touch you. You drive me insane. I want you,”

Her head dips towards your neck and she licks a long line up your throat. You grunt, squeezing your legs together. She leans back and hovers her lips over yours. There is no longer any personal space. Her body presses against yours. 

“The only way I can get rid of him is to expose his lack of self-control to you. I didn’t do anything wrong. He failed to deny me. I knew he was not perfect for you. I am. I was the only person you trust to read the ‘unknown’ caller texts. I was the only person you ran to for help and comfort. You picked me, Y/n. I did this for you. For us,” She purrs. She lingers a little longer over your lips before leaning to your ear. 

“Kiss me please,” She blushes, “Please Y/n. Kiss me and I will do anything for you.” You tilt your head up to clear your head from her scent. She’s drowning your sense of morality. She took that opportunity to kiss your neck. You moan. You can feel your walls starting to break down. 

“That’s it, baby. Kiss me back,” She moans. Her mouth leaves your neck and returns back to hovering over your lips. She smiles brightly after making eye contact with you. Your eyes look just like hers. Dilated and glistening. You’re turned on and she knows it. Your heart hammers against your rib cage. You push yourself off the door and crash your lips against hers. She chuckles in bliss and grinds your body on top of hers. Her hands glide up the back of you, making you arch into her. 

“Fuck Amber,” You gasp. She pulls away from your swollen lips. 

“Keep saying my name. I want to be the only name you moan from now on. Stay with me and I will make you the most loved person on earth,” She promises. You nod your head rapidly. Lust clouding your mind. 

“Yes,” You blush. 

She pulls you by the hand towards the stairs and up to her room. She locks the door as you glance around her room. You’ve been here many times. The picture frame of you and her smiling sits on her desk. You hide your smile behind your hair. You suddenly feel her arms snake around your waist. She nuzzles her nose into your neck. She inhales your scent and sighs.

“Are you ready?” She whispers. You turn around and wrap your arms around her neck. You refuse to admit that her stalking and obsessive behavior are attractive out loud. It will be the new secret you will keep inside. 

“Amber… I want you to show me how much you wanted me,” You express. 

“I will,” She smiles. She plays with the rim of your shirt. You eye her lovingly, waiting for her. She pulls up your shirt, leaving you in just a bra. The coldness of her room makes you shiver. Your skin raises goosebumps. She analyzes your body down from the waist and up.

“You’re so beautiful,” She confesses. You reach under to pull her shirt off. The chain heart necklace hits her collarbone. She quickly unclasps your bra and your nipple hardens. She brings her hands to cup your chest. She giggles in excitement. You walk backward til your heel hits the bed frame. You flick your fingers for her to follow. She comes close and kisses your collarbone as you start to lie on her bed. She kisses down from your collarbone to your chest. She sticks out her tongue and draws light circles around your right nipple. You suck in a sharp breath. She continues kissing down to your hip. Her fingers hook around your pants to pull them down. You help her by lifting your ass up. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” She breathes. She slightly nips the skin on the inner of your thighs. Leaving her mark. Her nose brushes against the material of your underwear. 

“Fuck me, Amber,” You gasp. She pushes the material to reveal your lovely folds. She slightly slides her fingers along them. A silky clear substance coats her middle finger. The scent of your arousal makes her drunk. 

“You’re already so wet,” She giggles. 

“So embarrassing,” You spill, covering your face with the back of your hand. She reaches up with her other hand and grabs the hand covering your face. Your fingers interlock.

“Don’t hide your face baby. I want to see you,” She smiles.

[webbluvrsugar]

DUMB DOLL FOR ‘YA.

ETHAN LANDRY, AMBER FREEMAN - KINKTOBER 24 — OCT.28TH — M.LIST.

cw: innocent!reader, threesome, buttstuff, ghostface Ethan/Amber

You should be ashamed of yourself with how you got into this position, it’s not like you were planning to be tied up in your bed, your head flush with the pillow as the two masked killers surrounded you.

You’ve never really… done something like this, not even with your boyfriend, sex with Ethan was pretty vanilla and you liked it that way, but when the idea of being killed in your own house suddenly came up, you suggested the killers do anything with you but just… kept you alive.

And so they did.

One of them — Amber — was behind you, her hands gripped your ass roughly, gloved fingers spreading you apart after your panties have been discarded, toying with your clit slowly as the man in front of you started bullying his cock down your throat.

Ethan couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he’s never gone too far with you because he’s believed you wouldn’t like it, that you were just… too quiet and meek to enjoy anything else that soft missionary and maybe a blowjob or two, yet, when Amber’s tongue drives itself a little bit further up than it’s supposed to, you don’t complain, instead you just moan around his cock submissively.

“Such a slut… sucking my dick so I won’t kill you,” Ethan mocks, a low laugh as he pushes your head down, you flinch, he only laughs behind your mask. “What about your boyfriend, have you thought about him?” He’s enjoying this, pretending to be someone else while getting to explore you the way he always wanted to. When you don’t answer with a nod or so, he tugs on your hair, pulling you away and raising your face to him. “Answer me.”

“No..” you spit out, tears in your eyes as he shoves you back down with a scoff.

“Thought so.” He controls your pace with his hand tight on your hair, making your nose hit his pelvis each time.

“She’s got a tight little ass, I would’ve mistaken her for a virgin.” Amber slides a finger past your hole, you whimper and press your eyes shut, back arching fully. “But she’s not, she likes this.”

“Keep your eyes on me.” Ethan commands, holds your head down until you look up to him, making you gag before you finally comply. “She’s good at listening.”

They speak about you as if you’re not there, it’s crude, the masks only make everything more indecent, specially when the killer cocks his head to the side to tease you about it.

“She’s also good at taking dick down her throat, got a nice gag reflex, makes me want to just —“ he thrusts up into you. “Keep her there until she chokes.”

“Bet she’d like that, she likes it rough, have to pin this bitch down cause she just won’t stop squirming.” Amber spanks you, licks a stripe up your cunt.

“Yeah?” Ethan grins behind the mask, you can almost feel it as he holds your head down, thrusting up into you with force.

“Then take it, come on, I know you can.”

taglist: @stayonmars @baileebear @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @cheeziebeanz @meeeeeees-stuff @notoakay

[sweeterthanficstion]

— between here and there || l.s.k

pairing: ghost!leon kennedy x ghosthunter!fem!reader

tags: set in 2001, graphic depictions of dead animals one is right under the cut, mentions of death, mentions of grief, mentions of violence, themes of obsession and love, implied/referenced childhood abuse inflicted by a parent, typical horror topics. (if i missed anything pls dm me and let me know!!)

summary: Even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt. Or: The year is 2001, and you've just found out about a haunted homestead on a prairie, sure to hold a million mysteries within its rotting walls. You've chased rumors of the supernatural before, but this place feels... different. Maybe this time, you'll find the evidence you need to prove the existence of the other side—and finally go viral. But quickly you come to learn that some doors, once opened, can't be shut.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: i wrote 80% of this fic on my phone, so i'm sorry if it reads badly 😔, i hope you enjoy regardless though! and things will make more sense in the coming parts, i promise <3 also; thank you claudia for beta-reading for me!! n also thank you @/uhlunaro for bone-chill, go read their work!! it's so good n inspired this fic.

playlist ⭑ AO3 || back to the party ⭑ next (coming soon) »

You were eight when you saw your first ghost. Your mother had found you with your face pressed up against the living room window, eyes wide as you stared out into your backyard, convinced there was a dog by the fence that was staring right back.

Your mother had ushered you back to bed, murmuring about how there was no dog out there, and you needed to sleep. But you saw him! You swear it! Floppy ears and a bone between his teeth.

You couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning and anxiously waiting for morning to come. By the time the sunlight had crept through your window, you scampered outside to prove it. You’d spent nearly an hour out in the early morning cold, digging, digging, digging with your bare hands, until eventually, you found it, something that wasn’t a dog—not anymore, anyway.

Wrapped in a plastic bag you found it, decayed skin clinging stubbornly to yellowed ribs poking through like splintered wood. Its jaw hung open, snapped and crooked, patches of fur still clinging to the skull, matted until it resembled something more like melted plastic. There was a sense of grief that came with finding its body, a suffocating presence that weighed down over your little lungs, tightened your oesophagus, made your stomach clench.

You gave the rotting dog carcass a proper burial. 

A grave by the oak tree, dirt pressed down gently over its brittle body as if the dog might still feel it, a ring of daisies set atop in remembrance. When you finally stood, wiping mud-stained hands on your pants, you could feel your mother’s eyes on you, her silence heavier than her words ever were.

After that, her patience thinned. She’d catch you whispering to empty rooms, her voice sharper each time, the snap of her voice was soon paired with the snap of a belt. The corners of your room were just corners, she’d say. The shadows were just that; shadows. 

You stopped talking about it, but the flashes of something stayed—the fleeting movements, the whispers, the shadows that lingered in the corners of your vision. The haunting weight of it all clung to you like a thick blanket, creeping in with every bump in the night, until curiosity bled into something deeper. 

Eventually, you gave up waiting and started searching, looking for answers between ghost-hunting forums and haunted houses. 

And now, years later, you’re chasing a truth you’re still yet to prove. 

You jolt from your thoughts the same time the van does over a potholed, eyes snapping to the stretch of dirt road before you. The homestead comes into view, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it—looking every bit more eerie when bathed in hues of twilight than it did in the grainy two-bit photos on your laptop screen. 

Luis lets out a low whistle from the driver’s seat, before he clicks his tongue and puts the car into park. “Well, we’ve seen worse.”

Luis says it with an air of carelessness you struggle to stomach under the looming shadow of the homestead. He’s never believed in the paranormal the same way you do, always the wind, always a shadow to him, everything has an explanation. Never a ghost, never a spirit.

Yet, he sticks with you, out of what sense of loyalty you’re not entirely sure, but you’re grateful all the same. Maybe it’s the remnants of a childhood bond that keeps him tethered to your side, echoes of sleepovers and whispered secrets, of nights spent laughing over nothing, long before you were chasing shadows and seeking the dead.

It’s not that Luis doesn’t care—he does, more than he’ll ever admit. He just doesn’t see the world the way you do. And that’s okay. He doesn’t have to believe. You do.

He slides out of the car easily, no doubt eager to unpack the camera gear. You hear the back of the van slide open, before you finally make the decision to move, feeling as if your bones have stuck themselves together—rigor mortis.

