#being haunted by your gf but is not actually your gf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen.

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault.

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat.

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it.

Then he went and joined the army.

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there.

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you.

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears.

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused.

Then he returned.

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him.

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend.

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it.

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved.

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that.

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi.

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air.

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile.

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.”

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.”

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.”

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself.

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush.

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath.

Well, that certainly kills the mood.

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?”

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.”

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“You could’ve rescheduled.”

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.”

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge.

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway.

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips.

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one.

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came.

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement.

Another forceful knock.

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open.

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow.

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?”

“Good.”

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult?

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?”

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.”

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.”

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself.

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?”

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully.

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach.

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.”

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?”

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully.

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back.

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—”

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this.

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed.

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second.

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.”

“So as always it’s my fault.”

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone.

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes.

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.”

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.”

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away.

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.”

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.”

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight.

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called.

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down.

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.”

He’s asking the wrong question.

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades.

Of course, you want this.

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it.

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out.

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?”

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.”

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily.

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big.

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?”

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs.

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders.

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.”

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was.

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?”

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.”

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly.

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?”

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.”

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is.

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more.

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie.

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again.

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.”

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips.

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games.

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand.

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion.

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.”

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin.

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.”

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips.

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words.

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.”

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.”

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out.

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips.

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin.

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.”

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?”

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.”

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs.

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes.

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them.

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.”

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—”

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come.

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up.

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.”

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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lovelaetter · 1 month ago

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hi! its my first time asking but any thoughts on rosé cuz goddamn i love her so much

and also can i be 😎

THANK YOU!

it surprises me that i haven’t talked about her yet because those who know me know that she is my main girl. okay, sure, her, jennie and yeri actually fight for the position from time to time but she’s the top suitor, number one girl fr. it’s so not healthy to ask me about her because i could talk about her for hours and it’s not even a joke, the posts i miss the most from the old blog are hers :( like, sugar baby!rosé, vampire’s reader crazy gf!rosé… come back to me, i miss you all 😢

now let’s talk about something that haunts me: secretary, controversially younger sugar baby and mistress!rosé. you feel so bad, that’s an awful thing to do to your partner, but then you enter the hotel room she’s waiting you at and sees her in bed looking like the most ethereal little fawn against the pillows wearing the pretty silk set you bought her, pouting, softly snoring… how were you supposed to not fall for her? all thoughts are out of your head because look at your baby, got all dolled up and you took so long to arrive. suddenly everything you want is to take off your shoes, get into bed and awake her with soft kisses. and she’s so happy to awaken, honestly, jumping onto your arms with this huge smile for a real kiss, running over her own words “i missed you so much why did you take so long no it doesn’t matter i dont care i misseeeed you”. the type to not let go of you, whines when you get up to shower even if you promise you’ll take minutes, seats on your lap while you two eat dinner but you have to feed her yourself because she talks and talks and talks and the talking turns into moaning because the food is gone and you’re just looking at her with this lovingly gaze, asking “really, baby?” and rubbing gently between her legs over her shorts and she has nothing underneath and is starting to feel her hole leak and seep through the fabric with ease.

she’s your little secret but maybe not so little, there is a number of people who have seen her sneaking into your office at not so busy hours of the day only to come out thirty minutes later all smiley and glowing, something new in the air around her, sitting behind her desk fixing makeup and hair. or the glances you throw at her outfits, expensive pieces she certainly isn’t buying with secretary money or how she doesn’t know to act when your partner shows up unannounced for some reason. but who cares? it’s not their business if the boss is fucking her younger secretary or not.

and she doesn’t want to ruin your marriage, really, but there’s no guilty in her when your marriage is already failed, she knows it’s all an act… but that doesn’t mean she can’t get jealous. totally does not storm inside your office after your partner leaves to passive aggressively ask how they were, trying to be nonchalant but staying in the middle of the room staring at you with her arms crossed. you might try to convince her to come to you but she won’t, leaving you to get up and walk to her, taking her pretty face in hands and kissing the pout away, telling her to “stop being silly, rosie” and it takes her guards down because she knows there’s nothing to worry about :( ends up bend over your desk and basically drooling, her pants undone and all the way down her ankles and keeping her ass cheeks spread open for you, who is kneeling and slurping on her sweet cunt from behind.

#asks #blackpink smut #rosé smut #😎 anon

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rachelsfav-queer · 2 months ago

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Haunted House

Wednesday: *rolls her eyes* This is a sad and pathetic excuse for a “haunted” house. I haven’t seen a single ghost in this place. Not even a measly poltergeist or demonic entity! I should burn this place down and earn it some real ghosts.

Enid: *whimpering and shaking, jumping at everything* Y- yeah! This is so totally fake and not scary at all. I’m totally not scared at all… *yelps at a scare actor* FUCK! WILLAAAAA!!!!

Wednesday: *stares at Enid curiously, sighs* Enid, come here. You may hold my hand through this “haunted experience”. Do not fear, mi loba, I will protect you.

Enid: *wraps herself around Wednesday instead, whimpering but glowing happily inside* Thank you, Willa! My hero!

Wednesday: Never insult me like that again, Enid. C’mon, we’re almost at the exit. Follow, pup.

Wednesday leads Enid through the haunted house, spotting all the scare actors as they approach and subtly revealing her knives at them, glaring and daring them to try and scare her wolf. Soon, the girls reach the end and the instant they exit the house, Enid brightens immediately, covering Wednesday’s face in kisses and thanking her profusely for “protecting” her. After, Enid subtly pulls out her phone and texts Yoko a thank you for the idea, but tells her to pick a less scary place next time.

(Day 16, Prompt 16 of Wenclair-Tober. I feel like I’ve written a lot of Enid being ultra overprotective over Wednesday lately, in all sorts of ways, whether it’s Unhinged!Enid or Feral!Enid or just protective in general. So, I thought I’d go for the other way around this time! Also, Enid was actually scared in this, I had in mind like, one of those sorta extreme haunted houses things. Not too extreme, but very intense. Oh, and RESPECT SCARE ACTORS!! Do not threaten them to protect your blonde werewolf gf from their scares! Thank you!)

#wenclairtober #wenclair #wednesday x enid #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #enid x wednesday #wenclair prompts #writing prompts #october writing challenge #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #my writing

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no1bookgirl · 22 days ago

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Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Synopsis: Every year, since Tobais Hawthorne discovered Nash’s fondness for turkeys, Hawthorne House has set up a pen full of turkeys somewhere outside of Hawthorne House. In 2024, 27 years after the first turkey pen had been set up, a certain Hawthorne *cough* Xander *cough* forgot to lock the pen correctly. The turkeys put their brains together and hobbled out of the pen, now having free reign of Hawthorne House, tormenting its occupants with a haunting gobble.

POV: 2nd from you as Grayson’s gf!!

Pairings: Grayson x Reader, Avery x Jameson, Libby x Nash, and Xander x Max!

wc: 9.8k

a/n: Thanksgiving fic!! one of my first actual character x reader things. I was going to do a halloween themed one cause halloween would be crazy at hawthorne house, but thanksgiving was much more festive! (this might also be a day or two after thanksgiving 🙄🙄) Warning!! one y/n usage that I really tried to avoid… I hate having to write y/n it’s so icky to me ☹️ MINOR GAMES UNTOLD SPOILERS!!!

Now, I present: Wild Goose Turkey Chase

Wednesday, November 20th, 2024

When you are the girlfriend of Grayson Hawthorne, former heir apparent of philanthropist Tobias Hawthorne, you were bound to have that big, fancy Thanksgiving that you felt you could never get used to. You were also bound to getting caught in the antics of his brothers. And their girlfriends.

Yeah, Hawthorne Thanksgiving was good, lavish, luxury, chaotic especially, but you couldn’t help but remember your fondness for your grandmother’s mashed potatoes. Or your mom’s turkey. Those quiet, comfortable, small Thanksgivings. The ones where you’d actually have time to go around the table and share something you’re grateful for.

Trying to take your mind off of your need for your grandma, for your mom, just for your family again, you walk down the art gallery, staring at the walls of endless works. Your eyes fall upon one exhibit, a large amount of turkey-hand paintings ordered by year. There were four rows of them, each containing around eight paintings. The top row was Nash’s, the hand feathers becoming more defined as the years grew on. It was cute to think of the Hawthorne brothers squishing their hands in paint, pressing it against paper, and decorating it was silly items like top hats and monocles, a cowboy hat and a lasso, or sun glasses and a glass of wine.

You’d done the same project when you were a child, running home from the bus stop, paper fluttering in the wind, slamming the door open and proudly displaying your artwork on the fridge. Gentle hands would rub your back, cheek kisses were also common, soft words would encourage your art.

Before actually meeting the brothers, you never would’ve been able to imagine them doing that from what you had seen. It would feel too forced, like they just didn’t fit into that picture of childishness. But maybe that was one of their plans all along, Grayson’s plan. He needed to be that mature business man, always trying to keep himself steady, others steady too, including you until you saw through that facade, breaking him open to see who he really could be.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Grayson’s voice came from behind you, the now audible clicking of his shoes becoming louder.

“Yeah,” you laughed. Turning around, you found one of those rare Grayson smiles plastered on his face, warming her heart. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe the fun memories of the turkey hands.

He looked down, like he was nervous, but you could still see the hint of the smile. “It’s you,” he said as if reading your mind, “that’s making me smile like this. Even after being together for three years, it’s still so foreign.”

“Well, I’ve gotten used to your smile.” You took a few steps closer to him, closing the gap as you wrapped your arms around him. “Gray?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to know something I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving season?” you asked innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He cocked his head. “Friends?”

“Close…”

“Family?”

“Closer…”

He chewed on his lip, in actual thought. “I give up,” he said, mock defeat in his voice.

“This Thanksgiving season, I’m grateful for…” you paused for dramatic effect, your mouth staying in a wide open-mouthed smile. “You.”

Grayson’s brows shot up, even though you had told him this millions of times before. “Really?” he asked, his arms finally wrapping loosely around your torso.

“Forever,” you sing, rocking you and Grayson back and forth, “and ever and ever and ever.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, taking in each other in the silence, wrapped up all nice and cozy compared to the outdoors. But everything with Grayson was warm. Swimming was warm because of summer. Grayson was warm because he was your sun, the thing that brought that smile to your face, the sun that faded down into a calmer, more comforting figure as the day dragged on. Grayson was the warm person you would wake up to in the morning, pressing yourself against his chest or his hair or wherever you happen to be.

Grayson leaned down into your ear, his breath warm, heating you up even more. “They’re setting the turkey pen up soon,” he commented. “Do you think it would be fun to watch?”

“Grayson,” you cock your head at him, “we do this every year: You come up to me, butter me up and all that jazz, then ask if I want to watch them build the pen, which we end up doing no matter what I say.”

He chuckled at you, at all the other turkey pen watching times you’d been together. Reaching around his back, he grabbed on of your hands, giving it a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

You gave one of those small, flustered smiles even if he had done this so many times before. “Why, yes, prince charming.”

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The pen was always a grand thing, more than enough room for the turkeys. There were about seven or eight turkeys in there, not at all knowing they would get slaughtered in only a matter of days at the hands of the greedy, and hungry, Xan- Hawthornes.

“I feel bad for them,” you said, letting your head rest against Grayson’s shoulder as a frown deepened on your face.

Grayson’s head cocked gently. “Why is that?”

