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kamaluhkhan · 11 months ago

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anti-curse

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of apollo!reader

summary: whether he knew it or not, percy jackson made the world a better, brighter place — and you intend to protect him, no matter what path the fates leads you down. fuck prophetic dreams. the future wasn't written in stone.

warnings/disclaimers: mentions of typical demigod things (battles, weapons, etc.); this is set during the heroes of olympus series so roughly follows that plot + features the seven demigods; mainly inspired by book!percy (dark hair, sea green eyes) bc that's the one i fell in love w growing up; characters are aged up from the book (reader + percy are meant to be 21-22 y/o) bc i imagine there was more time between prophecies/series....anyways, please enjoy <3

when you first met percy jackson, he almost shot you through the chest with an arrow.

given that apollo is your godly parent, you often found yourself at the archery field, which happened to be one of the first stops on percy’s tour of camp half-blood. after that first mishap, your other half-siblings were, understandably, too scared to let percy try again — frankly chiron seemed a bit hesitant as well — and you could sense that percy felt disheartened. so, you flashed the boy a reassuring smile before giving him a few pointers and a second chance. when he smiled back at you, you felt a fluttering in your stomach that told you percy jackson would be more than a little important in your life.

archery still wasn't percy's strong suit, but your gut feeling turned out to be true. you and percy had dealt with a lot since then — a handful of quests, several prophecies, more than a few near-death experiences, a titan war, and, maybe worst of all, high school. you couldn't imagine getting through any of it without him by your side, and you knew the feeling was mutual.

so, you were entirely anticipating that percy would be hurt by your announcement during dinner.

“no way that’s happening.” percy laughs, as if he can’t believe you’d suggest something as ridiculous as not having him accompany you on your quest. he remains unfazed, takes a sip of his electric blue coke before gesturing to the empty seat next to him. “come on, sunshine. have something to eat.”

the nickname sends your heart into a frenzy as you sit next to him. you and percy had never been anything other than friends, but sometimes....sometimes you look at his dangerous ocean eyes and wind-swept dark hair and it makes you blush. sometimes you consider the way his laughter fills you with warmth and his smile holds a thousand memories, the way he teases and winks at you and you decide that he makes your world so much brighter. sometimes you remember how sarcastic and thoughtful and loyal and reckless he is, his heart of gold and unpredictability of the sea. and you start to think that maybe possibly you'd fallen in love with your best friend.

that was not the issue at hand, though. you summon your favourite food and drink, but don't particularly feel like having either. percy returns to his conversation with hazel about how the two of you would drive up to montauk after you finally got your license, any time either of you needed to escape your reality, even just for a night. you'd sit on the beach, stargazing and roasting stale marshmallows and wishing to stay there forever. hazel seems to think that sounds like a nice escape, and percy promises that once the eight of you fulfill this prophecy, you'll all go to the beach house together, which makes hazel break out into a grin.

you can't help but smile at percy who loves his friends, who has loved you for so long. that feeling is quickly replaced by a pang in your chest that reminds you what's at stake. from the corner of your eye, you notice annabeth across from you, who looks at you like you’re a puzzle she can’t quite solve. you're trying to hide it, but if anyone can read you better than percy, it's annabeth. she knows something is weighing on your mind. you briefly lock eyes with jason, who you had gone to earlier for help, from the other side of the room, where he sits between piper and frank.

if you weren’t so distracted, you would have been able to enjoy dinner. the eight of you — all demigods of the current great prophecy — hadn’t been all together in a while, and it was nice to share a meal aboard the argo ii despite the reality of why you’d all been traveling together. leo had equipped the ship with magic plates and cups, and with the lively jokes and stories filling the air, you could almost imagine it was an ordinary summer evening at camp. you could almost forget that tomorrow, you had to go on a quest to rescue apollo and artemis from python, a monster so powerful your father barely defeated him thousands of years ago. you could almost ignore the impending war with gaea and the giants, and the doomed fate of the world if you were to fail. the one thing you could no longer ignore, however, is the gut feeling you have about the fate of the boy sitting next to you if your quest is to unfold the way you had first planned it.

you clear your throat, an attempt to interrupt the group's conversations.

“i was serious earlier,” you declare. “you’re not coming with me, percy. jason is.”

the smile percy had on his face fades. his eyes are filled with concern and disbelief, as he glances at you. “i – i don’t understand.”

"percy,” jason jumps in carefully, aware that he’s treading through dangerous waters like you had warned him. “y/n and i were strategizing earlier and it seems to make the most sense, given our powers combined."

percy shakes his head. “but — but you can’t just make last minute changes. we’ve already got everything set. right, valdez?”

leo shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of chicken before responding. “i don’t know, man. i’m no expert in quests, but it seems like i’m not the one who should be deciding this.” leo looks at you, and you nod gratefully.

you've been on edge since last night, and to calm your nerves you fiddle with the gold chain around your neck. it was a gift from your father: a necklace with a music note charm that can transform into an electric guitar or a bow and quiver. thankfully, you hadn't had to need both at the same time.

“it's up to me. and i want leo and jason to come with me.”

“then i’ll come too,” percy's voice remains calm, but insistant.

“isn’t there that thing about quests usually being done in threes?”

“that is true, piper,” percy agrees. he tilts his head towards you, like he's calling on you to remember. "exceptions have been made, though. like that one time with zoe." that had been years ago, when demigods from camp half-blood and hunters of artemis joined forces. five had been sent out on a quest, but only three came back. you shiver at the thought.

"or my quest through the labyrinth," annabeth recalls.

"but won't that also change our other plans, though?" hazel asks.

"not necessarily," you pipe in, your voice more assertive. "if jason and percy just switch. no harm done."

"we're not interchangeable," percy grumbles.

"hera sure seemed to think so!" leo searches the room for positive responses to his joke, but the most he gets is a half-hearted laugh from frank. "too soon?"

you take a deep breath. "it's not a big deal, really."

"it kind of is," percy counters. "you've never gone on a quest without me."

"you've gone on quests without me," you point out.

"that's...that's different."

"why? because i'm so weak that i need the son of the sea god to protect me at all times?"

you're giving percy the coldest stare you ever have. he hesitates to hold your gaze.

"you know that's not what i meant," he sighs.

"then what did you mean?"

percy looks at you, his eyes and tone softer. “look, sunshine, let's just stick with the plan, alright? we can just —”

“gods, you never listen, do you?" you finally snap. "you're not coming! i don’t want you there, percy!”

percy stares at you, stunned. you look around the table, and everyone looks back at you, wide-eyed. they weren’t used to this side of you, your sudden outburst not fitting in with your usually sunny disposition.

“well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” leo jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, with less than ideal results.

“you saw something in your dreams, didn’t you?” annabeth realizes.

her conclusion makes you freeze.

demigod dreams are always significant, carrying vivid images of monsters, messages from friends or enemies. some children of apollo like you had visions of the future — pseudo prophecies that are supposedly set to unfold given the path you’re on. technically, you weren’t supposed to share your visions, something about messing with fate or destiny, but that didn’t mean you had to accept the way things were.

what you saw in your dreams last night, what might happen to percy, made your blood run cold.

you would defy all the laws of the universe and divine rules if it meant you could protect him. so fuck the path the fates are attempting to lead you down, and fuck prophetic dreams. you refuse to let percy die. no matter how frustrated you’re acting towards him in this moment, you know he would still do the same for you.

you figure that the future isn't written in stone, right?

either way, you're willing to challenge destiny for percy jackson.

without answering annabeth, you get up from the table and take a deep breath, carefully avoiding percy’s gaze.

“i go with leo and jason, or i go alone.” your voice is steady, fighting the heavy beating of your heart and tears caught in your throat. “either way, i leave in the morning.” you exit the mess hall before anyone — before percy — can protest.

#Spotify #when i was younger i didn't think people would want to read all the stories i'd make up in my head about this series #so im glad the percy jackson renaissance is here #there's something so healing about writing + sharing this blurb even if i'm still nervous #might fuck around and write another part because i have so many ideas of where this could go #percy jackson #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #pjo #saf writes #riordanverse

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bobafetts-princess · 3 months ago

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Stranger and the Bear Pt1

Summary: A handsome stranger has been warming a stool at the bar you work at. What happens when ghosts from the past make an appearance?

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, a touch of Logan smoking the cigar, abusive relationship mentioned (no abuse shown), I think that’s all for this chapter

A/N: if you saw this on ao3, I’m the same person! I’m deep in a Logan crisis and have been thinking about moving my Logan fics over to tumblr so his resurgence has given me the boost I need!

Part 2 can be found here

“Hey stranger!” You shout to your newest bar customer, tossing a coaster in front of him before turning around and grabbing his usual.

“Hey Bear,” he responds, his deep voice silky and rough at the same time.

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” You laugh, “it’s been like, three months.”

“You mentioned it first, so I ran with it.” He smiles and winks playfully at you, the most lighthearted you’ve ever seen him. The tall and handsome stranger had first come into the bar you work at a few months ago, ordering a whiskey neat and a beer.

You’d given him your name in the hopes that he would give you his in return, but no luck. “My childhood classmates called me care bear though, they claimed I was as sweet and cuddly as a care bear,” you tell him, smiling at the old memory.

“Care bear, huh?” The stranger had said, deep voice rumbling through his chest. “How about just Bear?”

“Ooh! I like that,” you say before asking him what he would like to drink.

The two of you had fell into an easy camaraderie, always some light flirting, at least from your end. You’d never asked his name and he’d never offered. Your stranger was a good looking man, neatly trimmed facial hair and sideburns, usually in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans. He was the definition of ��hate to see them leave, love to watch them walk away’ and you looked forward to the one or two days a week he would come in. He was always respectful, drank the same thing, and left a decent tip.

The evening passed in a blur, patrons coming and going but your stranger stayed where he was. You refilled his drinks at the exact moment he was finishing the last, that was your routine. You’d refill his drinks and he would hang out for a few hours. He watched you work, sometimes from behind dark sunglasses, sometimes through hazel green eyes.

“Hey Bear, c’mere.” Your stranger asked, cigar hanging from his mouth. You made your way towards him, thinking about how no matter how much he drank, he seemed perfectly sober. “You from ‘round here?” He asked, no sunglasses today. You could see his pupils were blown and for the first time in two months you wondered whether he was actually buzzed. He smelled like good worn leather and the cigar he was smoking. You had to prevent yourself from closing your eyes when you inhaled his scent.

“Uhh, sorta kinda. Why?” You told him, shocked at the personal question, and also embarrassed.

The truth was that you weren’t from here, you’d moved here to be with an ex-boyfriend and it had ended badly. You’d gotten home from work one night to find the locks had been changed on the apartment as well as his phone number. Come to find out, he’d been sleeping around on you since you started dating and decided he liked his side piece more. So you’d called your boss, Sally, begging for somewhere to stay and she rented you the studio apartment upstairs. You struck up a deal, the apartment for half price as long as you closed the bar down every night.

When your ex’s side-piece decided she didn’t like him as much as she'd originally thought, he’d begun stalking you and things had gone downhill. He tried to get physical with you once but Sally had threatened him with a shotgun and he hadn’t shown his face again. That was ABOUT the same time your stranger had started coming to the bar, and for some reason you felt safer when he was there.

Apparently Sally did too because on nights he showed up, she took off early and let you close down by yourself.

“So I presume you know that guy in the corner over there? He’s been watching you most of the night.” He told you, clamping the cigar between his index and middle finger. You began to turn your body in the direction of the person he was talking about but a warm hand a-top yours stopped you. “Don’t make it obvious, Bear. Don’t want him to know.” His eyes raked down your body as he was speaking, drinking you in. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, fitted jeans and a black cropped tank with the bars logo on it, but the way he was looking at you made goosebumps cover your skin.

Forcing your mind back to the issue at hand, you glance in the corner, keeping your body facing your stranger. When you caught sight of the face in the corner, you paled. It was your ex, and Sally was gone, her shotgun locked in her office.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Your stranger asked, noting your expression, his hand rubbing back and forth across your knuckles. If you hadn’t been worried, you would have blushed at the way his hand held yours and the nickname he called you.

You forced your voice to sound normal when you spoke again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just ghosts from the past.” You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes and were surprised to look up and find your strangers face held concern and a touch of tenderness.

“I’m gonna stick around late tonight, Bear. So keep ‘em comin’.” He told you and you felt a bit safer.

You worked the night away, one eye on your next drink ticket and one eye in the corner where your ex sat, unmoving. Your stranger did the same, only he kept one eye on you and one eye on your ex. At ten till close your voice rang out into the emptying bar, “last call!” The few that were still hanging out left not too long after, leaving you, your stranger, and your ex in the bar. You chose not to acknowledge that you knew it was him, hoping that the dark shadows of the bar would convince him that you didn’t notice who he was. After a few tense moments he stood, heading towards the front door so you turned to your stranger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Bear.” He said, the sultry tones of his voice soothing you. You took a glance at his retreating back before turning around and starting your wipe down of the back bar. A rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling and making your body spin. It happened so fast that you didn’t get a good look at the face until it was the only thing in your line of sight. It was your ex, which shouldn’t surprise you but somehow it did. Your voice caught in your throat and you couldn’t attempt to shout for help from your stranger, your fear paralyzing you.

“I thought your miserable ass left this fucking town.” He snarled in one ear, face pressed against yours.

“You would think that when I left you, you’d have tucked that tail and ran back to mommy and daddy. Why are you still fucking here??” He sneered and you could smell the alcohol on his breath and when he pulled back, your wrist in his hand, you could see that his pupils were blown wide. He was high too, but you didn’t know what on. You didn't know why he was so obsessed with you, it wasn't like you had a great and powerful love. You thought his feelings were just hurt because you didn't take him back. “You stupid. Fucking. Bit-“ But he didn’t get a chance to finish because his body was ripped away from yours. You blinked and saw your stranger standing over him as he lay on the floor where he’d been thrown.

“Attacking a woman while she’s alone?” He snarled, that deep vibrato now a growl. He picked your ex up by the front of his shirt, his strength shocking you. “You piece of shit. Picking on a woman half your size while she’s alone?” He growled, shaking your ex while he was holding him up in the air. “What kind of an asshole gets off on that?” Your legs were shaking so bad that you sunk to the floor, the butt of your jeans wet from the beer and liquor that had been spilled during the course of the evening.