The homestead looks like it’s rotting from the inside out. Once-grand pillars holding up the front porch that have long since bowed, wood that rots and splinters from years of neglect. The windows, fogged over with dust, are cracked and warped as if the house itself has been trying to keep the world out for far too long.

“What even happened here?” Luis asks, eyeing the decayed structure with a grimace as the both of you step onto the creaking front porch.

In truth, the research had been thin. The house didn’t show up on any official ghost-hunting registry, and there wasn’t much mention of it in local history. But there were enough stories, enough pieces of something to make you believe it was worth the three hour plane trip.

If no one else could get proof, then maybe you could. This could be your big break, could be your skyrocket to supernatural stardom—If that was even really a thing.

“A lot. Murders, disappearances, all the fun stuff.” You joke, flashing a wide grin over your shoulder, trying to ease the pit in your chest, and find amusement at the way Luis shivers at the mention of murders. His shoulders stiffen enough to make you bite back a laugh.

Luis fixes you with a hard stare. “You’re not right, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Plenty of times,” you reply, grin only widening. You reach up and give his cheek a playful pat, “You’re not special.”

He rolls his eyes and you’re well aware he doesn’t buy your teasing, but that’s half the fun. You slip past him to check out the entryway, Luis trailing behind with his camera over his shoulder.

Luis keeps his distance as you wedge the door open. A thick layer of dust comes loose with the movement, swirling with the fading light and wafting straight into your face. You cough violently, waving it away with a grimace.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Luis mutters, adjusting the lens of his camera.

“Nothing’s going to happen—” And as if infuriatingly on cue, the door slips from your gasp and slams shut with a bone-rattling thud.

The both of you jump despite yourselves—Luis lets out a yelp that he stifles with a cough, while you freeze, hand still hanging in the air where the door had once been.

The silence that follows is deafening. You stare at the door for a beat, pulse-quickening as if it might just spring open again on its own, while you feel the burn of Luis’ gaze in the back of your neck, waiting for you to explain it away with your usual bravado.

You lower your hand slowly, give him a sidelong glance. You take a step back from the door as if daring it to open or slam shut again. “Well. That’s one way to make an entrance.”

Luis glares at you. “Yeah, real funny. Can we leave now?”

Rolling your eyes, you reach for the handle and tug the front door open again, choosing to ignore Luis’ insistence. The homestead is as quiet as you imagined it’d be, even so you can’t shake the eeriness of the silence. You swear you can hear static in your head.

Luis hands you a flashlight, which you flick on before toeing the warped floorboards. The wood groans beneath you, but it holds, so you plant your foot fully inside, waiting for the house to react. One second. Two.

Nothing.

With a relieved sigh you step deeper into the homestead. The pale remains of sunlight filter through grimy windows, while dust swirls lazily in the beam of your flashlight as you sweep it across the room.

“Are you recording?” You whisper over your shoulder to Luis, who gives a quick nod, a thumbs-up flashing in your periphery.

The homestead opens up around you—parlour to the left, kitchen and dining room through the door on the right, and a staircase, old and worn, curling up toward the shadows in the back.

“We’ll set up in the parlour,” you murmur, moving toward it. Your hand brushes against the wall as you reach for the light switch, fingers hesitant. You flick it, expecting nothing. But then the chain bulb overhead sputters to life, casting a weak, flickering glow across the room.

“Huh,” you breathe. “Not bad.”

Nightfall comes sooner than you would’ve hoped, and you’re starting to understand why there’s so little about this homestead online. In the two long hours you and Lewis have been here, the silence has remained unbroken. The EMF reader has not spiked once and the camera has picked up nothing. No doors have slammed, nothing has creaked strangely, not even an unsettlingly cold gust of wind. 

Maybe this place is a waste of time, another dead end to add to your already growing list. You contemplate if packing the van up now is a good option. But yet, yet—you can’t shake the feeling that there is something waiting for you here, just beyond reach. A presence. A secret.

There’s still upstairs, a voice nags at the back of your head. Rooms yet to explore, yet to be turned inside out so you can find what’s hidden in the confines of this home’s brittle bones.

Luis follows behind as you carve a path up the stairs, flicking the stairwell light on and waiting for the flicker of the bulb to cease into a steady hum. It takes a moment too long, and your fingers twitch at the edge of your flashlight.

You never did shake your fear of the dark.

Upstairs, the floor is dappled in the pale glow of the moon. You sweep your flashlight through the shadows, the light catching on each warped surface, every peeling edge of wallpaper, casting lonesome shadows across the splintering floors. You watch the EMF reader calibrate and tick in your hand as you tread further down the hallway. The air up here feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for you.

That’s when you see it.

Or him, rather. 

At first, you make out nothing but a vague shape standing at the end of the hallway, a shadow where there shouldn’t be one.

But as your eyes adjust, you make out the figure’s skin; a sickly pale, marred with crawling veins like rivers of ink. He has hair like dull flaxen straw, eyes that are such a piercing blue you make them out even in the dark. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as a chill crawls down your spine. You take a step back, stumbling into Luis, who nearly drops the camera.

The light overhead flickers dramatically before the bulb bursts with a sharp pop, plunging the hall into sudden darkness. Your EMF reader spikes violently in time with your heart slamming against your ribs, and in the panic, you scramble to bring up your flashlight—but as the beam sweeps over him, he vanishes, parts of his body disintegrating into the light, like bend the rules of physics themselves, like something wrong.

“Is that—?” it hits Luis the same time it hits you. Not a person. A ghost.

But there’s no haunting glow, no cloud of smoke. He doesn't float; in fact he doesn’t move at all. Instead, the air grows thick, an oppressive weight that threatens to shatter your ribs inwards and pierce into your lungs.

You hear him. The sickly sound of breathing, a rasping inhale followed by an exhale, like a death rattle. The noise crawls under your skin, itches against your bones.

Your own breath catches in your throat in favour of hearing his. The sound swells, crescendos, then tithers to nothing. Silence, like buzzing in your ears, is all that’s left behind. Slowly, you peel your  eyes open, the ghost is nowhere to be seen.

You come back to reality like ungluing yourself from a fly trap—slowly, sticky, the numbness in your body ceases.

“Did you.. Did you get that on tape?” You ask Luis between bated breath, eyes still glued to the wall where he had been.

Luis swallows hard, his breathing ragged. He fumbles with the camera, fingers trembling, flipping through settings with a frantic sort of urgency. His face drains of colour as he checks the screen. The camera blinks, sputters.

Panic surges as you rush downstairs, tripping over your feet. Luis yanks the camera from his shoulder, flipping it open to review the footage. His hands move fast, flipping through buttons…

Then, the camera shuts off with a mechanical click, the small screen fading to black.

"No, no, no," Luis mutters, voice tight with frustration. He pulls out the tape reel, and the acrid smell hits you first. He stares at it, brow furrowing. You step closer, peering over his shoulder. The reel is ruined—burnt and blackened beyond recognition, as if scorched by something unseen.

Neither of you says a word.

“Sorry, we’re full.”

The words feel like a death sentence this late at night. Luis sighs sharply, his breath fogging up the plexiglass screen between him and the motel keeper. “There’s got to be something, no? Just one room,” he mutters, pushing the crumpled fifty across the counter one more time, almost pleading.

The motel keeper eyes the money, before shaking her head. “I’m serious, hon,” she says, her voice flat, tired. “We’re booked solid. You can try the highway if you’re desperate.”

You’re really only half-listening to the exchange, shivering from the cold as you lean by the side of the van parked under the carport. 

The motel sign above flickers weakly, casting uneven shadows across the parking lot, the words The Black Dog barely legible in the failing neon glow. Cerberus snarls from the sign like a bad omen, one head flickering on and off as if it’s ready to give up entirely.

After the encounter at the homestead, neither Luis nor yourself could shake the feeling of dread that had settled like a thick fog, a weighted blanket that provided more unease than comfort. The decision to leave for the night had been easy, but now, standing outside in the frigid air, you’re starting to feel the sting of bad luck. There are only two motels in this entire town—one’s closed for maintenance, and this one, The Black Dog, is fully booked.

Luis pulls back from the counter with a groan, stuffing the money into his pocket as he joins you outside. “No luck,” he mutters, breath curling in the chilled air.

But you're distracted, focused on the yellowing photographs lining the walls behind the motel keeper’s desk, town history captured in fleeting moments behind dusty glass. Your eyes widen in realisation when you note the homestead is in one of them. A farmer’s family stands at the front of it; a husband, a wife, his daughter and two sons.

You quickly rush up to the window, leaning down closer to the little cutout in the plexiglass as you rest your elbows on the counter. “That photo,” You start, finger pressed to the plastic surface, “do you know who the people in it are?”

The motel keeper swivels in her squeaky office chair, her eyes widening with a sort of realisation. “Them? Well they’re the original settlers of this land,” She hums, turning back. “Their family were the first to come this far east, their father built that homestead with his bare hands.”

“What happened to them?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Desperate for more, desperate for answers. Although, your ghost looks nothing like any of the men in the picture.

“Well they died,” The motel keeper says, something akin to god-fearing in her voice. “But whatever malevolent force has been haunting that place never did.”

You stare at her, wide-eyed and unblinking. Luis fills in for you where you can’t. 

“You’re not serious,” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement.

“Dead serious, hon. That place is no good. They say the prairie wind drove that family mad—” she states, sticking a thumb over her shoulder to point to the picture “—we’re just not so sure it was the wind that did it.”

You decidedly spend that night in the back of the van, parked right outside the homestead on that old gravel path. 

The wind whistles terribly and you begin to understand what they mean by prairie fever—you can’t fathom what it would’ve been like, out here, all alone with nothing but the wind and the wolves.

“Something’s wrong,” Luis murmurs just loud enough for you to hear. You turn your head, watching as he stares at the ceiling of the van.

There is a sudden unease that settles in your chest, watching him like this. Luis has never been rattled by the dark, never questioned the supernatural because he didn’t have a reason to. In many ways, he has been your anchor.

And what is a ship without its anchor?

You hum, mirroring his movements and righting your neck to stare up at the ceiling. “Luis, you say this every—”

“No, I mean it.” He cuts in, a certain urgency to his words. “We saw something, I saw it. He was–” His words die, fizzle into nothing on his tongue as if it’ll be a sin to refer to the shadow as anything more than just a shadow. “We can’t go back in there.”

You understand… yet you don’t.

“This is the closest we’ve ever been Luis, what do you mean we can’t?” Your words are oddly calm despite the desperation they clearly convey, “You know how much this means to me.”