“Because they don’t know they’re going to be eaten,” you began, even more empathy creeping in now that you actually expressed your sadness. “They just think they’re getting out in a new fancy home.”

“Well, all things have to come to an end at some point, and sometimes that end might not be when you’d expect or want,” said Grayson, his voice soft and steady, keeping you down.

You nodded absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the helpless turkeys. “I guess you’re right. But when are you not?” you murmured, hopeful that he didn’t hear the last part. But by the small smirk that he somehow couldn’t suppress, you could tell he did hear it.

“Who’s all coming for Thanksgiving this year? It’s approaching faster than I’d like.”

“There’s a few new people coming this year,” Grayson said, a half sigh in his voice. “I know Gigi and Katrina will be joining us this year.”

Your heart dropped at the mention of that cat. Lord did it scare you. Not that you were scared of cats, but the way the leopard sized cat would stare at you from Gigi’s arms, it’s pupils shrinking as it looked like it was planning you to be her next meal. Grayson always made sure to keep a safe distance between you and Katrina whenever Gigi decided it was her turn to barge into your room. Whether it be holding Katrina or letting her sleep on him, he’d separate you two.

“That damn cat,” you breathed out.

“Knox may also be here this year, maybe not. Lyra’s having Thanksgiving with her family. All the rest of the normal people will be there: Avery, obviously, Jameson, Libby, Nash, then on,” he said.

You blew out a long breath, wishing you could see it in the air. If it wasn’t cold enough to see your breath, it wasn’t Thanksgiving yet. And Texas had a long way to go. 70° F was no where near what homes temperature would be around this time of month. Now, coats would start to be pulled out of the basement. A sweatshirt wouldn’t be enough to keep you warm. Hats wouldn’t be out for a while. It always seemed that something, just one thing, was just off enough for this place to not feel like home.

Even if you came here almost every break you got in school since you met Grayson three years ago, it still never felt right. Too hot. Too stuffy. Too many people. They didn’t know what you meant when you called certain things differently. You’re offered sweet tea instead of lemonade on those hot summer days. It was never enough. And you felt bad. Grayson always tried to make you feel at home here, safe, secure. You tried to make yourself seem happy, but Grayson could see right through it.

A whirring sound came from somewhere around the corner. Grayson’s arm instinctively went to wrap around you, holding you closer to him. A�� figure emerged from the corner. It was Tiramisu… in a child sized Jeep?

Without having to see who it was, Grayson called out, “Xander.” It was silent before Xander popped out from behind you and Grayson, his arm tightening even more around you. You yelped, clinging on to Grayson.

“Greetings, fellow residents.” Xander gave them no time before he started to ask questions. “How has your day been? How do you like Tiramisu’s Jeep? How about the turkeys? Are they interesting this year? Should I dye them purple-“

“Alexander,” Grayson commanded, stopping Xander in his tracks. You’d almost never seen Xander stop talking this quickly, but he was silent. “There is no need to dye the turkeys, or anything for that matter, purple.”

Xander’s lip puffed out in a pout. “But that’s the best part,” he whined, knowing full well that he would do it anyway. And temporarily dye Grayson’s hair to get back at him.

Contorting your face, you look to Xander. “I don’t think purple is very festive…”

Xander looked up, taking that into consideration, and nodded. Tiramisu panted from beneath you, wiggling against whatever was keeping him in the toy car. Xander bent down to pet him, earning wet dog kisses to his hand.

“We better get going,” he said, “Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne, you’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Your brows furrowed. “You training him for the Macy’s day parade or something?”

“Similar to that. Hawthorne style,” he said with a grin that greatly reflected Jameson.

“Do not suspend him from a helicopter like you did with our last dog? That did not end well for Wilhelmina,” Grayson scolded.

What happened to Wilhelmina?

Xander huffed out a long sigh, groaning and whining like a little kid. “You always ruin my plans, little Graybe-“

“Don’t even try that with me, Alexander.” The full name again. What was up with him today?

Xander turned around, pulling out a remote control to have Tiramisu slowly follow him as he sulked away. But Tiramisu’s smiley little dog face was the opposite of Xander’s, tongue out and panting.

“Xander?” you called. He slowly, dramatically, turned around to face you again. “Who’s feeding the turkeys?”

“We’re going in an order. I’m first, then Jamie, Grayson, Nash, Avery, Libby, and last Oren,” he mumbled, still keeping his sad face on.

He turned back around, pulling out a remote control to push Tiramisu around as he wobbled away. Beside Xander, Tiramisu was the opposite, his face all smiley, tongue out, tail wagging, and panting.

When they were far enough away, you looked up at Grayson, your best attempt at a mad face directed at him.

He noticed your expression, arching a brow—those weirdly perfect brows. No, it was actually weird—and cocking his head. “What’s that face for?”

“That was really mean, Grayson. I think you should apologize,” you declared.

Grayson gave you a look, one that you knew meant that you both mutual understood something, but you were deciding to act like you didn’t. “He’s going to be okay. I know he’s going to be okay. And the look he gave me just means he’s going to do that, but ten times worse.”

“But you called him his full name. Twice!” You’d almost never heard Xander be called by his full name. Not even by Nash. It genuinely took you a second to realize that Alexander wasn’t an inside joke between Xander and Grayson.

“Trust me, he’ll be okay,” he said, finally, squeezing your arm and giving you a kiss on the top of the head. “Now, how about we go back to our gallery walk?”

The smile reappeared on your face and the two of you turned around, making your way back into Hawthorne House.

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Thursday, November 21st, 2024

Somehow, on this fine evening, every just so happened to be eating lunch at the same time, small talk filling the table as they passed plates around, piling food on top of other food that you knew were not goin for taste good once all mixed together. But for some strange reason, Avery and Jameson made it a competition to see who could stack their plate higher without a single thing falling. They were both well off their plates, at least six inches of food each. You and Grayson shared the same disgusted look. Yeah, your family wasn’t as fancy as all these people, but at least you had manners.

Suddenly, with dramatic effect, Xander burst into the room, a panicked look that you had never seen before on his face. The bang made Avery jump, knocking over everything on your plate, mingling with all the other food. Her hand flew over her mouth at the mess. Not only did it topple over and mix everything, it splattered everything everywhere, on everyone, and Tiramisu was more than happy to clean up the floor.

“Xander!” Avery screeched. Her face softened when she saw Xander’s. “Xander..?

“They. Are. Gone.” He punctuated each word with a force you’d expect out of Grayson.

Nash swiftly stood up, getting into his ready stance. “Who is gone, Xan?”

“The turkeys. When I went to go check and see if they ate all their breakfast, there was only one left. I didn’t close that pen right, they’re all gone,” his tone was frantic, more than you had ever heard from him before.

Grayson followed Nash but his stance was much more protective, aware. “That just means that they are on the premises, not exactly inside of Hawthorne House.”

Xander shook his head violently. “They are inside. The seven that got out. And they are out for revenge,” he panted. You finally made the connection that he was probably running from them.

Oren started to talk to someone on his radio, giving them instructions on what measures to take next. Xander sat down at the table, swiping his finger through Avery’s fallen mix of ham, cheese, mayo, grapes, and some garlic sauce. Xanders face twisted, then loosened, and continued that pattern. Grayson had migrated over to Oren, trying to go through everything they had to do.

The rest of the lunch was silent, doors locked, waiting for the anticipation of the turkeys.

“So everyone-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

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It wasn’t long before one of the turkeys tried to claim its first victim.

Can turkeys fly?

Yes, turkeys can fly, but only short distances.

Speed

Wild turkeys can fly at speeds of up to 55 miles per hour.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Help me.

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You were aimlessly roaming Hawthorne House, trying to find something to distract yourself with. Thundering footsteps came from down the hall, screaming accompanying the steps. It was a familiar shriek. Avery. And then you heard it, what she was running from. The gobbles echoed through the endless halls, not allowing you to know where it was coming from.

You looked around for any kind of escape, anything high enough that you could still climb on. You time spent with the Hawthornes and built you an expertise in climbing, even when there was almost nothing to climb. There was the tiniest ledge, just enough to fit your foot, so, you began your climb. Arm moving up and over, feet bracing against the wall.

On top of the ledge, your legs shook, almost taking you down to the ground. Avery’s footsteps grew louder as they approached you, the flapping of wings following. She shrieked again, the slapping of her shoes against the ground growing closer together, her legs moving faster.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, her arms pumping as she rounded a corner, coming in to view.

Suddenly, she ran into something. She faced the turkey, its speed slowing. They were at a standstill. Avery versus the turkey. Avery stood proud, trying to cover her obviously shaking hands and legs, her breathing ragged. She licked her lips, staring down the turkey. Taking her eyes off for only a second, she looked up at you, pleading in her gaze.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare? Help me!” she called out, disturbing the turkey. It gave an aggressive gobble, taking a step toward Avery and flapping it’s wings. She moved backwards, slightly stumbling.

Under you, the wall shook, knocking you off balance. You almost fell, but narrowly caught the ledge with your shaking fingers, her hands almost too sweaty to hold you up. Without any warning, a loud crack came from under you. Avery instinctively ducked down, her arms covering her head. The turkey fell over, it’s body still on the floor, a small hole behind where the turkey had just stood.

It felt like your legs moved without any signals from your brain, nothing was telling you to move but you were.

“Avery!” you said, rushing over to her. You knelt beside her, your hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s okay, shh, you’re okay,” your voice was gentle. Her body shook as she pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around you.

Footsteps echoed from behind the two of you, and you turned to find Jameson holding one of the Winchester rifles. How fitting. Then, you connected the dots. Secret passage way.

“Avery,” Jameson breathed out, falling down beside you. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I scared you.” Similar to Xander earlier that day, he looked more panicked than ever, scooping Avery out of your arms.

“I’m fine,” she said shakily, her breathing still uneven.

“Fine and okay aren’t the same thing, Heiress,” Jameson said, a small, soft, trying-to-be-comforting smile on his face.

Avery took one more deep breath before sitting up, untangling herself from Jameson. “I’m okay. I promise.”

The two sat for a moment, just staring at each other.

“We should probably clean that up,” you commented, loosely referring to the dead turkey a few feet away.

“Yeah,” they sighed together.

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After Oren had come and cleaned the turkey up, you traveled back to you and Grayson’s room, flopping down on the bed next to Grayson and his laptop. You gave a dramatic sigh, finally able to breathe fully.

“What’s that for?” Grayson asked, starting at her collarbone and tracing a finger down your arm into your hand.

“One turkey down,” you began, “six to go.”

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Friday, November 22nd, 2024

Some nights, when even you couldn’t get Grayson to fall asleep, you two resorted to the few other people Grayson felt——not necessarily safe sleeping in a room with——comfortable to sleep in a room with if you were their too. Grayson’s eyes drooped, and you felt so bad. He hadn’t slept much before you had arrived back at Hawthorne House from Harvard, the place where he had betrayed you and left. He didn’t really betray you, just had his own shit to deal with. But, still, it hurt. The dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than ever, shadowing his pale face. You also came to the realization that his heightened irritability—Xander’s first name, the purple turkeys—was due to Grayson’s lack of sleep. Poor thing.

You wrapped one of the millions of blankets Xander had in his pile that he called a bed around Grayson, tucking him in snuggly.

“Good night,” you whispered against his ear, giving his cheek a soft kiss.

Xander was also somewhere in the pile, probably cuddled up with Max or some of his stuffed animals.

“Good night to you too, Xan,” you whisper called, a waving hand appearing somewhere underneath the blankets.