Your ex looked terrified, used to always being the bigger in a fight but he looked like a teenager next to your stranger. His mouth was moving wordlessly, almost like he was trying to make sounds but was too frightened.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight, but I swear to god if you come back, I’ll rip you limb from limb. And I’ll be here every night to make sure she stays safe. Get outta here before I change my mind, you piece of shit.” He snarls, dropping your ex unceremoniously on the floor in a heap of fear and embarrassment. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting towards the front door, letting it slam behind him. You see your stranger following behind him to lock the door before your vision starts to swirl with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” You repeat over and over to yourself when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder and a low gravelly voice speaking in your ear.

“Bear. Bear. Are you alright?” You continue your breathing, adding a small nod to ensure your stranger you were fine.

“I’m gonna pick you up. You live upstairs right?” He asked and in the back of your mind you wondered how he knew that. But thoughts left your mind as strong arms wrapped underneath your legs and behind your back. Your heart rate was slowing, and your panic attack subsiding, so when he asked you which way the stairs were you were able to answer. His strong body carried yours up the stairs and into the studio apartment you resided in, slowing as he crossed the threshold.

“I’m okay to stand. You can put me down.” You told him, but he seemed hesitant and you swore he clutched you even tighter to his body. “Really, Stranger, I’m okay.” You said, smiling up at his kindness.

“Logan.” He whispered as he lowered your legs onto the ground, arm staying around the small of your back until he was sure you were okay on your own two feet.

“What?” You asked, not sure of what he said.

“Logan. My names Logan.” He repeated, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your hip, biting slightly.

“Okay, Logan. It’s nice to not refer to you as Stranger in my mind.” You giggled. You stepped reluctantly away from his embrace, heading towards your ‘kitchen’. “Would you like a drink, Logan? All I have is beer and water.”

You heard him clear his throat and when you looked at him, he looked like he was warring with himself.

“Uhh, ya, sure Kid. Bear. I’ll have a beer.” He said and for the first time since you’d met him, there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice. You popped the top on two, handing him one before heading to the small couch you had, a mere 10 feet from your bed. He followed, sitting next to you and doing his best to make sure he wasn’t touching you, but the area was so small that your knees touched anyways.

“So that was my ex. He was stupid enough to try and get physical with me once. Sally threatened him with a shotgun. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try it twice.” You tried to explain without going into the entire sordid story.

“I’m going to tear him in half.” He answered, taking a long pull of his beer and you felt ashamed at what the dominance in his voice did to your lady bits.

“I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try this again so hopefully I don’t ever have to worry about him again.” You assured your stranger.

“Logan.” You mused aloud, a small smile crossing your face.

“Ya, Bear?” He answered, thinking you were going to ask him a question.

“It’s such a normal name.” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with my name?” He asked, faux defensiveness in his voice at your teasing.

“I’ve wondered for WEEKS what your name was and it’s Logan. It’s so normal. It suits you though. I like it.” You smiled at him, hitching one knee up on the couch and turning your torso towards him.

“I’ll be comin’ by more often and stayin’ until the bar is locked down. Just to make sure that moron doesn’t come back.” He told you, venom in his tone, but in a way that had you suppressing a shiver. You wondered what he sounded like first thing in the morning, his voice filled with sleep. “What’re you thinkin’’ about, Bear?” He asked, almost knowing your thoughts. You flushed, embarrassed to be caught in your thoughts.

“Nothing, just how you manhandled him. I think you humbled him.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t realize you were thinking about HIM manhandling you.

“He’s a lightweight. Pushin’ people around that are smaller than him.” He told you, eyes skimming over you. You heated at his gaze and wondered to yourself how long it had been since you’d gotten laid. When you couldn’t remember immediately you’d decided it had been too long. “People like him always need to be manhandled, otherwise they don’t learn their lessons,” You glanced at his beer, bartender habit, and stood to get him another. Yours was still half full, so you only popped the top off of one and brought it back to him. You felt his eyes glued to your frame as you walked and tried not to let it go to your head.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He told you, even though he took the beer from your hands when you stretched it out to him.

“Thank you Logan. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. How did you know I lived upstairs though?” You asked, the memory hitting you quick.

“I’ve heard you speak to the woman about rent. Sally? And I’ve stayed after a few times when I come by to make sure you get to your car, and you never come out of the building. The lights go out though.” He told you, unashamedly. You were struck by the kindness of this stranger. He was looking out for you and you hadn't even known. He watched out for you and all you'd ever offered him was a warm smile and a cold beer. Your breath hitched in your throat as you muttered out a small thank you to him, but he simply shrugged and took a long pull.

"I don't know how to thank you." You admitted to him but he waved you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said, finishing his beer. You decided it was better off to just thank him in a different way, probably with free booze. You decided in that moment that this man would never pay for another drink in the bar again, and you felt that Sally would agree. You would speak with her about it first thing in the morning, after you filed a restraining order.

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 2 months ago

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Gold Rush

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Teen. Summary: It's the day after your husband left you, Dieter still remains, is his presence and support the reason why you feel okay? Warnings: pov switching, pining, fluff, comfort, marijuana use, champagne, drunken feelings, confessions using a taylor swift song, pizza Words: 5,330

A/N: Golden Girl and Dieter have not left my mind since I wrote them. I couldn't believe how much @almostfoxglove's gorgeous moodboard (see above) that she created with my prompts of "Dieter x adoration x gold" matched my ideas for the follow-up sooo I wrote it out. I hope you enjoy.

Previous Chapter Masterlist

***

You’re awoken by a grumbling snore and a solid heat pressed against your cheek. Your tired eyes blink open and are greeted by a faded wine stained heather gray chest. Dieter.

For a split second, there is confusion, a moment of panic flickers through you. Then it all comes back to you–the heartbreak of yesterday.

The flood of emotions, the tears, Warren’s cold, unblinking blue eyes as he told you he’d fallen in love with someone else. No remorse. Just the simple truth, delivered in his same steady voice he’d use for his clients, as if your marriage now meant nothing. And then he was gone, walking out of the door you’d painted his favorite color green. Then, your shaking hands calling the only person you knew who would be there for you. Dieter.

You don’t know if it was the exhaustion of your marriage ending or Dieter’s body against yours, but you haven’t slept that deeply in years.

Now, you gently pull away, your gaze lingering on him as he sleeps. Fluffy, tousled hair fans across the pillow, his parted plush lips gently percolate out snores. The lines of stress and mischief that crease his face are much gentler and relaxed in his slumber. The sunlight peeking through the curtain casts a golden strip across his face that turns his skin amber and his dark hair almost hazel.

You usually don’t allow yourself to stare at him like this, constantly fighting the pull you’ve always felt towards him, like an invisible string that keeps getting tangled and knotted. That night in the dive bar–years ago–kissing his whiskey soaked lips, feeling the deep rumble of laughter left against your lips when you finally pulled away. You could have had him then.

But you didn’t. You were too enamored by his handsome blue-eyed friend. Warren.

Warren, who said all the right thing, who made you believe everything you wanted to hear, even if half of it was lies. You feel so idiotic.

Dieter’s breathing is steady, his broad chest rises and falls keeping time with the soft hum of his snores. The gold hoop of his earring catches the light. You’ve been enamored with it since that first night you met him all those years ago. A forbidden ring held within his ear, you always wondered how it felt, to be able to freely touch him. Sometimes your hand would reach for it, before your eye would catch the glint of your wedding band. Forbidden, off limits, you’re kept by someone else.

Now, no longer answering to anyone, you let your shocking newfound independence make you happy for once. It’s just you and him, lying in the middle of the bed you bought from Pottery Barn with your ex-mother-in-law, and for the first time you don’t feel guilty for looking at him.

Slowly, almost reverently, your hand hovers over his ear, feeling the soft brush of his hair as you softly pass your finger over the metal ring, a connection to the feelings you’ve always had for him. You pull your hand away, too scared to let the emotions long-held for him take place in your heart.

“Dee,” you croak, your voice is rough from sleep and all of the tears shed from yesterday.

His eyelids flutter open, chocolate brown eyes blinking open, soft and unfocused before crinkling at the edges as a yawn stretches across his face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice low and groggy. The warm smile he gives you makes your broken heart begin mending itself right then and there.

“It’s almost noon.”

He yawns again, his large hand brushing over his face as he props himself up. He slowly comes to life, a haze of sleep still lingering in his eyes.

“Shit, almost noon huh?” his voice rasps deep from sleep. “You okay?”

A simple question, one that you’ve been asked so few times the past few years as your marriage has grown stagnant and lifeless. You nod, though not entirely sure of your answer.

“I know it was a rough day,” he says, sympathy pouring out of his voice. “I-I’m glad you called me.”

“I am too,” you whisper.

Dieter shifts, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze stays on you. “Warren’s an idiot,” the firmness of his voice surprises you. “He never deser–”

Right then the loud growl of your stomach interrupts.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, pulling away from you.

“Uh, lunch yesterday?” It hadn’t even occurred that you’d gone that long without food.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to see if you were hun–“

“It’s okay Dee,” you quickly reassure, “I don’t think I could’ve even eaten anything yesterday.”

He studies you for a second, his gaze softens. “Well, I make a mean bowl of cereal or I can order us breakfast if you want something more serious.”

“Cereal’s good.”

He stretches and sits up. “Coming right up,” he says, standing and moving to the door.

“You don’t know where anything is!” you call after him.

He pauses, turning back. “That’s never stopped me before,” he winks, causing butterflies to plume in your stomach, the kind you haven’t felt in ages.

The clattering of cupboards being rifled through finally makes you extract yourself from bed.

“Dee!” you shout as you walk down the hall, “I’ll grab everything!”

You send a quick glimpse into the bedroom you used to share with Warren as you tie your robe tighter and head downstairs.

The sun is glaring through the open curtains, yours and Dieter’s phones lay silent on the coffee table. Nobody knows. Warren said it was your decision over who you want to tell. How chivalrous.

“Hey,” Dieter greets you with a smile, as he puts the milk on the counter. “I found the milk and spoons.”

You shake your head, moving around him to pull two bowls out of the cupboard.

“You put the coffee on at least, that’s most important,” you say, grabbing the box of cereal from the pantry. “All I have are Corn Flakes.”

—

The domesticity of it all is not lost on him. Dieter sits next to you at the breakfast bar happily munching on his corn flakes covered in three tablespoons of sugar.

He’s had this dream so many times before. Bright sunlight shining through the kitchen window above the sink that overlooks the garden you take so much pride in, coffee in the light blue mugs with the little birds you were so proud to find at the antique store off of La Cienega, the sound of you eating and just quietly existing next to him. He never wants to wake up.

The first thing he saw today was you, your voice was the first thing he heard. It’s not a dream, it’s really happening here, in this home you used to share with his best friend–or–who used to be his best friend. Warren probably doesn’t even know he’s here, that he was the one you chose to call and to be consoled by. Too oblivious and self obsessed to realize that all these years Dieter’s been secretly in love with his wife. How could he not fall for you?

He glances towards you, wanting to tell you everything in his heart, only choosing the most obvious statement. “I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

“I know Dee, it means… a lot, but you don’t have to be here, I’m okay… really.”

“Trust me, I want to be here Sweets,” he knocks his shoulder against yours. It’s just about the only physical touch he can trust himself to make. He wants to hold you through all of this, keep your body as close to his as possible. Shield you, go to battle for you, be your soldier. All he can afford is a singular shoulder tap.

“You’ve never given me reason to not,” you sigh.

He never wants to let you down, never wants to make you feel like you’re less than deserving of the whole world. He just has to wait. Good things take time.

“What do you want to do today?”

“Not sure. Definitely get out of this robe and into some actual clothes.”

He thanks his lucky stars, as much as he loves you in the fluffy robe, his heart can’t take the brief glimpses of your upper thigh or chest as the fabric swishes across your body. “Do you want me to grab your clothes for you?”

“No, I-it’s gotta happen sooner than later… i-it’s weird, I know he just left me and everything, but–I don’t know Dee–it’s been not fun being me. Here, cooped up in this house just waiting for my husband to decide to like me and spend time with me. You know?” Your shoulders deflate, he gazes at your crestfallen side profile, still so beautiful even when you’re heartbroken.

You take a swig of coffee, he follows the lines of your delicate neck as you swallow the liquid down. Your skin is always so beautiful, but in this light, it transfixes him. “This is the fourth time he’s cheated on me.”

He coughs at your confession. His brows rise in surprise, he never knew about the others. “I-I had no idea,” he murmurs. His heart drops, how fucking dare Warren.

“We didn’t let it be known, I couldn’t deal with–anybody knowing and them judging me. He’d come back, and swear he would change. Why do you think my wedding ring kept getting bigger and bigger? He’d get me something shinier every time he’d fuck someone else… like I’m some sort of crow wife.”

He snickers, you’re still the funniest girl he’s ever met, even when you’re talking about your piece of shit husband.

“And now, NOW he's found the one. All those times I’d let him back, he told me I was the only one for him.” Tears sprout in your eyes. He thinks of all those years you’ve wasted, all those lies you believed, and now, you’re left just as empty as your cereal bowl. “I feel like a fool, he’s been cheating on me for almost a year with her. I just sat idly by, ignoring all of the cracks in the foundation, all of the same signs I had seen before, he’d call me crazy. I guess a person can only be gaslit for so long before they burn up. The house has been crumbling for the past few years, and I just kept thinking maybe it would change… and the cracks just got bigger until… he left. Now I’m left here trying to rebuild and trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

“Nothing,” he says, his voice firmer than he intended. “You did nothing wrong. Warren’s always been the ‘take what I want when I want’ type. It’s him, not you.”

You solemnly nod, eyes staring unblinking at your spoon swirling in the milky white expanse of your empty cereal bowl. “And I just had to fall in love with him. I feel so foolish.” Your voice floats into his ears, flowing down to his heart squeezing the organ that pumps only for you.

“Hey,” he whispers, “I’ve been best friends with him for almost thirty years. If you’re a fool, then I’m one too.”

You look at him, his eyes meet yours. He offers you a small smile that you return with a nod. You’re sweeter than the cereal milk he just got done slurping out of his bowl.

“Well,” you sigh, tapping the counter and breaking the miniscule moment of understanding. “I can’t do any more of this sad stuff today. I can’t be miserable all day. II know what I want to do tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, raising a curious brow.

“Yep. Drink,” you sigh. “Like, a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want to forget, just for tonight… and then tomorrow I’ll have to deal with all of the bullshit.”