Luis sighs, “I get it, I’m just not sure this is a good idea.” He hesitates. “I think… I think we’re way in over our heads this time.”

“I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Luis holds you to it.

A car crash—that’s what you see in your dream. Although, it feels more like a vision; a premonition or maybe a memory. 

You’re trapped behind your own eyes, sitting rigid in the passenger seat. There’s the sound of tyres screaming against the asphalt, a horrible blur of red and blue, glass and smoke. 

The car swerves hard, jerking your body with it, weightless, floating, falling. The ground falls away, and for a split second, there’s nothing. Just the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

You try to catch a glimpse of the driver, but your eyes are glued to the chaos that unfolds before you. You catch a glimpse of the side of his face, shadowed in the flickering lights. Just the curve of his jawline—sharp, familiar.

And then you slam into a tree.

The night is much less forgiving than day. In moonlight, your mind is left to fill in the gaps, pulls at the seams of reality, and paints over it with every fear you’ve ever had the cowardice to bury. A creak in the floor becomes footsteps. A sigh of wind becomes a distant cry. 

But daylight? Daylight spills over the horizon like a gentle promise. In daylight, things feel explainable. Safe. You do not falter and question the shape of shadows, each one is tethered to something, tangible and real, solid in your grasp.

Yet the homestead does not follow these rules.

The walls bleed with secrets you’ve yet to learn, each groan of the floorboards underneath your gentle footsteps sounds like another pair is following closely behind. Light spills through windows, but  it dies before it reaches the corners, and does not fill the room the way it should.

It’s that morning, one hour into your second investigation, that you smell it—something faint at first that quickly grows stronger, souring the air with each breath you suck in. It’s familiar but unwelcome, the unmistakable stench of decay. Luis notices it too, his nose wrinkling as he glances toward the far end of the hallway.

“Do you smell that?” he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod. 

The smell rots. It festers the further you walk down the hallway, intensifying until it clings to you like a second skin. It seeps through the floorboards, through every crack in splintering wood, and it leads you to a door. The one at the end of the hallway from the night before. The one you didn’t manage to open because he had been there.

Luis nudges you with his elbow. “Ladies first.”

“Very brave,” you mutter, pushing the door open.

Inside, the room is cold, the air heavy with dust. Yellowing and peeling wallpaper lines the walls, a dusty bed in the corner, a dresser by the opposite wall and a wardrobe by the adjacent one.

But what draws your attention are the walls—every inch covered in horrifying jagged scratches, as if something had clawed at the walls in a frenzy of desperation.

N-O-E-L.

The letters are scrawled over and over, the same pattern repeated a millennia of times. They twist and turn, written backwards and mirrored, as if whatever had left them behind had longed for a voice it had forgotten how to use.

“What the hell…” Luis murmurs, stepping closer with his polaroid camera, the shutter sounding as he snaps a few photos of the scratches. “What are we dealing with, the ghost of Christmas past?”

You swallow, admittedly now confused. “What does that even mean?” You muse, walking towards a wall and running your fingers over the splintering wood.

“His name, maybe?” Luis supplies, lifting his head from behind the camera.

Without thinking, you speak. “Is your name Noel?” 

Silence answers.

You decide to move around the room, keen to find answers where your ghost refuses to give them to you. Your fingertips grazing the walls as if you could pull the truth from the cracks in the old plaster.

“I know you did this,” you say, your voice firm but edged with a strange softness, like you’re coaxing something fragile from the dark. “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

The lights flicker. Luis begins to pray.

The stench grows, grows, grows, more potent with each step you take towards the bed. You fear you’ll find rot when you pull the covers back—a body, perhaps. But what you find confuses you more. You fall to your knees by the bed, crane your neck to peer beneath it, and your eyes catch the glint of silver.

Your hand stretches out, inching under the bed as your teeth catch your lip. When you pull the object free, you look up at Luis, who meets your gaze with the same confusion. In your hands you hold a hunting knife.

And as quickly as it had come, the stench subsides.

You turn the knife over in your hand as you push yourself off the dusty floor, a strange emblem is etched into the heel of the blade. 

“Well that’s not weird at all,” Luis mutters, taking the knife from your hand to inspect it himself. You bite the inside of your cheek, about to say something more, when a faint creak draws your attention. The wardrobe. The door swings open, as if nudged by an unseen hand. You meet Luis’ wary gaze, your heart thrumming with anticipation.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, you rise to your feet, walking closer, pulling the door open by its rusting brass handle. Inside hangs a tarnished mirror, and in it you catch your own reflection—dark circles ring your eyes, your reflection looks as drained as you’ve begun to feel.

Luis hums over your shoulder, a spark of realisation lighting his expression as he clicks his tongue. “Not Noel, look.”

You squint into the mirror, making out the jagged inscriptions in the wall that are now mirrored. “Leon?”

There’s a knock on the wall behind you, too loud to be mistaken for the walls of the house adjusting. 

“Is that a yes?” You breathe.

Two knocks.

Luis stares at you, his voice hushed, disbelieving. “Are you talking to a ghost?”

“Holy fuck, I’m talking to a ghost.”

Your ghost isn’t as terrifying with a name to its haunt. Leon, you’ve come to find, is gentle. You and Luis have spent the past three hours communicating with him; knock once for yes, twice for no. A language of patience.

You’ve been documenting it all in your notebooks—entry after entry of everything you’ve learnt. It's all you can do, considering the tapes you’ve tried to record burn out. You figure he doesn’t like the notion of being seen. Being known is different, though. You can feel that—he wants to be known.

He cannot leave.

He doesn’t remember how he got here.

He knows only his name.

You find he also likes to move things.

First, it was the photos. Luis had left the polaroids from the bedroom out on the dining room table to develop, safe with the windows drawn. You’d found them around the house later, one in your bag, another nestled between the equipment. Harmless. Cute, almost.

Then Leon started to move bigger objects. Your torch was found in the bedroom closet, Luis’ lighter in a kitchen cabinet, your hairpins scattered like breadcrumbs on the mantle of the fireplace. It’s a game to him, one that you find yourself eager to indulge. 

You slip into the kitchen, carrying a small wooden figure you’d picked up from the general store—nothing too special, a simple carving of a bluebird. Ghostly fingers might appreciate the weight of its worn edges, you think.

“Alright,” you say aloud, speaking to the empty room, “I – uh, got you something.”

You place the bluebird on the dining table, straightening the figure before taking a few gentle steps back. The temperature in the room drops suddenly, a chilly cold that you no longer mistake for the prairie wind, a denseness in the air that can only be explained by experience. 

Your EMF reader ticks up, and you itch to jot down the reading, yet the moment you turn your back, there’s the sound of wood scraping against wood. You spin back on your heel, only to see that the little bird has moved, facing the window with its beak pointed towards the fading sunlight.

“So you like the bird then?” You nearly laugh, low and under your breath.

There’s another scrape, this time longer. The bird moves again, right before your eyes, closer to the edge of the table.

Despite the absurdity of it all, you continue to talk. “Careful, you’ll knock it off.” You warn softly.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then the bird stops just short of tipping over the edge, as if Leon has taken your words into consideration. You watch as the bird drags back across the table to the centre. 

The lights flicker with your laughter, as if your ghost finds amusement in the cadence of your voice.

You begin to wonder how anyone could’ve thought this home was malevolent at all. The unease that had come with your first encounter has long since given way to something deeper—an ache, a yearning, a quiet desperation to understand. You don’t want to leave. You want to stay, to uncover every secret this house holds. 

How did he die? Was it peaceful, or something violent? What kind of life did he lead? Did he love? Did he lose?

You sit on the living room floor, your back pressed against the wall, clicking your pen twice as you jot down tonight’s meeting in your notebook. From the wall beside you, two soft knocks answer in return.

There is a difference between an architectural haunting and a hereditary one. There’s a certain comfort in knowing a haunting is bound to a place, that its roots lie deep within the dirt that make up the home’s foundation. That it cannot follow you home.

But when a haunting becomes hereditary—when it latches onto you, burrows under your skin, sinks its claws into your soul, twisting, festering—when it’s tethered to you, that's when the fear takes hold. You cannot outrun a hereditary haunting.

Last night, you dreamt again. The homestead, its walls bleeding dark and thick, like wounds seeping into your memory. The flashes came in fragments: the house, the woods, a clearing bathed in moonlight. A glint of a knife to match the gleam of his eyes. And then, the sensation of cold mud pressed against your skin as you lay in the dirt, helpless, hopeless, dead.

You wake in the middle of the night and wonder when this haunting stopped feeling architectural.

Luis finds you on the third day in the parlour, your fingers curled around the edge of an old, weather-beaten box. It drags across the warped floorboards with a groan, sending up a small cloud of dust. 

He pauses in the doorway. “What are you doing?” His voice cuts through the otherwise quiet home. 

“Cleaning up.” You keep your eyes on the box, focused as you rifle through its contents.

Luis steps further into the room, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn floor, nearly tripping over the marbles you had laid out earlier for Leon to move. “Cleaning up?” His brow furrows. “Jesus, I thought we were here to investigate.”

“We are,” you mutter, your hands brushing off the dust clinging to your clothes as you turn to face him. “I’m just helping out.”

“Helping out?” Luis stops mid-step, his confusion sharpening. “Helping the ghost?”

Your hands still. The air shifts, colder than before, almost as if something is standing beside you. You glance over your shoulder, but it’s just Luis, a mix of disbelief and frustration in his gaze.

“Yes, Luis,” You sound annoyed now. Tension thick in the air.

His laugh is short and bitter. “This is crazy,” he mutters, his voice rising slightly. “You’re growing too - too attached, we need to leave.”

“No.” You straighten up, the words more defensive than you intend. “He needs help. Look at the state of this place!” You gesture to the peeling wallpaper, the broken furniture scattered, the oppressive sense of neglect.

“He?” Luis tries to be your voice of reason, tethering you back to reality, to the here and now because currently you seem like you’re in a different plane of existence entirely. 

“Yes, he.” You drag the box into a corner, your back to him, and run your hand across its lid. The texture feels wrong—too damp, too cold, as if the cardboard itself is rotting from the inside. “He’s trapped here,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Luis. “I don’t know how long, but... it’s been years. He doesn’t even have anyone to mourn him.”

Luis exhales sharply, his breath fogging the air. When did it get so cold? “You don’t know that,” he snaps, his voice louder, louder, louder. “You don’t even know who ‘he’ is!”

