#and that he and Tails have matching jackets

[highprettybabyy]

Seeing Red

Part 21: So That's How

jenna ortega x fem!reader apocalypse au

summary: y/n heads back to the villa while jenna and angelo pack the stuff up at the cabin

warnings: 18+! enemies to lovers, typical apocalypse stuff, violence, blood, zombies, gore, angst, some fluff, alcohol consumption, insane man, stabbing, animal abuse and cruelty, attempted murder, neglecting personal health, murder

AN: blehhhhhhhhh

word count: 3k

You should’ve been able to sleep.

The cabin was quiet. Safe. Familiar, even - despite everything. Despite the blood still crusted under your fingernails and the faint, haunting echo of Cam’s scream before his body hit the forest floor. The sheets were warm. Jenna was beside you, her breathing soft and slow, and Angelo lay curled between your legs, belly up like he didn’t have a care in the world.

But you couldn’t sleep.

You stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, thoughts looping without pause. Your side throbbed where the bullet had torn through you, but you barely felt it compared to the pressure in your chest. Something gnawed at you - something beyond exhaustion, beyond adrenaline. A need to see him again. Not to honour him. Not to relive it. Just… to make sure.

Just to know that he was still there. Still dead.

You slipped out of bed quietly, brushing your fingers along Jenna’s arm before moving away. She murmured something wordless in her sleep, and you paused to smile at her - then scribbled a note on the back of a foraged flyer and placed it on her nightstand:

Be right back! Making sure the bastard’s still dead. <3 kisses 💋💋💋

Angelo shifted but didn’t wake, his tail twitching once as you pulled on your jacket and machete. The early morning air outside was crisp, the forest still cloaked in a soft grey mist. You didn’t rush. You let your feet carry you over the uneven path, boots crunching faintly against the pine needles, the familiar trail soothing in a way you hadn’t expected.

You found him where you left him - slumped against the base of a tree, head lolled back, mouth open to the sky. Flies already circled him in lazy spirals. His skin had gone pale, veiny, like wet paper stretched too thin.

But what stopped you wasn’t the smell or the sight of him.

It was the keys.

His jacket pocket was bulky. You reached in and pulled out a jangling mess - some you recognised. Others? Not at all. At least ten unmarked keys, some tagged, some rusty. All of them heavy with implication.

And then you found the photos.

About twenty Polaroids, all shoved into a crumpled ziplock bag near his hip.

You didn’t mean to look. Truly. But the first one slid out into your palm, and your breath caught.

A selfie. Cam grinning in the foreground, eyes wild with something almost euphoric. Behind him: a woman tied to a radiator. Barely conscious. Blood on her chest. The timestamp - February 3rd - predated the outbreak.

You swallowed thickly, flipping through the rest.

Men. Women. A teenager. Some with duct tape across their mouths. All of them half-conscious, mangled. All of them posed, like trophies. Some dated before the world ended. A full twelve taken after it fell.

You stared at the final one for a long moment. Cam’s eyes weren’t wild in that one. They were calm. Peaceful, even. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and was proud of it.

You didn’t scream. Didn’t cry.

You dug a hole.

Hands shaking, you dropped the Polaroids in and covered them with damp earth, pressing your palm flat against the mound. You weren’t going to let him take those memories into the afterlife. He didn’t deserve to be remembered for anything except what you’d done to him.

Your fingers found something else then - your car keys.

You caught a glimpse of his shin as you stood, where his jeans had torn. A bite mark. It looked fresh.

That explained the turning. That explained the chase. The monster he was in life was now matched by the monster he became in death.

“Rot in hell,” you muttered.

The walk back felt longer than it should’ve. You checked your surroundings constantly, listening for birdsong or wind - anything to tell you you were still safe.

Inside the cabin, Jenna hadn’t stirred. Angelo had taken your place on the bed, paws twitching in his sleep. You pressed a soft kiss to Jenna’s forehead, lingering for a moment, then tapped Angelo’s belly gently. He grumbled but stayed flopped like a prince.

You weren’t tired.

The cabin wasn’t clean.

So you got to work.

You disinfected the floors. Scrubbed away dried blood from the doorframe. Reorganised the cupboards. Replaced every pillow and blanket that had been kicked over or bled on or tainted by memory. You opened windows, aired the place out. You even refolded the spare towels.

It was 6:15 AM when you stopped. The light was golden now, pouring through the trees in slow streaks.

You should’ve sat down.

You didn’t.

You grabbed your fishing rod, stepped outside, and made your way to the dock.

The lake greeted you with glassy silence. You cast your line and sat, letting your feet hang over the edge. It was peaceful. Real.

Two hours passed. You caught a few trout, a few small bass, and a couple you couldn’t name. Not bad. Enough.

Angelo emerged at last, blinking sleep from his eyes, stretching dramatically before padding over. You tossed him a bait fish. He caught it like a pro and wagged his tail.

The worst was behind you now.

You had to believe that.

-

You heard her before you saw her.

A sleepy thud of bare feet on wood, followed by the cutest little yawn. Angelo perked up immediately - tail going berserk, the fish long forgotten in his mouth as he bolted back towards the cabin.

"Ugh, your breath reeks of fish, buddy," Jenna’s voice called out, groggy but amused.

You turned just in time to see her shuffle out, hoodie tugged on lazily, hair in a messy halo that made your chest ache in the best way. She squinted into the sun, and her face lit up when she spotted you on the dock.

Angelo launched himself at her with full-bodied excitement, tongue flopping, tail wagging like a propeller as she crouched to greet him with both arms. "You’re such a menace," she murmured, pressing her face to the top of his head.

You watched from your spot at the edge of the dock, your lips already curving into a smile you didn’t try to hide. She padded toward you with a little sway to her step, eyelids still heavy with sleep, and kissed you hello without saying a word.

It was soft. Lingering.

Your arms came around her waist instinctively, tugging her close against you. Her hoodie smelled faintly like woodsmoke and leftover rain. Her skin was warm from sleep. You tucked your face into the space between her neck and shoulder and exhaled, letting yourself melt into the moment.

“You looked so cute like that, angel,” you mumbled into the fabric.

“Oh, stop,” she giggled, voice still hoarse with sleep.

You swayed together like that for a while, the lake lapping gently below, Angelo settling near your feet with a satisfied huff. You didn’t think about the apocalypse. Or Cam. Or the bags you’d eventually need to pack. You just breathed.

Jenna shifted her hands, brushing against your side-

You flinched.

A sharp hiss slipped between your teeth, involuntary. The pressure was fast and bright where her hand had landed on the bullet wound.

“Shit- sorry!” she said quickly, pulling away.

But you tightened your arms around her.

“No- no- I’m okay. I need this, angel.”

You felt her hesitate, then her weight eased back into yours. She let her hands rest on the safer parts of you, the unbroken skin. Her fingers were cold, but familiar.

You could feel her eyes roll. Not in frustration. Not anymore. But in that fond, quiet way that said you’re impossible.

You hummed, a deep sound that vibrated between you. Then breathed in - her skin, her warmth, the faint smell of toothpaste and campfire.

“Mm. Okay. I have caught us a bunch of fish. Angelo has already taste-tested a few and says they’re adequate,” you teased, finally letting her go just enough to move.

She raised a brow, amused. “Only adequate?”

“He’s a tough critic,” you said, flashing a wink.

You bent down to the net tied to the dock post, awkward with your side still sore, and pulled out four of the best fish. decent size, still fresh and glistening. “I’m thinking: breakfast of champions.”

Jenna grinned. “Survivors, you mean.”

You looked at her. “Same thing.”

-

The scent of fish and teriyaki hit your nose before you even sat down. You’d filleted and cleaned the trout on the dock with Jenna watching - eyes still puffy from sleep, chin propped on her knee. Now the pieces were sizzling on the camp stove with a splash of what was definitely expired sauce, but neither of you cared. Not after everything.

You stirred the pan gently, making sure nothing stuck, while Jenna stood a few paces back, looking over the map she’d scratched into the back of a cereal box the day before. She’d marked the villa, the cabin, the lake, and a few vague trails to the gated community you’d found on your last walk.

Angelo, ever hopeful, sat between you both - tail sweeping across the floorboards in rhythmic optimism. You tossed him a crisped fish fin and he caught it mid-air, chewing with dramatic satisfaction.

“Alright,” you said, spooning the stir fry onto two dented tin plates. “Breakfast of survivors. As promised.”

Jenna took hers with a soft thanks and sat on the porch step. You sat beside her, plates on your laps, legs stretching into the sun. For a while, there was only the sound of eating - the crunch of charred fish skin, the distant call of a bird overhead, the rustle of Angelo settling in your shadow.

Then: “I found the keys on him.”

Jenna looked up mid-bite. “What?”

“To the car,” you clarified. “Cam had them in his jacket pocket. Same little keychain you always complained about - the green plastic one that squeaks.”

Her expression shifted - something between relief and exhaustion. She nodded slowly.

“I think it’s at the villa,” you continued. “Didn’t see it wrecked nearby. If I go now, I can be back by noon. Maybe one, if the trail’s messy.”

Jenna hesitated. “I could come with-”

“No.” You cut her off gently. “You’re still healing. And honestly? I’d feel better if you stayed here. With Angelo. Just for today.”

She chewed her lip, clearly torn.

“I’ll take the crossbow. And the machete. And I’ll go quietly. The roads should be safe.”

Jenna gave a slow nod. “And I’ll pack up the cabin?”

“Yeah. Everything useful. Food, fishing gear, the extra blankets. Whatever we can load fast.”

“And if something happens?”

“It won’t,” you said, perhaps too quickly. Then softer: “But if it does - I’ll leave a trail. I’ll come back. Always.”

She reached for your hand then, and you let her take it. Her grip was firm despite the tension in her shoulders. You didn’t say more - just sat there, hand in hand, finishing your stir fry in the golden light.

It was a moment of quiet resolve. No panic. No dread. Just a plan. Finally.

By the time the plates were scraped clean and rinsed in the bucket, the sun was higher, and your pack was already loaded. You strapped the machete to your side, slung the crossbow over your shoulder, and clipped a small first aid kit to your belt.

Jenna wrapped her arms around you and very unsubtly snuck a packet of pistachios in your back pants pocket. You smiled and kissed her. “I’ll be back in a few, gorgeous.” She smirked and smacked your ass softly “You better hurry.”

You quickly stole another kiss before you turned and headed down the path - heart steady, breath calm - toward the villa.

-

The walk back to the villa was quiet in a way that left your skin crawling. Birds chirped somewhere high above in the treetops. The wind whispered through the canopy. But there were no groans. No dragging footsteps. No signs of life, or unlife. Just the rustle of your own movement, and the occasional throb in your side where the bullet wound had stiffened overnight.

Your breath felt sharp in your chest by the time the treeline thinned and the sloping roof of the villa reappeared ahead. The garden was flattened. The house looked bruised, violated. The car was still there in the driveway.

And the front door hung wide open.

You approached slowly, machete gripped in one hand, the other hovering near your belt where you'd strapped a pocket of disinfectant and gauze- just in case. Broken glass crunched underfoot. Bullet casings glinted on the ground near the front steps. The car’s passenger-side window was shattered, the glove box torn open and hanging. Something- someone- had torn through it in a frenzy.