Xander had a strange habit of forgetting to close doors. Anywhere he went. Any time. But he especially did when he went to bed. You always assumed he didn’t have much of a night time routine. Well, until Max came around and forced him into a nightly skincare routine. Or maybe Xander just liked to have that small nightlight, just a little childlike comfort.

Lying behind Grayson, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arm draping over him side under his arm. You tried to sleep, you really did, but with the events from today, you couldn’t help your open eyes. Grayson’s hair twirled around your finger, his light snoring, Xanders not-so light snoring, Max wiggling around in her sleep. Everyone in the house was peaceful, but you just couldn’t focus. And when you tried to sleep, you only thought about not sleeping, keeping you awake even longer.

So quiet. So eerily quiet. Nothing like what you were used to sleeping through in Cambridge. Or, at least, your first year when you were required to live on campus. Since then, and kind of to apologize for leaving, Grayson got you a nice house not too far from campus. It was nice and cozy—2 bed, 3 bath, nice finished basement equipped with a bar!—just what you were looking for. It kind of reminded you of the heaps of blankets you were in right now.

One game you enjoyed playing in Xander’s room was Dig In His Weird Blanket Pile And See What You Find! It was kind of like a blind bag: you never know what you’re going to pull out.

You dug your hand in, feeling around until you found something. It was cold, despite the warmth of the blankets, circular, felt like glass. You wretched our hand out of the pile, holding up a small, glass ball. A Fushigi ball? Hawthornes and their weird talents. You put that one back down, digging around for something else. Your fingers caught in something else, pulling out a crochet hook, a single piece of yarn connecting it to a half finished crochet dog that vaguely resembles Tiramisu.

You continued to dig around, finding new random things, some you didn’t even know existed. When your hand was touching the bottom of this pit, the room got lighter, and lighter. The door was creaking open. But Nash wouldn’t be up, he probably would’ve woken Libby up. And why would Jameson or Avery be coming in here at this hour? That left only one thing.

The fucking turkeys.

You froze, your arm still in the sea of blankets, unable to move. Beside you, Grayson shifted, rubbing his head around, his brows furrowing when we couldn’t find your hand.

“Mm,” he whined, his arm reaching to feel around. Your free arm roughly grasped his wrist, stirring him more. “What are you doing…” he trailed off when he saw the panic on your face, the utter fear. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He sat up fully, grabbing your hands. You looked back up at the ledge of the pit until he followed your gaze. He must have noticed the weird amount of light streaming into the room.

Then the gobble came. And another. Were there multiple? Here? Right now?

Like some sort of sleeper agent—literally—Max launched up from where she was sleeping, bringing Xander’s arm with her. Xander stirred too, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“What the fuck was that?” Max whispered, her eyes locked forward as if she wasn’t able to move, that if she did some monster—the turkeys—would come out and attack her.

There was a figure peering over the ledge now, casting a shadow on Max. It’s sickly long neck, that stupid beak, the feathers down the rest of the body. You were only just realizing how terribly inaccurate your hand-turkey drawings had been. It gobbled again, flapping its wings, and jumped down. Max screamed, scrambling out of the pit. You followed, confused and disoriented, the lack of sleep catching up to you. Grayson rushed up after you, his arms going around you.

Xander continued to look around confused. And then he began to, very slowly, climb onto the ledge, wobbling across his room to somewhere by a desk of some sort. “Don’t freak out, you guys. I have something for this.”

Of course he did.

He adjusted the screws or bolts of mechanical things you didn’t understand, paying very close attention to the turkey’s position. He pulled a small lever back, and then let go. It was another one of his weird machines, the ones that take too many steps. The thing ran almost all the way around his room: on the walls, the book ridden ceiling, the floor, even. Only seconds after that lever was released, a ball, in your mind a canon ball, launched from a corner not too far from you, hitting the turkey square in the head.

That drew a gasp from you, Max, and Grayson, all still standing huddled in a corner.

“There,” Xander said, grogginess roughening his voice, “are you better now?”

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You and Grayson laid on the floor of Nash and Libby’s room, Max curled up next to you. The door was locked securely, making sure to pose no danger to the sleeping people inside.

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Saturday, November 23rd, 2024

When your eyes finally opened, they met Nash’s, Grayson standing beside him.

“Mornin’,” he said, patting your shoulder. The surface under you was comfortable, squishy, compared to the floor you, Grayson, and Max had chosen to sleep on last night.

When you finally collected your mind, you focused on where you were, what you knew about the turkeys now. I’m in Libby and Nash’s bed, I think, and two turkeys have been taken down. That leaves only five more, that could be done in a day, right?

“Are you feeling any better?” Grayson asked, his voice soft and quiet.

You completely ignored the question. “Where is Xander?”

A small smile pulled at Grayson’s lips, warming your heart. Your face also heated up thinking about the fact you most likely looked like you crawled out of a dumpster five seconds ago.

“Xan slept in his own room. He’s okay, too,” Grayson assured, running a hand through your hair, getting caught in the knots near the bottom.

“Mm,” you hummed in recognition. You stuffed your face back into one of the pillows, trying to drift off again. Grayson’s hand ran down your back, stopping just above your hips and tracing back up.

It was nice, having him there with you, something to keep you steady in the midst of all these turkey troubles. Your mind drifted off, dreaming of pool what and hot summer days, cameras and candid polaroid pictures, Grayson’s violin and your piano matching in just the right places.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

The next time you woke up, the room was more familiar the things you had dreamed of: playful strings of photos on the wall, his violins hanging with them. It was nice to have that feeling of home in at least one place here.

It was so quiet. Quieter than you had ever heard it. Even in the dead of night you could here Jameson and Avery scurrying around, Grayson taking a swim, Xander working up late on his next project, the steady strum of Nash’s guitar, used to put the babies to bed. Everyone had probably locked themself up in their room, including you. But then where was Grayson?

Deciding it was time for your next quest, you got up, wobbling over to the closet, and then the bathroom, finally getting ready for the day. You didn’t feel like doing much today; just a simple sweater, jeans, and a pair of fluffy socks you pulled out of some looks of clothes you were hiding from Grayson.

After leaving the bathroom, you opened the door to the balcony, the cold air washing over your body. You peered over the railing, the pool water still leaving no sign that Grayson had been there. Strange. Guess the next stop was the music room.

The hallways were especially empty today. Not even a cleaner or security walking around. That’s why the hallways were so quiet. It was eerie walking through the halls, the ceiling too tall now, the walls too close, the hall too long, a shiver creeping up your spine. Your steps quicken, trying to looking for any signs of Grayson. But it was like he just disappeared, gone.

Standing outside of the empty music room, you felt weak, tired too, your lack of sleep finally catching up to you. Then, your ears caught the beginning of a note, followed by another, and another, each played flawlessly, tuned perfectly. Maybe the music room wasn’t so empty. But piano wasn’t exactly Grayson’s forte. Your head peeked in, catching a glimpse of a figure at one of the pianos. A cane leaned up against the bench gave away who it could be. The sound of your steps light, you entered the room, trying not to disturb Nan as she listened to the piano.

“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice as gruff as usual. “You ain’t sneaky.”

Now caught, with no escape, you walk over to the piano, standing on the other end of the bench.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you said. Nan looked over to you, and you were just now realizing where Nash had gotten his many faces from. “Mind if I sit here? I won’t make a peep,” you promised.

“Fine,” she huffed.

You took a seat beside her, gentle to not knock over her cane of the other side. Sitting silently, you watched as the piano keys pressed themselves down, the music following with them.

“You play?” she asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

You nodded slowly. “Sorta. I’m rusty though,” you admitted. You placed your hands gently on the piano keys, thinking up a song to play. Her fingers pressed down the key, moving in a familiar rhythm. The occasional press of the wrong key would stop you, making the song choppy. But you couldn’t help to think that those mistakes, the things that might slow you down, just added character.

Nan swayed to the music beside you, matching the rhythm. She seemed to recognize the song, know how to play it, pressing down a key or two on her side when it might have seemed too far from you. It was nice to have this moment. Most of the time, and what had been described of her, Nan wasn’t gentle, she was gruff, she was snorted laughs, she was bored huffs. Or maybe, just maybe, Nan was just Nan.

“You’re good,” her voice seemed softer now, calm “Y’know that, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her finger rested against one of the lower octave note, playing a simple pattern, switching between notes. Her head turned the slightest bit toward you, you could feel it.

“C’mere more often. I can get you to learn some of my favorite songs,” she said. A smile grew on your face, returned with a not so happy look. “Don’t make that face. You’re starting to look like Xander.”

Pad-pad-pad

The hell?

Pad-pad-pad

You leaned over, trying to see on Nan’s side, find where the padding feet were coming from. Riding up next to the two of you, an animal came in, bobbing its head as it walked. The turkey.

“How are you in here?” Nan said at the turkey, and the way she said it made it seem like she actually expected an answer from it.

Gobble

She stared at the turkey, like the stare-down Avery had had with the first turkey. Her hand reached over for the precariously balanced cane.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

Poke

“Get.”

Blank stare.

“You’re really going to make me up, aren’t you, bastard,” she huffed, standing up and using the piano as leverage.

Her cane swung aimlessly in the air, only hitting the turkey a few times. “Scram!” she shouted at it, watching as it scurried away in her presence.

Bonk

The turkey slammed right into the wall.

Thud

Another loud sound as the turkey hit the ground.

Similar to Nan, you just stared at it, motionless.

“One more turkey down,” you grumbled.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Sunday, November 24th, 2024

Waddling into the kitchen, you jumped up to sit on the counter beside Libby’s chocolate cupcakes.

“Libbbyyy,” you said.

“Yeeeeesss,” she dragged as she carefully frosted a cupcake.

You put on your best puppy eyes, looking at her like a little kid. “Can you make me something for lunch?”

“You’re twenty-two,” someone drawled from behind you. “You don’t need Lib to make you lunch.”

You flicked your hand at Nash, not even turning around to look at him. “Shoo.”

“Excuse me?” Nash said, his voice now right behind you.

Nash walked around the counter, a baby balancing on his hip, taking a ball of cookie dough off of a baking sheet nearby and popping it in his mouth. “I think,” he said around the cookie dough, “you should make your own lunch and let Lib breathe.”

“Thank you, Nash, but I think I can take care of myself.”

The baby was placed on the counter next to you, looking up and smiling at you.

“Hi, there, baby,” you squealed, picking her up and placing her on your lap, moving her arms around to fake punch or lifting them up and down, making her dance. She giggles and squeals, looking around, until her face dropped, looking at the entrance to the kitchen. Following her gaze, your eyes landed on another one of those stupid turkeys.

“Another one?” you whispered, drawing the attention of Nash and Libby.

“Another what-“

The room froze, everyone’s eyes on the turkey. Everything in the room was still, just staring. Until the turkey screamed its battle cry.

“What the hell,” Nash muttered, watching as the turkey ran in circles around the kitchen.

Libby jumped onto the counter watching as the turkey made a b-line toward her. She screeched, grabbing that pan of cookie dough and throwing it, hitting the turkey right on the head. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering it in shock.

“I just killed that turkey,” she mumbled. “I just killed that fucking turkey,” she repeated, her eyes wide.

Across the room, Nash stood staring at Libby. “Good job, Lib,” he said proudly.

“Usually, the turkey in the kitchen is dead,” Jameson said, entering the kitchen. Avery soon followed behind, probably startled by all the commotion.

“Libby, what’s wrong? What was that bang? And most of all, why are you on the counter?” She gave no time to answer any of the questions.