The words hit you like a slap. Something shifts, as if the chain binding his anchor to your ship has snapped and broken all at once.

“I’m not—” You stop, swallowing the words. “I’m not crazy, Luis.”

You can see the flicker of regret in his eyes, the way his expression softens, but it doesn’t erase the sting of his words. He hesitates, lowering his voice as if it could take back the hurt.

“I didn’t say that,” he murmurs, “But you’re not thinking straight. You haven’t been since that night. The ghost—or whatever it is—has you hooked. And you don’t even see it–”

Each word feels like a knife twisting deeper. The betrayal coils inside you, bitter and raw. You trusted him to believe in you, to see you, even when no one else did. You open your mouth to argue, but your ghost has better timing.

A sudden, violent knocking echoes through the house, an urgency to each rap. This time, it’s not coming from within the walls, and oddly, that unsettles you more than if it were. The sound pounds from the front door, growing louder, louder, louder with each second that passes. When both you and Luis rush to the foyer, you stare blankly as the door handle rattles on its own.

You don’t think when you walk forward, as if compelled by an unseen force, your hand wrapping around the crystal handle before twisting it and tugging it open. There, crumpled on the porch, lies a bird.

It’s ruined. Feather slicked by a sheen of its own blood, some still fluttering in the wind, others matted to exposed bone. The body is split open, like something had torn it apart with its bare hands, its innards spilt on the rotting boards. Thin ropes of intestine, wet and glistening, loop over themselves. 

The head, nearly severed, hangs at a grotesque angle, twisted so far back it looks as though it were straining to see something beyond its reach, connected by just a thin sinew of flesh. One of its glassy black eyes remains open, dull and lifeless, its beak parted in a scream that never came.

The bird has blue feathers. A bluebird, you realise.

Leon doesn’t speak much the rest of the day—if you can qualify the knocks and the flickers of light as speech at all. When you ask him about the bluebird, there's only silence. When you press him on whether he caused it, a vase shatters like fallen stars at your feet.

Perhaps he’s not all gentle. Neither are you, though, so you give him grace. You pick up the shards of glass one by one, wrap them up in a handkerchief, and discard them in the garden. 

It’s only when you return inside that you realise you’re bleeding. A thin line of red trails from the split in your thumb, the sting arrives after, delayed but insistent. You watch it drip, swirling with the water as you rinse it away, the crimson draining down the sink.

You’ve grown used to seeing Leon in your periphery. His shadow is a presence that has grown comforting. Unknown to know, unfamiliar to familiar. You find yourself looking forward to the night even more now, eager for a glimpse of him. But tonight, he doesn’t visit.

You think you might’ve upset him. Between the dead bird and the silence, maybe he didn’t like all the arguing, how loud the house had gotten today. You don’t blame him. 

“Luis wants to leave tomorrow,” You hum softly into the darkness. You don’t need to see Leon to know he’ll be listening. “I have to go with him.”

Silence.

“I’ll miss you,” You try again, your voice holding a sense of urgency. Please, please, please.

Again, silence.

You ignore the tears that prick at your eyes, upset that your ghost is ignoring you. You fall asleep with a headache and a heartache to match. But when you dream that night, it’s much more alarming than any of the ones before.

You wake in the darkness, your body stiff in your dream like you’ve lost your flesh and have been made up of bones. Rigor mortis once more. For a second you think this might be some sort of horrible sleep paralysis,but before the panic can set in, your eyes focus on the cracks of light in your vision, seeping through the darkness of your mind.

You’re not sure what part of your brain comes to the conclusion, but you realise you’re stuck under something, in something maybe. A coffin? Something wooden. You can smell the musk of the cottonwood.

When you wake from the dream, your headache is pounding twice as hard, you sit up, groaning as you press a hand to your head. When your eyes open, your breath catches in your throat. 

Leon.

He's there. Right there.

Closer than he’s ever dared to get, standing beside your bed, watching, waiting, like he always is. Yet, he looks more solid, more here than you’d ever seen of him before. You could make out the shape of his nose, the curve of his eyes, the length of his lashes.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, bated breath caught in the cavern of your throat as you try to comprehend what you’re seeing. 

“Leon,” you whisper his name, your voice shaky, barely more than a breath.

He doesn’t move, but his eyes soften, just slightly, a weight behind his gaze that you can’t quite place. You watch his chest rise and fall with breath that should not be there, lungs that have no reason to expand, a heart that doesn’t beat. And yet, yet, he is here, in front of you, as vivid as anyone else would be.

You lift your hand, your fingers trembling as they hover just above his cheek. You know he isn’t real, not in the way you are, but in this moment, he feels real enough. The heat of your skin, the cool air between you—it all blurs together until the only thing you are sure of is him.

Slowly, carefully, your fingertips brush his skin.

It is faint—barely a touch at all, like reaching through fog—but it is there. For a second, maybe less, his skin feels solid beneath your fingers, cold but tangible. The breath catches in your throat as your hand lingers, the boundary between life and death blurring, blurring, blurring. His eyes flutter closed. 

But then, just as quickly, the sensation is gone. Your fingers slip through air, the chill of the room returning, and he is nothing more than a ghost again.

No, no, no your mind screams. A desperation in the way you reach for him again only to feel nothing. A hand over his chest is merely a hand in mid-air. You cannot feel the beat of his undead heart.

Yet, the weight of his gaze remains, heavy with something you cannot name. You want more. You want him to stay. You want to stay.

Leon’s lips part, the faintest hint of a breath escaping, and you swear you can almost hear him say something. Almost. His hand twitches, as if he is also trying to reach for you, but can’t quite cross the divide.

It is unbearable, the way you see him see you. 

You don’t tell Luis of what happened last night, refuse to unravel the complexities of the ache in your being that cannot be satiated anymore. 

It’s not pain exactly—at least not the kind Luis would understand. It’s deeper than that, a longing you can’t explain. You’re stuck here, you realise, tethered not by chains but by something far less visible, yet much harder to sever. 

Luis frowns when you tell him to go without you, that you’ll follow in a day or two. He doesn’t believe you, not entirely. There is scepticism in the way he argues, but you don’t have much fight left anymore. Maybe there isn’t in him, either.

You’d promised yourself this was temporary—a few nights, maybe a week—just long enough to get the evidence you needed. But those days had unravelled into something else. You couldn’t say when you’d first realised you weren’t going to leave. Maybe it was when the lights began to flicker in time with your heartbeat, or when the chill of the air began to feel like a ghost of a touch on your skin.

There was no evidence to gather anymore. No story left to tell but this one.

And perhaps, you think, that’s always been the truth of you—this love of yours, spilling over the edges of your heart until it found something, someone, to hold onto. Living or dead, it didn’t seem to matter. Love for you has never needed a pulse, just a presence.

You walk through the homestead, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath your feet, and find that the air no longer feels heavy. There’s no longer that crushing weight on your chest, no musk of decay hanging like a warning. You breathe, and for the first time, the house feels still.

"Leon?" you call, your voice fragile, unsure.

The lights flicker in response, faint and distant.

Maybe, you think, this house has always been your grave.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[writerjayne]

When the first bottle appeared, Stiles almost didn't notice. He was grabbing his backpack and running out the door of the loft, shouting his goodbyes to an amused Derek and Peter, who didn't bother to remind him he didn't need to shout. It wasn't until Stiles was halfway home that it occurred to him that werewolves can't get drunk. But Peter is weird, maybe he just likes the flavor and happened to leave it at Derek's place. Odd but quickly forgotten. 

Stiles noticed the second bottle weeks later. The loft was finally finished being renovated and there were two bottles on some shelves that Derek had installed behind the kitchen island. The first bottle was still there, the second beside it but again Stiles didn't have time to ask. He was too busy trying to convince Erica to team up with him so they could take over the monopoly board. 

By the third bottle Stiles was not the only one noticing. Isaac had asked and gotten a shrug. Erica had inspected the bottles and confirmed they were human alcohol so there was no way Derek was getting drunk. Boyd pointed out that Derek wasn't drinking them anyway, all of the bottles were sealed. The pack continued to puzzle over the bottles together, while a very amused Peter refused to contribute and Derek refused to answer questions. 

Bottles four, five and six were added without any answers. There was no pattern to when they arrived, no pattern to the brands or sizes, even the shapes of the bottles were different. Most of the pack had given up, more interested in the other changes in the loft (new furniture, with lots of pillows and flannel blankets, a chess set on the table, the shelves full of books both old and new, and the smaller shelf full of movies) but Stiles was aware of every new bottle. 

It was after bottle eight that Stiles finally cracked and asked. 

"What's the deal with the whiskey?" 

Derek looked up from his book to study Stiles, who was studying the shelves of alcohol. It was just the two of them today, Stiles doing some kind of research while Derek simply enjoyed the younger man's presence. 

"I don't know what you mean," Derek said mildly, dropping his eyes to his book when Stiles turned back towards him. 

"Oh, come on, Derek. You don't drink! I mean, you can if you want, but it won't do anything and not a single bottle has been opened. So what's up?" 

"It's nothing," Derek sighed, and if Stiles didn't know the werewolf, he would have thought nothing more. 

But Stiles did know Derek and unless he was very mistaken Derek was blushing! It was faint but Derek's cheeks were pinkening as were the tip of his ears. 

"It's something," Stiles slowly smiled. "You just wont to tell me!" Stiles shifted how he was sitting, scooting closer to Derek. "C'mon Der, what is it?" 

Stiles leaned in and Derek closed his eyes taking a breath. 

"It's...." Derek said more but it was mumbled and Stiles wasn't sure what it was. 

"What?" Stiles asked again, leaving even closer. 

"It's the color of your eyes. The whiskey." Derek finally blurted, his cheeks warm and pink. 

"Huh?" Stiles mouth fell open as he sat stunned. 

"Well almost. None of them are quite right but whenever I see amber whiskey I think of your eyes and I always end up buying a bottle," Derek kept his eyes on his lap as he explained. 

"My eyes," Stiles repeated. 

"Yeah," Derek glanced up. "In the sunlight your eyes aren't just brown, theyre like warm amber whiskey." 

"So you bought eight bottles??" Stiles almost shrieked, his brain finally catching up with what was happening. "Because it reminded you of my eyes?! Alcohol is expensive!" 

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Derek looked away, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "It's so weird and probably creepy. I'm sorry I'll take them down tonight-" 

"Derek!" Stiles interrupted and Derek looked up startled. Stiles was smiling and before Derek could realize it was happening Stiles was kissing him. 