Heart pounding, you circled cautiously around to the driver’s side. The door was ajar, like an invitation.

You bent to inspect it - only for a sudden snap of movement to blur in the corner of your eye.

Pain exploded in your ankle. Your leg was yanked violently out from under you.

You slammed into the driveway with a grunt, scraping your elbow raw as your vision swam. Your hands reached out instinctively - your machete flying from your grip and skidding several feet out of reach.

“FUCK!” you gasped, twisting to see what had grabbed you.

There was a woman - no, a thing, a crawler - half-pinned under the car, throat ripped out and long black hair tangled in the undercarriage like a warning. Her eyes locked on yours with feral, vacant hunger. Chains rattled where they tangled around her midsection - whoever chained her there had done so deliberately.

Your ankle was still in her grip. She dragged herself closer.

“Shit- SHIT!” you screamed, kicking with your free leg, scrambling backwards - her nails slashed at your boot, ripping it clean off, and catching your shin.

Your fingers clawed at the gravel, trying to reach your machete.

But it was just out of reach.

Of course it was.

.

It had been over an hour since Y/N left, maybe two. Jenna wasn’t sure. The clock on the wall didn’t work, and she hadn’t checked her watch. She didn’t want to. Not because she was afraid, but because it would make the minutes real - each one dragging by without a sign of Y/N’s return.

So instead, she stayed busy.

Angelo had been her shadow the whole time, padding behind her with his usual heavy paws, tail wagging like he had no idea the world had fallen apart. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe that was the beauty of him.

“Come on, stinky,” she said with a little grunt, lifting the folded sleeping bags into the trolley. “We’ve got work to do.”

He woofed lightly and followed her to the kitchen, sniffing the opened bag of kibble and letting out a huff of protest when she sealed it shut again. Jenna chuckled and scratched behind his ears. “Not until we’re done.”

They worked together like a unit. Jenna humming as she moved through each room, packing what was useful and ignoring what wasn’t. The tools Y/N had left out. The half-used medical kit. The spare socks that actually fit comfortably. Cans that looked new enough. Fishing line. Lighter fluid. Maps. Even the plastic container where they kept the garden seeds they'd collected over the last few weeks - zucchini, pumpkin, peppers, lettuce, tomato. Life, preserved in packets.

The morning’s fish stir fry had been left on the counter, still covered. She uncovered it, took a bite with her fingers, and nodded. Cold, but edible. They’d finish it before leaving. Maybe on the road. Maybe sitting on the bumper.

Jenna tried not to think about where they were going next. About the fact that they had to go somewhere again.

She forced her body to stay light, voice melodic, every action carefully chosen to avoid spiralling. “Alright, my boy,” she said to Angelo as she sealed up the last of the dry goods. “Anything to keep our minds off the obvious, right?”

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, then barked once when she started singing. Loudly. Badly. She picked the most annoying song she could remember from childhood - some pop hit with a chorus that refused to die - and he howled along with every drawn-out note. Not quite in tune, but he gave it heart.

“Attaboy,” she grinned, ruffling his fur. “We should start a band.”

When the singing was done, the packing followed. Suitcases were filled with the remainder of their supplies and stacked on the porch, ready to be loaded when Y/N returned. Blankets were folded and tucked into the corners. Bottled water was lined up neatly near the steps. Weapons - carefully counted, cleaned, and placed in a padded case. Even the little luxuries were packed: spare socks, clean shirts, a half-melted chocolate bar she found in the back of a drawer.

She left the bed as it was - just in case.

Every so often, she’d glance up at the treeline. No car. No movement. The forest, for all its threats and secrets, looked peaceful again.

But she hated the way the silence could turn on her. One minute it was calm, the next it felt like holding your breath.

Still, Jenna didn’t let herself worry.

She just kept saying it out loud. “When she gets back.”

Not if.

Never if.

She scratched Angelo’s chin, kissed his nose, and whispered it again.

“When she gets back.”

And when she did - she’d better be hungry. Jenna was saving the last bite of stir fry for her.

—//—

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Hiiii can you write Daniel x chubby/ curvy reader please our boy need more appreciation 😭❤️

You can add more characters too

Thx 😊

NOTE : I know this can be a sensitive topic for some people, so I sincerely apologize if I’ve messed up in any way. I truly gave it my best and will keep working to improve next time.

The extra characters: Jake Kim , Goo Kim, Hudson Ahn.

DANIEL PARK

It was okay. Actually, you thought it was kind of nice, your boyfriend had gotten into better shape, he was healthier now, and that blazing fire in his eyes when he said he could protect you better than ever? It stirred something in your heart, even though you always reassured him that you could take care of yourself. You weren’t involved in gang business like him, after all. He’d only rub the back of his neck sheepishly whenever you reminded him.

But what really nagged you wasn’t your safety. It was something quieter, more internal, a gnawing feeling you couldn’t shake.

Now that both his bodies were stronger, better... what if?

What if he started detesting the softness of your stomach or the plush curve of your thighs? There were so many slim, polished girls in your class, and Daniel had always been the star of their eye. You started chewing your nails absentmindedly during your study date, and he noticed instantly, eyes locking onto the worry etched on your face.

He gently ran his knuckles along your cheek to bring your attention back.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

You quickly brushed it off, nudging him playfully to focus on studying. But Daniel wasn’t convinced. He knew something was off. Then, without warning, he pulled you closer.

“Stop!” you tried to maintain a stern face, suppressing your smile as he began tickling you relentlessly. After a few minutes of playful struggle, he finally released you, holding your gaze.

“I’m sorry if I did something that made you feel down,” he said softly. “I know I was kind of MIA last month, with everything going on with the gangs, James Lee, and all that. But please, talk to me.”

He looked so earnest, so puppy-eyed, it nearly broke your heart.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, and he nodded instantly, tail-wagging golden retriever energy radiating from him.

“You know… I noticed you’ve gotten stronger, healthier overall. So if you ever feel like I should make some changes too, just let me know,” you said with a smile, though internally, you were cringing. God, did that sound weird?

His eyes widened—and not in the way you feared.

He immediately pulled you into a tight hug and murmured into your neck, “You’re perfect. Why would I ever want you to change? Did I say something to make you feel this way? I’m sorry.”

“No, no! I just thought…” you began, but he only held you tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, guilt lacing his voice. “I never meant to make you feel like that. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

“Stop apologizing. I just figured since you’ve changed physically, maybe I should too, just a bit,” you tried to wriggle out of his arms, but he didn’t budge. Wow, he really had gotten stronger.

“Don’t. Never ever think that,” he said firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t ever think you need to change. I love you just as you are.”

“But—”

“No ifs or buts. Got it?” he cut in gently but firmly.

You smiled. The tight knot in your throat began to ease, and relief washed over you. He held you close, whispering over and over how much he loved you, and in that moment, it felt okay to just be you.

JAKE KIM

The football match was intense, peak excitement. Even though your side lost, you had a great time… until someone cracked a joke.

“If only you were as big as Jerry-hyungnim, we wouldn’t have lost!”

Everyone laughed.

Hahahahaha. Just a joke. Right?

You weren’t as big as Jerry, sure, but weren’t you big enough? The comment rubbed you the wrong way. Was it disrespectful, or were you just overthinking? You tugged your oversized jacket closer around yourself. Was it not covering properly?

Across the room, someone noticed the subtle slump in your shoulders, the dimming of your spirits.

And of course, it had to be Jake. When your eyes briefly met, you quickly looked away.

Later, as the get-together wound down, you left with Jake. “Next time, we’ll definitely win,” you said cheerfully. He laughed and tried to slip his arm around your waist, but the way you flinched was subtle yet obvious. It hadn’t happened in months. Not since the early days of your relationship.

Jake paused, then you casually said, “The material of this jacket isn’t great, huh?”

A diversion? A distraction?

“It’s fine. You picked it, didn’t you? It’s perfect. Like you,” he said with a grin.

You smiled faintly, your mood lifting a little.

“Oh really? One win and you’re delusional now?”

He pulled you closer and gently rubbed your waist. “Not delusional, just stating facts, Your Royal Highness.”

“Your Royal Highness? You’re clearly cracked,” you laughed as he dramatically bowed in front of you.

Laughter filled the air like sunlight through clouds. Your heart felt lighter, your worries dissolving in the warmth of his presence. You laughed until your stomach hurt, and in that moment, you knew:

Your boyfriend really did know you best.

GOO KIM

“Tch, that was a fluke, you know!” Goo screeches in your ear, clearly frustrated after losing again.

You just smirk and throw up a victory sign, basking in your small win. His eyes narrow in mock annoyance, though the affectionate violence in his gestures never leaves. He grabs a handful of chips and tries to shove them in your mouth, attempting to shut you up.

You duck out of the way with a grin.

He gives you a mock glare. “You dare bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Shut up, diva. And no thanks, I’m good. I’ve got plans for summer this time, so I’m watching what I eat. Ready for the next round?” you say, already reaching for the controller.

But before you can even blink, he yanks you onto his lap. You let out a protest, squirming half-heartedly, but it's useless.

“Whatever plans you’ve got, you don’t need to starve yourself,” he mutters, his hands trailing over the soft curves of your waist.

“It’s not starving. And hey, you’re the one constantly feeding me whatever junk you feel like. What if I gain more weight, huh? Shouldn’t you be supportive?” you tease, trying to get off his lap again.

He pulls you back firmly and silences your retort with a kiss. Between the soft exchange, he murmurs against your lips, “Don’t. Starve. Me. It’s good for me, you know? More to hold, more to grab.”

You wrinkle your nose in mock disgust. “Ew.”

But deep down, it feels oddly comforting, the way he says it so easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And honestly? Maybe that whole "diet" idea wasn’t worth all the stress after all.

HUDSON AHN

When Hudson asked if you were free to meet his teacher this weekend, you hadn’t expected to end up in the mountains, at the residence of the infamous King of Ansan himself.

You bowed respectfully, doing your best to appear composed in front of the legendary Taesoo Ma. The man watched you with quiet intensity before finally nodding.

“You’ve made a wise decision,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “A strong woman is what elevates an ordinary man into someone extraordinary.” He spoke while casually biting into a slice of grilled rhinesores he had just cooked.

Strong? Your brain instantly jumped into overanalysis mode. Strong… as in physically strong? Or mentally? Or maybe—

Before your thoughts could spiral, Hudson stepped in confidently.

“You’re right, sir. She’s strong in both body and mind,” he said, his hand slipping into yours with steady assurance. “It’s an honour to have someone as extraordinary as her by my side.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or hide your face. Why did they talk like British aristocrats from a historical drama? Still, his words made something warm bloom in your chest.

Taesoo Ma nodded in approval, giving the two of you his blessing before dismissing you.

As you made your way down the mountain trail, you murmured, “My hero.”

Hudson turned his head. “What?”

“For what you said back there.”

“It was nothing but the truth,” he replied smoothly. “In fact, I could’ve said even more—”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek before he could finish.

Hudson Ahn: the sun of Ansan. Bright, blazing, and fierce.

He blinked, startled, and for just a moment, a soft rose hue dusted his cheeks. It was rare to see him blush. Rarer still for him to be caught off guard.

Hand in hand, the two of you walked on, toward whatever horizon awaited next.