Libby’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words.

“Are those turkey cupcakes?” Avery asked, looking to the tray of cupcakes beside Libby.

“I was stress baking!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Monday, November 25th, 2024

It was quiet again, the hallways. They weren’t empty this time, though, just quiet. Sitting on one of the many benches placed around Hawthorne House, you were reading a book, still too distracted by the turkeys which defeated the purpose of reading. Or what reading was supposed to be doing right now. Your book just wasn’t interesting enough. It couldn’t grab your attention like so many others had before. You thought it could be an escape, but it failed, miserably. Every sound, the rustle of a tree, the audible explosion of one of Xander’s creations, the faint shriek of Grayson’s violin, it all made you jump. When was the next time you’d be accosted by a turkey?

Bark, bark, bark

“Tiramisu!” Xander screeched as he ran after Tiramisu, both of them moving directly toward you.

Tiramisu jumped on the bench beside you, sticking his nose in your nose and then licking all over your face, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Xander!” you said, choppy through your laughter. “Help me!”

Once Xander had gotten to the bench, he opened his arm, scooping up Tiramisu. “I told you to stay by me, missy,” he said, “I said you had to be the Oren to my Avery!”

“You’re using Tiara as your bodyguard?” you laughed in disbelief, the concept of Tiramisu, so tiny next to Xander, being his bodyguard was comical.

Xander head nodded proudly, placing Tiramisu back on the ground. He flopped onto the bench, blowing out an exaggerated sigh. “It’s like this dog doesn’t even know English.”

You snorted. “Xander, you’re not gonna believe what I’m about to tell you…”

A smile grew on his face, looking over at you. “Aren’t you ecstatic to have Katrina here? I know you love her so much.” One of his long, skinny fingers approached you, poking your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “I don’t know. At least Gigi will be there.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” said Xander. Tiramisu jumped up on the bench, lying on her back and spreading across your and Xander’s laps, all smiling and panting. Your hand instinctively went to his belly, petting him.

Suddenly, a thought came to your mind. “Who takes Tiramisu on walks?”

Xander stared blanking at the cleanly lined trees across the path, his smile fading. “That’s a very good question.” He cocked his head, genuinely lost in thought.

“Oh, my gosh. I don’t know who walks Tiramisu,” he admitted. “I don’t even know if she gets walked.”

The two of you sat, contemplating Tiramisu’s daily schedule, trying to find any space where a walk could fit it.

“She has her morning bath at 8, then she has breakfast at 9:30, every other week at 10:30 she has her manicure,” Xander said. “12:00 she has lunch and then goes to play.”

“Maybe that’s when she gets walked?”

“But that’s play time, not walking. At 12:45, she’s tired and takes her afternoon nap in Libby and Nash’s room, and joins Nash for a doggy guitar lesson and then a doggy piano lesson at 2:00 and 2:30.”

“How does she even play guitar or piano? It’s not like she has fingers,” you asked, thinking of all the possible, stupid, ways that Xander could have come up with.

Xander shot up, intrigued by the opportunity to share his creation. “Okay, so it’s one really big piano, like, each key is a foot wide, and it’s like those ones that you can step on to play it and it’s really fun.”

“What about the guitar?”

“That’s one isn’t really her playing, she just kind of paws at the strings and Nash’s hand…”

“Oh.”

More silence. Tiramisu panting. You pull your phone out, checking the time. 12:19 Perfect timing.

“Perfect timing,” you voiced. “It’s play time.”

Tiramisu shot up, jumping off of your laps and spinning in circles, waiting for you and Xander to play with her.

“Should we play with the long sword today?” Xander joked, standing up and aggressively rubbing Tiramisu’s back.

“For sure,” you said sarcastically, getting up from your own position, closing your book not caring about where you were.

Tiramisu trotted next to you as the group of you walked to one of the many expensive fields scattered around the Hawthorne property. There was actually an area dedicated to Tiramisu, a bucket of toys and beaten up sticks near the entrance to the fenced off land.

He fake threw it a few times, finally letting it go and watching Tiramisu launch after it, a bolt of brown, curly fur.

“We really need to find a time to get her walked,” you sighed.

“Or just ask Nash if she goes on walks.” Xander shrugged slightly, taking the returned stick and catapulting it again. You were surprised that Xander didn’t have a machine for this yet, but you guessed he just really wanted to spend some time with Tiara.

“Christmas is also coming up, maybe we’ll do something fun again like the other year,” reminded Xander.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to do Hawthorne Secret Santa That’s Not At All Secret Santa. “Crazy how me and Tiramisu got each other. She couldn’t even get me a present!”

“She did get you a present,” Xander pouted.

Shooting a glare at him, you crossed your arms. “I proper present. Not a pigeon he found on the driveway.”

A minute passed and Tiramisu still hadn’t returned. She couldn’t have gone far, but surely it had been far enough for you to not see her at all.

Another minute.

Tick, tock

Another minute.

What’s taking so long?

“Tiara?” You called, your voice echoing through the wind. “Tiara? Tiramisu!”

Nothing but trees rustling.

“Tiramisu Panini Hawthorne!” Xander shouted, starting to walk in the direction Tiramisu had last ran to. “Where are you?”

Trudging up the hilly part of Tiramisu’s play area, you peeked to the fall of the hill, two figures running around at the lowest point. You could easily recognize Tiramisu being one of them.

“Tiramisu!” you repeated, running down the hill. Watching as the hyper dog ran around after something, she finally caught up, pouncing on it.

“What is that?” Xander muttered, following you down the hill.

Approaching the writhing animal and Tiramisu, you recognized the long neck, the feathered body, the distorted squabble.

She got another turkey!

You scrambled over to her, rubbing and petting her. “Good girl, Tiara!”

“Yay!!” Xander whooped from behind you, pumping his fists in the air and jumping up and down. “Tiramisu’s a hero!” he chanted.

“Tiramisu’s a hero!” you joined in, jumping around as Tiramisu ran in circles around you.

Two turkeys left. Which, based on this pattern, two more days.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Tuesday, November 26th, 2024

Gigi’s arrival was scheduled for today. And Katrina. Ugh.

Avery was always the one to greet people at the door, as she owned Hawthorne House and didn’t want anyone doing anything for her. With the events of the last five days, Avery had to, reluctantly, bring a whole new group of bodyguards to the door.

You decided to join them, thinking that it would save you from the turkeys that seemed weirdly attracted to you. Your meet up spot was far from the entrance—in some random meeting room one the third floor of Hawthorne House. Maybe turkeys couldn’t climb stairs? It’s only other method of getting to the third floor would be elevator which wouldn’t work very well for them.

“So, Avery,” you said, sidling up into the beside Avery, “how do you think Thanksgiving is going to go this year? Seems pretty eventful already.”

“Not good.” Her head was balanced in her hands, elbows in the table. “Everything has gone to shit because of those stupid turkeys.”

Reassuringly patting her back, you leaned back in your chair. “I think it’ll be fine. Thanksgiving—scratch that, any holiday—here is always a little eventful. Like secret santa the other year.”

“Oh, my god, that was hilarious. Libby got out so fast,” she let out in a laugh.

“Oh! Not really a holiday, but from what I’ve heard of Nash’s bachelor party,” you said. “You know what?” Avery hummed. “I should get Grayson a pair of fresh leather pants for Christmas this year.”

Avery let out a strained giggle, trying to hold it in, before she exploded, throwing her head back and leaning in her chair, almost tipping it over.

“Ms. Grambs,” one of the new bodyguards said, his voice commanding. Your laughter quickly subsided, leaving you and Avery silent. “Ms. Grayson will be here soon. I recommend starting to walk to the entrance in order to get here before she does.”

Avery nodded, standing up from her chair, stretching, and walking over to Oren. You followed her like a lost puppy, standing awkwardly on the side as she tells Oren what the other bodyguard had just said to her.

“Shall we get going?” she offers.

“We shall,” Oren replies flatly.

With what seemed like an entire army of bodyguards behind you, Avery, and Oren, you started your journey, through the windy halls and passageways.

Truly, you were excited to have Gigi over, thrilled, but it was that cat. Katrina. Katrina Katrina. Now, she wouldn’t do anything to you—couldn’t do anything. It was just that hunger way she looked at you, her eyes forming into slits as she glared at you from perched beside Gigi.

“I can just tell you’re thrilled to have Katrina over,” Avery said, practically reading your mind.

“Me and Grayson already had this conversation,” you huffed, shaking your head at the ground.

Avery just laughed, following your gaze to the ground. “It just,” she paused. “Katrina isn’t even scary.”

“It’s not that!” you burst. “It’s not that she herself is scary, it’s just that way she looks at me like I’m her next meal. Like I’m one of the turkeys!”

Avery seemed very amused by your argument, just smirking that smile that told you she had spent one too many hours with Jameson.

“Maybe you are her next meal,” Avery teased, poking your ribs.

“You’d just let me get scarfed down by that cat?” you scoffed. “Wow. What a fake friend.” You crossed your arms, dramatically turning away from Avery and picking up your speed.

Avery just skipped after you, jumping on your back and holding your sleeve to keep you close by. “I was just kidding, jeez,” she laughed, watching as a smile broke out on your face. “See! You aren’t even mad at me!”

You joined her giggling, knocking into each other as you walked through the halls, laughing over stupid stuff that probably wasn’t even funny.

“Oh, my god!” Avery jumped up. “There’s something I have to tell you about! Okay, let’s set the scene, I’m in my room, it’s an unusually quiet night. Jameson isn’t back yet and his curfew, set by me because we had an event early the next morning, was way behind us. Hours behind.”

“Damn. Grayson would never. Could,” you corrected.

“I know! I’m getting tired, it’s like twelve and I’m just planning on going to bed by myself, cold and lonely,” she continued.

You wrapped your arm around her shoulder, pulling you in. “You could have just cuddled with me,” you said with a wink.

“Aww,” she shimmed her shoulders against you. “Okay, back to my story! The lights are off, I’m almost asleep, until the door finally creaks over, Jameson standing in the doorframe. To be funny, I pretended to sleep, waiting for him to shake me awake or something. But all that happens is that Jameson crawls into bed next to me— Oh! I forgot to mention he was drunk. Yeah, so, he crawls up next to me and just whispers in my ear,” she lowered her voice into a whisper, “‘I have a secret…’”

You recognized that, something Avery had mentioned one time when she was talking about her mom. “Doesn’t that have something to do with your mom..?” you guessed, shrinking away in case you were wrong.

“Yes! At this point, I’m intrigued, waiting for Jameson to whisper whatever this secret was into my ear. And what he said is un-fucking-believable. He says: ‘When me and Nash and Grayson and Xander were younger, we tried starting a band, and we uploaded a bunch of videos to YouTube—it was a private account—but someone hacked in and made it public. So, somewhere on the internet, you can find video of all of us dressed up real funny and singing a bunch of shitty songs.’”

Your mouth drops open, trying to picture a younger Grayson on some makeshift stage at Hawthorne House, performing some pop or rock song.

Avery just laughs and smiles at your shocked expression. “That’s exactly how I felt on the inside,” she giggled, clearing her throat to continue her story. Again. “Like any sane person, of course I go in my computer the next day, and search up their little band. It wasn’t difficult, even if I didn’t have a name, and lord was it funny. Jameson on electric guitar, Nash playing some regular guitar, Xander on drums, and Grayson for vocals.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not!”