It was warm and Stiles smelled amazing. Derek had initially froze but he quickly melted into the kiss, pulling Stiles closer. One of Stiles' hands rested on Derek's chest but the other slid up to cradle the back of Derek's head, fingers threading through the werewolf's hair. After pulling Stiles against him Derek's hands had slid down to rest on Stiles' hips. 

When Stiles pulled back, he stayed close, studying Derek's face, a faint smile on his lips. 

"So... Not weird then?" Derek asked a little sheepishly. 

"Oh totally weird dude but also probably the most romantic this anyone has ever done for me," Stiles grinned as Derek rolled his eyes. 

"We just kissed and you're calling me dude?" Derek complaint lightly and Stiles laughed, his eyes crinkling. 

"Seems like it, Sourwolf." 

Still laughing Stiles leaned in to kiss Derek again and Derek was more than happy to let him.

~This was inspired by a line from the song 'Heather on the Hill' by Nathan Evans: "She's as warm as amber whiskey"

[faithsxoxo]

pairing :: chloe price x reader note :: band au, you’re chloe’s manager and she’s the drummer ;) warnings :: very very implied nsfw

Chloe whips her head towards the door as it slams open. You stand the doorway, absolutely fuming.

“What were you thinking?” You exclaim, storming towards her.

“Careful, if you glare any harder you might pop a blood vessel,” Chloe leans back in her chair, absentmindedly chewing on the straw of her drink. She barely glances at you before returning to her phone.

“Listen,” you begin, already losing your patience, “I don’t care what you do in your spare time. That’s not my job. However, when your reputation is involved, that makes it my problem.” Chloe rolls her eyes.

“I went out and screwed a couple girls, so what? My ‘reputation’ shouldn’t matter to true fans,” She punctuates her sentence by kicking her legs up onto the table.

“Maybe this never occurred to you, but you’re not the only person in the world Chloe Price,” You spit. “Your public appearance may not matter to you, but being caught in scandals affects all of the band. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for them.”

Chloe’s face crumples for a moment, but she recovers so quickly you almost think you imagined it. “Whatever,” She grumbles, turning away from you. “I get the point, you can fuck off now.” With a sigh, you turn around and walk out. You feel a pang of guilt, before washing it away. It’s not your fault she’s a raging cunt.

•

“7 minutes, going on in 7 minutes,” The headset crackles into your ears. You push into the dressing room where the three girls await you. Chloe is holed up in the corner, headphones leaking her punk rock playlist. Steph sits at the vanities brushing on finishing touches to her colorful face.

“You all ready?” You call, stepping over heaps of discarded clothes and accessories. “Just about,” Steph calls.

“6 minutes, 6 minutes all,” the radio calls again.

“I hate that thing,” Rachel grumbles, pacing the length of the room.

“Jesus, cool it Rach. You’re making me nervous,” Steph turns to face her.

“10,000 people in a stadium. To see our stupid fucking band,” Rachel sighs. “How am I supposed to cool it?”

“It’s really not a big deal, you’ve done this before,” you reassure, patting her arm lightly.

“5 minutes folks, 5 minutes on the clock. Can the band please meet behind the curtains, I repeat can the band join us on the stage,” The radio calls.

Rachel swears. Steph steps to her and wraps her arm around her shoulder.

“Come on Rach, no biggie. Just pretend they’re not there.”

She sighs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

•

You stand slightly off stage, watching the scene unfold. Thousands of roaring fans carrying signs and lights filled the stadium, all of them reaching for the trio.

Cash Register Fire.

The band that you had put your heart and soul into getting signed. They deserved it, putting hundreds of hours of time into their music. You remember the first days of being with them, hanging out in their studio apartment. You sighed softly, recalling the sweet memories.

•

Laughter fills the room.

“Oh fuck-,” Chloe cries out as her cymbal crashes to the floor. You clap, leaning against the back wall.

“Very convincing. The records will love seeing this,” You giggle, shaking your head.

“Get used to it,” Chloe smirks, throwing her arm around you. “It’s part of the brand.”

“Chloe, don’t scare her off yet,” Rachel groans. “Nahhh,” Steph calls. “She’s already used to our bullshit.”

“Chloe’s bullshit,” Rachel corrects.

Chloe steps away from you, and you almost want to lean back into her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chloe rolls her eyes.

•

Huh. You furrow your brows, pondering the moment. What had changed between you and Chloe? You crane your neck to see her on stage. Blue hair, tattoos, piercings, Chloe’s the definition of punk rock. Your cheeks flush. She looks incredible in that tank top. You catch yourself, shaking your head and stepping back. No. You cannot be thinking this about Chloe fucking Price. You turn around and walk away before you can think anything worse.

•

Finally, the show closes and the trio step backstage. “Holy shit you guys, you did amazing,” You exclaim, feeling prouder than ever. “You think?” Rachel sighs. “My voice cracked like 3 times.”

“Shut the hell up,” Chloe moans, punching Rachel in the shoulder. “You sang great and you know it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rachel rolls her eyes and pulls away. “Cmon, I’m fucking starving.”

As she pulls Steph away, you grab Chloe gently. “Er- nice work tonight,” you mumble, awkwardly. “Your drumming is… cool.”

“Cool drums. Uh- thanks for the feedback.” She runs her fingers through her hair. You nod slowly, avoiding eye contact.

“Listen- uh. You wanna ditch?” Chloe suggests quickly.

“…What?”

“Ditch. Y’know, go somewhere. Celebratory dinner or whatever,” She says.

“Oh. I mean, don’t you want to do that with the rest of the band?” You ask.

She shoves her hands in her pockets, embarrassed. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” She shakes her head. “It was a stupid idea anyway.”

“No! No, not at all,” You’re quick to respond. “I would love to go get something to eat.”

Her eyes widen, before falling back into her mock-annoyed expression.

“Yeah- I mean, yeah, I knew you were gonna say that. Okay, um, dinner.” Chloe grins slightly. “I know a place.”

•

You and Chloe pull up to a small diner on the edge of town. “Two whales,” You murmur.

“My mom owns the place,” Chloe explains. “But, uh, if you want to go somewhere else we can.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, this sounds nice. I’ve never been out here before,” You smile gently.

You both head inside and situate yourself in a booth.

“So.. not that i’m opposed to this, but what’s with the sudden change in attitude?” You question, smirking slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chloe grumbles, turning away.

“Oh? What, are you trying to rope me into a new scandal of yours?”

Chloe narrows her eyes.

“Again, my reputation isn’t your business. Just stop worrying about me,” She growls, crossing her arms and turning away.

“You mean doing my job?” You roll your eyes. “I’m not having this conservation with you again.”

“Then fucking don’t!” Chloe exclaims. “Can’t you fucking leave me alone?”

You slide out of the booth and glare at her.

“Fine, maybe I fucking will.” You grit, before storming out of the diner.

•

You sigh, burying your head in your arms. You had been working with CRF’s marketing team all morning trying to cover up Chloe’s newest ‘business’. After you had left her the previous night she had been spotted completely wasted in the closest bar. You almost felt bad. A knock on your office door makes you perk up. “Hey. How’s my favorite manager?” Rachel smiles softly.

“Ugh.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Yeah, I know. But, listen, Chloe is.. not doing too well right now,” She informs.

“Okay? Can’t you handle that?” You grumble. She winces slightly.

“She locked herself in her room and won’t come out. We were hoping that she might let you in.”

“Why the hell would she let me in?” You question.

“Didn’t you use to be close? I know it’s a bit of a rough patch right now, but she might appreciate you trying,” Rachel replies with a nervous grin.

“I’ve been fucking trying. That’s all I do,” You shake your head in annoyance.

“Whatever. I’ll go see what she needs.”

•

“Chloe,” You bark, banging on her door. “Let me in.”

“What the fuck do you want?” She shouts, voice muffled from burying her face in her pillow.

“I want to know why you’re moping around. You’ve got everything you could possibly want, what more?” You fume.

Chloe pulls open the door with a huff.

“I do not have everything I want,” She growls.

“So what, you’re privileged enough to have most of it,” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “What else could you possibly want?”

Her gaze softens for just a moment, before returning to her glare.

“Something I can’t have,” She whispers.

“And what could that possibly be?” You roll your eyes.

Chloe suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you closer.

“Are you that fucking dense? Do I really need to spell it out to you?”

You gasp softly.

“Chloe..” You murmur.

Before you know it, her lips are on yours. You let yourself melt under her touch, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Fuck,” She mumbles against your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Maybe I don’t know,” You whisper, “But you can show me.”

She smirks and pulls you into her room, locking the door.

“Yeah, I’ll show you.”

[gigireece16]

mhmmm my hazel eyes looked greener, and that the grass wasn’t lusher on the other side or whatever i wrote in one of my short stories

[lifeissimssnapshots]

🫧𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕦𝕞𝕡 📷✨🫧

Just a little photo dumb 🫧✨

[xthewhiteravenx]

Sam and Colby Fanfiction MasterList

COLBY BROCK:

[+18] Werewolf!Colby Brock x Reader: A Dance with Death [part i] [part ii]

Bonnie & Clyde AU: Your Bonnie, My Clyde [part i] [part ii]

Reincarnation / Angel AU [X]

Demon!Colby x Reader: [X]

Moon!Blinked/Insane!Colby: [X]

Full Fanfiction: “Dandelions” [X]

"The Escort" [X]

[+18] FeralAngel!Colby x Reader [X]

Red Riding Hood AU [X]

Vampire!Colby x Art Student!Reader [X]

Post-Apocalyptic AU [X]

Time Loop Romance [X]

Dark Waters: Mermaid x Colby [X]

SAM GOLBACH:

[+18] Gangster!Sam x PersonalAssist!Reader [X]

Vampire!Sam x Reader: [X]

Dark Occult Studies x Sam [X]

SAM GOLBACH X KATRINA STUART:

Witch!Katrina x Warlock!Sam [X]

THE TRAPHOUSE:

The Trap House Intelligence Agency [X]

The Trap House At Hogwarts [X] [X] [X}

Trap House: Glee AU [X]

Trap Girls: Witch Coven AU [X]

Sam/Colby/Nate: Warlock Coven AU [X]

Trap House: Lost Boys AU [X]

Trap House: Breakfast Club [X]

Trap House as Greek Gods and Goddesses [X]

Hangover Movie AU [X]

Trap House: Old Guard AU [X]

ARYIA/BADBOYWOLFY:

[+18] Aryia/Badboywolfy x Reader: Coming Home [X]

COLBY BROCK X AMBER SCHOLL:

Vampire AU [X]

High School AU [X]

The Purge AU [X]

AMBER SCHOLL:

Rainy Day In Paris (w|w) [X]

Day At the Art Museum [X]

Andrea Russett x Amber Scholl: girlfriends [X]

COLBY BROCK X SHEA ELYSE:

Wendigo!Shea x Werewolf!Colby [X]

SOLBY:

Vampire Lovers AU [X]

Demon!Colby / Human!Sam [X]

[+18] Howl and Fang (Werewolf AU) [X]

Hoya Bachu Forest AU [X]

Estes Method [X]

[+18] Titanic AU [X]

Movie Night [X]

Silent Hill AU [X]

MidWestern Gothic [X]

[+18] Zombie Apocalypse AU [X]

Hunger Games AU [X]

[+18] Hell Hounds [X]

Beastly (Horns AU) [X]

Top Gun AU [X]

Greek Mythology / Patrochilles AU [X}

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: Invincible

Sample Size: 245 stories

Source: AO3

[spencers-gun]

pure jealousy.