[mangocatastrophe]

All bundled up n’ cozy

[mars-ax]

MARS. POST THE DOODLE OF SCOTT AND CLEO CUDDLING AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

so I don't usually post doodles because I'm very self-conscious about their quality, but just for you harper

So that doodle was actually in a series of other doodles all in the theme of "literal sleeping together" because that's one of my favorite things ever, so I might as well put them all here then

[arttsuka]

lupin the third...

...but merman AU

He'd steal the pearls and then use the 🐚 as these mermaid bras

[hexescore]

hey, hey, let's match!

♡ ◞ includes: caitlyn, ekko, jayce, jinx, mel, sevika, viktor, vi.

☆ ◞ summary: little snippets of matching items with (character)!

△ ◞ warnings: gn! reader.

❀ ◞ author note: this is my first time writing for the arcane characters, so i hope i wrote them well! please enjoy!

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN

bracelet or ring

The silver band was wrapped perfectly around Caitlyn's wrist, catching the light as she pulled her hair back into a high pony tail. She had come home later than usual and despite claiming she'd do better and work/life balance, she picked up right where she left off at work.

"Cait?" You call, peaking your head into her little workspace, seeing she's hung up a few new leads on her bulletin board. "Dinner's done," You walk further into the space, glancing around. It looked different than the last time you'd been in there, messier.

"Mmhm, I'll be there in a minute," She murmurs, "Just got a few more things to take care of..." You nod in acknowledgment, but don't leave. Instead you glance around the room some more, inspecting random but meticulously put together files and pictures.

Finally, you've made your way to where she sits in her leather desk chair, your hand gently touching her shoulder. She tenses at the sudden contact, but almost as quickly melts into your touch. She tilts her head just enough to press a kiss to your hand- her eyes catching the matching silver bracelet you wore. Despite it being subtle, the fact you two are matching causes her to grin, little butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "It's your favorite," You refer back to the dinner you mentioned, "Let's eat together."

Blue eyes trail from the silver band up to your eyes, and she bites her cheek to hold back from cooing at how much she adores you. "Alright," She sighs, pressing another kiss to your hand before packing up her work. She'll have time to do it later.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

EKKO

small couple trinket set.

The smooth, wooden surface of the little cat trinket in Ekko's jacket calms his mind long enough for him to find his footing. It's not often, but when the responsibilities and fear of failing start piling up, Ekko's anxiety reaches peak. When his thumb runs over the cool wood of the trinket though he's able to calm his mind and remember back to a better moment.

"Isn't it cute? It looks like you, don't you think?" You tease as you hold the pouty looking cat trinket up to his face. You almost choke on a laugh at the way his expression matches the cat so perfectly. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at your antics as he spots the matching trinket. He picks up the other cat and smirks, holding up the cat to your face.

"Now that's a match." He says, and when you peak at the cat it's got a rather confused and dumbfounded look on it's face. You scoff, grumbling that you do not look like that. He chuckles as you set the cat down in defeat, moving on to the next stall. As you're distracted, he picks up the matching trinket set and buys them to surprise you with later.

He'll never forget the way you lit up as he handed you the cat that apparently "looked like him." Your giddy, child-like smile as you accepted it and proudly declared you named it 'Ekko Jr.' before informing him you'll 'treasure it forever and ever.' He then promptly showed you the matching piece, which you rolled your eyes at but ever so graciously allowed him to keep. Yeah, a better moment to remember.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JAYCE TALIS

outfits.

"You two truly are disgusting." Viktor commented, with no malice, as you and Jayce entered the lab. Jayce just held a grin akin to a child in a candy store on his face as he looked over your outfit again- which matched his perfectly. It was surprising how many outfits Jayce coordinated in order to match you in some way or another.

"You're just jealous." Jayce held his head high with pride, turning to press a kiss to your cheek. "I'll pick you up later, okay?" You smile, leaning into the kiss and soaking up what warmth you could from him. Anyone who saw you two would surely get a tummy ache at how sweet the moment was.

"I'll be the one in the matching outfit." You chuckle, your laughter only growing at Viktor's faux vomiting. You decide to leave willingly before you were forced out, but not before giving Jayce quick peck on the lips. You run away as you hear a playful argument rise between the two.

"Seriously, how many outfits can you possibly match together?" Viktor sighs, shaking his head as he turns to continue his work.

"All of them." Jayce says earnestly, almost too prideful to not have a single article of clothing that doesn't have a matching counterpart to yours.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

JINX

nail polish.

It was easy to be captivated by Jinx, her voice like the lure of a siren, as she chats away about her day to you. She only gets this way because she trusts you, which in turns makes your own walls come down. Your eyes closed as you relax in her presence. Last time she had convinced you to match nail polish with her, a subtle way to claim you as hers to those in Zaun who eye you, thus you lay with your hand in hers.

Eventually she runs out of things to say and begins to just hum random tunes as the brush of the nail polish runs along your fingernails in a precise motion- as if she was painting on her newest creations. "Pink, blue, pink, blue~" When she's done she blows on them to help dry them faster.

"Jiiinx, that tickles," you whine, causing her to eye you with a mischievous smirk. At the quiet, you peak an eye open, which you regret as that's when Jinx pounces, straddling your lap and tickling you with a menacing laughter escaping her lips. "N- No! St- Stop! Please! I c- can't!" You squeak between laughing, thrashing around as she continues her attack- eventually you manage to get her off, but she looks ready to lunge at you any time.

"If you keep it up I won't let you finish my nails-" You lightly threaten, which causes her to hesitate, but she ultimately decides that maybe you could pull off a one-handed nail polish thing before attacking you again.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

MEL MEDARDA

stationery (pen).

It was a beautiful fountain pen with gold accents, and along the side in beautiful calligraphy was engraved 'forever.' It was by far Mel's favorite pen, it wrote smoothly, was beautiful to look at, but even more than that, it was a reminder of why she did what she did. For at home there was a matching counterpart to this pen, engraved with 'and always,' that always had her thinking about you.

Late nights had long since become a part of her routine, but the pen weighed heavy, like a message for her to wrap up her work before it got too late, and head home into the loving arms of you. So that's what she did. Mel wrapped up the last of her paperwork for the day before leaving, the commute home quiet as she fiddles with the pen, thinking of what you did throughout the day.

She smiled as she thought about how you'd greet her home, wrap your arms around her, kiss her. You'd pull her into the dining room and tell her about your day, chatting over dinner. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when the carriage pulled up outside her estate.

It wasn't until your head peaked out the door that she was pulled out of her daydream, tucking the pen safely into her purse. She exited the carriage, her tired and weary body carrying her towards you until she was inside, ready to finally relax after a long, hard day.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

SEVIKA

whiskey glasses.

Idiots. She swore everyone she had to work with were idiots and purposely made her work harder to do. Sevika was much too ready to return home, and upon doing so, pulled out the matching whiskey glasses. You entered the room, sitting yourself on to the kitchen counters.

"That bad, huh?" You ask, accepting her offer and taking the whiskey glass. She sighs, shaking her head. She didn't even know where to begin, but she decided on pouring herself a glass was a good start. You listen to her complaints, your finger outlining the simple design on the glass. Yours and Sevika's initials engraved into the glass- a gift from a friend.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink after she finishes telling you about her day, and you decide to bring over the bottle as you sit with her on the couch. "Whatever, I don't want to think about it anymore." She grumbles, taking the bottle and taking a swig from it. She wraps her mechanical arm around you, pulling you in closer to her.

"Tell me about your day instead," She insists, watching the way you try to mimic her in taking a swig of your drink- it goes down less smoothly than Sevika made it out to be. She chuckles at the way you cough a little, and then at the way you throw her a glare. She's quiet though, when you finally tell her about your day. It's these small moments that have her thinking about just how lucky she is.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VIKTOR

keychain.

"Vik, look at this!" You call him over, holding up the matching keychains for him to see. They were in the shape of puzzle pieces, and when they got close, they connected with a magnet. "Aren't these cute?" You hand them over to him and he looks over them inquisitively.

"Very," He says, before looking up at you with a small smile. "Should we get them?" He asks, though he already knew the answer. You try to act nonchalant, shrugging your shoulders and saying if 'he wanted to you two could get'em' but it was obviously all an act.

"I don't think we could leave without them." Viktor chuckles, because if there was anything Viktor loved more than his work it was indulging your whimsy. Thus the keychains were promptly bought and put to use. It was the only "fun" keychain on Viktor's, which only made it all the more special to you.

"Wait, but now we have to separate them," You realize, feeling a little guilty for forcing the two puzzle pieces to be away from each other. Viktor sighs, holding his half of the puzzle piece up for you to connect.

"It matters not the time they spend apart, as they're made for each other, and will inevitably always meet in the end."

Did he not realize he just said the most romantic thing to you? And now he's shocked you're tearing up? smh

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

VI

boxing gloves.

"One, two, one, two," Hitting the striking pads, Vi stood sturdy despite you putting your full force into each hit. Breathless, sweaty, and pretty tired, Vi decides a break is well in order for you both. You thank whatever god took mercy on you and take off your boxing gloves as you search for your water.

"Hey, babe..." Vi is rummaging around in her duffle bag, the crease between her brown deepening as what she searches for continues to evade her. "Did you take my gloves?" You look up at her, before looking down at the gloves. Inside on the label, written in sharpy, is the name 'VI' clearly written.

Sheepishly you hand them back to her, "Sorry, I thought they were mine," You say, now wondering where you last put the matching boxing gloves Vi had gotten you last year. In retrospect, Vi realizes that maybe getting you the exact same pair would inevitably lead to this situation.

"Nah, it's fine. I like when you wear my stuff anyways." She teases, enjoying the way you grow flustered at her words. She always had to say something in order to mess with you, and sadly for you, it always worked.

[buckyalpine]

Wrote in a rush and this was meant to be a fluffy drabble (lo behold is now much longer) but give me Bucky who finds the littlest ball of orange fluff on the side of the road, picking her up and tucking her into his leather jacket to take care of her. He can't leave behind that trembling baby behind on the streets which is exactly why she's scooped away without protest and snuck right into the tower and straight to his room, doors locked behind him immediately.

His biggest concern isn't the fact that he's currently housing a stray kitten in his room. It's not that he was breaking the no pets policy which he was already given an exception for. Once.

No.

His biggest concern is currently staring daggers at him with blue eyes that match his and an irritated swishing tail.

"C'mon Alp" Bucky tried to reason with his stubborn cat only to be met with the bat of a paw to his cheek, "You gotta be nice to your new baby sister, she needs a home"

Alpine isn’t having any of it. He saunters away and curls up high on the cat tree Bucky installed, turning away to ignore the new visitor.

"That could have gone....worse" Bucky mumbles to himself, knowing a grumpy Alpine was as good as it was going to get.

Now, he didn't exactly think any of this through when he picked the kitten up. He forgot how sharp those tiny claws are and he definitely forgot orange cats were a different breed. Still, he manages pretty well, playing with her and feeding her.

It's great until there's an attack on the compound the security system is breached. It's more of an inconvenience than actual threat which is why Bucky grumbles while rubbing sleep from his eyes when he hears the sound of a scuffle down the hall near his room. He's out of bed and grabbing his gear, the handle of his room jangling before being kicked down by the intruders, weapons in hand.