“She isn’t!” a new voice pops in. In front of you stood Gigi, Hello Kitty suitcase almost exploding, mostly like being packed with cat toys. Katrina was sitting next to her, way too professional for a cat.

“So?” Gigi lifts her eyebrows. “What is she not kidding about?”

You and Avery grinned at each other, slowly turning to Gigi. “Your brother and his brothers’ attempt at a boy band,” you both said.

Gigi gasped dramatically, a smile stretching across her face. “You’re kidding!”

“She’s not!”

“I’m not!”

Not too far, as you’d expect, was Oren, the smallest hint of a smile in his face. He noticed you staring, gesturing a nod toward Avery. “She isn’t lying. I was there.”

Through the commotion of laughter and conversation, it would’ve been hard to hear anyone, anything if something went wrong. Or if you had a visitor.

“Ow!” Gigi winced, placing a hand on her hip and rubbing it. “What was that?” She jumped again. “Ow! What the…” She looked down to her left, finding the perpetrator.

“A turkey?” she asked, her voice a mix of shocked confusion and fear. And then full fledged fear as she realized that there was a turkey trying to get her. “It’s a turkey!” she squeaked, running over and trying to climb Oren like a jungle gym.

Noticing her alert, he gets right in to bodyguard mode, looking around for the threat. He landed on the turkey, reaching somewhere on his hip.

“You two, move back. Now,” he ordered, not wasting a second once we had. Just like the first turkey taken down, a loud bang rang out, the turkey thudding on the floor after.

A new commotion broke out after the shot was fired, filling the foyer with a sound too loud for you. Quiet was something you were used to now. It wasn’t too nothing, it just was. But this, it broke all of that quiet.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Wednesday, November 27th, 2024

There was one last turkey. One final turkey before this was all over. Like you had the day the turkey war began, everyone was gathered in one of the dining room to eat lunch, but instead, it was a meeting.

“Okay, everyone!” Avery commanded from the head of the table, standing up from her chair. “I have brought you here today to discuss our game plan to take down the final torturous turkey. I have devised a role for each of you.”

A list appeared on a screen that seemed invisible until now.

Avery and Y/N: Gamemasters [;)] - Will create solutions and test products alongside our Builders.

Libby and Nash: Healers (Lots of baked goods…) - Helps in case of emergencies.

Jameson and Gigi: Fuel - Food, drinks, whatever. Most likely working beside our Healers.

Grayson and Oren: Logistics (of sorts) - Thinks about how our plan may actually work, what might go wrong, and how to fix it.

Xander and Max: Builders (you’ve got this, Max!) - Builds our solution if needed, tests it too.

Oren’s Men: Capturers - searches for the turkey and relays messages to Oren.

Tiramisu & Katrina: Our Last Resort Weapons - If all else fails, we have them to use.

“Working in these teams will help our plan work better. Each of us being alone may cause too much stress or tension. Having multiple people on a job will also move things alone faster,” Avery states. “Lots of these roles will work with other roles, example, Gamesmakers will often work with the Logicians and Builders. Because of our collaboration, we’ll need a method of communication. Phones may be laggy and are very reliant on battery, which some of us don’t value.” Avery shot a glare at Jameson. “So, each of you will be given a walkie-talkie.” She looked to Oren, motioning for a box on the floor ten feet from the table. He lifted the box, walking around the table and distributing one to each member.

“Now, shall we spread out? Our Healers: Libby, Nash, and our Fuel: Jameson, and Gigi in the kitchen. The Gamemakers, Logistics, and Builders follow me. Capturers spread out and look for the turkey. Our final weapons will also be with our healers and fuel. Go!”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Nothing was working. Each plan failed by just a little bit, and when you tried fixing it, it failed again. Everyone was tired. Sitting there for three hours trying to think of something, trying it , and failing. No matter how much food and drinks you were given, that adrenaline from before was starting to fade. We also haven’t got any word on where the turkey could be.

You lay on the floor, head resting on Grayson’s chest, his hand running through your hair, down your back, and back up.

“We can’t give up,” Avery said, sitting up from her defeated starfish on the floor.

“But there’s only one more option left,” you groaned.

“Katrina and Tiramisu.”

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

“Oren,” a distorted voice came from his walkie-talkie, “we’ve got’em. In Alexander’s Wing. He was standing out front of Alexander’s room, almost got in. Couldn’t find him for a while; place’s a mess.”

From across the room, you watched an exaggerated frown form in Xander’s face.

“Time to move out,” Oren ordered, leading the way.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Luckily for you, every hallway of Xander’s wing was filled to the brim with weird trinkets and big machine pieces. Hidden behind a long table which was most likely used to hold fancy decorations at one point, everyone crouched, covered by the new less fancy things piled on the table.

“Xander, you’ve really got to clean up your mess,” Nash said, that mother hen coming out of him.

Xander waved a dismissive hand in his face. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll make Grayson do it then.” Xander’s worst fear: someone possibly messing up his perfectly messy set up with their perfectly clean organization skills. Which Grayson excelled at.

Xander’s head turned slowly toward Nash, his eyes narrowed. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.” He punctuated every word, but it was difficult to take Xander seriously sometimes.

“You know damn well I would dare,” Nash chuckled, meeting Xander’s eyes, steady and even, not even a hint of intimidation.

“Enough with the bickering,” Avery demanded. “Do you guys remember the plan?”

Avery’s head spun around, looking at everyone, landing on Libby and Max frantically shaking their heads. With a sigh, Avery explained the plan. Again. “We send you in as bait,” Avery pointed to you, “and wait for the turkey. Once it tried to attack, we jump out and attack it. If nothing else works, we send out Tiramisu and Katrina. Now do you got it?”

The silent agreement was enough for Avery, sending you out to take your place across from the turkey. You felt like Avery or Nan, staring down the turkey, waiting for any movement from it. The tension built, heart racing under the gaze of everyone, everything. This probably looked so stupid: you, standing in front of a turkey, practically have a staring contest, while everyone else was scattered around the room hidden behind piles of shit Xander needed to clean up.

You knew that even if the turkey did attack you, which was what this plan relied on, you’d be safe. Each person was equipped with a weapon of their choice. Gigi was keeping Katrina back, Oren had his gun, Avery held her knife, steady in her fingers. Jameson had a finished bottle of wine, Xander held Tiramisu back, Max had been nervously gripping her wrench before, Libby had a baking sheet, Nash had a whole goddamn guitar, and, lastly, Grayson firmly held one of the long swords. None of these people would let you get hurt, even if it was by accident every single one of them would feel bad, like it was their fault.

But now, standing in front of the turkey, you have to put all that behind. Face this stupid thing head on.

It finally made a sound, a distorted gobble. You braced for impact at the sound of a squeal coming from somewhere in the room, but it never came. When your eyes opened, a streak of light brown blew past you. Was it the turkey? It was only until that same distorted squabble cried out that you realized that either Katrina or Tiramisu. Based on the fact that Katrina would probably enjoy seeing you being eaten by a turkey, you expected to find Tiramisu wherever the flash had gone to. On one side of the room, the opposite side, you heard a whine. So it wasn’t Tiramisu.

The sound of something being dragged across the floor drew your attention back to the other side of the room. Katrina moved slowly toward you, dragging the turkey in mouth toward you. She dragged it to your feet, stopping, sitting very professionally, looking up at you and flashing one of those strange smiles that cats can pull off. She nudged the turkey with her nose, sitting back up a pawing at it.

“Katrina!” Gigi shouted, her voice a mix of anger and admiration. “What was that? You weren’t supposed to go until I told you to!” she scolded, picking Katrina up.

Katrina looked up at her with those innocent eyes, nuzzling in Gigi’s neck. Gigi huffed out a sigh, giving up on trying to lecture Katrina into listening.

“Well,” Avery said, her voice holding a confusing emotion, “that was the final turkey. It’s over.”

The room broke out into a cheer, even Oren was smiling, but the only one standing still, in the middle of it all was Avery. Weaving through everyone, you walked up to Avery, taking one of her hands.

“You okay?” you asked, trying to catch her gaze.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

You gave her that look that Nash always gave you (you were still trying to master it), cocking a brow at her (another thing you’d learned!). “What’s wrong? You sad there’s no game anymore?”

Avery stayed quiet, swaying with you when you wrapped your arms around her. “I guess,” she said shamefully.

“I swear you’re starting to sound more and more like Jameson every day,” you teased, poking her in the ribs this time. “Now, come on, turn that frown—“you flashed a smile”—upside down.”

Taking both of her hands, you forced her to dance with everyone else, swaying around the room until she finally gave in.

⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆ ⁑ ❂ ⁑ ⋆

Thursday, November 28th, 2024

There was a singular turkey on the large table, making it look small. Everything else was normal, and you knew damn well that with a snap of her finger Avery could have a thousand more turkey and make this year’s turkey amount normal. But she didn’t. And it felt like home. Watching everyone argue over how much turkey everyone would get, fighting over the last pieces.

Your hand searched around under the table, meeting Grayson’s and wrapping your fingers around his, leaning your head against his shoulder. A smile, unknowing smile grew on your face, watching everything, so perfect.

Maybe now you would try a little harder to make this place feel like home.

a/n: WOOOOOOOOO!!!! this took, like, over a week to write it’s actually insane. and the end still seems sort of rushed 😣😣 but i’m gonna leave it and maybe come back to it later. because of the rush, i don’t care if there’s any mistakes, this isn’t proofread……..

#the inheritance games #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the grandest game #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #xander hawthorne #writing #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne is my boyfriend!#grayson hawthorne x reader

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moonflowerdamie · 4 months ago

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rating yellowjackets ships (lowest to highest!) because i am bored and also because i want people to know just how insane i am for some of the pairings in this show‼️ LETSGOOOOO

•travnat—3/10•

they’re…ok i guess? like. i don’t actively hate them, but i really don’t ship them. and yeah i get that they clung to each other and bonded over dad trauma and stuff, but a) i don’t like travis (PLS DONT ATTACK ME HE’S JUST NOT FOR ME AND I COULDNT GET OVER THE MISOGYNY) and b) i fully believe natalie scatorccio is AT LEAST bisexual and deserves a lady lover!!! so yeah. not for me.

•mistynat—4/10•

ok. OK. hear me out PLEASE bc i know some people are gonna be mad i’ve put them this low. i just don’t really see it? like i fully believe that it’s possible misty had a crush on nat in the teen timeline and i’m pretty convinced adult misty was definitely infatuated/obsessed with adult nat BUT i don’t think nat ever reciprocated? and i can’t see her ever feeling that way about misty IM SORRY. i don’t hate the ship by any means, it’s just not my favourite!!!

•jackielot—5/10•

they’re both pretty femme lesbians and i think maybe they should smooch (and then smooch ME MY GAWD PLS ONE CHANCE😫🙏🏻). that’s all i have to say about that.

•shaunanat—5/10•

i just know the rivalry in s3 is gonna HIT and maybe they should kiss and make up about it (AND THEN KISS ME TOO MY FUCKING LORD I NEED THEM BOTH SO BAD🫦). but fr i mean like a cute idea in another world yk? they would SO bully the shit out of each other and then fuck nasty about it🤝.

•crystal x misty (crusty😭)—6/10•

they were cute!!! they matched each other’s freak🥹 until misty freaked a little too hard 😔 no but actually they could’ve been cute musical theatre gfs and i would’ve been here for it!!!

•taishauna—6/10•

i LOVE their friendship in both timelines and i do prefer them platonically BUT i see the potential. i think they soften each other, and allow the other to process and feel their emotions, and also help to rationalise them. LOVE the friendship and if i didn’t prefer their other ships i could defo see myself getting into them!