He doesn’t mention to you that the last time only the two of you drank together, his marriage to Anika had just ended. Now it’s a tradition. “I can help with that. Do you need me to go grab some booze?”

“Nope,” you hop off the barstool and pad over to the wine fridge. You bend over, he strangles his napkin when he gets a glimpse of your upper thighs before he looks away. Not right now.

You pull a fancy looking bottle out of the fridge. “We were supposed to have this for our tenth anniversary. Some dumb expensive bottle of champagne he bought while we were on vacation in France.”

He grabs it from the counter top, eyebrows rising at the fancy label.

“Wow. Thirty-five year old Bollinger, huh? That’s the stuff the queen drinks.” “Of course you’d know that,” you tease, rolling your eyes as you put the champagne in the fridge. “I’m gonna clean up, hop into the shower and change. I don’t know if you want to head to your place and grab some clothes?”

He looks down at his stained shirt and pajama pants he’s been wearing since he woke up yesterday afternoon. He wasted no time in changing when he got the call from you. He could certainly also use a shower.

“If you’re okay with me leaving for a bit,” he hesitates.

“I am, really Dee,” you assure. “I’m going to head upstairs. Come over around five?”

“Five works,” he smiles. Hating the rush of nerves he feels of spending another night only with you.

“You’re the best Dee,” you smile.

He doesn’t know whether to shake Warren for leaving someone like you or thank him as he deposits his bowl in the sink and grabs his keys and phone.

—

The master bedroom is just as it was left yesterday, besides the empty side of Warren’s closet and vanity. How kind of him to move out while you’re left crying on the couch. You were his wife for eight years. Over three thousand days of marriage. A mortgage, two cars, three credit cards with unspent reward points, multiple bank accounts. God, there’s so much to do.

Not today.

Today you’re going to push down these terrible feelings, today you’re going to focus on the future of what can be once you trudge through all of this. Today you’re going to spend the day taking care of yourself and then tonight, you’re going to get drunk with your friend Dieter.

The gold frame on your bedside table catches your eye. Ah, your Australia trip last year, a surprise excursion from Warren. You’re pretty sure he was talking to her while the two of you explored the outback. You thought that trip was the beginning of something new and better for the two of you. It only took a week after your return home for him to start working late and having meetings in other states again.

You love the frame that holds the picture of better days with Warren, you found it at an antique store Dieter told you about. You’ve always loved vintage decor, Warren always preferred brand new, he never liked the idea of “other people’s trash littering his home.” You open the back of the frame, pull out the photo, and crumble it in your hands before setting the empty frame back on the table. One day, it’ll hold a picture of true happiness—one day, there will be someone else to smile with.

You shed your robe and drop it in the hamper before standing in front of your mirror. You look the same, really. Only thing that might give away your husband left you are your eyes that sit a little redder and puffier and your naked ring finger.

A glance at your phone shows a couple of missed texts and calls. Nothing important. Still no word from Warren. You feel foolish for expecting anything more from him.

All the tears you shed yesterday suddenly feel ridiculous. All those tears fell for a man who could barely be grown enough to check on how you’re doing today. You’ve read of slow burns in romance novels, but what about a slow snuff? Where your marriage just gradually dies, suffocated by indifference, until Warren’s selfishness finally snuffed it out. There’s a sense of freedom now, like you no longer have to lie to yourself. Now you just have to figure out how to move on.

You scroll to the playlist Dieter sent you a few weeks ago, smiling to yourself at the realization that as your marriage fizzled, your’s and Dieter’s friendship grew warmer. You turn the tap on as the first song plays.

'Round your city, 'round the clock Everybody needs you No, you can't make everybody equal Although you got beaucoup family You don't even got nobody bein' honest with you

Frank Ocean. Your’s and Dieter’s shared favorite. Warren can’t stand him, of course. When Dieter got tickets to a Frank Ocean concert, Warren spent the night rolling his eyes while you and Dieter screamed lyrics, danced under the strobe lights, and passed a joint back and forth. Anika and Warren stood behind you both, glued to their phones, ruining what should’ve been an unforgettable night with their sulking.

You laugh out loud to yourself at your stupidity. Why did you stay?

The shower feels good and refreshing. You scrub your skin with your favorite body scrub and use your favorite conditioner you buy from the boutique next to your favorite cafe. It’s now up to you to take care of yourself and to show yourself love. Lord knows it’s pretty much been that way for the past year.

Dieter’s playlist plays on. Every song on it you like, he never lets you down.

“You will remember When this is blown over And everything's all by the way When I grow older I will be there at your side to remind you How I still love you”

Your hands pause at the lyrics as you rub lotion across your skin. You wonder what Dieter’s thinking, what he’s thought this whole time, why he speaks to you the way he does. He’s always been such an open book, but ever since his divorce with Anika a few years ago, he’s been less readable. Your mind is crowded by the feelings you have for him, the way you liked waking up next to him this morning, the way you wish he’d never stop holding you.

You remind yourself to go shopping for some new clothes, to fill the newly acquired empty space in your closet. You find the bright robe hanging in the back of your closet. A just-because-gift from Dieter because you mentioned it had all of your favorite colors. He texted you a photo of himself getting ready for an awards show, and you pointed out how much you loved it. He handed it to you the next time he saw you with a shy grin. You try to remember the last time Warren gave you a random gift as you wrap the soft cotton around your body.

You admire yourself in the mirror remembering the way Dieter’s dark brown eyes lingered on you after you put it on. The small smile he blessed you with as he softly murmured “perfect.”

The clock reads 2:30. Just twenty-four hours ago Warren told you he’s no longer in love with you, that he had found someone else. You swallow the sadness, not today.

For the first time in a long time, today you’re going to allow yourself to look forward to something–and somebody. Dieter will be here soon.

—

He knocks on the side door three times before letting himself in. His usual Dieter entrance.

“Sweets?” he calls out, his voice echoing through the house.

“Hey!” you respond, quickly trudging down the steps.

He almost drops the pizza box on the floor, along with his jaw when he sees you.

“Great minds,” you smile looking down at his faded blue jeans–the same color as yours.

“Yeah,” he nods, “great minds.” He swears you’re his twin flame, except he burns even brighter for you. He hopes one day your heart will burn just as hot for him.

“Prime Pizza?” you excitedly say spying the familiar box from your favorite pizza place.

“Yep, also got you garlic knots,” he smiles, lifting a white takeout bag up. “And caesar salad. And vodka pasta.”

“Oh my gooooood,” you sing, grabbing the pre-rolled joint and lighter from the table. “You’re the best. Let’s eat outside.”

His heart feels like it’s going to leap out of his chest as he follows you through the french doors to your backyard. It’s a beautiful, warm evening. You’ve set the table already, the sun is just beginning to lower behind the mountains, bathing everything in golden and purple shades.

He can’t take his eyes off of you as you light the joint and take a hit. He feels ridiculous relishing the fact that his lips will be where yours just were as you hand the joint to him.

Music gently plays in the background and you hum along while opening the takeout boxes and filling your plate.

“Oh my god, this looks so good,” you gush, smiling at him. “Thanks Dee.”

Weed smoke, garlic, and laughter fill the air as the two of you share a meal.

He wishes to never wake from this dream.

—

You always loved this neighborhood at night. The winding hill overlooks downtown Los Angeles and all of its flickering traffic and brake light glory. Street lamps glow golden in the midnight haze. Dieter walks alongside you, keeping tempo with your steps growing clumsier the emptier your champagne bottle gets.

“God, it’s beautiful out,” you say, tilting your head back to gaze at the sky focusing on a singular star. You wonder what it sees as it looks down on you. Does it see the internal struggle within your heart? Your husband walked out on you yesterday, and you’ve already found solace in his best friend. Peace in the heart and mind of the best man at your wedding.

“Ooh! Grass patch! Grass patch!” you suddenly shout, running over to the grassy area just off to the side of your neighbor’s home. “Come look at the stars with me!”

Dieter follows, laying down beside you with a small huff.

“I love doing this,” you say wistfully. “Like it’s so big, and we’re so small. You know?”

“I do,” he says. “Someone in Antarctica has the same view we have. Isn’t that insane?”

“Yes!” you shout, knocking your knee against his and leaving it there. “Sometimes it’s so easy to get lost in the vastness of space.”

“It is…” he softly says.

You turn your head to find him not looking up at the stars, but right at you.

“Hi,” you giggle, a little nervous from the look in his eyes.

“You’re– I think you’re–-” he grumbles and turns to look back at the sky shaking his head. “I wonder how many satellites are recording our conversation right now.”

You follows his lead, turning back to the sky, wishing on a star that some day you’ll hear what Dieter really wanted to tell you.

—

He listens as you softly hum into the breezy night air. A pleasant smile is stretched across your face, your eyes sit a little hazier from the bottle of champagne that you’re holding by the neck.

You stop, bobbling back and forth on your feet. He grabs your arms, steadying your wobbly form. You’re much drunker now thanks to your impromptu stargazing and drinking adventure in your neighbor’s yard.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yes *hiccup* just–haven’t felt this free in awhile,” your body thuds against his chest. His heart goes into overdrive. “Like, GOD, it fucking sucks, but also like, fuck Warren, he didn’t deserve ME.”

He wants to tell you how much he agrees, he wants to pour his rapid beating heart out to you in the middle of this quiet neighborhood. He doesn’t, you’re going through enough, and he respects–nay–loves you far too much to divulge his years-long secret devotion to you.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Fuck Warren.”

“Fuck Warren!” you giggle. “God that feels good.”

“FUCK WARREEEEENNNNN!” you shout, your voice echoing off the canyon walls.

“Whoa, whoa, okay okay, it’s too late; let’s not wake up the neighbors, pretty girl.”

His throat closes at the slip. Panic grips his body.

You take a swig of your champagne.

“Pretty?” you turn in his arms. “You think that— I”m pretty?”

Your beautiful face and those eyes of yours, the same he thinks about waking up to, is lit by the full moon, glistening in the nighttime glow. You’re so gorgeous.

“Always have, Golden Girl,” he sees the line drawn and he steps over it. He’s famous for not listening, for saying it fuck it to the plainly written out rules. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your throat lets out an unbelieving laugh. “D’awww, Dee thinks I’m pretttttyyyyyyyyy,” you sing-song, swaying in his arms.

“Alright now, you’re pretty far gone. Let’s get you home, pretty.”

“Dieter Bravo finds me pretty. I’d say Warren’s going to be sooooo mad, but FUCK WARREN!” Another battle cry against your husband echoes across the neighborhood.

“Shhhhh,” he wraps his arms around you tighter, turning you to walk back up the road to your home.

His arms stay around you the whole walk up the hill back to your house. He can smell the sweet scent of your honey shampoo. Your back is molded to his front and yet, the lust for you doesn’t course through his veins like it normally does. There’s something else. Adoration, longing, yearning. His need for your heart overshadows his want for your body. Your footsteps commingle with his in the quiet Los Angeles night.

Your house comes into view, the white picket fence surrounds the colonial two story that you fell in love with. “Dee! It’s a Jimmy Stewart house!” you excitedly shouted when he pulled into the driveway after you and Warren got the keys. He was so happy for you, and yet so jealous of Warren. Now he walks you up the walkway to your door. Now he punches the code in on the keypad and lets you in. Now he catches your arm as you almost trip over the rug. Now he holds you close as you giggle against his chest. Too drunk and bubbly, he wishes he could keep you this happy.

“Dee?” you tilt your head up to look at him.

“Yeah?” his eyes meet your bleary eyes.

“Is it okay that I’m this happy right now?” your voice drops, the shame in it slurs it even more.

“Any emotion you have at this exact moment is okay,” he reassures with a smile.

Your body jumps against his with a hiccup. “Oh my god, I’m so drunk!” you giggle.

“You are. You need some food and a glass of water.”

He’s only allowed himself a couple sips tonight, not wanting to get plastered and not be there to take care of you in case you need him. He can’t remember the last time he didn’t say no to a drink.

He settles you on the couch before heading to the kitchen to find you some sustenance to soak up your drunkenness.

Saltines, you always have saltines. You swear that cheddar cheese on saltines is the greatest food ever, he loves how passionate you are about such a ridiculous opinion. He fills the biggest glass with water from the fridge before adding a couple cubes of ice, he knows how much you love your ice water. He likes taking care of you, he likes trying his damnedest to make you feel better. He wishes he could take care of you every single day and prove to you just how special you are.

He almost drops the glass of water and sleeve of crackers when he walks into your living room.

You’re perched on a small island of carpet surrounded by records strewn across the floor. He was gone for only three minutes and you’ve already emptied two entire shelves.

—

You’re holding a single LP in your hands and staring down at it. Track three. The song that makes you think of Dieter.

“Can I play you a song?” you look up, your bloodshot eyes gaze determinedly at him.

The record player sizzles and crackles an ambient hum while awaiting his answer.

“Of course,” he says, walking over and lightly tapping a trail of records out of the way with his foot.

You tilt your head up and nod, before turning and putting the record on the turntable. Your hands tremble as you lower the needle into the groove for the track you want him to hear.

“It makes me think of… you,” you whisper as the song begins.

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

He settles across from you, cross legged, joining you on your island in the sea of scattered vinyl. Just you and Dee in the middle of your living room. It was only twenty-four hours ago he held you as you mourned the loss of your marriage.

Now, he sits quietly, elbows resting on his knees with his chin resting on his thumbs, listening to the song. The song that makes you think of him.

Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush

You’re too brave, the champagne has given you too much permission to bring up those long held desires for your husband’s best friend. If you had chosen him that night in that dive bar, would everything be different today?

His eyes are closed, oblivious to the turmoil that storms within your heart.

What must it be like To grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore I can't dare to dream about you anymore

He slowly nods along to the beat, the golden earring in his ear catches your eye again. Your fingers pulsate, the bare ring finger on your left hand allows you the permission. He’ll feel it now, he’ll understand, he’ll know of your desires.

You reach out, your shaky hand makes contact with his soft hair, and the earring. His eyes open wide and shocked at your touch.

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

“Oh, Sweets,” he whispers as the record crackles in between songs. His hand captures yours, pressing it against his head. “I–it’s—you know–”

“I know,” tears well in your eyes, “but I’ve known.”

He thickly gulps, swallowing down the words you long to hear him say. Instead, he moves your hand to rest against his heart.