Alpine jumps up to his spot high in his cat tree waiting for daddy to handle business. Bucky is about to take down whoever entered his room until he feels soft fur brush his ankles, his tiny orange furbaby leisurely strutting over and sitting in front of the first gunman without a care in the world. She licks her paw and just before Bucky could react-

"What's this tiny piece of shit-OHFUCK-FU-

*Silence*

"What the hell..." Bucky's jaw is on the floor and his eyes are frozen on the spot where the intruder stood now empty. Because he is in his baby's belly. His tiny kitty just unhinged her jaw and a bunch of tentacles for a tongue grabbed the man whole and swallowed him like a Friskies snack.

"Meow" She purrs and comes to nuzzle against his leg, her tail swishing and curling around his ankle as she looks at him with all the love in the world. She goes back to licking her paw like nothing happened and Bucky stays rooted in place.

A Flerken. The tiny kitty he rescued was a whole ass Flerken.

Fuck.

After that night, imagine every time Bucky joins the team for dinner or training he has a new scratch somewhere or the other. The longer he hides his secret, the worse his excuses get but how can he tell them it's just his baby Peaches. Little Peaches the orange kitten who was also apparently a Flerken.

"I-I nicked myself while shaving"

"On your arm, Buck? Really?"

"It's just a papercut!"

"Why the fuck is it on your chin"

"Broke a cup, must've been the glass"

"....across your nose. The broken cup got you across the nose..."

"Yep"

"What are you, training with Alpine in your room?"

"...something like that"

Now at some point he does get caught because all you hear from his room is “awww-ow, fuck-shit-aren’t you the cutest”as he continues to coo, rubbing Peaches' furry tummy, her little paws reaching to bat the long strands of his hair. Everyone know he definitely can't be talking to his sassy white fur baby so who could it be-

"Really Bucky?" You stood at the door with an incredulous expression your face while he's in the middle of his cuddle session. You knew your boyfriend was hiding something all this time. Honestly, no one is really surprised given how much of a "secret" softie Bucky can be.

Still, no one really gets why he had to keep her a secret for this long, it's just a cat, what was the problem....

Now, I’d absolutely love for him to sneak her on a mission, a small lump rumbling in his jacket and Sam and Steve can only assume it's some type of weapon though for some reason Bucky keeps petting it. Eventually they get to their location and instead of reaching for his gun, he pulls out Peaches, holding her out like a rifle.

Before anyone can bombard him with a flurry of questions as to why in the FUCK would he bring a kitten to a mission, she eats off 4 of the bad people with one swallow and a content meow.

“That’s my baby” kisses her head before stuffing her back into his leather jacket where she purrs against his chest.

"Barnes what the fuck-"

"You guys can get what you came for" Bucky says with a shrug while scratching her behind the ear, a now stunned Sam and Steve slowly backing away to retrieve whatever they came for.

Bucky couldn't be prouder. The only mission he's still working on is getting trying to get Alpine to not plot to kill them both and it's going great.

[mashtatosworld]

i'll be there

summary: jiyong goes on a work trip but then your baby gets sick...

Packing should have been simple.

It was only two days.

But Jiyong was good at stalling.

You were folding one of his shirts while he lay sprawled across the floor, halfheartedly tossing things into his suitcase like a petulant child being forced to do chores.

Diva, ever his little shadow, stood beside him, clutching one of his headscarves in her tiny hands.

“Give that to Appa,” you encouraged her, nodding towards the soft silk.

She gripped the fabric tight before proudly handing it over.

Jiyong gently took it, thanking her, before dramatically tossing it into the suitcase like it physically pained him.

Diva watched this carefully.

So, when you handed her one of his hats next, she did the same - aiming for the suitcase but missing completely.

Jiyong sat up. “See? She doesn’t want me to go. It’s a sign.”

You rolled your eyes, picking the hat up off the floor. “No, she’s just copying you, as always.”

“Exactly. And if I don’t want to go, she doesn’t want me to go.”

Diva gave a little nod, though she definitely didn’t understand what was happening.

Jiyong gave you a smug look.

You ignored him, instead pulling out another jacket. “Do you want to take this one?”

He barely glanced at it before his eyes drifted to the open closet.

And there, hanging neatly beside both of yours -

Was Diva’s tiny, pink dressing gown.

Jiyong immediately groaned, falling back to the floor again. “I can’t go.”

“Jiyong.”

“I can’t!”

You sighed, shoving the jacket into the suitcase yourself. “I’ll finish packing for you, since I know neither of you are going to be any real help.”

Diva, now fully siding with her Appa, sat on his stomach watching you as you moved around the room.

He stared up at the ceiling of your room. “I hate this.”

You laughed. “You’ll be gone for two nights.”

“Two nights too many.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

He was late.

His flight was in an hour, and he was standing in the doorway, hugging you both like he was about to be exiled forever.

“I don’t wanna go,” he murmured into your hair, his arms tightening around you and Diva.

“I know.”

He pulled back with Diva perched on his hip in her little matching Chanel outfit - because of course she had one. She stared up at him, blinking slowly, her little hands clutching his shirt.

Jiyong sighed and pressed his lips to her head. “I was supposed to take my baby with me.”

“She’s been a little off these past few days,” you reminded him gently. “I think it’s better if she stays home.”

This would be the first time he was separated from her overnight since... well she was born. When you two were younger and touring the world for your careers, you had been torn apart many times. But since having your baby, the three of you travelled together everywhere.

The plan had been for Diva to accompany Jiyong whilst you went to rehearsal's but for the past couple days she hadn't been sleeping through the night and was turning her nose up at any food placed in front of her.

You smiled, squeezing his arm. “You're going to miss this your flight again.”

“They can move it.”

You sighed. “Jiyong.”

He huffed, pouting, and cupped Diva’s little face in his hand. “You promise to be good for Eomma?”

She nodded, her little spiky pony-tail bobbing. He carefully handed her to you, hands lingering.

He kissed her forehead. Then kissed you. Twice. Then Diva again.

You rolled your eyes. “Ji, you’re going to miss your flight.”

“Then I’ll have an excuse to stay.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Go.”

He finally, finally stepped back, dragging his feet toward the car.

You didn’t tell him that you watched from the window as he lingered outside, checking his phone like he was hoping you’d text him to come back.

You didn’t tell him that Diva started calling for him when he got in the car, her little hand pressed against the window.

And you definitely didn’t tell him that later that day, something happened.

Something that would make him turn the plane around.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Diva loved rehearsals.

Normally, she’d sit with her Appa, tucked under his arm, sipping her juice while watching you dance.

But today, she was too quiet.

You glanced over, expecting to see her watching, but she was barely paying attention - just sitting cross-legged with her iPad in her lap.

You frowned, crouching beside her, brushing her hair back. “You okay, baby?”

She gave a tiny nod, but she looked… off.

Maybe she just missed her Appa.

To cheer her up, you handed her some juice.

And that’s when it happened.

She gagged.

Your eyes widened.

And then -

She started throwing up.

“Oh, my angel,” you gasped, immediately scooping her up, holding her close as she whimpered into your chest.

Rehearsal was over.

You didn’t care.

By the time you got home, she was still fussy, clinging to you, barely drinking anything.

You bathed her, changed her into soft pyjamas, and rocked her to sleep in your arms.

She felt so small.

Jiyong FaceTimed the second he landed, still on the plane.

“Where are my girls?” he grinned, expecting to see Diva running around behind you.

Instead, you flipped the camera, showing her tiny form snuggled under a blanket.

“She just fell asleep,” you whispered.

His smile softened. “My baby.”

You didn’t tell him she had been sick.

No need to panic him.

She’d be fine by morning.

Right?

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

She wasn’t fine.

She cried through the night, throwing up a couple more times until you were concerned enough to bring her to bed with you.

Both of you slept terribly and had matching messy buns as you watched a show on the tv, much in need of a quiet morning.

She was sat propped up against Jiyong’s pillow, holding onto his glasses that he’d left behind.

Your chest ached.

You pulled out your phone.

He answered immediately.

His face lit up. "Jagi!"

You could tell he was in the middle of something - a fashion show, probably. There were cameras around him, producers talking in the background. But the second he saw you, nothing else mattered.

He grinned, turning his phone around. “Look, everyone! My babies!”

The people around him smiled and waved, some even cooing at the screen.

Meanwhile, you tried to stay out of frame, knowing full well you looked a mess.

“Ji,” you hissed, “don’t show me!”

He pouted. “Why not? You’re so beautiful.”

He wouldn't share with you then how he'd been in the middle of sharing some of his favourite photos of you two for the camera for his show. You'd see it anyway when the fans reposted that particular photo of you holding your baby girl after she'd just covered your face in ice cream. One of his many screensavers.

You rolled your eyes but felt warm all the same.

But the second he saw Diva in her little pink dressing gown, his expression softened into something warm and longing.

“You miss Appa?” he murmured.

She didn't say much but held up his glasses.

Jiyong whined. “Shall I just come home?”

You chuckled. “No, no. We just wanted to see you.”

"I know you're busy with rehearsal today but can you call me when you two have lunch? I'll eat with you," He says, even though he was a few hours behind.

"Um, sure." You nod, but you knew you were staying home today and weren't sure if your baby would be willing to eat. You didn't want to panic him, knowing full well he'd cancel everything and come home if he caught wind that she was even just a little bit under the weather.

He kissed his phone and you handed yours to Diva so they could say their own goodbyes.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

She didn't eat.

She couldn't keep anything down - not even water.

That’s when you started panicking.

You called everyone.

Your husband's mom.

Your mom.

Hyorin.

“She’s probably just got a stomach bug.”

“Just keep her hydrated, she’ll be fine.”

“If you’re really worried, take her in.”

And you were worried.

So you went to the hospital.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

"It's a typical case of norovirus," the doctor explained. "She'll be okay but we'll keep her overnight since she's dehydrated."

You nearly burst into tears.

Overnight?

Your baby, in a hospital bed with an IV in her tiny hand?

The guilt pierced through your calm bubble and that’s when you finally called Jiyong.

And that’s when he lost it.

“She’s what?!”

“She’s going to be okay, but - ”

“I’M COMING HOME.”

“Ji - ”

“I’M COMING HOME.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Jiyong moved heaven and earth to get back.

Left everything behind - his team, his manager, his luggage.

He didn’t wait for a private flight.

He didn’t care that he was flying commercial, stuck in economy with no security or leg room.

He didn’t even care that fans were taking pictures of him wiping his eyes with his hoodie sleeve.

All he cared about was getting to his family.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

When he arrived at the hospital, he burst into the room, breathless, hoodie pulled low over his eyes, but they were still red-rimmed and teary.

His gaze immediately locked onto the tiny form in the bed.

Diva, pale and sleepy, her IV-covered hand resting on her chest.

He kneeled on the bed, leaning over her.

“Baby,” he choked, brushing her hair back.

She stirred, blinking up at him with a small, sleepy smile.

“Appa…”

That was all it took.

Jiyong broke.

Tears slipped down his cheek as he leaned in, pressing a thousand kisses to her forehead, her hands, her little cheeks.

“I’m here, princess,” he whispered. “Appa’s here.”

You ran a hand down his back. “Ji, don’t cry.”

But you were crying too.

He pulled you close, both of you climbing onto the bed with her, wrapped up in each other.