•lottielee—7/10•

the disciple and the prophet??? uhhh YEAH. i mean laura lee literally haunts lottie for 25 YEARS. that bitch NEVER got over what they had. are they my favourite ship? no. do i wish they’d kissed in that lake? YES YES YES YES YES. the yearning, the religious symbolism/guilt, the TENDERNESS. i am IN.

•lottieshauna—8/10•

BRRSKLLAKSKS just yes. YES. THE PROPHET AND HER BUTCHER😫. their relationship is so complicated and beautiful but i think they could be very special, specifically in the teen timeline. they’re so fiercely protective of each other but would never admit it. they hate each other. they admire each other. they resent each other. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. i wholeheartedly believe lottie was shauna’s bi awakening when they were like 13 and shauna never really stopped thinking lottie was gorgeous. just. THEM.

•jackienat—8/10•

i am a SUCKER for the popular x loser trope and even more so when they’re LESBIANS😁 like lottie was shauna’s awakening, nat was jackie’s. ONE MILLION PERCENT they were childhood besties and one day they kissed ‘to practice’ when they were like 11 and jackie was like ‘OH😨’ and knew then and THERE she was a lesbian. i love them your honour. like shaunanat, i think they’d bully each other, but i also think they’d be so soft with each other. OH and nat would SO tease jackie for being popular and rich and preppy and call her ‘princess’ in jest but would for real treat her like a princess and would beat up anyone who said a bad word about her. yes PLEASEEEEE.

•taivan—10/10•

THEEE IT COUPLE! they are just *mwah* chef’s kiss. especially in the teen timeline! they just balance each other so perfectly, like they were LITCHRALLY made for each other🥹. van is goofy and silly and a dreamer, tai is serious, intense; a realist. they just so clearly love each other so so much and i ADORE THEM. ‘happy wife happy life’ YYYYEEEAHHHHH. i’m gonna be so devastated when they eventually break up in the teen timeline and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED on if/when van dies in the adult timeline☹️. not even thinking about it actually. just them and their soft tender gay love🤗.

•lottienat—1000000/10•

i genuinely will start tweaking if i think about these two for too long. they just make me so ASKSHSLSLSJSJ😫. i don’t even think i can articulate how much i love them. the rich girl and the burnout. the hunter and the prophet. THEY ARE SO PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. the bath scene????? DIED DEAD ON THE FLOOR. ‘is that what we are’ GONE REQUIRING CPR. lottie kissing nat’s hands for so long after giving up her leadership, the last thing she had left? SIX FEET FUCKING UNDER😨. nah but fr, i NEEEED them to kiss. they would be so good for each other. the potential is…UNFUCKINGLIMITED (i am choosing to ignore the fact that nat’s dead thank you xoxo). just…the tenderness. the pining. they’re narrative foils. they’re enemies. they’re friends. they’re something more. YELLOWJACKETS��DROP A LOTTIENAT KISS IN S3 AND MY LIFE IS YOURS🙏🏻.

and finally…my fucking roman empire…

•jackieshauna—9999999999999/10•

there is a hole in my heart in the shape of these two. they’re…EVERYTHING. god they just loved each other so much but life and the wilderness and jeff and their own self-destruction got in the way. jackie loved shauna so much it killed her. shauna loved jackie so much she ATE her. they were completely undefinable—best friends, rivals, soulmates. entirely devoted. i just ache when i think about what they could have had. the tragedy of them is life-altering. shauna will miss jackie for longer than she knew her and that fact makes me want TO OFF MYSELF. they are intertwined forever, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. i wholeheartedly believe they were in love with each other but didn’t know how to say it. because of jeff, because it was 1996, because love couldn’t even possibly cover what it was they felt for each other. in my head, they’re together. in my head, they ran away together and lived a long and happy life. and it kills me to know that’s not what happened. they actually make me fucking insane and i’ll never get over them.

now have some memes bc i’m silly like that🤭

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justtwotired · 1 year ago

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Im Vic, Can i please get something with colby? The reader would be a ex gf who runs into him when sam and him are recording a video and he asks if they could meet up after they are done recording. She says yes and sam goes back to the hotel leaving them alone maybe there are some sparks still there.

Hi! Yes, definitely! I’m sorry I posted like more then a month after your request, I’ve just been really busy with school and other writing projects of mine, but thank you so much for the req<3

I laughed as Amelia made a joke about our experience a few hours ago in the haunted house we work at. I was packing my bag to go home while she was staying to give a tour of the house to some guests who where going to check it out and come back the next night.

“Hey, unheard your tour is being recorded for YouTube,” I commented and she smiled a bit giddy. “It is! I really can’t wait, this is actually so exciting, does my hair look alright?” She asked and I laughed.

“You look amazing, don’t worry,” I reassured and she winked at me in a flirtatious way, making me blow her a kiss. “We are such girlfriends,” she joked and I shook my head with a small laugh.

“Hey, wasn’t one of your ex boyfriends a YouTuber who recorded in haunted places?” She asked and I nodded.

“Yeah, he still is, I didn’t really speak with him anymore… sometimes I wish I still did,” I admitted making her wiggle her eyebrows at me. “Oh don’t look at me like that, it’ll never happen, I know it,” I sighed and she gave me a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be fine hun, if nothing works out you can always marry me,” she said and I gave her a look. “I’m sure your husband would love that,” I said and she waved me off.

“I’d dump him for you,” she said and I snorted, going to hit her arm but she quickly dodged and stuck out her tongue at me.

“What’s the name of the YouTubers coming here? I’ll look them up to see if they’re anything interesting,” I said, grabbing my phone.

“Oh, Sam and Colby,” she said and I paused, looking at her in surprise. “You’re joking right?” I asked and she shook her head.

“No, why?” She questioned and then her face hit with realisation. “Don’t tell me one of them is your ex,” she said and I nodded.

“Jup, Colby is my ex, and I think this is my cue to go before they arrive,” I said and she hid back a smile, making me glare at her.

Of course, as if the world hated me, we heard a car arrive outside, making me want to sink trough the ground right at that moment.

With a teasing grin, Amelia walked towards the front door and I followed her, not like I could escape now anyway, my car was parked outside.

When Amelia opened the door, I immediately noticed the two of them and seemingly two friends. Sam was holding a camera and filming himself and another guy, then he pointed the camera at me and Amelia making our way outside.

His eyes visibly widened at the sight of me and he instinctively pointed the camera at Colby who seemed to be rather shocked when he noticed me.

“Hi, Amelia,” she introduced herself, shaking Sam’s hand and then Colby’s, followed by the other two who where apparently called ‘Josh and Seth.’

“Hey,” Same greeted me with a smile and opened his arms, making me pull him into a hug. We had become great friends after me and Colby became a couple, but when he and I broke up, I stopped contacting Sam as it was kind of a unwritten rule.

“Hi, it’s been a while,” I said with a small grin. I shook both hands of Josh and Seth, introducing myself, before turning to Colby who seemed lost in how to greet me.

With a small smile I opened my arms to invite him for a hug which he excepted, holding me tightly and resting his chin on my head, just like old times.

“I didn’t know you two where coming,” I said, taking a step back. “We didn’t know you worked here,” Colby said and I chuckled.

“Isn’t it a small world?” Amelia said, making Sam point the camera at her.

“You’re our guide then, right?” He asked and she nodded. “That would be me,” she answered.

“Do tell us about yourself,” Colby said and she shot me a nervous glance, making me give her a thumbs up.

“Alright, I am Amelia Cooper, I’ve been working at the -haunted house name- for about three years now and I’ll be your guide this evening,” she said and I smiled at her approvingly.

“Great, and you can introduce yourself aswel,” Sam then pointed the camera at me, making me chuckle.

“Alright then,” I said, telling the camera my name. “I have been working here for- I think for almost a year now, and I won’t be your guide for this evening because I am actually leaving, but I’m going to be here tomorrow night to receive you for your night alone,” I explained.

“Alright, great, let’s go inside then,” Sam said and shut of the camera. “I didn’t hear that you moved,” Sam commented and looked at me.

“Oh, I didn’t really, I just live with Amelia trough the week but I mostly go bakc home around the weekend, so I kind of live her, but I kind of don’t,” I said making him chuckle.

“Alright, sorry if I’m being clueless, but you know each other, because…?” Seth pointed a finger at the three of us a bit confused.

“Oh, ex girlfriend,” I pointed at Colby, making both Josh and Seth nod in understanding. “But, you guys can go inside to start the tour, I’m heading home because I think the cat will kill me if I am to late with feeding him,” I said making Amelia let out a noice of offense.

“Was that a jab at my cat?” She asked giving me a scolding look, I stuck my tongue out, making her chuckle. “I’ll see you later,” she waved and gestured at the boys to follow her, making her way back inside.

I wanted to walk towards my car but was stopped when Colby laid his hand on my shoulder. I turned to him with a questioning look.

“Hey, Uhm, I wondered if you wanted to hang out later tonight?” He asked and I felt heat rise to my cheeks, because it is actually something I really hoped he’d ask but I was to afraid to do it myself.

“Yes, sure, sounds fun,” I said with a small smile. “I’ll text you my address, you may pick me up when you’re done with the tour, we can head to the fair that’s in town,” I said, knowing he loves those.

He gave me an excited grin. “I’ll be there,” he promised and then followed his friends inside.

Later that evening, I got a text from Colby saying he was on his way. Amelia was home already and she told me he and his friends were headed back to the hotel first before Colby would pick me up.

It made sense, as they only had one car at the moment.

After about 15 minutes, there were knocks on the door and I quickly shot up from the couch and opened the door, finding Colby looking at me with a smile.

“Ready to go?” He asked and I nodded. “Of course I am,” I said and yelled a goodbye to Amelia before following Colby to his car.

“So, what have you been up to?” He asked as we were driving to the fair.

“Nothing much, just mostly working at the house,” I shrugged with a small smile. “I became interested in those kind of things because of you, you know,” I said, masking him give me a small smile back.

“I already hoped so,” he said, sending me a small wink, making me bite the inside of my lip, trying not to blush.

“And you?” I asked. “What have you been up to?” I liked at him while he kept his eyes on the road.

“Mostly just making video’s,” he admitted. “And of course a few party’s here and there,” he grinned slightly, making me chuckle.

“Yeah, I expected nothing less,” I gave him a look, making him give me a ‘guilty’ look back. It caused me to laugh and shake my head.

It was silent for a moment when we stopped laughing. It wasn’t really awkward, but not comfortable either.

“And uh,” he started. “Any new relationships?” He asked, a bit too curious if you ask me. Bit I couldn’t blame him, I’d been aching to ask him the same question after all.

“Oh, I dated about two guys between the time we broke up and now, but one was just a small fling and the other was a bit serious, but I eventually broke it off because he wasn’t really my type after all,” I admitted.

The guy I had been in a relationship with had been nice and all, but nothing like Colby, he was not what I was looking for and I had to break it off because it was unfair for him.

“What about you?” I asked, maybe a bit to intrigued, but what could I say, I really wanted to know if he had found better than me.

“Just a few flings really, nothing serious,” he admitted and looked at me. “Nothing like you,” he said, making me blush and smile rather proudly.

We eventually arrived at the fair and I immediately dragged him towards my favourite ride, making him laugh and tell me I was like a child, making me roll my eyes and whack his arm.

We stayed at the fair for multiple hours, and just like in the movies, he managed to win a huge teddy bear for me.