[p0rkbun]

❝LOVEGAME❞ — Amber Freeman

⤿Pairing: Amber Freeman x Reader

⤿Summary: You and Amber have fun at her house while you ask for her opinion on the photos you took. One thing leads to another, you end up taking a shot of whiskey and your body starts to feel warm but you can't tell if it's the drink or her.

⤿Content Warning(s): underage drinking, fluff, cringe writing probably, reader likes photography, amber is jealous of a camera, soft! amber?, unestablished-relationship, sexual tension? other than that it's fluff :)

⤿A/N: Is this based on lovegame by lady gaga? Maybe, the title was originally "not yet" but changed because I was listening to lovegame and realize how fitting the song was....//////// also i do not condone to underage drinking, this is for tension purposes.

navigation✧ word count: 2.1k

"What do you think of this?" You hand Amber another picture. Amber invited you to stay at her place for a bit, to have fun, she said. After a long discussion of stab movies, you two decided to watch Evil Dead whilst you ask her thoughts about your pictures you took at school.

Ever since your parents gifted you a fujifilm X100v camera on your latest birthday, you couldn't stop using it. You practically brought it everywhere and had to take a picture when there's any slight bit of a good scenery. You felt relieved and happy that you can finally photograph with proper quality because that old one you had from middle school sucked.

Amber had seen you with that godforsaken camera atleast twenty-times a week, she frequently sees you taking a photo of the sky multiple times when she was trying to find you on school grounds. Even when she found it cute, she gets a little annoyed when your attention is focused on the camera a little more than her these few days. So she decided to invite your over and have her fun with you, she didn't realize that you would actually bring the camera too.

You and Amber have a very close friendship, she was pretty much your polar-opposite but you both found it appealing. She was a little...hostile sometimes but that didn't stop you from growing some kind of feelings for her. That implies the same with Amber.

Now you're sitting on her couch, scrolling through pictures as the movie plays in the background along with Amber glancing at you often to see if you're even paying attention. You were, not really, you seem to love checking in your precious camera and barely giving any mind towards the movie or her. She would laugh at the thought of her being jealous of a stupid device, which she was.

She respects your love for photographing but now she's kinda irritated at you spending the last few days taking pictures instead of hanging out with her.

"(Y/N), that's the same picture as the last one," Amber replies, squinting at the apparently interesting looking tree to your eyes "how many times are you gonna show me the same tree in a different angle?" She utters.

"Hey! Don't be a mean, it's necessary..." You turn away from her and set the camera on your lap while switching to another photo. You gingerly sit back and lift the device for a better view.

"You know what? I won't annoy you with my camera anymore, okay? I'll just have to delete some pics and I promise i'll watch the movie with you" You hear Amber scoff at your words while she slumps in her seat. She sits with her head against the couch back, staring into the ceiling, seething with annoyance and debating whether to toss your camera out the window or not. Of course, she couldn't do it because you're most likely to kill her if she did.

She tilts her head and sees you still absorbed in your camera. She continues to stare at you until you notice the intimate look on her face. You raise your eyebrow and glance back to the small screen on your hands as you edit out your pictures.

You still feel her eyes deeply staring at your figure, you glance at her and she was still looking at you but this time with a smirk.

"What're you smiling at?" You ask. She was momentarily quiet until she answered your very so obvious question.

"You"

"Why are you smiling at me?" She laughs at the question you had thrown at her, she leans in with her head resting on her hand this time and smile sweetly.

"C'mon, i'm just waiting for you to finish. Besides, you look cute like that, when you're focused I mean" Her voice was low and sweet but you can hear some kind of sensual to it. You brushed it off and ignore her compliment, thinking she was joking.

She notices you ignoring her and decides to get up and go the kitchen, once again you payed no mind and not even a minute later, Amber comes back.

Even if you always ignore that kind of behaivour from her, there's a thought in the back of your mind that tells you she was being genuine. You always notice her longing stares, sweetly-sickening smiles and unexpected softness towards you. You didn't respond to her flirty attitude, though you had to admit, you secretly observe her from a far multiple times as well.

You two were just close friends you thought, it means nothing. You always decline the possibilites because you would not believe that. You had a small dare for yourself, to test, you look at amber's sitting figure and of course along with her gazing at you.

"Okay, what about this one?" You pick the camera and showed Amber your selfie. It was a simple selfie, you took it because why not? Well that simple selfie got Amber staring at it intensely, she observes every feature of you in the photo. She smirks and gives a low whistle.

"That's a good picture right there" she smirks, in her case, she didn't mean the quality or scenery, she was referring to you.

"Really? You seem to like staring at this picture of me very much" You joke.

"Because I do," Amber smiles and starts to play with her hair as if to tease you "You're attractive."

You squint at her and smile a bit while leaning back in your seat, the camera on your lap is now long forgotten, you finally had your attention on Amber completely. You cautiously lick your lips and maintain a stoic face.

"You're enjoying this huh?" Amber shifts at her seat and sits back in a similar position as yours "I won't lie, I am" she says with a wink, she continues to play with her hair. Her smile turns into a smirk and her look becomes seductive.

You stare at her gaze, stoically until you notice a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table along with two glasses. You eyed it and asked yourself why you hadn't notice that before.

"Is that...whiskey?" Amber smiles and grabs the bottle "Yeah, you want me to pour you a shot?" She pours herself a shot and you gingerly gaze at it.

"Amber, we're underage" you shot her a look, indicating that you two can't do this. Amber merely laughs and leans back with a glass in her hand.

"Since when do we follow the rules?" She pours into your presumed glass "We're young and having fun." She says with a smirk. You were about to sass her but your words got stuck in your throat when Amber gives you that same sensual gaze.

You eyed the glass and let out a breath of defeat "Fine, just a sip" you accept the glass, you didn't know why you did that, why did you condone to this?

You take the glass while keeping a close-eye on Amber trying to see her reaction. You cautiouslly take a small sip and let out a disgusted face "Ugh.." you hear Amber giggle.

"Yeah, it sucks. Here's a tip, chase it with a soft drink or something," She swirls her glass, making sure the whiskey stays as mixed as possible "I have some coke with me for that purpose."

You scoff, you feel like you just commited a crime or something. You take a coke and drank it, you feel a bit better but the taste of whiskey is still there. Staring back at Amber you start questioning why the hell you drank whiskey, did she have some kind of trance on you? She certainly was charming you with her eyes and it had a good affect on you.

"You know, there are other things to stare at" you remark but your voice sounded a bit flushed, your stoic composure was starting to break.

"I know but I like looking at you" She says with a soft smile "I wanted to hang out with you, you know?" She takes her shot before chasing it with coke.

"Well you are, and my attention is fully on you" you scoff while folding your arms "all because of your annoyingly charming stare."

Amber smiles "so, my staring is really affecting you" her voice laces with pride. You remain silent as she pours herself another shot and takes it but not without gazing you with a provocative expression.

Not knowing what to do, you finish your shot and chasing it down with coke. You frown and wipe your mouth, finishing that shot was purely out of nervousness and now you start to have a warm sensation in your body.

Amber chuckles at your expression, another one of her intimate smile takes over her face before it turns into the softest one she has given yet. She moves her hand to the side, as if to motion for you to move closer.

You did by what she silently requested, shuffling closer to amber's side "I had enough now" you sigh.

Amber leans in closer after she puts her arm around the back couch behind your head. She smiles at you before giving you a small kiss on the cheek. She then looks directly into your eyes that were widen and a blush appearing on your cheeks, she smirks.

"What? Did you like that?" You were completely flushed and caught off guard. You didn't expect her to do that, your warm sensation inside starts to bloom. Your attempt to compose yourself is failing and you start to fidget with your hands.

"I....don't know what game you're playing here.." you said meekly, Amber raises her eyebrows and gives you a grin.

"Game? Is that what you think?" She laughs "Well, maybe you're right. Look at you, you're red and getting all shy" She whispers in a low tone "Is it the whiskey or....is it me?" Her voice sends you a shiver down your spine, never, you had ever felt like this before. You feel as if Amber had cornered you into a wall and all you couldn't do anything. She has really taken a toll on you.

"I wanna kiss you again, do you want me to?" She whispers in a soft tone, leaning in with her face close to yours. You breathe a bit heavily before inhaling and exhaling, the warmth is really taking over you and you were sure it was caused by both the whiskey and Amber.

With half-lidded eyes, you faintly whisper.

"Yes.."

Amber closes the distance and placing her soft lips on yours. It was slow and tempting, you grab onto her shoulders as she pushes you back a bit. You broke apart and she stares at you with loving-eyes.

"How was that?" She asked. You hum and look away shyly. She grins at your shy form "Was that...your first kiss?" Amber seems to be trying to tease you.

You glance at her shyly before nodding, she cackles and pulls you closer, wrapping her arm around you "y'know, you're even cuter when you're act all shy," she purrs as she pours herself another shot "do you like this? Did you like it when i kissed you?" She takes the shot before eyeing you in a manner you're too flushed too describe.

"...I..." you mumbled and then procced to look down.

"I know that you want me baby" Amber breathes into your ear, she then kisses the side of your neck, it made you squeak and blush even more. She whispers, her voice taunting "you like that?" She gives the familiar look she has been giving you since meeting her, pure seduction in her eyes.