And when it was finally time to sleep, Jiyong refused to leave her side.

His voice was barely a whisper:

“I’m never leaving again.”

And you knew he meant it.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

a lovely request! i actually had norovirus recently and it was brutal. poor diva ;(

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @maskedcrawford

[miirohs]

world burning [c.l]

pairing: Mob Boss!Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader wc: 1.4k cw: someone is literally shot, charles kisses reader a bit forcefully an: to the anon who said they'd sell me their soul my cashapp is @bestfanficwriterever (jk jk, i hope that anon sees this tho). Real reminder to you all, again, that non of this stuff is to be encouraged irl and this is all meant as a fictional scenario!

“Charlie?”

You could hear him softly cursing in French on the other line, whispering as the bed creaked in the background. It was obvious he had just woken up, and you felt terrible for waking him as well, knowing the day he probably had.

“Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, tu ferais mieux d'avoir une bonne raison de me réveiller (what's the matter, you'd better have a good reason for waking me up)-”

“Charles, I've been arrested, I need someone to come get me.” 

The muttering stopped, grogginess disappearing from his voice almost instantly. “Y/n? Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé bon sang chéri (y/n? what the hell happened darling)?”

“Charles, not now please,” You chastised softly, looking to the door as the guards quietly conversed among themselves outside the room, “I have no idea why this is happening and what they’re gonna do to me.” “How did you even manage to get arrested… Nevermind that, I just hope you haven’t answered anything they've asked of you.” He groaned, heavy thumping over the phone as you looked nervously at the door for any indication they’d been listening to your conversation.

“I’m not that dull,” You said quietly, looking down at your lap, “and it couldn't have been anything i did, all they did was seize the car from me in the lot and bring me here.”

He paused for a moment, silent over the line. You pressed the phone against your ear, straining for any sounds on the other side of the line.

“Stay put. I’m coming to get you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you fumbled, tripping over your words in a hurry to get them out.

“Char, what are you planning on doing?”

He laughed humorlessly over the phone, the sound of keys jingling and door slamming making you jump back from the phone as if it’d grown a head.

“Exactly what I said I'm going to do, come and pick you up.”

You swallowed the thick ball that’d formed in your throat.

“You know what- never mind, send someone else in your place, maybe Carlos?” You bargained, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Pas de souci, mon amour. Je ne fais que commencer (no worries, my love. I'm just getting started). They should’ve learned not to fuck with the wrong person. I’ll be there in another 20 minutes, you won’t need to call anyone else.”

You shivered as the line went dead, looking at the now opened door, all the cops watching you with a suspicious look.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

All you could do was shake your head.

Not even a grand total of 15 minutes later, a shouting match erupted, followed by loud bangs.

There was a single person you could think of who was capable of this level of chaos, and you could have swore you’d heard him threatening the cops right now.

“Where is she?”

“Sir-”

“Don’t sir me, where the hell is she? Don’t tell me I have to blow another head off just for you to tell me.”

Everything seemed to fall silent for a couple moments, only a few voices daring to make a sound.

“Char?” You called out, a couple beats of silence weighing you down.

The sound of footsteps only got louder, stopping in front of the room you were in.

Keys jangled, the door slamming open as Charles walked in, a couple of police tailing him timidly to the outside of the door.

There were dark stains on his otherwise clean shirt, an indication of what happened visible in the peeved look on his face. Your eyes slowly trailed to his hand, a gun held tightly in his grip, smoking oh so slightly.

Noticing how your attention had drifted to the weapon, he put it down on the other side of the table as he approached you, shrugging off his jacket as he approached you.

“Tu vas bien maintenant (you're all right now),” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair as he pulled you to him, “Come on, we’re going home.” 

You clutched his arm as he stood you up, eyes glued to the floor as you walked next to him.

You could hear their disappointed exhales, tinged with a bit of surprise as Charles kept a firm grip on your back, guiding you through the long hall to the main office.

As you continued to walk, he gently stopped you, turning around in the middle of the room as someone called for him.

“Fucks sake,” He sighed, turning around.

“Sir, i believe there has been a mistake-”

“What sort of mistake do you think you’ve made?” He snarled, his hand running down to your hand, lacing his fingers into yours.

“You see, the car we identified was yours and we thought that perhaps she’d stole it-”

“And you didn’t think to call me so I could deal with them myself?” He chuckled humorlessly, pulling you to his side. You held your breath, completely aware of what was about to happen.

“Charles, no-”

He shook his head at you, basically telling you to not interfere. You obliged, eyebrows creasing as you watch the poor man who had tried to explain himself get shoved to his knees.

“First off, you interrupt my very precious time, and then you have the audacity to say that you’ve made a mistake?” He stands back, waving at someone behind him to step forward to his side with a gun. “Do you know who she is?”

The man stumbled over his words, trying to plead for his life, but you already knew it was too late.

“Since you don’t seem to know, let me tell you. She’s the last face you’ll be seeing but since she’s here, I've decided to spare the rest of you for the time being. If I ever hear of anything happening to her again, anyone in this room will not be spared like they were today.” He remarked bemusedly, turning to you with the widest grin you’d ever seen from him.

“Chéri, close your eyes, and cover your ears as well.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The second you did, there was a bang, followed by a thumping sound.

Something warm was on your face, but you didn’t dare open your eyes, shaky hands coming off your ears to touch your face.

“Don’t.” He was closer than you thought, causing you to jump as he rubbed what you assumed was a handkerchief against your face . “Don’t say anything, don’t look, just follow me.” 

You cracked open an eye, briefly wandering to the pool of blood a couple of feet away from you.

“What did I just tell you?” He remarked, barking at the rest in rapid french as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out the doors of the station.

There was an awkward silence as you lumbered into the passenger side seat, pressing yourself against the seat as he pulled out and onto the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” He muttered, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh.

“I thought you’d be upset with me.” You looked down, noticing the dried blood on his hands, not that it made much of a difference to you anymore. Less than two years ago, you would have been horrified at the idea of blood within six feet of you, but you had come to accept it as a part of him you could never erase.

“No-” He punched the brakes, eyes slightly apologetic as you jumped from the sudden shock of stopping.

“No, no, Y/n, look at me,” His hand left your thigh, fingers curling around your chin and pulling your face to his, “You are not responsible for any of that, i gave you the car, remember? You are not to blame yourself because I would gladly do anything for you.”

“Char-” You whined, muffled slightly by the pressure of his fingers against your cheeks.

“I would give you the world to see you happy, so shut up and take it.” He pressed his lips harshly against yours, almost needy in the way he nipped at your bottom. Warmth seemed to stir inside you as he let you go, your own mind racing at a million miles per hour as he returned to the wheel as if nothing had happened.

However, under his breath, he muttered something that even escaped you as your thoughts drifted off elsewhere. “Le monde brûlera, si tu le veux ma chérie, je te le promets (the world will burn, if you want it to my darling, I promise).”

[aastroopheel]

Chaos Theory

summary: you and cook bump into each other on a rainy day after being way for some years. SO YEAH TIMESKIP COOK.

It’s raining in Bristol again.

You don’t have an umbrella, of course. You never do. The weather here is more of a permanent mood than a temporary inconvenience, and today it feels like it’s matching you beat for beat.

You duck into the corner shop mostly for shelter, but also for something sweet—comfort, distraction, whatever. You're rummaging through a pack of Haribos when you hear the door chime behind you and in comes James fucking Cook, loud as ever, soaked to the bone, and grinning like he just won the lottery. He looks older, more miserable,  than the last time you saw him a few months ago. 

"Oi, look who it is," he says, eyes locking on you like he's just spotted the best kind of trouble. His eyes trailing your soaking body as if nothing had happened between you two and things were the same as in college. "Fancy seeing you here. You stalking me, yeah?"

You roll your eyes. "Obviously. Been tailing you for days. Real MI5 shit."

He laughs, that deep, reckless sound that makes people turn their heads and that, sadly, you had missed.  "Knew it. I’m irresistible."

There’s a second of silence before he closes the distance between you two. His jacket smells like wet cotton and smoke, and his energy crackles in the air around him—feral, unfiltered, alive. You look away from him, biting your inner cheek as when you feel something forming in your stomach as memories of you two from a few years ago come to your mind. 

"You alright?" he asks, serious now, which is somehow more disarming than all the bravado. "You look a bit... I dunno. Like the world kicked you in the teeth."

You shrug, trying not to flinch at how accurate that feels. "Guess I'm just tired." Tired of being so fucking alone, you think looking at the new wound on his left eyebrow. 

Cook nods, then grabs a bottle of orange Lucozade and tosses it to you. "Energy boost. On me. Doctor Cook's orders."

You catch it without thinking. He always does that—makes you forget the weight you're carrying for a second.

"What are you even doing here?" you ask, watching him dig through his pockets for loose change. "Shouldn’t you be off causing chaos somewhere?"

He grins again, wolfish this time. "What makes you think I'm not?" And then he adds, lower, almost as an afterthought  "Maybe I’m here ‘cause I knew you would be."

Your chest does something stupid at that. You look away again before he can see it on your face.

But he already knows. Of course he does. He knew you too well. Your words, your expressions, your tears, your moans. Everything. 

You laugh, sharp and short, almost bitter. “Right. You just knew I’d be in this random corner shop at the exact moment you felt like popping in.”

Cook raises an eyebrow. “What, you think I’m lying?”

You shrug, twisting the cap off the Lucozade. “I think you lie for fun. Or maybe just out of habit.” You glared at him.

He doesn’t respond right away. That grin of his falters, just slightly. Enough to make you realize you’ve hit a nerve—which is rare. Cook wears his chaos like armor, but you know the weak points.

“You’ve got that look,” he says quietly.

“What look?”

“That one where you’re building walls in your head. Like you’re pushing me out before I’ve even had the chance to say anything real.”

You meet his gaze. “Maybe I just don’t buy the whole ‘suddenly interested’ act. Not from you. Not after everything with Effy.”

There it is. You said it. Effy and him were something you simply couldn’t ignore. They were one for so long even if they pretended not to, even if Freddie was between them you could see in their eyes everytime the other was in the same room. Even if you were the one holding his hand. His eyes were always on her and her messy blue eyes. 

His eyes flicker—regret, maybe, or just annoyance that the past always finds its way into the present. He exhales, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “That’s what this is about? Effy?”

“No, it’s about me randomly having trust issues with blokes who flirt with everyone and mean it with no one,” you snap. “Of course it’s about her, James. You were obsessed with her. You’d have burned down the world if she asked you to.”

“I wouldn’t’ve needed asking,” he mutters, more to himself than you. Then louder: “But that was different.”

“Was it?” You don’t mean to sound so small when you say it. You hate that you do.

Cook steps closer, voice low. Not cocky this time—raw. “She never looked at me the way you do.”

You look away, not because you don’t believe him, but because part of you does and that’s worse. You remember perfectly her eyes looking at him. The pain and the lust and how she would unconsciously lick her lips. And how then regret would appear as she looked at you, because she was your friend and it hurted her to be such a bad friend to someone so nice and kind as you who had helped her so much. She apologised so many times and you would forgive her every time. You couldn’t stand seeing her sad, you just couldn’t.  But Cook was something different. He could have stopped it. He could have talked to her and told her that he loved you as much as he told you every time he kissed you before falling asleep between your arms. But he never did. 