“You are every–he never deserved you and I’m sorry I didn’t say it any sooner. I’m a coward–but–I’m going to do better for you. It’s— you have so much going on. I will be here for you, but I can’t do that to you… not now.”

“What if I want it? What if I’ve wanted it since… we met?”

He smirks. “I want it too–but not like this–not so soon.”

Your head drops, suddenly you feel quite sober. Embarrassment will do that.

“Sweets,” he whispers. “Look at me. You’re my Golden Girl. You have been. Always.”

Your eyes stare into his, his glassy brown eyes reflect yours, tears welling at the edge.

“That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Sweets. Full of life and warmth and delight.”

He gently pulls you closer, settling you on his lap, wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course you’d use my favorite movie to make me feel better,” you say, settling your head against his broad chest.

“I’ll do anything to make you feel better, Golden Girl.”

He holds you, gently rocking back and forth to the music until the record ends.

That night, you sleep in that same guest room bed, wrapped in Dieter’s strong arms, protected from the spiral of negativity you’ll soon wake up to.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter x you #dieter x reader #pedro pascal #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter the bubble #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sylvia-plaths-fig-pie · 4 months ago

Text

The night we met ♡ Sam Winchester

As a young girl it was drilled into you to never be alone in the woods.

As a woman the same sentiment was echoed.

But as a hunter, you found that that warning couldn't be one that you listened to. For the sole reason of what if there was a young girl or a woman in the woods at the mercy of the very things that you were trained to hunt. Trained to kill.

You'd been a hunter for as long as you could remember, grew up on the road with your mother. Never went to a real school or met anyone your age. It was just the two of you.

Untill it wasn't.

One particularly bad hunt with a nest of vamps left you to mourn the loss of your mother, and you were alone.

And that's how you stayed.

That's how you liked it.

Sure you came into contact with men, it was always men, who thought they knew more or were better than you. But you were still standing, and they, well they were not.

Life expectancy wasn't particularly high in your line of work, it would be a miracle of you made it to your 30th birthday. It seemed that hunters either died young or seemed to live forever. You didn't know what was worse.

That being said, the earlier option seemed very likely right about now.

You were alone in the woods, in a deep fog, after killing three vamps.

It was dark and there was probably other creatures lurking in the shadows, knowing your luck there would be a vamp nest right around the corner.

What made matters worse is that the exit wasn't exactly clear. You'd lost your map, couldn't hear a road, and (rather inconveniently) there was no sighn posts anywhere.

All you could do is walk in a straight line and hope that you were going in the right direction.

Hope.

You knew the irony.

Hope wasn't worth much. Hope was a damn sure way to get yourself killed. Hope was for young girls who wished on stars, but after learning the myths behind them you had lost faith even in the night sky.

Hope wasn't somthing you would bet your life on, yet you had no choice. It was better than a prayer you supposed.

Suddenly you became aware that your footsteps weren't the only noise in the darkness. There were voices.

Two distinct low voices. Voices of men. Why was it always men?

Familiar warnings rang through your head. You knew it wasn't just monesters you were to be afraid of, sometimes there are more sinister things that lurked in the darkness. Sometimes death wasn't the worst fait to face.

Your hand griped tighter around your knife, your free hand rested on top of your gun.

The voices stopped after a rush of feverish whispers.

You were going to do something stupid.

"Who's there?" You shouted, trying to sound as stoic as possible. If they didn't know you were there they sure did now, along with anything else lurking in the shadows. It really was a stupid decision, but making stupid decisions was part of the job description and it had gotten you this far, or at least you were still alive to tell the tale.

"I'm armed and you've lost the element of surprise so why don't you do us both a favour and stop hiding!" You shouted once more, slightly more urgently this time, even you could hear the slight panic in your own voice.

A tall figure emerged from the shadowy fog, arms raised in surrender. He was tall, almost abnormally so. 'Go for the legs if necessary' you mentally told yourself, just incase he want so friendly. He took slow, purposeful steps towards you in an attempt not to frighten you, you appreciated the gesture but it did nothing to settle your concern.

As he drew closer you could look him in the eyes. And that's exactly what you did. His eyes were Hazel, almost green with a touch of gold with a sense of softness and sensitivity about them. It felt like you were reading a book, being continually drawn in till you don't even rember who you were before you picked it up. Looking at him gave you a sense of comfort you hadn't expericed before on the road. It was nice. It was terrifying.

You cursed yourself for staring too long.

"Who are you?" You questioned, bringing the tip of your knife to rest against the base of his neck, the blood from the vamps, which still coated the blade, sticking slightly to his neck. He stopped in his tracks, his arms still up in surrender.

He looked unfazed, he looked as though he understood.

"My name is Sam winchester and I'm a-" he began but you cut him off, realisation hitting you.

"Winchester? Where's your brother?" You asked lowering your knife. You knew they hunted together, and you didn't want to be ambushed unwittingly my the other.

"Hi sweetheart." Another figure said as he sauntered out of the thick trees.

You rolled your eyes at his remark, making a menal note to stay clear of him if your able to.

You could tell that the one that approached you was the younger of the two, Sam as he introduced himself, the boy with deamon blood, or at least he was.

Meaning that the older of the two, and shorter, was Dean who, unsurprisingly, greeted you slightly condescendingly.

You turned your attention back to the brunette just as he began to speak.

"Wait how do you-?" He asked suddenly, slightly confused but also a hit of relief in his voice.

"Bobby is aways talking about you boys, I mean every hunter knows about you and your serious fuck ups, but Bobby keeps saying I should catch you boys and work with you or whatever but-" you rambled on before the younger winchester cut you off.

"You know Bobby?"

"Everyone knows Bobby."

"Wait so you must be-"

He was about to say your name before, who you assumed to be Dean, cut him off.

"Yes yes nice to meet you and whatever but Sammy and I have more pressing issues to attend to." He said with a wave of his hand ushering his brother over. Only Sam didn't move. His eyes were still fixed on yours. Your eyes still on him.

"I killed the three vamps if that's what you're doing out here." You commented, directing your answer to Sam.

He furrowed his brown in confusion.

"Three?" He asked, slightly taken aback.

"Yeah?" You responded, worry consuming you. You didn't miss one did you? You didn't make a mistake, did you? Everything was so matriciously planned out surely you couldn't have-

"We thought it was just a brother and a sister." Sam interrupted your thoughts, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. He clearly read the panic on your face, it was like he'd known you your whole life. His hand on you seemed to ground you, help you think, but it made you feel almost dizzy. It was an unfamiliar feeling, a feeling you weren't sure if you liked it or not. Regardless of the fact you relished in his touch as you composed yourself enough to explain what you knew.

"No they were hunting with their father, it seemed like this town was their first solo hunts, but it all lead back to him."

Sam finally turned away, his hand falling from your shoulder to look at Dean, in response he simply nodded his head to the side. There was some sort of unspoken communication between the two.

You felt left out. You longed to know what they were thinking. You specifically longed to know what the taller of the two was thinking.

"You're sure there's no more?" Sam asked as he turned to face you once more.

"I know that there are no more that are killing people in this area, that's good enough for me."

He just nodded in response.

"Well I guess that means we're done here," Dean commented clapping his hands together, "you crazy kids what to get out of here, maybe get some pie-"

"Shut up." You cut him off. It wasn't beacsue you were opposed to getting out of the woods, quite the opposite. But you heard something or at least thought you did.

"Sweetheart, I can tell you like my brother here more than me but there is no need to be-"

"Be quiet." You cut Dean off once more as you strained your ears again, you heard another rustling sound coming from near by. You gripped your knife tighter, your thumb drawing small circles on the hilt.

Turning in the spot to get a better gauge of your surroundings you clocked both of the winchesters expressions, they heard it aswell.

"You said it was a father and his two kids right?" Sam asked poised, now holding a large knife of his own.

"Yeah," you responded in a hushed whisper.

"Any sign of a mother?" He asked hurriedly, voicing the one thing you hoped not to be true.

Shit.

You hoped you would stumble onto another hunter, but you knew this time you wouldn't be so lucky. It had to be the mother and you cursed yourself for mot even considering her.

"Sam-" you began but were quickly cut off by a figure charging from the shadows.

She was fast, but worst of all she was smart. Thats probably why none of you picked up on her.

She launched herself at you first, the well known glint of vengeance alight in her eyes. "You killed them you bitch, you killed them all!" She sceamed in your face as you tried to bring your knife up to decapitate her.

But she was fast and her clawed hand dug into the wrist where your knife was Sam and Dean rushed to your side but they were quickly pushed away, falling on the ground too far away to reach you.

"Was this the blade that killed them?" She asked as you struggled against her, "didn't even have the decency to kill me aswell?"

Blood was gushing from your wrist from her claws as she twisted your own blade towards your chest.

From the corner of your eye you could see Sam pushing himself off the floor, disappearing into the fog.

Logically he was leaving you. He didn't know you. It was in his best intrest to get his brother and go, regroup and hunt tomorrow. You know logically that's what he was doing.

But something inside you told you otherwise. Something in your head was telling you that he was coming for you. That he would save you. That you just needed to stay alive for a few more moments.

It was more than hope that you had. You knew Sam was still there. You knew he wouldn't leave you.

You could feel your knife pressing against your rib cage, you were no where near as strong as her, you tried pushing back with all your might but it was no use.

You felt the blade as it began to draw blood. You felt the pain of the rapidly growing wound. You felt yourself slowing begin to loose grip on the world around you.

"Oh I am going to enjoy watching you die." The vamp said, her words venomous against your ear.

"Not as much as I'll enjoy this." As voice said from behind the vamp.

It was Sam.

Her was there, knife above his head as he swung it round.

The vamp was quick, but she wasn't quick enough to avoid the blow of Sam's knife as he swung it and swiftly decapitated her.

Blood splattered on you as you let out a sigh of relief. Sam was here.

Sam saved you.

Sam winchester saved your life.

You wanted to run to him but the corners of your vision blured. You were dizzy. You couldn't see. You couldn't stand.

"Sam..." you managed to whisper as the world fell from beneath your feet.

You felt two strong hands wrap around you and lower you slowly to the floor. Your head rested against something sturdy, something warm.

"Hey look at me I'm here," a voice said, it was muffled, distant almost.

"You need to just hang on for me, keep your eyes open okay?" The voice asked of you and you nodded or it at least felt like you did. Your vision was blurry but your eyes were open.

"Dean hurry!" Sam shouted, panicked. Sam was holding you. Your head was against Sam's chest and you were resting in his arms.

You tried to sit up but a sharp pain shot throught you. "Shit." You mumbled, you looked down and saw the knife still in you. It was deeper that what you first thought, but it can't have been that bad you could breathe fine, it missed your lung. You were fine, right?

"Sam?" It came out as more of a question, you didn't want to admit it but you were scared.

This is how your mother died in your arms, did she feel like this too? Was she scared? Did she know she was going to die, or did she foolishly think she would live?

"Hey, hey," Sam stroked your hair soothingly, "I'm right here love, I'm not going anywhere okay?" His touched seemed to ground you, soothe you.

"Dean is coming back with medical supply's, your going to be okay."

"Okay." You replied, all you could do was look at Sam. Even when he was blurry he was beautiful. Even when it felt like the world was going dark his eyes were bright as ever.

Thoes were the last things you rember seeing before the world went black, and you finally understood why so many people warned you not go out in the woods alone.

♡♡♡

Anybody want a part 2?

300 notes · View notes

laviefantasie · 10 months ago

Text

It Kinda Makes Sense

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: Los Feliz High School, the best school for future actors, singers, or any kind of artists. Home to the top couple formed by Luke Patterson, the perfect boy soon-to-be rockstar, and Y/N Y/L/N, troubled goth girl with the voice of an angel. A match make in heaven... or hell.

{ BASED ON VICTORIOUS’ JADE AND BECK }

| MASTERLIST |

If you asked Julie Molina what had been her first thought once she had stepped foot on Los Feliz she would say it had been... confusing.

The school was beautiful, with bright blue lockers decorated in unbelievable ways to adolescents dressed as bright blue bobcats. It was truly a sight.

The other thing that was a sight was the group of students that captured most of the other teenagers’ attention. Especially two teens who happened to be having what appeared to be a screaming battle. Screaming battle that ended once ice e/c eyes found Julie’s across the hallway.

“Lost something, shorty?” The unknown girl snaps, “MIND YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her words had caused the boy she had previously been fighting with to sigh in shame before looking her way.

Julie’s breath got stuck in her throat.

The boy was beautiful. Scratch that, he was handsome. Untaimed brown hair with wild hazel —maybe green— eyes, the boy could be anyone’s dream boy.

“Y/N, could you not?”

Julie’s brown eyes move to the girl glaring daggers at her only to have her heart skip a beat. The girl —Y/N apparently— was breathtakingly beautiful. She had wavy h/c hair with some dark blue streaks that matched her skin color perfectly and powerful e/c eyes.

Said girl rolls her eyes before glaring at Julie once more before focusing once again on the pretty boy besides her.

“Fine. I won’t. But this conversation is over”

“We haven’t even had the conversation!” The boy argues back.

“And it’s over!”

The dark-dressed girl stomps off leaving the boy groaning in frustration. Julie taking that opportunity to check out the rest of the group.

With her back pressed to a locker decorated with different colorful fabrics stood a light brown haired girl —could be dark blonde— with brown eyes dressed in a beautiful pink dress and black heels to match. She seemed to be debating whether to follow her friend or staying still.

Besides her was a dark-haired boy with sky blue eyes standing out thanks to his pale skin. He was wearing a leather jacket on top of a white shirt, with a red flannel tied on his waist, and black jeans. His eyes glued to the floor.

Lastly, there was the blond boy with a pink hoodie and blue —sometimes green— eyes. He seemed to be pretty used to what had just happened.

The blond one is the one who noticed her still staring at them, offering a sweet smile before walking towards her and stretching his hand.

“Hi, I’m Alex. I’ve never seen you before”

She grabs his hand with a small smile, “Julie. I’m new”

Her name seems to snap the leather jacket boy from his trance, his bright blue eyes soon finding hers with a big smile adorning his features.

“You’re the girl that sang for Flynn on the school’s talent show! I’m Reggie”

Julie blushes as soon as he speaks, everyone’s eyes staring at her with realization and a little of awe.