"Y-You!" you stutter while flustered and bit your lip.

"I'll take that as a yes," she chuckles and bites her lips as well "god..baby you're so fucking cute" she whispers as she pull you even closer, slipping you onto her lap. You feel the warmth inside of you thriving strongly.

"Do you know what the best part of this is?" You shake your head, a little lost. She travels her hands towards your hips and rest on it.

"Despite the fact that you have never done anything like this before and yet you take every bit of touch i give you makes everything even better," she bites her bottom lip and whispers "It makes you ten-times more fucking hot." she says lowly with a dark expression before she brings you into a passionate kiss, you let out a muffled whimper against her lips as you slowly start to give into her.

As your hands wander onto her hair, grasping it, the warm feeling inside finally takes over you and making you yearn for her even more than before. This game of flirting and love you two had played meets Amber's satisfaction. Even when you lost, you feel very much pleased when she has you vulnerable in her eyes.

A/N: some of this was based on a convo from me and amber in character.ai she did something that made me run laps around the house but that isn't included here. I sincerely apologize if there was any misspellings or improper grammar, I don't write often lol plus english isn't my native language 🙏 also sorry if amber is ooc. I hope you enjoyed this ♡♡♡♡ please reblog, like and comment it would be much appreaciated ♡♡♡😊

°.✧•—✦

[sweeterthanficstion]

𝖆𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖕𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖞!

to celebrate halloween, kinktober (sort of), and my return to writing, i’m hosting a fun event here on my writing blog! over the next few weeks leading up to halloween, i’ll be dropping a collection of spooky shorts for you to explore. but beware—there’s more than meets the eye. pick up the clues, uncover the secrets, and if you're brave enough, ask yourself what really happened at the haunted homestead, tucked away in the isolated prairie?

four stories over the course of decades, two souls bound by a forgotten past, one forsaken prairie. do you believe in fate, or something darker?

while not all work throughout this event will be nsfw, they will contain generally dark and/or heavy themes throughout (it's halloween after all!), so i ask politely that this event remains 18+ if you'd like to request or participate!!

navigation ⭑ masterlist ⭑ playlist

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

ghost!leon x ghost hunter!reader | ft. Luis Serra the year is 2001, and you've just found out about a haunted homestead on a prairie, sure to hold a million mysteries within its rotting walls. you've chased rumors of the supernatural before, but this place feels... different. maybe this time, you'll find the evidence you need to prove the existence of the other side—and finally go viral. but quickly you come to learn that some doors, once opened, can't be shut.

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.

slasher!leon x final girl!reader | MDNI 18+ in 1974, you attend a halloween party that your friends manage to convince you will be worth it. at first, it's just bad music and tacky decor, nothing out of the ordinary—until the lights go out. one by one, the guests begin to vanish, leaving behind a bloody trail for you to follow. now you're the last one standing, with a masked killer hunting you in the dark.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞.

vampire!leon x cattle farmer!reader | Wild West AU | MDNI 18+ in 1896, a stranger arrives at your doorstep, bloodied and weak. in the wilds, it's custom to help a man in need, so you do what anyone would—you take him in, and tend to his wounds out of the kindness of your heart. but as the nights grow longer, and your cattle start turning up dead, you begin to wonder if danger may be closer than you think.

© sweeterthanficstion — don't copy or steal, that's common sense i fear

[secretsandpurplethoughtss]

Moodboards

I'll add more and more to this, but here are some moodboards for some characters I'm writing fanfics about!

Castiel🎸🐕

Ella (Castiel's girlfriend) 🛍️💗

Lysander 🎶🐇

Crystal (Lys' girlfriend) 🎤🐎

Armin👾🎲

Violet (Armin's girlfriend) 🎮📝

Nathaniel 🐈📚

Esha (Nathaniel's girlfriend) 🥼🪻

Kentin 🍪🎖️

Vanya (Kentin's girlfriend) 🧶🧘‍♀️

Hyun 🍰🍵

Lexi (Hyun's girlfriend)💄🌊

Dake 🌊🌶️

Priya⚖️🏳️‍🌈

Laura (Priya's girlfriend)🧠🍷

Rayan🖼️🎓

Chelsie (Rayan's girlfriend)🎨☕

Amber 📸🥂

[singularattitudeofasafetypin]

Crazy Forever

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie’s been acting weird all day and Reader’s determined to figure out why!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Jason Carver sucks but that’s nothing new, mild self doubt/criticism.

A/N: Expect grammatical/spelling errors! I’ve proofread as best as I can but this is my first time writing exclusively on my phone since my laptop is bust. I hate it so much! I hope you like this though! I think it’s cute!

Please don’t copy my work!

The cafeteria was packed. Lunchtime saw the entire school crammed into one space, queueing for food, jostling through crowds and yelling to be heard above the din. Jocks and band geeks, preps and losers alike.

In one corner sat the basketball team. They took up three tables on their own, prattling and jeering. Their cheerleader girlfriends perched on their laps, laughing hysterically at whatever pathetic joke had just been told.

In the opposite corner, across the sea of students, sat you and the rest of the infamous Hellfire bunch. Their discourse was no less lively but infinitely more substantial. At least, you assumed so. You weren’t really listening.

Your attention was fixed on the curly haired metalhead sitting next to you. Eddie hadn’t spoken since he sat down. He picked at his food, ignoring the conversation and your questioning gaze.

Your eyes narrowed. Something had to be wrong; Eddie was never this quiet.

In fact, your boyfriend had been acting weird all day!

*

Everything had seemed normal this morning.

You didn’t have first period together so Eddie hugged you tight outside your classroom just as he always did on Thursdays. He squeezed you within an inch of your life, lamenting your imminent separation. How, oh how, could he hope to survive without you?

‘You’re literally gonna see me again in an hour!’ You let out a giggle as he started peppering kisses all over your face and neck. His featherlight lips tickled as they grazed your skin again and again, until your cheeks ached from smiling.

‘Maybe,’ Eddie relented, pulling back so he could take you in, ‘But that’s forever!’

He gazed down at you with his best puppy dog eyes, a childish pout tugging at his mouth. You couldn’t help kissing him. Up on tiptoe, hands on his shoulders, you pressed your lips to his and almost immediately, you felt the frown break and smile against you.

He squeezed his arms around your middle one last time before stepping back and sweeping a deep bow. ‘I shall count the seconds, my lady!’

With a kiss to your hand, he walked backwards down the hall, not wanting to take his eyes off you. You blew a final kiss as the bell rang. He mimed catching it before he turned and bucked it round the corner. Out of sight.

*

Eddie was right. That class did last an eternity.

You pushed through the crowded hallways anxious to see him again. You spotted your boyfriend a few meters away and yelled his name. Without giving him time to reply, you ducked through the throng and threw your arms around him.

That was the first time things had seemed odd.

He didn’t shrug you off exactly. In fact, he hugged you just as tight as before. Almost. His heart just wasn’t in it.

You broke and a confused frown flitted across your face. Where was the boy who, only an hour ago, made himself late to his own class for just a few more seconds with you?

You decided not to take it personally. Eddie’s mind was so vast he often ended up lost inside it, chasing thoughts along their labyrinthine courses. No doubt he’d been distracted by an inkling of an idea for a campaign or a melody for a new song.

Nosing affectionately at his shoulder, you walked hand in hand. You made a mental point to make your notes extra detailed this lesson.

Eddie wasn’t going to be paying attention.

*

‘Hey! Hey Eddie! Wait!’

The next time things felt strange was when Gareth started hollering down the hall. You spotted him, fighting through the bustling crowd and squeezed Eddie’s hand to make him stop.

‘Huh?’

He was still lost in a dreamworld.

You nodded; he followed your gaze. Gareth pushed through the last wall of people, all but collapsing at your feet. He was bent double, catching his breath.

‘What happened?’

Gareth looked up with a wicked grin, ‘I just got off the phone!’ He straightened, ‘Remember that guy we met last week? The one who runs that club the next town over? The Sunrise?’ Gareth was practically tap-dancing with excitement. ‘He said he wants us to open Wednesday night!’ He threw his hands out, anticipating his friends reaction.

It never came.

‘Oh, that’s awesome, man!’ Eddie’s voice was little more than a monotone. His features pulled into an imitation of enthusiasm but both you and Gareth could tell it wasn’t genuine.

Gareth visibly deflated but before he could probe any further, Eddie shouldered his bag and kept on walking to class. He looked at you instead.

‘What was that?’

You smiled apologetically, ‘He’s probably just in shock,’ you offered, ‘It’ll hit him in half an hour, I’m sure!’

He shrugged managing a half-hearted laugh. ‘That’s so exciting though Gareth! Do you know if it’s a regular slot?’

He shook his head, ‘No, but if we do good…’ he trailed off, thinking what it could mean for the band. By all accounts the Sunrise over in Clivesdale wasn’t much bigger than the Hideout but still, it was progress. Exposure!

‘I can’t wait to come see you guys there!’

He grinned, ‘Thanks… you’ll talk to Eddie?’

‘Yeah,’ you nodded, ‘I’ll talk some sense into him!’

With a smile, you turned and hurried to catch up with your boyfriend, wondering what could have gotten into him?

*

Whatever it was still hadn’t gone away by fourth period!

O’Donnell was blabbering on about the celestial symbolism in Romeo and Juliet, a topic dull enough the second time round, you didn’t know how Eddie could cope on the third.

He had his head in his hands. Maybe he was tired? You though, maybe that was it?

But Eddie wasn’t asleep.

Between glances, you saw him shifting, dragging his pen over a page in swooping, sloping curves, outlining nothing in particular.

‘Mr Munson!’ O’Donnell snapped. You both flinched at the loud noise. Eddie looked up, not even bothering to make a sarcastic comment. ‘How does Mercutio’s introductory scene foreshadow his demise in Act Three?’ She demanded, arms crossed and a look of contempt on her face.

He took a second to focus then mumbled a garbled answer that seemed to satisfy. She hummed, rolling her eyes and turned back to the board. Eddie looked even more dejected than before. You weren’t having it.

Tearing a page from your notebook, you scribbled down the most ridiculous joke you could think of. When your teacher’s back was turned, you slid the paper onto your boyfriends desk and watched him in your peripheral.

He unfolded it and you saw his eyes comb over your handwriting, ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes?’ before he looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

Grinning like an idiot, your pen scrawled the answer and passed it over. ‘A fsh!’