We eventually sat down somewhere to eat and I yawned as we sat at the table.

“Tired?” He asked with a chuckle and I nodded, combing a hand trough my hair. “I’ll bring you home, come on,” he stood up a reached out a hand, I took it and he pulled me up.

We threw away the paper cups and trays and headed towards the car.

He took my hand in his, making me look up at him with a smile, I’d missed how our hands fitted so perfectly together.

“Thank you, for tonight,” I said at the excit of the fair and he smiled at me. “I’m happy you wanted to come,” he answered.

“Can I be honest with you?” I asked and he nodded rather interested. “I really missed you,” I said, pursing my lips slightly.

“I missed you too,” he admitted with a low chuckle, I gave him a soft smile and looked into his eyes, I’d missed those eyes.

His eyes shot down to my lips for a second and I could feel excitement start to bubble in my stomach. I shot a longing glance at his own lips, making him grin at me.

He put up a hand and rested it on my cheek. “May I kiss you?” He whispered and I chuckled.

“Obviously,” I said, before standing on my toes and connecting our lips.

#sam and colby x reader #colby brock x reader #colby brock #sam and colby #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach

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ericscroptop · 9 months ago

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Don’t Wanna Break Up Again

✧ pairing: bf! sunwoo x gf! reader

✦ genre: angst

✧ warnings: angst, kinda toxic relationship vibes, maybe some miscommunication going on, insecure reader but kinda valid, brief mentions of past relationship trauma, lots of tears, just the not-so-perfect parts about a relationship, cursing, kissing, making out, and suggestive towards the end

✦ word count: 1.9k words

✧ synopsis: you both know that you each are bringing pain to one other in this relationship. yet, you two can’t seem to let go despite the challenges.

✦ note: i had to write a drabble based off this song, even though it hurts— it’s so freaking good; i love ariana sm. eternal sunshine broke me and revived me simultaneously.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ͙⁺˚*･

Being held hostage to your tears was common for you these days.

The sounds coming from the tv in the background are drowned out by your worrisome thoughts that eat away your mind, especially during nightfall.

It was difficult to fall asleep when your mind raced in thinking on loop of how flirtatious your boyfriend was. It’s actually funny how that kills you now, because his charm and inviting form is what drew you to him in the first place.

Sunwoo was too kind for his own good. I guess you can’t blame him for being such a smooth talker and for the way he looks. Girls are bound to be drawn to him.

I mean, you don’t really expect him to push every girl in existence out of his way and tell them to ‘fuck off’ when they ask if he’s single, were too kittenish when speaking to him, or stare at him a little too long, do you?

It shouldn’t bother you when he has ‘guys night’ and goes out to the lounge bar with his friend group almost every other weekend.

That place he frequents is mainly filled with people looking for hookups and a scandalous night of fun. Even if he was with his friends— who are mostly all single and not committed, mind you— left a sour taste present in your mouth and it felt nauseating to you every time he would go there.

You two had a private relationship. Though, it wasn’t a secret that you guys were in a relationship at all. It was more so filled with quiet dinners together, laid back activities, and not shoving your relationship in everyone’s faces on social media— especially coming from him.

You weren’t trying to prove to anyone that you two were in love. You actually preferred that so you didn’t make your relationship your entire personality.

And you honestly didn’t care whether you spent the entire day in bed cuddling lazily with Sunwoo, or if he decided to take you to the most lavish restaurant in town.

As long as Sunwoo was by your side, you couldn’t care less what you did with him. His presence alone was enough to satisfy your heart.

But your anxieties and trauma from past relationships always kept coming back to haunt you. Your head was a sick place to live in.

You didn’t want to be an overbearing girlfriend. At the end of the day, you two were each your own person, and there had to be a level of trust in this relationship.

Sunwoo knew about your past, as you opened up to him about shit you’ve dealt with.

He did his best to instantly reassure you that your past doesn’t define your future, and that he’d do his best to love you with all his being and be there for you in all aspects.

But you couldn’t contain that compressed feeling in your chest whenever he would go out to the lounge and always spent the night at one of his friend’s supposedly afterwards.

Or when you’ve seen him be a little too playful towards his female coworkers when you drop by his place of work every so often to deliver his lunch.

Or how you feel ignored and alone when you try to bring these feelings up to him. You really wanted to refrain from seeming like a toxic girlfriend. Overanalyzing and overthinking his every move and interaction.

But it was so fucking hard not to. Your painful emotions and negative beliefs stemming from past trauma seem to resurface.

Maybe you should learn to be a bit more trusting. Sunwoo isn’t like your exes.

But what if he is?

You should try to communicate with him more. But you feel like it’s an endless conversation because you have so much baggage.

You don’t think Sunwoo could rid of his natural flirtatiousness just for you, or avoid his friends.

He honestly doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s reassured you one, two many times and he honestly doesn’t like being nagged at or seeing you lose your mind like this.

Maybe you could use time apart. And maybe he could learn to be a little less selfish and take into more consideration your feelings about his actions.

But he doesn’t.

Your throat feels tight and dry, feeling like you’re being swallowed whole from the negative thoughts that consume you.

It’s one of those nights where you feel the relationship anxiety is too much to handle.

You’re already in bed with Sunwoo. His mind is focused on the tv that’s playing, and your back is facing his body, curled up distantly in the corner under the covers with eyes staring into nothing.

You don’t even realize when you start crying. Hot tears pool your eyes and begin to fall out. Your breath shakes quietly and you can’t help but stir under the covers as you let your emotions get the best of you once again.

This is so common in the relationship at this point, almost like a routine. Sunwoo knows you have your moments like this and he never knows what to do anymore.

All he can bring himself to do is turn up the volume on the tv a bit, trying his best to ignore the way his heart pings at hearing your shaky breathing and quiet weeping.

Another sleepless night.

———————————————————————————

When you wake the next morning, you feel the familiar front-form of Sunwoo’s body against your back, spooning you. His arms were wrapped around your stomach, holding your body securely against his own,

You honestly aren’t surprised that you ended up like this. No matter how upset, pissed, or alone you felt, you still managed to end up in his arms at some point throughout your sleep when you shared a bed together.

His soft snores fill your ears in the silent morning to greet you upon your wake.

Your eyes begin to water from the feeling of his embrace, tears once again falling down your cheeks.

Your hands that were resting next to your head go to wipe away your tears, but Sunwoo begins to stir at the feeling of your movement.

You bite your lip, hoping he doesn’t catch you crying again. You know he hears you when you cry occasionally at night, having grown familiar to it by now. But you crying in the morning before even having breakfast would be a bit ridiculous.

A moan leaves his throat at his sudden wake, and he stretches his legs for a couple seconds before craning his head to look at you.

Your hands covered your face in attempt to shield your current state, but he saw a tear fall down your chin.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Sunwoo sighs deeply, face softening while his hands go to reach for your own, pulling them down to reveal your face in full.

Your teary eyes meet his face, boring into his own eyes. Your mouth stayed tight while more tears came out, burning down your skin and falling onto your shirt as you meet his gaze.

You honestly didn’t know why you were crying now. Maybe cause’ he’s dealt with all your baggage and it seems like it’s a never-ending cycle of unpacking it. You’re putting him through a lot and he still is always right by your side.

You don’t want to drag this shit out any longer. You’re tired of fucking with his head and it’s breaking your heart to keep breaking his again.

Your insecurities, anxieties, and fucked up head are trying to ruin another relationship of yours. Are your feelings even valid? Should you still have these toxic feelings even after Sunwoo reassures you and still shows that he loves you?

You can’t do anything except roll over to where you’re now facing him, and burry yourself into his chest. Tears continue to fall, and you’re whimpering again, causing Sunwoo’s heart to crack and his own eyes start to get blurry from tears welding up.

“I’m sorry.” you apologized to him. For your constant breakdowns and getting in your head too much. You knew it was too much.

“I’m sorry, too.” his voice comes out shaky.

He kisses the top of your head as you nuzzle further into his arms. Sunwoo tries to blink away his tears but they’re starting to flood in his eyes. He doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

For ignoring you and giving you space even though he probably shouldn’t have.

For playing with your feelings like an idiot when he goes out, and leaving you on delivered for hours.

For coming across as too friendly when he speaks to other girls, whether on purpose or not— who fucking knows.

And maybe you’d rather not know for sure.

You give yourself strength to pull away from his embrace, looking up at his own watery eyes that mirrored your own in holding so much weight and tiredness.

Without speaking further, your pupils trails down to his swollen lips from sleep. They dilate, in becoming entranced by how beautiful your boyfriend is, even when he looked exhausted.

You want nothing more than to just kiss him right now. To escape your heavy thoughts with the feeling of his lips against your own. Even if it’s just for a moment.

Your boyfriend doesn’t even have to hear you verbally express what you want, as he already knows what you want after every overwhelming night.

Your fingers combed through his messy black hair, fixing his bangs across his forehead and then going to rest on his nape.

He hums at the feeling, and leans into your face, enveloping his lips with your own. Each of your lips are soft, yet chapped and plump from sleeping.

Your fingers clutch his strands of hair gently, as the kissing develops into making out. You two go from laying on each of your sides, facing one another, to Sunwoo laying on his back with you straddling his lap.

The kisses grow more hungry and full of lust. Sunwoo is craving for your body to rest and dance against his own under the sheets. He nips at your bottom lip and lets his wet tongue in when you part your mouth.

Kisses become sloppy when his dominant hand slips its way under your (his) t-shirt, fingers grazing over the flesh of your tummy. His fingers reach up to the underside of your breasts, causing you to mewl and unconsciously grind down over his crotch.

You lose yourself under Sunwoo’s mind-numbing touches and continue to kiss him ferociously.

Your nails dig into his scalp and his other hand moves to cup your ass. He begins to grow hard at the feeling of your ass cheeks through your boy shorts. Fingers also dance over your exposed legs and rub your skin soothingly.

You could never refuse Sunwoo’s touches. Your body stuck to him immediately like glue, whether you were happy with him or not. He made your mind go crazy, both in good and bad ways.

You didn’t want another relationship of yours to fall apart. You refused to break up again. You didn’t want to break up with him. You loved him. Though, loving was never easy.

Utter ecstasy courses your body when you guys intertwine and succumb together like this.

You love when he kisses and cuddles and fucks you so good that you forget all the bullshit that lives in your head rent free, and all the negativity that comes with your relationship.

If one day, things between you two end up crashing and burning, you hope he’d never regret you and think fondly of what you two had.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ͙⁺˚*･

#ericscroptop #the boyz #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo #tbz sunwoo #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo #sunwoo angst #tbz angst #tbz fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop angst #Spotify

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lis-likes-fics · 6 months ago

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Haunted Eyes

Pairings: Eddie Munson x gf!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words Warnings: Mentions of murder, mutilation, lots of crying honestly, hurt/comfort fic, swearing... A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble... Like 1k max. But I uhhh... I got a little carried away. I was rewatching Stranger Things and this scene hurt more than usual so, of course, I wrote about what I wanted to do. This was entirely impromptu. Not an ounce of planning went into this and I think it makes it more ridiculous that I wrote two point five thousand fucking words. Anyway, enjoy.

You made them bring you. Which wasn’t really a hard thing to do.

It was early in the morning at the beginning of the break when you called the trailer. When you got no answer the first time, you called again to meet the same response: none. So you kept calling. Something was wrong. Eddie or Wayne always answered you, and there was no reason someone shouldn’t have been home.

When the phone finally picked up, it wasn’t the response you were expecting.