He leans against the snack rack beside you, his shoulder just brushing yours. “You think I’m still that version of me,” he says. “Maybe I am. Maybe I always will be. But you make me want to be someone else. Someone better.”

You sip the Lucozade to avoid answering. The sugar hits your tongue, but it doesn’t wash anything down.“Don’t say things like that unless you mean them,” you murmur.

“Why wouldn’t I mean it?,” he replies. And for once, there’s no smirk. No bravado. Just Cook—messy, complicated, and maybe… just maybe, telling the truth.

But trust isn’t something you give for free. 

“There’s a party tonight? Will I see you there?” he asks you, his fingers grabbing one lock of your hair. 

You move away. His touch burns and you already spent too much money on ice to calm your burns. “Maybe” He smiles at you before you leave with nothing left to say. 

—----- —

The music is too loud, the lights too dim, and everything smells like cheap vodka and damp clothes. Someone’s already passed out on the stairs, and some couple is snogging hard enough in the kitchen to make you consider sobriety as a permanent lifestyle.

You didn’t come here for fun. You came because it was better than staying in. And maybe of him. 

You're halfway through your drink when you see him. Cook. He’s standing near the back doors, smoke curling from the cigarette tucked between his fingers. His eyes scan the room like he’s not really seeing anyone—until they land on you.

And just like that, you want to run.

You slip into the hallway instead, where the music thumps through the walls like a second heartbeat. A breath. Then another.

And then he’s there, behind you. Like always.

"You’re avoiding me." his accent it’s a little bit raspier because of the alcohol on his throat. 

You don’t turn around. "I didn’t realize I owed you my time."

"Don’t owe me anything," he says, voice low. "But you left without saying anything the other day. Thought we were past that."

You scoff, finally facing him. "Past what, Cook? Past the part where you mess people up and pretend it’s love? Or past the part where I pretend I’m not one of them?" Maybe you shouldn’t have accepted that spliff from a random pretty girl that had her shirt too low for your brain to actually connect two and two. But you did accept it and now your tongue was a little bit too loose. 

His face hardens. "You think I’m pretending?"

“I think you don’t know what you want.”

He takes a step forward, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “I do. I know exactly what I want.”

“No,” you say, heart pounding. “You just don’t like being alone.”

That lands like a punch. 

He looks away for a second, jaw clenched. And then, softer, he says, “You think Effy was love?” Silence stretches between you. He steps closer. “That wasn’t love,” he says. “That was me trying to feel something. Anything. And her letting me because she needed someone to break.”

His voice cracks—not much, just a fracture—but it’s enough.

You want to say something. Maybe to soften the blow. Maybe to dig it in deeper. Maybe to just make him stop talking and kiss you hard against the wall like he used to. 

But he keeps going.

“I wake up some mornings and I feel like I’m drowning. Not ‘cause of her. Not anymore. But because I keep thinking about you. And how I’ll fuck it up. Like I fuck up everything.”

You shake your head, eyes stinging.You always cried easily. You were always so fucking sensitive and you fucking hated it.  “You don’t get to dump all this on me like it’s some twisted love letter.”

“I’m not trying to win you,” he says. “I’m just trying to tell you.” And then, quieter: “I don’t want to be that kid anymore. I want to be someone you can trust to not disappear, or lie, or break you down to build myself up.”

You swallow, hard. “And what if I don’t believe you?”

Cook looks at you like you’re the last thing keeping him standing. “Then I’ll keep showing up until you do.”

It’s not romantic. It’s not some sweeping confession that fixes everything. It’s two broken kids in a stranger’s house, trying to find a reason to be better.

And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

You don’t say anything. For a while, neither of you does.

The silence hangs heavy, the kind that doesn't ask to be filled. Just lived through.

Cook leans back against the wall, sliding down to the floor like the weight of his own words finally hit him. He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots like he’s trying to hold himself together. If you ignore his short beard, he would look just like in college. Broken, mad. 

You stay standing. Because if you sit, you might not be able to get back up.

“I scare myself, you know,” he says eventually, voice barely above the hum of the music, but loud enough for you to hear him.  “I don’t say that out loud. Not to anyone.’’ He laughs, hollow. “I thought if I was loud enough, mad enough, if I did enough stupid shit, then the pain wouldn’t catch me. But it always does. Always bloody does.”

You look down at him. His head is tilted back against the wall, eyes closed, like he’s waiting to be hit.

“I’m not your salvation,” you say quietly. His eyes open. “I’m not here to fix you, James.”

“I know,” he says, and his voice breaks for real this time. “That’s why it hurts more.”

Your throat tightens.

“I wanted to be good for you,” he says. “Still do. But every time I get close to something real, I fuck it. Like I’m hardwired for destruction.”

He looks at you, and there’s no mask left. No bravado. No ‘Oi, babe’ smile. Just James Cook. A boy trying not to drown in himself.

“You make me feel like there’s a version of me I haven’t met yet,” he whispers. “One that’s worth something. One that could actually love someone right.”

You sit. Slowly. Carefully. The floor is cold against your thighs. You sit close, but not touching. He notices. The space between you is bigger than the closeness, abstractly because you can actually feel his baggy trousers against your naked leg. But not his skin, you can’t feel his skin and maybe it's better that way. 

“You know I wanted her,” you say, voice steady. “Not just Effy. Everyone liked her. All the broken girls that boys like you chased ‘cause they were beautiful in a way that didn’t last.”

You look at him now, and he doesn’t look away.

“But I’m not Effy. I won’t burn myself to keep someone warm. And if you come near me, bleeding, expecting me to patch you up, you better know I’ll bleed too. And I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”

He swallows hard. “Then don’t give. Just… stay. Let me do something right for once.”

It’s not a promise. It’s not a vow. It’s a plea.

You’re both just trying not to fall apart, lit by the flicker of bad decisions and better intentions. You want to tell him you believe him.

But instead, you reach out and take his hand.

Not tightly. Just enough.

His fingers twitch like he’s afraid even this will slip through.

But it doesn’t. Not yet.

You don’t know how long you sit there—your hand in his, the music echoing like a heartbeat that belongs to someone else. The hallway smells like damp coats and something spilled long ago. The longer you stay, the more the walls press in.

You stand first.

He follows without a word.

The back garden’s half-dead, rain-soaked and ugly under the yellow glow of a porch light. Someone’s dropped a bottle in the grass. There’s a discarded shoe by the bins. This place was never meant to be pretty. But it’s quieter. Honest.

Cook lights a cigarette with shaking hands. Offers you one. You shake your head. You’ve been trying to quit, you tell him. He laughs. 

You lean against the brick wall, arms crossed, watching your breath fog in the air.

“You’re freezing,” he says, shrugging off his jacket before you can protest.

You let him drape it over your shoulders. It smells like him—smoke, sweat, something wild you can’t name. You hate how much comfort you take from it.

“I keep thinking,” he says between drags, “about how many people I’ve hurt just by being near them.”

You look at him. “And you think being near me is gonna be different?”

He exhales smoke through his nose. “I want it to be.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

He nods. Doesn’t argue. That’s how you know he means it. When he is silent, when he isn’t loud and when he just breathes in and keeps his words inside his mouth. 

You both stand there, the sky spitting rain again, soaking into your hair. And maybe that’s what does it—something in the cold, or the silence, or the fact that you’re both just tired of pretending.

“I’m scared,” you say. The words fall out like teeth.

He turns to you, eyebrows knit. “Of me?”

You laugh, bitter. “Of myself. Of believing you. Of what happens if I do.”

Cook doesn’t answer. He just moves closer, slow and cautious like he’s afraid of breaking the moment.

His hand brushes yours again. Not a grab. A question.

You answer it.

You look at him with your head slightly tilted. He rests his forehead on your shoulder first, and then he kisses it and his kisses climb to your neck and you jaw making you sigh before he kisses your soft wet lips. 

The kiss isn’t soft. It’s hesitant and clumsy, all teeth and tension and the taste of smoke. It’s not romantic, not really. But it’s real. It’s two people trying to meet in the middle of the wreckage.

You pull away first, forehead pressed against his.

“I don’t want to be someone’s second choice,” you whisper. “Not again, Cookie.” He smiles at the nickname.

“You’re not,” he says. “You never were.”

You close your eyes.

You want to believe him. God, you do.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to.

[vantelover07]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚yan!biker!Jungkook x vet!reader⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Just an idea I've had for a while, sorry for all the grammatical and structural errors, english is not my first language. anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ I think it would be such a cute grumpy x sunshine trope, but like he is a grouch around everyone else, but turns soft and loving only with the reader. And he's whipped. And I mean really, really whipped like he will do anything and everything for you, and I mean it. He's a yandere after all.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ He's definitely the type of guy who lives by the words "I would let the world burn for her" and "she's the ray of sunshine in my life", while the reader, on the other hand, is a cutesy, cheerful, animal lover. You work in a vet clinic, and that's how you guys met.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ Jungkook came in with his Doberman for a check-up. Immediately, he was drawn to your presence, your smile, and the soft way you handled Bam. He's smitten with the way you talked, walked, well, with your whole existence basically. He felt as though he was under some spell, as if the whole world stopped moving the moment you met.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ Later that day, when he came home with a dopey smile on, he couldn't think of anything else but you. He decided then and there that you were his true soulmate and he had to make you his.  

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ By pure coincidence, you guys met again at the park that he visits with Bam for walks. You were sitting on a bench on a particularly sunny and beautiful day, wearing a cute white dress with little pink flowers on it and a baby pink cardigan to match. You were reading a book when suddenly a familiar Doberman approached you with a wagging tail. Right behind him was a jogging Jungkook who couldn't believe his eyes. It's you in your cute, coquettish little outfit with that dazzling smile and warm, glowing aura. He made a mental note to buy Bam extra treats for being such a good boy by finding you for his dad.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ He was all smiles with you, despite looking so rugged and dangerous with all the tattoos and piercings, he acted so soft and gentle with you, as if afraid that you'd run away. You guys exchanged numbers, and he made you promise that you would go out soon.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ You guys text, finally set the time and place, and he picks you up in his car for the dinner date. You wore a long red dress, and he wondered how he would last all night without touching you when you looked this divine.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ You two had an amazing time together, you laughed, got to know each other more, and by the time the date was over and he drove you back home, you parted with him with a sweet kiss. Jungkook swore he'd heard wedding bells in his head and felt drunk despite not drinking anything.

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ With how inpatient and invested Jungkook is, you guys start dating not long after (probably around the third date).

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ He is all in in this relationship and I mean ALL IN as in getting you two custom helmets and jackets for his bike, visiting you at your lunch breaks at the clinic and either coming with a homemade lunch or taking you out, having you over at his place and letting you wear only his clothes there, texting you good morning and goodnight which makes him the first and last person you message everyday, buying you a cute pink set to go to the gym with him when in fact it's mostly either you watching him work out or him helping you with the exercises (honestly just looking for excuses to touch you), etc. 

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ Jungkook is very big on pda, and he absolutely has to touch you in some way at all times. He loves to kiss you, and he's baffled how he could survive without you before. He swears he's never felt this much love for anyone in his entire life. He loves spooning you in bed, kissing your neck and breathing you in, or having you lie down on his chest completely, feeling your weight on him being the best reminder that you are here with him, safe in his arms and utterly and completely his.  