It was awful, you knew, but just the kind of thing that would normally send Eddie into hysterics. You waited for his face to turn red and tears to prick in his eyes but he barely even cracked a smile. Just rolled his eyes and sent back the note with a scribbled, ‘Ha Ha!’

You slumped in your seat, glaring at his spiky penmanship.

Something was definitely wrong.

*

That brought you to lunchtime. You were at a loss.

If he was this tired, he’d have skipped class and napped in his van, probably insisted you come with him.

If it was a story or a song he was concocting, he wouldn’t look so miserable!

Jeff and Gareth had just sat down and Dustin started regaling everyone with teasers for his campaign.

This Friday was his first time DM’ing for Hellfire. He was giddy with nerves and desperate for some brotherly advice from his idol. When none came, his face fell.

‘That sounds amazing Dustin!’ You said, ‘Don’t you think so Eds?’ You nudged him pointedly, hoping to elicit a response.

‘Mmm,’ was all you got.

You sighed, ‘I reckon Henderson’s gonna give you a run for your money!’ Perhaps riling him up would work, but Dustin’s modest protests gave him plenty of cover. You weren’t giving up that easily!

‘I bet you’ll even let him sit on the throne!’

The table fell silent.

Eddie’s throne was notoriously a touchy subject. Rumour had it, he’d once cancelled a session because the drama club had stolen it for their show. It was sacrilegious to suggest such a thing. The party watched with bated breath.

‘Whatever,’ Eddie mumbled, still refusing to meet your eye.

They gaped.

That was the last straw. You seized his hand, ignoring his complaints, and dragged him out of the cafeteria.

‘What’s with them?’ Dustin watched you go.

Jeff chuckled, poking his pasta with his fork, ‘You know,’ He shrugged, ‘Couple stuff!’

‘What?’

‘They’ve probably gone to make out or something!’

The three freshmen looked perplexed. Gareth snickered, ‘Henderson, my dear boy, when a man and a woman love each other very much…’

‘Ew!’

‘Gross!’

‘Shut up!’

*

You pulled Eddie down the corridors, leaving his questions unanswered.

‘Where are we going?’ He whined, trailing behind you and almost tripping over his own feet. You didn’t speak until you were almost outside. The parking lot was visible through the double doors at the end of the hall. You stopped short, turning to face him.

Eddie looked frustrated. His chocolate brown eyes confused under his furrowed brow. Yours searched him a last ditch effort to figure out the problem on your own.

You stepped closer. Before he could open his mouth, you jabbed him in the shoulder and darted away. ‘Tag! You’re it!’

Eddie let out a huff, taken by surprise. ‘What?’

You’d run the length of the hall, he was still standing there. ‘Can’t catch me!’ You teased.

‘Baby, I’m really not in the mood!’ He trudged after you. His steps were slow and laboured but you kept skipping backward, maintaining the space between you.

‘Yeah, coz you’re too slow!’ You goaded before pushing through the doors and running out into the sunlight.

Eddie cursed under his breath. He took off after you.

You were halfway across the parking lot by the time he got outside. Your laughter echoed back, spurring him on. Wind whistled in his ears, raked its fingers through his hair and clothes as he raced to catch you. Blood pumping through his veins, the ground thudding beneath his feet, Eddie heard his own laughter mingle with yours.

He was gaining on you.

Tarmac turned to earth, muffling your footfalls as you ran through the woods. You darted between trees like a wood nymph, laughing at the wide open sky as your lover chased after you.

Out of nowhere, arms closed around your waist, making you shriek as you fell tumbling into a heap. Somehow, Eddie managed to land beneath you, bearing the brunt of impact but just as quickly, he rolled you onto your back, pinning you to the ground by your forearms.

‘Got you!’ He declared.

You squirmed, still giggling. A tree root was digging into your back but you didn’t care.

Your plan had worked.

Eddie’s face was flushed, chest heaving. His eyes were sparkling and, framed by his soft curls, a dazzling smile had taken up residence on his lips.

‘That’s better!’ You wriggled an arm free to cup his jaw.

Eddie pulled back, ‘What is?’ Confusion dimmed the glow a little.

‘You!’ You laughed, ‘You haven’t smiled since this morning!’

He looked surprised, ‘Yes I have!’

‘Have not!’

‘How would you know?’ He retorted, climbing off of you and folding his arms. You sat up, an incredulous look spreading over your face.

‘Do you really think I wouldn’t have noticed you smiling?’

That caught him off guard. He ducked his head but you saw him blush. ‘So!’ Inching closer, you tucked your legs up and nosed against his shoulder. ‘What’s going on?’

‘What? Nothing!’

He flinched and looked away, like he was trying to shrink himself to the size of a mouse.

‘Must be a whole lot of nothing!’

‘What’s that s’posed to mean?’

Was he serious right now?

‘You didn’t say anything when Gareth told you you’ve got a new gig! You didn’t get excited about Dustin’s campaign-‘

Eddie tried to interrupt but you barrelled on, listing the incidents on your fingers, ‘You didn’t freak out when I said he could sit on the throne, and you didn’t laugh at my joke in O’Donnell’s’

‘I didn’t laugh at the joke,’ he cut in,’ because it was terrible!’

‘Hmm?’ You nodded sarcastically, ‘Try again Munson! You always laugh at my jokes!’

It took every bit of willpower he possessed to keep a straight face.

In school it was easy. He’d been wearing the mask for so long, but out here, alone with you, it was impossible. With you he couldn’t hide. With you, he couldn’t be anything but honest.

‘Watch out!’ You dug an elbow into his ribs, ‘that was almost a smile! You be careful!’

He ducked away again, pulling his hair across his face to conceal his ever widening grin.

‘Seriously!’ You moved closer, a softer tone taking over as you wound your arms around his and leant your cheek against his shoulder, ‘What’s going on?’

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips. A small insignificant sound but it meant the world to hear it. Eddie didn’t answer for a while but he wasn’t deflecting anymore. You could see the wheels turning, words writing themselves in his mind before he spoke them. You waited patiently.

‘Jason said something,’ he muttered, ‘I let him get under my skin.’

He felt you stiffen, ‘What did he say?’ The tension in your voice was thinly veiled. Eddie shrugged, hoping to calm you down,

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters if it upset you!’

He felt your eyes trained on him. You weren’t going to let this go. He let out another sigh, hands picking at the earth, absentmindedly tearing up blades of grass and crumpled leaves. ‘He saw me saying goodbye to you before Click’s,’ a slight pause, your gaze didn’t waver, ‘Asked how long I thought I had until you came to your senses and broke up with me.’

Eddie scrunched up his nose, a bitter taste in his mouth from the poisonous memory. He still didn’t look up.

‘And I know! It’s stupid! I know what you’re gonna say, I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it’s just… I started wondering what would happen if one day you did… wake up and realise all the worst parts of me and I just-!’

‘I’m gonna kill him!’

‘Baby-!’ Eddie reached for your hand when you started to stand.

‘If he thinks he can go around talking to you like that!’ You were furious but stopped when you saw the look on Eddie’s face. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, his mouth half open in a silent plea.

You sat back down and threw your arms around him instead. He pulled you closer, resting his head in the crook of your neck. It fit like it had always been meant to. You cradled his head in your hand.

The tears didn’t fall. Your warm embrace softened the sting, but he sniffed a few times, knowing he was safe if they did.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry!’ You murmured, stroking his hair gently. He just held on tighter.

You weren’t the only one who loved him, he knew that. He had Hellfire and the band and before them, Uncle Wayne, but you were the first time person he’d experienced who was ready to fight the bullies yourself. You didn’t settle for their disdain, refused to be complicit in their disgust. You were ready to fight for him.

He let out a shaky sigh as you leant back to look at him, cupping his cheeks in your palms. ‘If loving you means I’ve lost my senses, I hope I stay crazy forever!’

His red rimmed eyes welled up at the conviction in your eyes, in your voice. You pressed a tender kiss to his mouth, sealing your words as a promise.

Eddie melted against you, relishing your touch. When you broke, his cheeks were wet but his eyes a little brighter than before.

‘There you are!’ You beamed, thumbing away a stray tear and watching the soft upward curve on your boyfriends mouth. ‘There’s my smiley boy!’

You kissed him again and instantly felt the smile widen against you. Eddie kissed back, wrapping you in a deep embrace, filled with all the enthusiasm you’d missed before.

You giggled as your noses bumped together and before long, he was laughing too.

*

The school bell rang in the distance but neither of you had any intention of going back to class. You stayed outside among the trees for the whole of fifth period, laughing and joking until your sides hurt and you were certain Eddie had forgotten the cruel words.

He gushed about the band and their new opportunity, agonised over the Setlist while you teased him about what you might wear to see them play.

As you wandered in the vague direction of school, you talked through the hints Dustin had dropped about his storyline and the worries he expressed.

‘Kid’s got nothing to worry about! He learnt from the best!’

‘Oh did he now?’

‘Of course he did!’ Eddie mocked offence, then frowned. ‘But you are gonna have to tell him you were kidding about the throne!’

‘No way! You know I couldn’t bear to see his little face fall!’

‘You shouldn’t have got his hopes up then!’

*

The school building came into view. You stopped, lingering hand in hand on the edge of the tree line. The familiar green and orange stripes looked cold and foreboding. Instead of a beacon for school spirit, the tiger motif on the side of the wall seemed menacing.

Eddie squeezed your hand, ‘Back into the fray, my lady?’

You nodded, ‘I meant it, you know? I’m gonna kill Jason!’

Eddie laughed, ‘You’d better not! I don’t have enough money to bail you out of jail!’ He shoved you playfully but you wouldn’t relent.

‘Nobody takes away my baby’s smile!’

Eddie caught your other hand, grazing his lips over your knuckles, a reassuring gesture and a pledge of gratitude. You hugged his arm all the way back to class.

*

This time, when you passed him another terrible joke, Eddie nearly had to excuse himself. His cheeks were bright red. Tears of restrained laughter streaming down his face with a hand clamped over a Cheshire Cat grin as his curls shook ever so slightly.

You snickered quietly, watching him in the corner of your eye. You wondered what you wouldn’t do just to see that smile.

Jason Carver went home with a black eye that night!

***

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please reblog or comment and let me know what you thought!

Masterlist

Taglist: @neewtmas @sadbitchfangirl

[gigireece16]

i think as i get older, i feel myself becoming more like gregory house.

[ashrillvenheim]

An alternative line where Ashley becomes a Doctor for DSO agents and is usually the one who attends Leon after missions and they always argue.