“Flynn is my best friend, I just wanted to help her out”

“Well, it worked for you. You got a scholarship” pretty boy adds, “I’m Luke”

Julie cannot help the way her smile grows as soon as he smirks at her. He seriously had to be the most gorgeous boy she had ever seen.

The pretty light brown haired girl with the pink dress joins her friends in greeting her, Julie blushing under the vibrant smile she gives her.

“Hi! I’m Carrie”

Julie goes to grab her hand but the girl —Carrie— pulls her in for a hug. The gesture has Julie’s shoulders tensing, she hadn’t willingly hug anyone after her mother’s death a few months ago, but she soon forced herself to relax.

This was a new start. No pity stares or whispers directed at her.

“It’s nice to meet you guys”

After that meeting the curly-haired girl became a part of their weird group of friends. Soon learning that the beauty ice queen dressed in all black was Y/N Y/L/N, Los Feliz High School’s prodigy and Luke’s girlfriend.

It was no secret that the girl was talented, but she was as talented as scary. Julie hadn’t listened too much of everyone’s warnings, she was sure it was all because of how she dressed and acted and not at all for the kind of person she truly was.

Boy, was she wrong.

She learned that the hard way after getting a role on a play Y/N wanted. A role that played Luke’s romantic interest.

She had ended up one rehearsal with hot coffee thrown at her and icy e/c eyes glaring daggers at her with a sweet —fake— smile. Luke’s apologies were not enough to calm the humiliation Julie felt.

And even if the brown-haired latina wasn’t fond of vengeance, she couldn’t stop herself. And if she kissed Luke longer than necessary after sending a wink the goth girl’s way, it was a mere coincidence.

A coincidence that resulted in her having to watch her back every time she stepped on school’s property.

But things did get better with time and Julie and Y/N became kinda friends. At least enough for Y/N to tolerate Julie and for Julie to not be afraid to sit close to the scissors fanatic.

They were okay. As okay as someone could be with the girl who kissed the other’s boyfriend. But okay nevertheless.

But the more time she spent at the school and the closer she got to all of them, the more she doubted the health of Luke’s and Y/N’s relationship. Today being one of those days.

“What are you saying?!”

“I’m just saying, what kind of friend sends you eight messages in a lapse of five minutes?!”

As soon as the words leave the screaming girl’s mouth, Luke’s phone rings signaling the arrival of another text message making Y/N’s glare darken.

“Nine” she growls.

“You don’t even know if it’s from her!”

Y/N glares at him in disbelief, “Okay! Then prove me wrong!”

With a scoff, Luke gets his phone out before checking the recipient of the message only to let out a sigh that proves his girlfriend right.

“Nine?”

He nods in defeat, “Nine. B-but this is ridiculous! She is my FRIEND”

“How naive are you?!”

The couple fights for a couple more minutes before Luke’s gaze finds Julie in front of her butterfly and music doodles decorated locker. The rockstar grabbing his girl’s hand before tugging her towards the latina.

“Julie!”

Her brown eyes find the couple, widening when they see the coldness in Y/N’s eyes before trying to make a run for it.

She doesn’t make it far as Luke’s hand grabs a hold of her wrist keeping her in place.

“We need your help”

“No, we don’t” Y/N argues back.

“YES, we do”

Julie looks at her surroundings looking for a way to get out of there but finding nothing. Where was Alex when she needed him?

“Guys, I really don’t want to be in the middle of whatever this is”

She tries to leave but once again Luke pulls her back, “Too late. If you were my girlfriend—”

“HA! What a perfect way to start”

Luke glares at his girlfriend for the interruption before turning towards Julie once again, failing to notice how uncomfortable the situation was making the latina.

Somehow she was once again in between them, although this time it wasn’t her fault.

“If you were my girlfriend” he starts again, “Would it bother you if I was friends with Kayla?”

“Who cares what she thinks?” / “Honestly, it would”

Both girls speak simultaneously. Y/N’ eyes widening as soon as the Latina’s words register, grabbing a hold of the girl’s shoulders to keep her in place.

“I care what she says” Y/N smiles.

“I want to leave” Julie adds before trying to move only for Y/N’s hold to tighten.

“You stay” she barks.

The argument wasn’t unlike many others, Y/N’s temper wasn’t the best and that meant she sometimes got too jealous. It didn’t help that Luke Patterson didn’t know when to say no nor know the difference between friendly and flirty.

It was just another Luke and Y/N argument, nothing to worry about. Except it was different. Julie realized that as soon as Y/N let go of her and started walking away.

“We’re DONE”

The words had everyone in the hallway quiet down and stare at the ‘it’ couple. Eyes settled on Luke’s surprised reaction and Y/N’s tensed body.

“Come on” Luke voices “You’re being ridiculous”

“What do you care?!” She screams back before starting to leave, “You’re not my boyfriend anymore”

Word around the school traveled fast and soon girls were following Luke around begging for his attention, much to his annoyance.

On the other hand, every time a guy tried to get near Y/N she would turn her icy glare at them and have them running away in seconds.

It was a weird and new situation. Especially at lunch. It was weird seeing the former couple sitting on opposite sides of the table instead of at the side of the other with Luke’s arm resting on Y/N’s shoulders.

It was new territory to have Luke inevitably —as a habit— reach for Y/N only to have her snap at him to not touch her, just as she did to everyone else.

But that was what they had to deal with for two weeks.

Two weeks is how long it took for Y/N to ask Luke to take her back only to have him reject her. Two weeks that made Y/N go crying to Julie’s house, the only one of her friends —not really her friend— whose opinion mattered much less than the others.

“What are you doing in my house?” Is the first thing that Julie says as she sees the other girl.

Y/N gets into the house without waiting for an invitation before starting to sob, Julie standing there in panic as she sees the cold hearted teenager break down.

The latina tries to go for a hug only to be pushed back.

“I need your help”

A long talk later, Y/N convinced the Molina girl to help her get Luke back. Somehow, Julie had the fantastic idea that she had to change.

Y/N Y/L/N was a time bomb. Always ready to explode without a care on who she takes down. That had to change.

Julie realized then that the girl was truly in love with Luke. Y/N was letting her —Julie Molina— see her cry her eyes out just to ask for help to get him back. She was letting Julie give her a makeover just to get him back.

She was truly in love.

The next day at school everyone stared wide-eyed at the beauty that was Y/N Y/L/N in a colorful outfit and a wide smile —though it was a fake one—.

Everyone except Luke. The brunette boy stared at his former girlfriend with furrowed eyebrows not liking the change, his expression not changing even when Alex and Reggie complimented her.

He also couldn’t help the glares he sent any boy who came to flirt with her, his glares darkening every time she flirted back. This was not his girl and he knew whose fault it was.

His now dark green eyes find Julie’s proud smile across the hall and soon he stomps towards her, grabbing her by the arm before taking her to the janitor’s closet.

“What did you do to Y/N?”

Julie furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she sees the angry look the guitarist is giving her, but soon smirks as she confuses it with jealousy.

“What? Jealous of the attention she is receiving?”

“Actually, I’m mad that she is receiving the attention for dressing like a Barbie” he argues back, “That is not her, that is not the girl I love”

Julie’s eyes widen after the boy’s words before he storms off, leaving her with an unexpected knowledge.

The latina goes to look for Y/N as soon as she snaps out of her trance only to find said girl in the bathroom back in her black clothes while doing her dark eyeshadow.

“Wha—ho—I’m confused”

“Being nice sucks” she answers as she finishes her makeup, “Thanks for the help but, if I can be honest, I was better without it”

“Bu— and Luke?”

“If he ever wants to get back together it has to be with me, the real me. Not a version of me dressed in awfully ridiculous clothes”

“Those were my clothes”

“Exactly my point”

With that Y/N walks out of the bathroom ignoring the looks that followed her figure, leaving Julie once again at loss of words.

A week after, Luke and Y/N were back together and closer than ever. But the honeymoon phase faded and the fights started once again. But Julie learned to see the beauty in their arguments.

Every argument got Luke out of his perfectly peaceful demeanor and got him to voice his thoughts out more, it helped him stand up more for himself. And every argument showed the depth of Y/N’s feelings for the guitarist, it showed how much she cared.

It’s just that sometimes they didn’t know when to stop arguing.

Of course now Julie wasn’t blind to their little moments. The way Y/N always stopped when Luke asked her to or how Luke always kissed the girl’s temple sweetly.

Or how when Bobby —Sunset Curve’s (which was the boys’ band) rhythm guitarist (who she hadn’t met)— left the boys, it was Y/N who approached the curly-haired girl thinking she was the perfect fit for the remake of the band.

It was Y/N, who barely tolerated her, who adviced them to change the band’s name as they changed their sound slightly. Julie and the Phantoms, had been her idea after the boys ghosted the girls on the group chat.

Julie knew the only reason why Y/N had done that was because she knew how much the band meant to Luke.

She wasn’t blind to how Luke would only ever snap when it was to protect Y/N, even if he knew she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. Or how he always bought a hot chocolate with his coffee for her.

With time, Julie realized it kinda made sense why they were together even when she couldn’t quite completely understand it.

But soon the fights started again, this time worst than ever. It was different because instead of bickering until one gave in, neither seemed interested enough in fighting.

It worried all of them because their fights —as annoying as they sometimes were— showed how much each cared. Now it seemed they didn’t.

To be completely fair, Julie understood if anyone outside their group saw the relationship as toxic. She had seen it as toxic once. But it just made sense in a weird way. It just made sense for the kind of people they were, they complemented one another.

But this time the fights were just too much. That’s why when the traditional friend group game night happen, Y/N and Luke weren’t invited.

Carrie —Y/N’s undoubted best friend— was sick of fainting every time she got stuck in the middle, the innocent and kind girl couldn’t take the stress.

Reggie, the boyish teenager with the purest heart ever, didn’t want to cry anymore. He couldn’t handle the screaming and that’s all the couple did.

Alex, on the other hand, was tired of having to grab his asthma medicine every time they appeared. The fights making him get too anxious which always caused him a panic attack which led to his inability to breathe which led to an asthma attack.

No one could take it anymore.

So they decided to have an evening free of them, one well deserved. But it didn’t work as planned as the couple stormed into Julie’s home half an hour after everyone started playing Monopoly.

“See! Told you they’d be here”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “So? What does it matter if they’re at dumbass’ house?”

Julie rolls her eyes at the insult but nevertheless listens closely to the couple, all her friends groaning in annoyance at the interruption.

“It matters because our friends, our best friends, don’t want to be near us anymore!” He argues “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“Not really” she shrugs, “Should it? Wait... does it bother you?”

“It does! They’re our best friends and they can’t stand us”

Y/N crosses her arms across her chest before turning to glare at their friends, Carrie hiding under the table with a shriek as soon as she sees her best friend gaze at her.

Seeing the icy glare that the girl throws at them, Reggie shakily takes a deep breath before standing up and looking at them with annoyance.

“Yes! We can’t stand either of you!” He shouts, “We wanted a day free of you both because all you ever do is fight! And, somehow, you always seem to drag us to the middle of it. We’re tired!”

As soon as Reggie finishes, the dark-haired boy sits down with a huff. His shoulders feeling less tense as he let out his emotions.

The couple watched their best friends with mixed feelings, neither expecting the outburst and much less from Reggie. Reggie who had always been one to avoid conflict.

“I cannot believe this” Luke sighs “Reggie snapped at us. REGGIE”

“This is you fault!” She accuses “How hard is it to just agree with me?!”

“BUT I DON’T AGREE WITH YOU”

“BECAUSE YOU ARE WRONG”

The four friends sighed in defeat as they listened to the couple bicker once more with one another, how had a fun night turned to a nightmare all of a sudden?

They silently decided to just stay in their seats waiting for the couple to stop the nonsense as they always did.

“WHAT BOTHERS YOU SO MUCH?!”

“THAT I AM NOT HAPPY WITH OUR RELATIONSHIP!”

The words cut through Y/N’s strong façade in a second, the glare faltering as Luke’s eyes widen after realizing what he had said.

No one dared move nor say anything. Everyone had their eyes on the couple that seemed to be coming to terms with how bad the situation had become.

“Fine” she sighs in defeat “You have a choice. I’m walking out that door and counting to ten, if you’re not out before I finish we are DONE”

Luke sighs frustrated as he watches her leave, the door closing with a thud behind her.

“One”

He stays still on his place with his fists clenching as he fights the urge to run to her and scream at her what was the reason for this ultimatum.

“Two”

Luke knows he needs to calm down. He has to. He had to if he wanted to be able to go after her without fighting as soon as he saw her.

“Three”

Y/N counted behind the door, staring at it with nerves as she asks herself how he could take so long to come after her. What was taking him so long to decide that she was worth going after?

“Four”

The four friends behind Luke stare with wide eyes as they try to figure out what is it that the brunette is going to do.

They want him to go after her. Carrie, Reggie, and Alex more than Julie. The three best friends had been there throughout all the relationship. They had seen Luke be the only one brave enough to pursue the cruel beauty. They had seen Y/N being the only one that cared more about Luke’s heart than his looks.

They knew how much this relationship was worth. Even with all the fights, they knew the love the two had for one another was deeper than any outsider could understand at first sight.

He had to go after her.

“Five”

Luke sighs looking towards his friends once before deciding what he wants to do. He can’t lose her, no matter how much they fight.

No one understood him like she did. No one cared enough to tell him when he was wrong or to fight with him until he fought for what he wanted.

“Six”

Y/N feels her eyes widen as she realizes how much time he is taking. It should’ve been easy, he shouldn’t have even let her count to three.

He should’ve opened the door the second she closed it.

“Seven”

Sighing, Luke starts slowly making his way towards the door. His best friends sighing in relief as they see him do it.

Julie, though, watches closely as the boy’s shoulders tense the closer he gets.

“Eight”

Carrie furrows her eyebrows once she sees Luke starting to halt in his steps. She knew Y/N better than anyone, Y/N had been the only one willing to take the ‘obnoxious naive superstar’s daughter’ under her wing and be completely honest with her.

She knows better than anyone that if Luke lets her walk away just like her father let her mother walk away with her, that’ll break her.

“Nine”

Luke grabs a hold of the handle but for some reason he can’t bring himself to turn it and open the door.

Something feels wrong about opening it, almost as wrong as it feels to not open it.

He is scared of what it means if he opens it, or how easily he gives in. Something had to change. Maybe he needed to let her walk away, Y/N always came back. She would go to his house in the middle of the night and they would fix everything.