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ He is very protective and easily triggered if anyone even dares to look your way for too long. He believes that only he gets to admire you and look at you freely (even tho he knows you're a beauty and unfortunately for him others see that too). He might or might not have threatened or beaten up a couple of guys who (by his standard) acted disrespectfully towards his relationship, but in his eyes, it's fine, as long as you'll never get to know. You would probably worry and get worked up, and he doesn't want that. Jungkook just wants to keep you safe, and what's safer than being with him?

ㅤ⋆˚♡⋆˚ Despite his jealousy and possessiveness, he's the most caring, loving boyfriend ever, and he would probably rather cut himself open than let anyone or anything hurt you. Jungkook treats you like a princess, and whatever you ask of him, he's ready to deliver. You're hungry? Baby, a three-course meal is already on the table. You're feeling stressed and insecure? Let him cuddle you and pepper your face with kisses, telling you every little thing he loves about you. You're feeling sick? He's there to take care of you, cooking you soup and making sure you take your medicine. You wanna go shopping? He's already on his bike, ready to go with you, see you model all the clothes, and buy you whatever you like. You're the love of his life, his soulmate, future wife, and mother of his children and he would be damned if he ever let you slip through his fingers. You're it for him today, tomorrow, and forever.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

Let me know if u guys liked this headcanon with yandere biker! JK and if you want more! Till next time, then!

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

[4m0r1m]

Closed Doors

SUMMARY: everyone thinks House and the sweet, gentle doctor hate each other—but behind closed doors, they’re far more than colleagues. when Wilson accidentally catches them in a heated moment, the secret they’ve been hiding threatens to unravel.

WORD COUNT: 1,116 words

PAIRING: greg house x reader

WARNINGS: a little heated moment but nothing too bad.

The corridor buzzed with the low hum of activity—nurses ferrying charts, pagers beeping intermittently, and hushed discussions about patient vitals. Amid it all, one thing remained a constant: Gregory House limping through the hallway like a tornado in tweed, cane tapping rhythmically, sarcasm trailing in his wake.

This morning was no exception.

“Foreman, try not to kill the patient with your god complex before I get a proper look at his scan,” House barked, brushing past his team without so much as slowing down.

“Good morning to you too,” murmured the woman trailing behind them, her voice soft enough to be overlooked—but with a hint of dry amusement that rarely went unnoticed by House.

She was the anomaly of the hospital. The type of doctor who remembered birthdays, lent pens, and somehow always had a stash of calming tea in her drawer. To patients and colleagues alike, she was the kind face of Princeton-Plainsboro—except, of course, to House, who made a daily ritual of riling her up with snide remarks and questionable nicknames.

“She’s got the bedside manner of a fairy godmother and the IQ of a well-trained golden retriever,” he’d said once. Loudly. In front of Cuddy.

She’d smiled sweetly and replied, “You’re just mad I’ve never let you borrow a pen.”

What no one knew—what absolutely no one could guess—was that behind the sarcasm, the sideways glances, the deliberately loud arguments… House was very much involved with her.

Behind closed doors.

And she, for all her angelic exterior, could match him wit for wit when no one was around to witness it.

It had started six months ago. A late-night consult, an empty hallway, and an unexpected kiss that left them both stunned and more than a little breathless.

Since then, they’d perfected the art of secrecy. The stolen moments in diagnostics. The lingering touches disguised as accidental. The occasional post-lunch escape to House’s office under the guise of “arguing about lab results”.

To the rest of the hospital, especially Wilson, their dynamic was obvious: House was being House, and she, poor thing, was just the latest target of his relentless teasing.

Wilson had once even said, “Honestly, mate, I don’t know how she hasn’t stabbed you with a scalpel by now.”

House had only shrugged and replied, “Maybe she’s saving it for Christmas.”

It was Tuesday afternoon when Wilson started to suspect something wasn’t quite right.

He’d passed House’s office and caught the tail end of laughter—her laughter, rich and warm, the kind no one else at the hospital ever seemed to coax out of her. Curious, Wilson lingered near the door. The blinds were drawn, but he could hear movement. A low chuckle. Muffled voices.

And then silence.

Frowning, he knocked.

“House?” he called out.

No response.

He tried the door.

It was unlocked.

The scene that greeted him upon entry froze him mid-step.

House, jacket discarded and shirt rumpled, sat on the edge of his desk, locked in a very enthusiastic embrace with the very doctor Wilson had been certain loathed him. Her hands were tangled in House’s hair, his cane discarded somewhere near the filing cabinet, and their lips—

“Oh, God,” Wilson muttered, instantly averting his gaze and turning on his heel. “I—Nope. I did not see that. I did not see that.”

House, entirely unbothered, detached his mouth long enough to smirk, “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”

She, however, buried her face in House’s shoulder and let out an embarrassed groan. “We’re going to have to kill him, aren’t we?”

“Tempting,” House murmured, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “But I need him to cover for clinic duty.”

Later that evening, after the drama had settled and the blinds were open once more, Wilson sat across from House, arms folded.

“You’ve been sleeping with her?”

House leaned back, tossing a rubber ball against the wall. “Only in the literal sense about fifty percent of the time.”

“Does she know you’re emotionally stunted?”

“Shockingly, yes. Turns out sarcasm and emotional repression are her love languages.”

Wilson scrubbed a hand over his face. “I genuinely thought you hated each other.”

“Technically we do,” House replied, ever smug. “But we hate everyone else more. It’s romantic.”

The next day, whispers trickled through the hospital. Nothing concrete, just vague observations. The way House had taken his coffee from her hand without comment. The way she’d rolled her eyes, but not with annoyance—with familiarity.

Someone even claimed they’d seen her leaving his office with a tie in her hand.

Of course, nothing was confirmed. Nothing could be.

House still insulted her in front of patients.

She still told him to sod off when he pushed her buttons in diagnostics.

But if you looked closely—really closely—you’d catch the smallest things.

The way her eyes lingered a moment too long.

The way his smirk softened when he thought no one was watching.

And the way she always knocked twice before entering his office.

Even though it was never locked.

A/N: I guys i hope you like this one!! I actually had it in my drafts and just didin't post it. This is a little different for what I usually write but i still hope people from other fandoms like it!!

[spookypete-94]

Dark Horse- Breath

PriceXFem!reader

Start of a mini series. Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Non-con mentioned but not described. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

Hard work was never something that had bothered you. Entering the work force at the ripe age of 14, you had learned many things the hard way. Like how what you thought was your "Highschool Sweetheart" was the love of your life.. Until he took advantage of you, in a time where you had too much to drink at a graduation celebration caused by him egging you on. Ultimately, the cost of his choice forcing you to become pregnant. You did not know how ever, that you were carrying his child when you broke it off with him, upset he had pulled such a stunt on you. Again, learning the hard way- you became forever tied to him, but would never settle with him.

Even for such a hardship to happen at a young age, you were blessed with the best gift. A piece of you. The entire pregnancy, you prepared yourself for the baby to come out like your ex. A reminder of what happened to you, but would care for nonetheless. But to your surprise, your baby boy came out with your color hair and orbs that matched your own. Literally the apple from your tree which quickly became the center of your eye.

Naming him Abel, meaning breath. He would be your fresh air. A man you would try to raise better for this world.

Locking the door behind you, you turned down to look at your little one. He was always so bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, donning his school backpack.

"We got everything?"

"Yup." Abel said popping the p, reaching for your hand to hold it as you walked him to his school. He rather liked school for his age, making friends with ease. Watching as he skipped next to you, and listening to what he thought was going to happen at school today. These moments were what you loved most, feeling truly connected with Abel.

Infront of the school doors, kneeling down to speak with him face to face and fiddle with his jacket.

"Dad will pick you up today." You said smoothing his hair.

"Oh.." Abel said quietly. Abel knew how hard having split custody with his dad was for you. Your ex may be terrible to you, but he was a good father to Abel. Making getting full custody of Abel hard and the fact due to your funds coming from a restaurant. Of course the boy who took advantage of you turned into a man that became successful. Many times he would bait you ,"If you just came back to me." A smug smirk on his face almost telling you he'd knew you would come running back. Instead, you planted firmly, took root and grew. Getting a job at a local restaurant and quickly becoming it's best worker. Making enough to make ends meet, living pay check to pay check but still taking care of your son.

"It'll be alright momma, I'll see you later tonight." His arms coming around his neck and pulling you into him. Nearly teetering on falling over, but instead pulling him into you closer to lean on him. A perfect explanation of your relationship with Abel.

Watching him run into school you waited for him to slip inside, and walked to work. Hoping for a busy day to help with distraction making it go quick until you can see Abel again.

It for sure started off with a bang, like someone had fired a starter gun. Table after table, coffee turning into soda signifying the change from breakfast into lunch. Answering the phone of what you thought was going to be a to go order. was actually a phone call from your son's school. He had forgot his lunch. Thinking about how you had locked the door after asking, but then realizing his lunch box was on the counter still at home. Sighing, feeling further rushed, your boss Kate, could tell something was off and you explained what had happened.

"Well take him lunch," she said matter-of-factly like she couldn't understand why you were so stressed about it. "I got your tables for now." You were quick about it, asking your line cook for a cheeseburger and fry explaining the situation. Thankfully just pulling one he had just started for a customer and giving it you, you rushed out the front door.

Sudden surprise struck you, as you turned the corner and collided with a regular patron with your shoulder.

"Oh!" you said turning to look at the man with gentle blue eyes and brown mutton chops. "Sorry John." He would come in periodically, sometimes almost every day for 2 weeks and then would up and disappear for a month. Figuring it was military related, you always tried to be nice to him as he always left a generous tip.

"Careful love," he grumbled a name he said to you often ,"where you off to?"

"Abel forgot his lunch," you said showing him the bag, before starting to walk again.

"Silly boy," he said watching you walk away, hand resting on the door handle of the building. You grinned before sprinting off again in the direction of his school.

Finding him in the lunch room, you dropped he bag off in front of him.

"Sorry momma," he said at your winded state.

"Its fine, we just gotta clear out your lunchbox when we get home." Kissing the top of his head and quickly ruffling his hair. "Love you, see you later." Waving as you left heading back to work- this time at a stiff walking pace, too winded from running prior.

Back at the restaurant, the lunch rush starting to slow down as you approached Kate behind the counter, tying your apron back on again. "Thank you," you said whispering to her.

"It's fine," with a warm smile, her eyes peering up at you from the counter. "Your regular is still here."

Rolling your eyes, you gave her the same grin you had shown John earlier. "Not my regular. Maybe he is your regular."

"He didn't use to come every day like he does until you started."

"He doesn't come everyday."

"You know what I mean," she chirped back. "And he only ever tips you like that." Shaking your head, you started bussing tables, wiping down, and restocking preparing for the dinner rush.

In the mean time of waiting, you tried to make small talk with John.

"Want cherry pie? Fresh one was made this morning."

"Sure," he said sliding his coffee forward for a refill. Filling it, and turning to the kitchen to grab the slice of pie.

"Cherry pie?? That's your way of flirting?" Kate asked leaning against a kitchen counter, the cook giving a small snort and smile listening to your banter.