Your relief was instantly squashed. “This is Officer Callahan with Hawkins Police, who is this?” His irritation was clear.

Your mouth was dry when you answered, your voice hesitant and slow. You gave your name, wrapping the phone cord around your hand in circles on circles on circles, unwrapping only to begin the cycle again. “I’m Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, good,” he said slowly. “We actually needed to talk to you. Could you come down to the station today?” There’s a pause. “Or you might as well just come down here.”

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat when you remembered to answer. “Um, w-why? Where– Where is Eddie?”

“Just come down.” He hung up the phone.

You listened to the drone of the line for a long time before you hung it back up. With fear and anxiety curling in your belly, you had no other line of action other than to do as you were told.

When you got to the trailer park, it was a hassle even getting through the entrance. There’s police everywhere, and plenty of bystanders to boot. You feel naked when you step out of your car and make yourself walk the rest of the way to Eddie’s place. The self-consciousness dissipates when you get closer and closer to the familiar home and are met with more police and people, caution tape and red and blue lights everywhere you turn. You practically sprint toward the scene.

“What’s happening?” you ask frantically, easily noticing the glances and glares from the crowd. You’re used to them, being Eddie’s girl and all. You speak quickly, ignoring them all for the sake of finding an answer. “What’s going on? Can you let me through? I’m his girlfriend, Callahan told me to come down here. Hey!”

A couple of officers finally let you pass, but they didn’t let you anywhere near the actual trailer. Officer Callahan and Sheriff Powell pulled you aside, sitting you at a picnic table away from the scene. Glancing over your shoulder, you could see Wayne. He was watching you, an unreadable expression on his face only broken when he turned away to rub at his face.

They sat you down, seeming very intimidating with the way they watched you. What you noticed first was the suspicion, the awaiting accusations you were preparing to fight.

“What’s going on?”

“Before we answer any of your questions,” Sheriff Powell begins, “we’re gonna need you to answer some of ours.”

Their questions were absurd. Where were you last night? Were you with Eddie? Do you know where Eddie was? Were you involved in Eddie’s “business”? Do you know Chrissy Cunningham? Were you friends? They never stopped, and you failed to see how it was relevant until you knew what was going on.

And then they dropped a fucking bomb on you.

“We just saw Chrissy Cunningham dead—mutilated—in the Munson trailer. Your boyfriend is our top suspect. Do you need to be added as an accessory?”

You hated to admit that you started crying. As soon as you got past the shocked face and the gasp, you began to cry. And it wasn’t a cute little cry made of delicately wiped tears and tiny sniffles, it was a fully bent over sob that shook through your body and ached all the bad feelings in your gut with no chance of relief.

They looked uncomfortable.

“Do you think Eddie Munson would be capable of something like this?” they tried asking through your tears.

You stood up immediately, ignoring the sobs like they weren’t there so you could speak, and make sure they heard you.

“If you really think you can look me in the eyes and seriously ask me if Eddie Munson is capable of cold blooded murder, then you’re a goddamn idiot, and you’re a bigger one than I ever thought you’d be, at that.” You wiped angrily at your tears, keeping your distance but ensuring every word counted. “Eddie is the best person I’ve ever known, and he could never do something like this. Ever.”

Callahan, entirely unconvinced, spoke up. “Do you even know where your boyfriend is right now? He certainly hasn’t come forward.”

You rolled your eyes, turning on him. “If you were the number one town pariah, and something like this happened in your home, would you want to come forward knowing that you would be the only person anyone ever believes is responsible?” Again, you wiped your face to be rid of the extra tears. A heavy sigh ripped from your chest as you struggled to breathe. “You seem to have it all figured out. If you know Eddie so well, why don’t you go fucking find him yourself? Are we done?”

When they finally released you, you stormed to your car and all the way down the road. But it was hard to see past the tears. You pulled off to the shoulder and into the trees surrounding the place. You sat there for a long time, and you sobbed.

You got a call almost as soon as you got home. It scared the living shit out of you, but you answered it with as much annoyance as you could muster. “Hello?”

The voice that said your name was so full of relief, and it honestly offered some for you, too. “It’s Dustin, I’m at the Family Video with Max. We need you immediately?”

“Why?” you asked quickly. “Wait, is this about Eddie? Do you know where he is?”

“Just come down immediately!” He hung up the phone as soon as his last word was finished, and you were just as quick to grab your stuff and go.

What Max had told you was utter insanity, but you had no other choice than to believe her because everyone seemed just as serious as her when she said it. It only worsened your anxiety. You didn’t know how you were supposed to live like that.

As though the cop’s questioning before wasn’t frustrating enough, they asked you a million more just to figure out if you knew where Eddie was. But you didn’t. He left you no clues. He just disappeared, and that made you more nervous than anything. Eddie tells you everything. The idea of being so in the dark makes you want to cry again, but you can’t. If you want to find him, you have to stay focused.

All the phone calls were the grueling part of the search, but when you finally arrived at Reefer Rick’s place, you were a buzzing ball of worry.

The good thing was that you felt like you were getting closer to finding Eddie.

The shed was really fucking dark. It’s darker than you last remember it being, but to be fair, the last time you were here, it wasn’t pitched black and you weren’t worried your boyfriend was dead.

“Hello?” Robin’s voice was quiet when she walked into the room. You were almost too scared to talk as you shone your flashlight at everything that looked like a shadowy beast in the darkened room.

Your attention was drawn quickly to Steve when he jabbed a wooden oar at a tarp covering contents in a tiny boat. “What are you doing?” Dustin gawked, his question more demanding the second time.

Steve shrugged, still bracing the oar. “He might be in there.”

“So take the tarp off.”

Your voice was a harsh whisper, still afraid of the things hiding in the dark, when you spoke. “I swear to God, if you’re beating him up right now…”

He ignored you, still jabbing. You huffed and rolled your eyes, watching closely for any kind of movement.

Max’s gentle voice rose around the corner where Robin stood next to her. “Someone’s been here.”

“Maybe he heard us,” Robin suggested. “Got spooked and ran.”

“Don’t worry,” Dustin smiled cheekily. “Steve will get him with his oar.”

“I know you think you’re being funny, Henderson, but considering the fact that almost everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slightest–”

Everyone was shouting when someone jumped out of the boat and forced Steve against the wall, a glass bottle to his throat. You recognized him immediately, and the relief that flushed through your system was almost thrilling, like breathing for the first time in days—if you hadn’t been so fucking terrified, it would have been sweeter.

The commotion was loud. Everyone’s hands were raised in peace and surrender. Dustin takes the lead, his voice overcoming everyone’s until he’s the only one speaking.

“It’s me. It’s Dustin.” He gestured toward Steve, where his heavy breath was heard over the sound of Dustin’s voice. “This is Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Steve’s movements were stiff as he agreed. “Right. Yeah.”

You held your hands to your face, worried about the glass shards to Steve’s neck. If Eddie gets scared enough, that murder charge might actually come true…

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar?”

Steve reached his arm out, holding out the oar on its end and letting go. As it clattered to the floor, Eddie’s grip on the bottle tightened, spooked by the sound. Everyone reacted. The fear was palpable.

“He’s cool!” Dustin shouted. “He’s cool!”

“I’m cool,” Steve whispered.

When you heard Eddie’s voice, it came with a strange type of consolation. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for you.”

Robin nods quickly, “We’re here to help.”

Your voice is soft when you speak up, like a bid goodnight. “Eddie, honey…” you give what little smile you can, taking the tiniest step forward.

Eddie’s gaze snapped to you just then. You noticed this is the first moment he actually realized you were there. At the sight of you, the slightest tension in his grip eased, though not enough to allow anyone else that kind of ease. The wild fear in his eyes, masked by scared rage, was finally offered an ounce of reprieve.

“Eddie, these are my friends,” Dustin continued. “You know Robin, from band.” She holds up her hands, imitating a trumpet.

“This is my friend, Max. The one who never wants to play DND?” Max gave a little wave.

Dustin gestured toward you, especially insistence with his words. “And your girlfriend? You definitely know her.”

You raised your hand to wave at him, a slow and gentle movement. “Hey, honey…” The hesitant smile you gave offers comfort. His eyes stayed glued to you until Dustin’s voice cut in again.

“Eddie,” he said gently. “We’re on your side.” When he didn’t let up, Dustin became more urgent. “I swear on my mother!” Eddie looked away. “Right, guys?”

A round of agreements filled the room, consisting of mumbles of “yes, yes” and “Dustin’s mother”.

Eddie’s hard gaze bore into Steve, debating in his mind his options. You all held your breaths, anticipating his next move and hoping it was good.

You just wanted to hold him.

Eddie let go of Steve, who let out a heavy sigh as he caught his breath, calming his heavy heart. You were the first one to break from the group, walking slowly toward Eddie with silent feet. You held your hands up for him to see as he backed against the wall, slowly sliding down with his arms wrapped around himself.

The sight of it hurt you, your heart beating heavily in your chest. He looked so…disturbed, so truly horrified by the thoughts in his head. The look on his face was blank as he stared off into space.

“Eddie?” you mumbled, lowering in front of him so you were propped on your knees. His eyes slowly, with a plenty of struggle, lifted up to see you. You held out your arms.

Eddie launched himself into your embrace, and you were just as eager to wrap him in it. He squeezed you tight, you squeezed him tighter, so afraid that if you let go of one another, that someone would disappear.

“Ohmygod,” you muttered breathlessly into his unruly hair, pulling him in close as scared and relieved tears fell from your eyes. “I was so fucking worried about you, baby. You just disappeared, I thought you were hurt. Please don’t scare me like that again.”

You pulled him back only far enough to cradle his face in your hands, screwed up in strained pain as he held back his tears, still holding you so tight. You kissed all over his face—his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids, his lips three times. Without the groundedness he needs, he just basked in your comfort, and you didn’t fault him for a moment in failing to give it back. He was here and he was alive, that’s all you needed.

You pressed your forehead against his. “I love you, honey,” you promised breathlessly.

He nodded, his hands flexing at your side. You pulled him into you again, your bodies flush against one another as you hold on for dear life. His response was strained but you knew it was the truth. “I love you, too.” You felt him actively melt against you, his body molding with yours as some of the tension is traded for your pure comfort. His next words are an even quieter, more broken whisper. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” you murmured. “S’okay. You’re okay.”

When you were forced to pull back, you sat at his side with your arms still around him, his hands all over you for the sake of keeping his feet on the ground. The way he needed you next to him was such a raw feeling, one of the things that sat at the base of your being, a core instinct.

Dustin and Robin knelt before him, and you, just as calm and gentle as before.

“Eddie,” Dustin said softly. “We just…want…to talk.”

Robin offered a little smile. “We wanna know what happened.”

He tensed against you. You placed a hand on his cheek, pulling his face over to kiss his cheek. His hand flexed at your back. He turned to you, his brown eyes so dark with whatever was haunting him, but still that liquid chocolate you knew and loved. He grabbed your hand on his cheek, turning back to them as he stroked his thumb over the back of your palm.

His voice was broken and defeated when he spoke, still sniffling as he struggled to hold back tears. “You won’t believe me.”

Gripping her flashlight, Max shrugged lightly. “Try us.”

His brows furrowed a bit. He looked to you for support, and you pressed your lips to his shoulder. “S’okay,” you whispered again. He swallowed thickly, nodding in miniscule little movements. His gaze found your hands when you grabbed his and intertwined his fingers with your own and squeezed them. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. He squeezed back.

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