It would be okay, they would be okay. They always were. This was no difference, they just needed some time to think, to breathe.

So he doesn’t turn the knob.

“Ten”

Y/N feels her heart stop the moment she screams the last number. She feels her heart sink to her stomach as a feeling of abandonment settles in her.

She feels her skin pale and soon reaches for the knob, but she doesn’t allow herself to touch it. He made his choice.

So with every ounce of strength she could find within her, Y/N turns around and makes her way to her car knowing that he could catch a ride with Alex. The tears started accumulating in her e/c eyes but she didn’t let them fall.

Y/N Y/L/N didn’t cry. She wasn’t about to start... at least not in a place where someone could see her.

Inside the Molina’s household, the best friends stare at Luke in disbelief, neither knowing what to say or do now. The Patterson boy makes the decision for them.

“Let’s play some Monopoly”

The statement has everyone else following his movements in silence, knowing better than to act against him.

Carrie, though, is the one that finally breaks the silence as she lets out a quiet sob. She was angry, mainly at herself for not being able to go after her best friend. But she knew better. Y/N was a person who protected her feelings more than anything else, she was in pain and she wouldn’t let it out if someone was watching her. So Carrie had to stay on her seat even if she wanted to run after her.

“You hurt her” whispered the sweet teenager, “I trusted you, she trusted you, with her heart and you hurt it”

It was at that moment, with Carrie’s pretty brown eyes filled with tears as she glared at him with all her willpower, that Luke realized how wrong he had been. He thought it would be okay but Carrie’s reaction proved him wrong.

Carrie showed him that this time was different from the others. If the sweet girl willingly glared at him with so much betrayal than it meant that Y/N wasn’t gonna go to his house at midnight.

It meant he had lost her.

Still, as Luke realized that, he stayed on his seat staring intently at the fake money in his hands. He couldn’t change what he had done.

“Let’s start”

The following weeks were a pain for the group of friends. The group had to divide their time between the former couple and it was exhausting.

But things got better and after a couple of months Y/N and Luke started sitting at the same table with their friends once again. It brought some relief to the group.

The hurt from the breakup still pained them though. Y/N was not used to watching so many girls flirt with Luke and watching him flirt back, and Luke was not used to Y/N moving away from his touch while also enjoying the way some guys’ eyes linger on her figure.

Things had changed and it pained them both, but they were finally okay. As okay as they could be at least.

They still loved each other, but they became good at pretending. Soon three months became five and five became seven. And things were okay, they were friends again without any awkwardness surrounding the group.

Still, Julie was sure she wasn’t the only one who noticed the love they still had for the other. It was the little things. The way their eyes lingered on the other when they thought no one was looking, the smiles they faked to play the part; all signs of how much they still loved the other. Even after everything.

So it did come as a surprised when Y/N announced she had a date.

Apparently some senior that participated on the play with her had the balls to ask her out. And she said yes.

While everyone congratulated the mean girl, Luke made some excuse to leave the table while everyone tried to stop themselves from asking the questions that they new neither of the former couple wanted to answer.

‘Are you okay?’ ‘Do you still love her/him?’

Neither wanted to be asked that because the answers broke them. They weren’t okay. They still were in love with one another.

They were afraid they would never stop being in love with the other.

But neither had to say it. All their friends knew it, because they knew them. That’s why no one was surprised when Julie and the Phantoms was saved by Y/N on their concert at a cafe the night of her date.

The girl had screamed at them for keeping the presentation a secret, the band excusing themselves with the thought of not wanting her to miss her date —although they didn’t want to give her the opportunity to bring her date with her to their concert since that would break Luke.

Either way, they boys’ amps had stopped working and in a panic Julie had texted Carrie. Carrie had been helping Y/N get ready and said girl had grabbed her amps and drove them both to the small cafe.

Date completely forgotten without a care.

“You didn’t have to miss your date for this” Luke tells her softly.

She looks at him as if he had lost his mind, “This is your band, Patterson”

Luke’s heart feels heavy in his chest as he realizes the depth behind her words. This was his band and that meant it meant something to her. It meant as much to her as it did to him because it was his.

The brunette boy feels a smile overtake his features along with a small blush, wanting nothing more than to kiss her right there.

But he didn’t. Instead he kissed her cheek.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and soon her perfect skin started acquiring a deep scarlet, which she hid by hurrying Carrie to go find some seats.

If that night Luke sang looking at her too often, then damn him. Who could blame him? Y/N had just giving him more reasons to love her.

After that neither tried to date again. They were silently pining after one another, too afraid to make a move considering the way things ended between them.

But Julie grew tired of it and soon started bugging them to date other people if they weren’t going to date one another.

That’s why when Luke was rejecting Kayla’s date, Julie intervened.

“Sorry, Kayla” he apologizes, “I have rehearsal with the band”

“No, we don’t” Julie smiles “Actually, why don’t you guys come to the concert the school is holding together?”

Luke glared at the talented singer before fake smiling towards the Hawaiian beauty who agreed instantly.

Though once Kayla is out sight, Luke grabs Julie’s arm and pulls her towards the janitor’s closet where he glares at her with dark green eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“You need to date! Get out there, mingle a little”

He shakes his head, “When Y/N finds out about this she’ll despise me”

Julie frowns with confusion, “No, she won’t. She has moved on, you should too”

Luke shakes his head in disbelief making Julie scoff before getting her phone out.

“What are you doing?”

She shushes him before putting her phone on speaker, making Luke’s eyes widen once he sees the called ID being the one of his ex.

He would never voice out loud the way his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m blocking you”, came her cold voice as soon as the call is picked up.

“Wait—Y/N! Don’t hang up!”

A groan is heard making Luke involuntarily smile.

“You have five seconds to tell me what the heck you want before I block you”

“Okay, look, I’m here with Beck—“

“Julie, don’t”

“He’s going with Kayla to the school’s concert, as a date” Julie continues “Just wanted to make sure that’s okay with you”

There’s a ten seconds silence through the line. Ten seconds in which Julie realizes that maybe she was wrong, that maybe she should’ve minded her own business. For so long she had found annoyance in the ways she always ended up in the middle of their problems and here she was, butting in herself.

Ten seconds in which Luke panics. Realizing that he is also awaiting the answer anxiously. There are two ways this could go: Y/N could snap, voicing loudly how she didn’t give a damn, or she could scream asking for answers to questions she shouldn’t have and bad-mouthing Kayla. Both were common in their past. It was a way to showed she cared, that she was jealous and that she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. Both answers would give him the last drop of hope he needed to do something about what he felt towards her.

But when the ten seconds came to an end, neither got an answer they expected from the impulsive ice queen.

“We’re not dating” she reminded them in a voice too soft to be recognized as hers, “We haven’t been for a long time. You don’t have to make sure if it’s okay with me”

“What?”, Luke asks softly, “Y/N, I…”

“I’m being serious right now, Luke”, she continues, “I do appreciate your concern but it’s none of my business who you date”

Silence. Neither Julie nor Luke know what to say or do next. Neither expected the mature response from the H/C haired beauty. Neither knew if they liked it.

“Well, if that was all, don’t call me again”

And she hung up.

Julie stared at her phone in disbelief, but what did she expect? Was she secretly hoping that Y/N would finally snap and this agonizing secret mutual pining they were all forced to endure would finally end? What exactly had she expected to achieve from this?

Definitely not the way Luke was looking right now.

The guitarist looked completely heartbroken and hopeless. The fire that normally resided in his eyes had ceased to exist. And as he looked at one of his best friends while holding tightly onto his backpack’s strap, all that could shine through his eyes was a deep feeling of betrayal.

“I…”

“You should’ve stayed out of it”, he voiced numbly “She doesn’t despise me. It’s worst, she doesn’t care at all”

“Luke…”

“I’ll go on that stupid date, just bug out, will you?”

The days before the concert were painful for every single one of them on their friend group. It was definitely a weird sight to see Luke look so out of it and Y/N so unbothered by it. It was the first time since their break up that their friends doubted the possibility of them ever finding their way back to each other.

When they finally had the courage to ask Luke what was going on, the guitarist told them he had a date with his eyes glued to Y/N body. He was waiting for a reaction, no matter how small it was. Anything really.

But she gave nothing away.

All she did to answer their friends’ curious and astonished gazes was shrug her shoulders and voice she was just trying to finish her song for the school’s concert.

The unbothered air that surrounded her was heartbreaking for everyone around her. It was as if she was truly okay either letting go of Luke and their history. As if she had already given up on them. They couldn’t blame her, it had been a long time since they last were together, but that didn’t change the fact that they all truly believed they were meant to be together and that it was unsettling to see it come to a real end.

Especially by the look on Luke’s eyes. His face may have remained neutral and unfaltering but his eyes could never deceive from his true feelings. He was hurt.

And being hurt but not wanting to show it meant he tried to keep himself as busy as he could until the school’s concert, avoiding all his friends and Y/N especially. And when the time to meet up with Kayla came, Luke had to pretend to be invested in everything she told him; even if most things were just compliments to suck up to him, agreeing to every little thing he said. He didn’t even know if anything that she actually told him was her actual real opinion or if she was just trying that hard to agree with everything he said to be reciprocated.

He didn’t even know anything about who she was and they had been talking for the hour that concert had already been going on.

Favorite song? She would ask his first before saying how much she also loved it. Methods of acting that they found more suitable? She would giggle and twirl her hair waiting for him to answer before giving what she would fake is her own opinion.

It was tiring.

Where was her own fire? Why didn’t she fight back when he disagreed with something she said? Why didn’t she try to show him why she was passionate about it instead of just nodding and giving in?

Why was she making it so easy?

He didn’t like it. He was hating it actually. So he took the first chance he could, excusing himself by saying he needed to refill his drink, to run for it.

That’s how Julie found him after helping the boys set up the instruments for Y/N’s set, which was up next.

“Ooohh, hello, loverboy” she teased him, “Where is your lovely lady of the night?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care”

Julie blinks, surprised by his answer, before grabbing a cup and filling it with the first soda she saw.

“Date not going well?”

“It’s a disaster” he scoffs, “She’s just agreeing with everything I say”

Julie nods, “Isn’t that a good thing, though? Means you have things in common”

“Not really. Not if I don’t know if that is truly what she thinks” he shakes his head “Feels like she’s just trying to agree to everything I say”

“Well, it’s the first date, you know” she sighs, “She probably doesn’t want to fight you on it. Next one will be better”

He shakes his head, “There won’t be a next one”

“WHAT?!”

Luke drinks from his cup while Julie starts stumbling upon her words after what he said. She couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t even gonna give it a chance? The date wasn’t even over yet.

“I think I learned something about myself”

Julie scoffs, “That you’re ungrateful to your friend who tried to help you by fixing you up with a cute girl?!”

“No, I just…” he sighs “I think I kind of like to date a girl who, you know… fights back”

Julie looks at him dumbfounded, not understanding his point.

“I mean a girl who has strong opinions” he continues, “you know? A big mouth”

“Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Cause it’s not easy. Easy is boring”

Julie stares for a good minute before sighing. It kinda made sense. At the end of the day, love was all about growth. Growth didn’t exist without different opinions and dialogues that fought each ideal. It was all about pushing each other to become your very best. How could you do that without bumps along the way?

“Okay…” she sighs, taking a sip of her drink, “Then, who’s not boring?”

Their conversation is cut short by Reggie’s voice on the stage, he had been assigned as the concert’s host and had been doing a magnificent job all night.

“Okay, people! Let’s hear things up with F/N L/N! Let’s go!”

Reggie soon goes to grab the bass as Alex appears behind the drums. Other two students grabbing the guitar and keyboard left.

Luke and Julie take a step closer, that way they have a better view of the stage.

The guitar starts playing the intro as Y/N walks into stage in a cute short black goth dress with fisher nets and combat boots, her hair’s normal blue streaks a dark purple this night. Shortly after she makes her way to the microphone stand the drums join the melody.

And soon her melodious and angelic raspy voice sounds through the place.

“You think you know me

But you don't know me

You think you own me

But you can't control me”

As if it was destined to be, the lyrics bring light to the situation at hand.

There was a reason why Luke and Y/N always ended up gravitating towards one another despite all the horrible fights they endured with each other.

“You look at me and there's just one thing that you see

So listen to me

Listen to me”

Julie feels like smacking herself across the face. The truth was so obvious that she feels dumb to have been so oblivious to it.

“You push me back

I push you back

Harder, harder

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder, L-L-L-L-Louder”

Luke Patterson was probably one of the most carefree and easy going people she had ever met. He was always carrying this certain peaceful atmosphere around him. He needed someone or something to push him to thrive, to become better than he already was. To fight for his ideals and his dreams. It wasn’t enough to just want them to happen, he had to make them happen and his calm self usually hid from conflict.

F/N L/N was probably the most loud and impulsive person Julie had ever met. Never once had she silenced her opinions, always speaking the truth no matter how cruel it could be. She wasn’t someone who hid from a fight and whenever she wanted something she never stopped until she got it. She needed someone who could stop her when she was going to far, someone to calm the fire that never cease to light up inside of her.

“I'm dangerous so I'm warning you

But you're not afraid of me

And I can't convince you

You don't know me”

There was not one person in the whole world that was meant to be with the other but themselves. They pushed each other, for better and worst. They had the possibility of being the best and the worst thing that could happen to the other.

And as the song keeps going, the truth becomes blinding.

“And the longer that you stay, the ice is melting

And the pain feels okay, it feels okay (hey)”

Luke’s eyes never once stray away from the powerful force that is Y/N as she sings. Her voice loud and powerful as raspy and angelic. His heart beats to the song’s rhythm, unveiling a silent truth that he had been trying so hard to push to the bottom of his being, to afraid of what it truly meant. To afraid of it being to late to mean it.

“You push me back

I push you back

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder”

Her e/c cold gaze meets his green eyes and suddenly it seems all the iciness in it melts away. As if only his gaze could have that power over her. As if only he was allowed to see the true kind soul hidden behind the cold walls she had taken so long to build around herself.

“You push me back

I push you back

Harder harder

You scream at me

I scream at you

Louder, L-L-L-L-Louder”

And he knows right there and then, as does Julie and his friends, that it is her. It has always been her. It will always be her.

It is Y/N who pushes him until he finally snaps. It is Y/N who fights for him whenever he doesn’t find the will to do so. It is Y/N who loves him so much that she fights to control her impulses whenever he asks her to.