"Fuck off, I'm making you profit." causing her to cackle loudly.

Pie on the plate, you slipped through the saloon style doors and back into the dining room.

"Told a funny joke 'aye?" he asked.

Staring blankly, for a second you realized he heard Kate cackling. "Oh! That, no, just bullshitting with Kate."

The feeling of nervousness returning seeing his eyes peer up at you locking with yours before cutting into his pie, watching him poke some into his mouth on his fork. There must be a God however, because a table walking in is what broke your gridlock with him, grabbing your pad and paper. Ready to get back to work.

The entire dinner shift was a blur. John still there at the counter moving to a more private booth with 3 other men. Like he had been waiting for a meeting.

In the mode, your nervousness and anxiety left you, taking the order and trying to offer the best service you can. The mode finally being broke when 2 little arms snuck around your waist and hugged you from behind.

"Momma!" he yelled into the back of your apron. Kneeling down and turning around you hugged him around his shoulders. "Hey love bug."

"I missed you!! but..." and you could tell the next part he did not want to say.

"What's the matter..." You asked lowly and quietly.

"Dad's outside, he wants to talk to you." Your eyes leering up, seeing him outside leaning against his car, arms crossed.

"Ok, go tell Kate to give you some pie." You said ushering her to his direction. Eyes connected with Kate's speaking with a face that told her you were going outside as you untied your apron and placed it back behind the counter. She leaned to the side to see who it was you were meeting and once she did, the eye roll she gave back to you from the burning hatred she has for him.

Taking a deep breath in, closing your eyes to focus.

That's what you told yourself. Breath. Breathe. Abel, breathe for Abel. Little did you know, the booth all the way in the back, 4 pairs of eyes watching you. John's sending a glare in the direction, like he knew what was happening and the distress you were under.

The air outside humid from the impending summer that was approaching. The night sky starting to turn dark and street lights coming on. You refused to acknowledge him, instead standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Our son told me you forgot to send him with lunch today."

"I did- but then I ran some to him." You said defensively knowing all to well your son did not say it in a manner to throw you under the bus.

"If its that hard for you to make sure he has what he needs, you should come back so I can do that for you both."

"No. You know that's never going to happen." Tone almost feral, tired of being beat with the idea.

"Fine," he huffed out almost nonchalantly, "Then here is this." He said presenting a packet of documents rather aggressively.

Looking on the front page, you saw it was a petition from him filling for full custody. He was trying to take Abel from you.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" Your tone hot.

"Don't think I won't win it. A mother working at a restaurant as her main source of income?? Unable to make sure he has lunch at school. Who knows what else you are failing at," his tone smug like he had full custody already. "Cat in the bag, Abel will be with me. And you can either join, or be miserable. Your choice." He said leaning down over you, laughing at your slack jaw look at him.

"You can't take him from me, I'm his mother."

"I'm his father with a full time job, money saved. I will do as a please. As I always do." He said darkly, hissing into your ear referring what had happened in the past.

Realizing how close he was, the reek of his pride burning your nose and eyes caused you to shove him back from you. He laughed, finding your attempt weak, seeing he got under your skin.

The scene could be seen from inside the restaurant, thankfully it was almost empty, John's table being the last one. Abel had his back turned from it and Kate stood inside distracting him from what was going on outside. Everyone couldn't help but notice John standing up however, long strides in his gait trying to get to you quickly. The other 3 with him standing up and following.

To your ex's mercy, he got into his car, still laughing before the group got outside the doors.

John continued outside, the other 3 standing inside, lax now. Hot tears stung your eyes and you did not want to present yourself to Abel yet.

"Love," John said quietly approaching you.

Turning to look at him over your shoulder, you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to look normal not wanting to bleed on him emotionally, but it didn't work.

"Love, what happened?" he asked approaching finally seeing your state. Unable to answer him, you hand him the packet of papers. Looking down on them he could see the intent behind it.

"I can't afford a lawyer," you choked to him. An arm coming around your shoulders pulling you into him. You never realized he smelled of pine and tobacco until now.

He let you sob into him. Heavy cries you tried to smother into his chest. John took in a large breath before finally uttering, "Marry me."

"What?" you asked thinking you misheard him.

"Marry me," he repeated, firmer this time.

You looked up at him wild look in your eyes. "Marry you??" you repeated.

"I'm British military. My benefits would be your benefits. Meaning you would have a lawyer." Your eyes bounced back and forth between the glaciers above you. Uncertainty filling you... but a spark of hope igniting. Had your conundrum really been solved this easily? You would do anything for your son.

Finally finding your voice, you muttered an "Ok." to him.

Strong arms wrapped back around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his head on top of yours. The shock of everything that had just happened, all you could do was lean into it. Breathing him in. A Breath in, Breath out.

"What jus' happened?" The one with the mohawk asked, leaning over to the one in the blue hat still watching through the windows. The blue hat answered "I think Cap'n is gettin' married."

Next

Dark Horse Masterlist

Captain John Price Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[twistedpink]

Mc Inserts x TWST characters pt.3 pt.2 pt.1

Al-Asim!Mc x Riddle Rosehearts @/kyokills

UGH the one of many kids x only child dynamic is to die for!!! You’re his light, the only person who could be so contradictory to him, while understanding his circumstances fully. He fixes your hair when you mess it up, and you give him the confidence for what his “letting loose” is. It is total balance. The two of you make small talk over tea and biscuits a little too often to just be friendly, but you guys haven’t crossed that line yet- It drives everyone you know insane.

“Why are you here? I swore you were aware of study hall this evening..”

“Ah! Do you have room for one more? I wanted to see you in action! Pew pew”

Pomefiore!Mc x Ace Trappola (Anon suggestion!)

The two of you are bad people in very different ways, so the only solution is to suck together! SDC is the perfect opportunity, too bad both of you are terrible roommates. You’re a judgy little whiner, and he’s a skeezy prick- AKA a match made in heaven <3 The crux of the problem is your assholeish behaviour only multiples when you hang out. Everyone else hates you, so you supplement the lacking connection by getting ever closer,, Soon enough you’ll get the message and hook up. Just not yet.

“Ace! What did I tell you about taking my serums from the fridge??”

“Do I look like I listened? Ow!”

Savanaclaw!Mc x Jade Leech (Anon suggestion!)

Ahhh,, Those enhanced senses, fluffy tail, and downright violent demeaner makes you the perfect lab rat. So many possibilities from taste testing to psychology! Too bad you hate Jade’s guts, he’ll wear you down eventually :) His little test subject was only defending their friend against the big-bad housewarden, and as the nurturing vice, how could he ever turn a blind eye to your struggle? He tries to be magnanimous with you- if only you’d taken his deal in the first place,,, With his stalking loving badgering, in a few short weeks you’re practically domesticated! Those days where you threatened to “swallow him whole” are water under the bridge! Now what is he to do with his new pet?

“My, aren’t your canines impressive?”

“Well you don’t have to say it like that,,”

Civilian!Mc x Silver Vanrouge (Anon suggestion!)

Your poor, neglected (unofficial!) delivery boy being stuck in the rain is not something you want to watch all weekend, no matter how good he looks soaked. Your parents go out around this time anyways, and over the years of cozy meetups he wears down your walls with sweet smiles and even sweeter kisses <3 Silver is the perfect boyfriend, and while getting whisked away to briar valley makes you nervous, he’s worth it. Of course all the sneaking around right now hurts your feelings a bit, but doesn’t distance make the heart grow fonder?

“Aren’t you just darling! Are you sure I can’t keep you til’ dinner?”

“You’ll just have to get by with my jacket, I’ll be back next weekend :)”

Ignihyde!Mc x Sebek Zigvolt @/fidenciocryptidcreechur

Sure, your dorm’s not known for its diplomacy, and maybe you’re a little stunted by it, but you’ll be damned if you fail art. Anything taught by Crewel is a nightmare for the introverts of ignihyde, and for your information it does suck to suck! Self proclaimed “EASIEST” elective your butt (that you fully suck at btw! You really need this freaking credit!) newsflash, nothing about art is easy! It’s all in the interpretation, and the practice, and the reference, and- holy moly is that a muscular extrovert on a HORSE? It’s time to put your big boy pants on, and pay a fifteen year old for their time. + biceps. #lockedin

“MC! I’M READY TO BE DRAWN!”

“alright! Hold that pose..”

Vice president!Mc x Rollo Flamme

Every mysterious hero needs their roguishly annoying best friend, just guess which one you are! You hover around your pampered wittle boss for a couple hours a day in exchange for the elusive office wifi. Rollo insists magicam is rotting your brain. You just respond by his spamming his ancient phone with couple’s challenges, despite being immediately rejected on a daily basis. The student body says you’re “odd” on the best of days, but your office crush hasn’t kicked you out yet- so you must be doing something right! Right?

“Woah, that guy is beautiful!”

“I’d like to assume you aren’t referring to Malleus Draconia, but it seems all your romantic conquests are an effort to “bug” me.”

“I live to serve, sir :)”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their merch (FNAF SB) (part 1/2)

Huuuuuge brain blast while I was writing a fic for sun oooough I am about to get so silly!! Split this into two posts because I don't have the mental strength to make long long posts

Characters: freddy, chica, roxy, monty

Notes: reader is gn, human reader, short post because admin is still not used to writing the glamrocks <3 im more of a DCA writer TToTT

CWs: none

FREDDY

he doesnt let it get to him... or at least he tries not to! but when you clock into your shift ricking lightning earrings hes going to feel a certain way! its almost a prideful feeling!

and they look so nice on you! hes going to let you know that they suit you well!

neither hurt or upset if you only wear them every now and then, its your choice after all!

may get matching earrings! or or or GASP! You give him one of yours and you keep the other! something about it makes him feel soft inside!

CHICA

you cannot tell me that they wouldnt market her bow or leg warmers- or hell even her earrings! but... freddy already for the earring thing... so leg warmers it is!

you clock into work wearing them on a colder day and shes immediately at your side, telling you how stylish you look! you... cant tell if shes being sincere or teasing you... maybe both?

even if they dont fully match with your uniform shes going to be pleased! will think about it for a while... may giggle to herself when shes alone in her room long after youve left to go home

you bought something themed around her and wore it, how can she not?

MONTY

they sell his sunglasses in the shops! so you go ahead and snag yourself a pair to wear during your shift! its... not the best idea to wear shades inside and you kind of look like a douche to some people... but damnit is it not fun!

half hearted vaguely amused snort from his nose when he sees you, tells you you look good in them... but why wear fakes if you can have the real thing?

lets you wear his own shades just to try them... theyre... only slightly more durable and higher quality, but you keep that part to yourself

if youre going to mimic him you better be able to emulate his attitude, this is more of a side headcanon but hes definitely going to try to get you to act tougher if youre a bit softer....

ROXY

a headband with her wolf ears on them! she thinks it looks a little tacky but you get a pass.... for now...! will let you know that there are better options- perhaps a jacket or... oh youre deadset on the headband...

snaps her jaws shut when you tell her you picked the ears specifically because you think theyre cute- you... think her ears are cute by extension, right?

just know her tail is swaying behind her as she tells you that you made a good pick choosing her merch!

....even if she tries to act like its not that big of a deal... i mean dozens of people come in wearing something roxy themed but she tooooooootally doesnt think about it later