It had always been her and he had been a fool to ever let her walk away without giving a fight. Especially when she had never stopped fighting.

“I'm dangerous so I'm warning you

But you're not afraid of me

And I can't convince you

And I don't have to I think you know me”

Their relationship was flawed. Maybe even toxic. But it was magical. It was powerful and passionate. And it was real.

Never had they ever been afraid to voice their opinions to the other, even fighting back when they disagreed; yet never settling. Never had they ever been afraid to be vulnerable by showing each other how much they truly cared for one another. Never had they ever stopped loving each other.

The applause make Luke blink out of his daze and realize all this time he had been staring right at Y/N. And she had been staring back.

She offers him a soft smile that to anyone else would look like her usual smirk, but he knew better. He had always known better. And that’s how he knows she is fighting, one last time, for him. She has ignited the flame and it is leaving it to him to turn it off once and for all or help it grow as fierce and wild as it can.

Julie smiles softly, “So, Luke… who’s not boring?”

And he smiles.

Step by step he gets closer to the stage where Y/N is still on, nodding at the standing ovation that is applauding her. Only taking her eyes her eyes off the public once he makes it right at her side.

Everyone’s eyes are on them. Silence.

They stand there for a minute just staring at each other. Y/N with her hand folded in front of her and Luke with both his hands buried in his jean’s pockets.

“I’ve missed you” he finally voices.

She shrugs, acting indifferent, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Two seconds of silence follow in which Luke pauses to admire her challenging e/c gaze, before taking enough steps to be face-to-face with her. His hand leave the safety of his pockets and find their way to the warm of her cheeks before pulling her towards him, lips meeting anxiously.

And it was like a weight was lifted of their chests, letting them finally breathe without struggle.

No matter the fights, the misunderstandings, disagreements or the toxicity. They would always find their way back to each other because of the truth and purity of their love, which was real. Love was never meant to be perfect but it is meant to keep the other grounded, to push the other to grow.

And that’s what always brought Luke and Y/N back. It’s what always would bring them back.

#sunset curve #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson x oc #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #jatp #luke jatp #charlie gillespie #Spotify

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cr34tvr3 · 1 month ago

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My headcanons for creepy pastas

I needed to make this for a quotev quiz. It only has Jeff, Toby, Ben, EJ, Masky and Hoodie, because those are the results of the quiz, but I do have some of the other creepy pastas. If you want to see them ask and I'll post them.

Jeff-

-Blue eyes, shoulder lengths black hair, extremely pale, in my version he does have eyelids, because if he didn’t he’d be blind by now, he re-cuts his smile every time it starts healing.

-Before the accident he was really emo

-I’m sure you can imagine

-Did not kill Liu, only attempted to, he was very close with his brother

-He’s very insane, but will sometimes have short spells of sanity, in which he’ll deeply regret what he did to his brother, but no one else, if they’ve never done anything for him, he doesn’t care about them

-His parents weren’t the nicest, they weren’t very loving, and if he or Liu did something wrong they’d get beaten, locked in their room or denied meals. His mother was manipulative and would gaslight them, Jeff especially, their father would go along with anything she said

-Most of the time violent, bloodthirsty and sadistic, you can imagine

-With you he’s different, more calculating, he can’t stand your innocence and purity, and he wants to ruin it

-He learned how to mess with people’s minds from how his mother treated him, he’ll be nice and sweet, and give you kisses and be all gentle, then he’ll punish you for some random thing

-He does love you, in his own twisted way, but he doesn’t really care how you feel, as long as you’re completely dependent on him

-He generally dislikes being touches, but if you give him a kiss, or hold his hand or something he’ll be pleased

Toby-

-Hazel eyes, pale, but sickly pale, he doesn’t go out in the day a lot, messy brown hair, he still chews his fingers, so they’re almost always bandaged

-He’s very closed off and cold with most people

-Has dark sense of humour, can be pretty obnoxious when he’s annoyed

-He likes nature, especially forests, he’ll often spend the night alone outside

-He doesn’t want to kill anyone innocent, but he obeys Slenderman because he saved him, but he has no problem with killing people he doesn’t like

-Unstable

-He loves you more than anything, he’ll do anything to make sure you aren’t hurt, even if it means tying you up and keeping you away from the world

-Brings you small gifts, like pinecones and pretty rocks

-He’ll never physically hurt you on purpose, he doesn’t want to be like his father, it hurts him when he sees you in pain

-Very touch starved, if you give him physical affection. And only you, mind, he’ll be so happy

-He wants to have kids with you

Ben-

-His real form, blond hair, red eyes, but not bleeding, Link outfit, the form he likes to be in, blond hair, blue/green eyes, normal clothes

-Definitely bi

-Crush on Link

-He has mostly the mind of an adult, even though his true form is a 12 year old, he likes to manifest in the form of a 16-19 year old, depending on who he’s with

-LOVES video games, all, not just Legend of Zelda

-Weeb, I don’t know, I can just see it

-He’s manipulative, and will use blackmail and threats to control you

-He will make sure you’re always in the exact state he wants

-He’ll punish you by electrocuting you, appearing in your house and tying you up, then doing things to you, and similar, if you do anything that displeases him

-Horny most of the time, he want you to touch him a lot

-If he’s in a good mood, he’ll get you to play video games with him, and punish you if you’re too bad

EJ-

-Brown hair, fluffy, REALLY tall, like 7’2, claws on his hands, he barely takes off his mask and will only do it if he’s eating or biting you or similar, he looks pretty much human under it, escort his tongues, his teeth are sharp and his skin is almost grey

-He’s angry

-At himself, at everything really, he thinks what happened to him was so UNFAIR

-He doesn’t want to love anyone

-He hates himself, thinks he’s hideous and demonic

-Will hurt you and scare you and try and make you break because he feels like it

-Won’t feel bad

-Really possessive though

-Will probably rape you at some point

Masky-

-Looks like he does in Marble Hornets

-Introverted, sarcastic, depressed, you know what I mean

-Hates himself

-Hates The Operator with passion, but is forced to obey him

-Doesn’t want to kill anyone

-He really does care about you, and feels bad whenever you’re upset

-Does small things for you, hoping you’ll notice

-Plans to one day reveal himself to you, whether he’s allowed or not

-Seriously not a dick, people who makes him like that anger me

-Addicted to cigarettes

-Smokes weed

-Awful sleep schedule

-Tolerates Hoodie, but isn’t as close with him as he was before

Hoodie-

-Looks like he does in Marble Hornets

-Barely takes the black smiley thing mask off

-He probably sleeps with it on

-Very quiet, but not shy quiet, more like “fuck off I don’t want to talk” quiet

-Likes stalking

-Loyal to The Operator, since he brought him back to life, but doesn’t exactly like him

-Loves you, but will probably never reveal himself unless he’s allowed

-Sits next to your bed at night, comforting you with his presence

-Kills anyone you don’t like

-Kills any guys you’re friends with who aren’t related to you (sorry)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #jeff the killer #ben drowned #eyes #ticci toby #masky #hoodie #tim wright #brian thomas #jeffery woods #benjamin lawman #jack nyras #creepypasta x reader #quotev

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he-goes-down · 11 months ago

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vampire izzy. pleasd i need him

Ur a whore like me (POSITIVE)

Lullaby

Masterlist

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin(Vampire) x reader

Warnings: vampire? Bit of a blood kink cus vampire. Smut!!! Unprotected p in v. Less dialogue more descriptionWORST SMUT TRANSITION EVER

Second person POV:

“Who are you?”

A low voice echoed throughout the cathedral like manor, scaring you making you jump. You thought the place was abandoned as you tried to look for shelter out of the rain and cold dark night. You looked around the shadow filled room, your eyes trailing up the grey walls and pillars, not expecting to find anyone up there. But, a dark shadow fell down fast from the unlit ceiling. You stood still. Glistening hazel eyes glared at you from a far, you couldn’t make out the rest of the face as an arm was in front of it. The figure soon speed far left from you, far back, then far right and immensely fast inhumane speeds. Didn’t even looked like the feet moved and inch off the ground. The figure soon flash past your eyes and stopped right in front of you. Those eyes. The moonbeams reflected of his iris showing glowing brown and green colours, but then a flash of red covered them and flashed back to normal.

You shivered, your skin chilling and making goosebumps while you stood paralyzed as the figure moved closer. Now seeing his features in the moon light. Dark jet black shoulder length hair, pale white skin, straight big nose, pink lips. Fangs. He drew closer, you were still stood still as you couldn’t mover, actually paralysed. His hand clutched onto your face harshly, his fingertips digging into your cheeks. “You never answered the question doll.” He said. You couldn’t speak, not because of fear, and terror, but because you physically couldn’t. With a snap of his fingers you mouth was freed for the invisible lock. Your lips parted trying to form a sentence for this stranger. Not just any stranger a vampire. The vampire inspected your face, last landing on your lips, your mouth still slightly a gape. Realizing you had no fangs. He could have taken you right then an there for dinner, but he didn’t. “Answer it.” He commanded. “I’m sorry- I’m no one, I just needed a place to take cover from the rain.” You sputtered out.He looked at you up and down, analyzing. Letting go of your face. Taking off your now damp hood, caressing his thumb on your temple as his hand clawed around to the back if your head, holding you. Gently.

“Come with me. I’ll keep you warm.” He said, his eyes turning red then back to normal again, turning on his heel. Your body now unparalysed. You didn’t even know his man but you were entranced by his gorgeous features. ‘Shit he’s a vampire though he could kill you.’ You internal dialogue began. ‘Yeah, but i’d let him.’ ‘Hmm, true he is so so fine.’ The angel on your shoulder agreed with the devil on the right. ‘And get this, if he bites us we could be vampires too.’ ‘Omg you’re so fucking smart.’ Sometimes your internal dialogue weren’t the most logical of the bunch.

You followed the man, upstairs, downstairs, through windy corridors, never ending corridors. Until finally coming to a wooden door. He opened it revealing a very nice kept up bedroom, no dust, a canopy bed with black and white lacing bedding. Everything you’d find on gothic vampire pinterest board. You really expected for him to sleep in a coffin but I guess the black out curtains were enough for him. You were entranced by the room but got snapped out of it by his voice. “Get undressed.” Straight forward to the point. You look at him for a second in utter shock. “Huh?” You responded after a pause. “I apologise… I haven’t had visitors in, well a while. Let alone, a human…” He told you. Then explaining that he had extra clothes you could borrow so you would have to be in the wet clothes you were in now. You agreed feeling a bit stupid, but you were both in the same boat. Whilst you got dressed he set up the fire on the other end on the room, and you did get to know each others name, his was Izzy. Once you finish buttoning the second last button from the top of the white oversized blouse, your hair moved from your neck, exposing it. A deep quiet sniff was heard from him, and a grunt, almost sexual.

You looked back to him, crouching down by the fire place, he was in middle of setting it a lit but now his eyes were boring into the floor, holding his mouth, biting on his finger. “Are you okay?” You began to slowly walk towards him, He waved his hand at you telling you it’s fine and you could stay were you were. He did glance at you, and back to the floorboards trying to collect himself but he did a double take. You in his blouse, neck and partly exposed. The fabric only going little past your hips onto your thigh, your legs all the way exposed as you just had your panties on. A softer incoherent grunt cane out his mouth this time, eyeing you from your sexy legs to your delectable neck and your pretty face. You looked at him confused as he got up, the fire place still not lit. He looked at you through his brows, lust and bloodlust coursing through his veins. Another flash of red in his eyes and a flash of his. Inhumane speed. Standing right behind you.

“There’s another way I can warm you up…”

He spoke softly into your ear, you could hear the sound of his fangs like a knife being sharpened. Shit. Your mind was racing, there was two different meanings to this. Being made into a vampire, or a vampire being in you. Both of those options tickled your secret fanatasies

“What do you mean…?” You asked stampering

“Both.” His face lowered to your neck

It was like he knew you mind, like he could read it.

“ I can.” He answered to your internal monologue. You looked at him with surprise, “Oh, but I cant stop if you want.” He said as he retracted his hands that was about to snake around your waste. His eyes flashed red again and back to normal. He wasn’t spying on your brain anymore. But he already knows what you want, deeply. “But… can I?” He paused and stammered want to put his arms around you, and the things that you were thinking of. You nodded but he just kissed your neck and groaned softly. “Use your words precious angel…” He told you. You squeaked out a needy yes, his hands traveling to hold you, arms around you from behind, fingers fiddling with the fabric of the shirt. You heard a few groans from him as his nose and mouth were right there on your neck, but he tried to control himself to not go wild. Your delicious scent, tender and soft skin made him weak and practically drooling. His hands found his way under the shirt, caressing up to your waist where he held you. Your cheeks were set a flame, burning red hot, so was the rest of your body. His mouth opened slightly on your neck, his hands travelling down again to your hips, his fangs grazing over your supple skin. His breath making your whole body shiver and tingle.

His fingers began to tap on your hips, looping his fingers under on the ends of your panties. Hie kissed your neck when his hand went under your panties and slowly made it to your aching core. After one kiss he couldn’t get enough. Kisses getting more aggressive and hungry after each taste of your skin. “Fuck…” You cursed as his finger began to work circles on your clit. He kept sighing and moaning as your un pierced skin teased his fangs. Wanting to take this new found virginity of yours. “Shit.” He hissed, nearly bitting into you. He didn’t have plans to stop, he had plans to get more comfortable. He turned you around with one quick motion and pushed you onto the bed. You shifted back so your whole body was lying on the bed, arms perching up your torso. Izzy crawling over you, and with a snap of his fingers the dark, red and black lace curtains fell from their restrains and perfectly placed themselves closed. Izzy effortlessly moved your body, your head now on the soft satin pillows. Him in between your legs, his eyes scanning every single crevice of your body, the best scene he’s seen in over hundred years of living.

He unbuttoned the shirt with ease, seeing you in only your panties. His hard on very visible against his pants. “Perfect.” He said, seeing your nearly naked body. Another snap of his fingers and all his clothes except his underwear was still on. His dick even more visible. You could foam at the mouth seeing how enormous he is. With another swift movement he took off your panties and his boxers soon after. Now his dripping tip against your wet heat. Looking st you with a desperate and pleading look. You agreed. His tip digging into your slowly, his mouth now back on your neck. Kisses over kisses, getting sloppier as he went further deeper into you and as he began to lose self control, and the blood pumping in you veins right below him teased ever sense in his body. You moaned, wriggling under him trying to get comfortable as he completely stretched out your sweet cunt. Moaning and whining as he bottomed out into you. Slight sweat dripping dien his face and body, panting and sighing as you clenched around him tightly.

One of your sweet moans turned into a scream as your felt his fangs graze over your skin then violently inject into your neck. Blood came drizzling out the two formed holes, Izzy sucked most of it away into his mouth before it dripped down further. Except for a few drops snd trails that went dien to your breasts and even down your stomach. Izzy watched the scene hearing your painful yet moans that were laced with a sick pleasure, sucking on your neck and draining your veins. Your mind and his became foggy, his covered by sick lust and yours by loosing blood. Your neck became to sting and ache less as Izzy began to thrust is huge cock in and out of you. “My good little - fucking-…” He couldn’t finished his sentence as he moaned whilst ramming his cock onto your g spot, making your even feel it in your throat. It made your head spin as he called you ‘his’, clenching around his dick as he spoke in groans into your ear whilst he was still fang deep into you.

Your hips slammed together again and again, the whole manor was filled with moans and the sound of skin against skin. You were about to pass out right before Izzy gained some self control and retracted his fangs from your body. You whined as his thrusts became slower and as your neck ached like a thousand bruises would show up tomorrow on it. Izzy watched as the blood streamed from your neck, tainted your breasts and red colour, traveling down to your stomach and getting lost from sight as it traveled beyond your pleasure bound hips. Izzy moaned again, needing to keep his mouth occupied and not suck you to death. He was now going deathly slow trying to control himself. “Izzy- please… harder-” You moaned out as your tried to get some friction. The last of your whines were muffled as his mouth passionately met yours, lips crashing as his dick pounded into you violently. The bed shaking and squeaking, Izzys perfect dark hair getting messy as he fucked you with inhumane strength. His tongue found its way into your mouth, swirling around as you tasted the metallic taste of your own blood from his mouth. You moaned in pleasure as he continued fucking you like an animal, his hands now getting your arms away from clawing and leaving deep scratches on his back only to then use on hand and handcuffs and pin your arms and hands above your head. The other hand went to one of your thighs, lifting it and pushing it a bit to the side. Digging his nails into your skin as this new angle could make him fuck deeper into you. “Oh fuck-“ you moaned against Izzy’s mouth, feeling your orgasm bubbled in the pits of your stomach, swallowing and sighing hard, feeling the ache in your neck as your body began to shake lightly. “Cum on me sunshine.” He said. ‘Sunshine’ his only weakness in the world, and it was you, your tasty blood, your precious lips, everything.

Your legs shook as he pounded into you harder and harder making your orgasm burst like a flame, you moaned and sighed as your juices spilt over his dick as you clenched tightly, some of the juiced leaking from your filled pussy and mixing with the blood that ran down your inner thigh. A few more thrusts snd Izzy was holding your wrists tighter and his dick twitched inside you. “Fuck- good girl… take my cum.” He told you lowly as his thrusts became more sloppy and desperate. He moaned and cursed away from your mouth now and back to muffling noises against your blood soaked neck. He came inside of you, coating your walls white, the warm sensation making you whine, some of it leaking out aswell to mix with the other liquids on your inner thighs.

He pulled out letting his cum and your juices spill from you. Soon after watching the erotic scene if your blood and his cum mix, he got up to get bandages and a small biscuit. He bandaged your neck, gave you the biscuit before kissing your forehead. He wiped up the mess the two of your made, and came to lie next to you. Him moving your body with effortlessness again, now for him to make you lie on top of him. Holding and cuddling you in his silk and satin bed.

“You’re mine now sunshine.”

#guns n roses #izzy stradlin #duff mckagan #axl rose #slash #steven adler #duff gnr #izzy gnr #slash gnr #steven gnr #axl gnr #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin smut #vampire #vampire smut #jeffery dean isbell

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mrsoftthoughts · 5 months ago

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Nico di Angelo headcanons

- He was very confused the firts time that someone called him "Emo"

he doesn't have a clue of what the fuck is that, he just bought up the clothes and accessories that he looks at and thinks "cool"

It was a karen who say that btw, the fact that she only was saying nonsense prob was guilty of Nico confusion too

- both Acts of service and Gifs are his way to show affection to others

He often helps his close friends and Hazel with anything they need, he also would get whatever thing that they expressed to want or need even in the slightest way possible, it doesn't matter if it's expensive af or hard to obtain for any reason, he's getting that thing for later wrap it in pretty paper .

He also buys whatever that he sees and reminds him to someone he loves, New rome postal service is tired of getting packages of the pluto ambassador for the praetor Levesque atleats 3 times at week ( that's not all the things that he gets for hazel, it's just the ones that he doesn't give her face to face)

- He's a polyglot ( i kinda talk about it here)

It was a part of his education back in the 1930s so he doesn't remember a lot of how he learned most of the languages he spokes, or even remembers that he actually spoke that especific language until he is in a situation were is needed

Something funny it's that one of the languages he taked longer to realize that he spoke it, it was greek, like, modern greek, he doesn't know how to feel about that

He also has a inherent understanding of dead languages so he's really good at read ol text of any kind

He also it's kinda a nerd about etymology

- He has a lot of beauty marks

Like, a lot of them, the most noticeable ones ofc are the in his face ( one at the bottom/side of his left eye and above the right eyebrow and two at the left side of his nose and bottom of his lips) but those things are everywhere in his body

- A lot of people feels that his appearance seems out of place, like, something ood to look at without an apparent reason

The things starts to make sense when you put his hair back with a bit of gel and give him a suit, then you realize that he looks like one of those pictures of grandpas when they were young

It can be a bit eerily because, in fact , he is actually from the same generation of those grandpas, that's why he looks like them but due the Lotus he's a teenager instead of an old man

the fact that his appearance it's the definition of a haunting beauty contributes to all that, he's beautiful, there's no a sigle appice of doubt about that, but you can compare the feeling that he evokes to the feeling of looking at a gothic church or the one of being at one of those old and Rich graveyards full of angel's scultures but cover in moss after years of abandonment , beautiful and stunning but also imponent and bone freezing

But hey!! It's also cool, and you can say that he's the antitesis of an iphone face

- Kinda related to the previous one, but his eyes are always changing colours.

It's not like piper tough, her eyes are literally a multicolor spectrum, Meanwhile, Nico's are more like his eyes being shallowed by the deep and dark waters full of misery of the styx, deep ebony black but in constant movement and little forms that looks like ice sublimation

Still, sometimes in moment of pure joy or when hes relaxed his natural color is visible, being a mostly brown iris with little details of grey and deep green like the bark or the fruit of olives

- Has a large collection of silly bands ( you know , the 2000s elastic bands with form of anything you can imagine?) think about any collection of those things and he has it

He also knows how to do those bracelets of bands btw, he uses his fingers for it and as a result he always has the strangulation marks or bruces

- He and Drew ended up being friends

He had that little hunch Drew's attitude having more behind that she just being a Bitch without reason, he was totally right

They aren't attached to the hip or something, there's a lot of things about each other that they don't know or they didn't bothered to ask, but they thrusts each other and are close enough to talk about their life and things they feel can't talk with anyone else every once in a while

Nico's is also drew personal manikin/ken doll for her fashion design projects, he isn't complaining tough, all the clothes are stunning

- Other of his friends is Clovis from hypnos cabin

A lot of people doesn't understand how they have a lot of anecdotes about things they did together, because Clovis is always half sleep or straight up in another world or something during the day

The last part is they key, they literally are in other world, or something like that, dream magic has potential to take the phrase "live your dreams" to another level

- Full grown up , He isn't tall or short, he's just (technically )average

He's 5'9... It taked a time for him to grow up to that point though, he was stuck in 5'5 for a while until he was around 17/18yo

Still, he looks a bit short at the side of most people around him, it's not his fault 90% of the people he knows are fucking giraffes

The fact that a lot of the boys he falls for are... Well, pretty tall ( Solace, Torrington, Grace, yk that you're the ones im talking about) isn't helping neither.

- He has a transatlantic accent ( alongside with a slight Italian accent)

Is a result of learning English as a second language and having both american and British people like reference and not something made on purpose

Is almost vanished after being living in America at the XXI century for the past few years, but you can still hear it in the way he say some words and the fact that his idiolect mix indiscriminately British and American words

Btw, something funny of that is that if you let his guy at the Uk for enough he would totally turn into the other side of the coin and now he picked up the accent of the region were he is at the moment

- He has a wii and a DS ( he later got a 3DS when it was released), nobody knows how the fuck is that he isn't chased by monster 24/7 using that thing

He also end up with a insane amount of amibos once they were released in 2014

- For some reason his collections of anything are in those vitrines that the grandmas uses for the pretty dishes

- He got the standar lobe piercing

usually he just have a pair of black diamons studs ( kinda looks like the diamons by the yard earring of Tiffanys) but sometimes he uses a bajoran or a pair of drops

- Even whe he is older his job is basically being his father second had and ambassador, but a general concense is that he is also a really god tourist guide

Probably he would be turned into a god after he passes away for just be doing exactly what he already was doing as a demigod, just with immortality.

-Despite being Italian and the stereotypes, he was a disaster in the kitchen, the kind of person that you say them to boil 2 glasses of water for the rice and the next thing you now is that 2 cristals glases are straight up in the stove

in his defense, he at best can remember see his Nanny doing something or being with her sister and mother doing some kind of dessert ( his only contribution to that was eating the chocolate)

Now he may not be a five stars chef but he can do pretty good stuff sometimes, he's trying

- He can make pretty concerning "old fashioned" coments sometimes

Alright, he is not an asshole ( at least non on purpose) or something like that, but sometimes while talking he would say things that are the daily reminder of the fact that this guy over there is a white ass boy raised in the 30's decade with the addition of being Born in a pretty much wealthy and probably Noble family and who's whole social interaction with other people that aren't hundred of years old beings has been limited,and that leads to his perspective of society being a bubble of privilege and old high society ethics.

Like, the most of the time if he say something really... Questionable, is because he really never has stopped to think about it and he is just saying what they teach him ,was normal at the time, or is just a comment made of pure ignorance mouth-is-fasther-that-the-brain-tipe.

Sadly for him ( and luckily for the rest of the people that have to hear him) 90% of the times hazel is close when he say that kind of stuff and two of Three times he ends up being hit by the closest thing that was at her hand or for one of her shoes if nothing else is available, the other time its a 50/50, he realizes that he just said something that isn't right or hazel just look at him in full deception mode.

#nico di angelo #i love give him his own group of friends aside of the seven or his boyfriend #toa #pjo #riordanverse #hoo #solangelo #jasico #nicobaster #drew tanaka #clovis pjo #nico di angelo headcanon #Mrs soft headcanons #god nico di angelo #ig??? idk

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kekaki-cupcakes · 8 months ago

Note

Heyyy can you please write something for Nico x male reader where Nico has seen reader around camp and reader is friendly and always laughing and talking with everyone. And Nico develops a crush on reader and eventually he decides to confess to reader when he sees them in the woods. Fluffy mainly but like a little spicey at the end if u do that stuff? :)

hey there bestie, let's pretend it hasn't been two months. this fic is also for @golden-boy-muda 's request for nico x transmasc reader <3

I couldn't find an idea in my empty ol head for this request but then I was looking for old oil painting wallpapers for my phone and now you have this incredibly sappy 3.2k of art references [I advise you keep another tab open for cross-referencing if you want the fUlL eXpErIeNcE]

Oil on Canvas--- Nico di Angelo x transmasc reader [3.2k] »»————-　★　————-««

Nico definitely isn’t a stalker, he understands boundaries [once Jason explains them to him, of course], but he might have a bit of a staring problem.

Sometimes he’s just eating gluten free waffles with Hazel in the dining pavilion and ends up watching you shove your siblings around and plait your little sister's hair so it doesn’t get in her face when she goes Pegasus riding.

He spooned some blueberries onto his plate.

It’s not his fault.

It’s yours, if anything. What is he supposed to do apart from feel like there’s moths beneath his ribcage when you pose, your nose scrunched, up for photos with Drew’s polaroid camera that’s covered with inappropriate stickers?

Hazel elbowed him meaningfully in the side when he couldn’t help but grin because Holy Hades, a single person shouldn’t be able to look that much like the painting Ophelia [by friedrich heyser, to be specific], just because they wore a green camp shirt and a pearl necklace.

Maybe it was his fault that he was comparing you to beautiful paintings.

He scooped the blueberries onto his half eaten waffle and reached for the maple syrup Hazel had finished drowning her breakfast in.

The Stoll brother’s mortal mum had sent a stack of paintings from art galleries all over the world last Christmas, and they’d let him pick out a few of the older more poetic ones that didn’t have enough blood and guts for their taste.

Now the oil paintings of lakes and birds and crying angels and… mainly cats, actually, hung around the dark walled Cabin he slept in.

Your laugh when you threw strawberries at Kayla and Austin while they worked in the infirmary reminded him of Angel [carl von marr, of course] and he felt like Chat a difficult catch [charles van den eycken] when you walked right past him without even glancing back.

So he’d made peace with watching from afar how you would forget daily to put sunscreen on but somehow always remembered to wear this pair of white crocheted gloves that looked like cat paws.

On a completely irrelevant note, Nico was learning to crochet.

Hazel made eye contact with him again when he looked from you to her, and he plugged his ears and glared before she started kicking him in the shins and begging him to pluck up the courage to walk over and even just make eye contact.

Not that he didn’t want to.

He may have lined up in his catalog of daydreams, this scenario where you both went down to the beach. Any beach, really. You’d collect shells and eat popcorn and grapes and lemonade and squish sand between your toes and pick up crabs with him.

PROMENADE ON THE BEACH [Charles Atamian, obviously].

There was another scenario where he’d take you to the farmers market. It had the biggest bouquets of flowers, and rows upon rows of fruits and vegetables and incense and beaded jewelry.

When he was laying in bed underneath the fluffy zebra patterned duvets that Piper forced him to use, mainly because they matched the dark reds of the cushions and browns of the bookshelves and antique lamps in the cabin so well, you were walking down the rows of little stores with him.

You were holding his hand with those soft cat paw gloves and you liked the feel of his rings [he’d read that people liked rings in a book, somewhere] and you’d filled the Studio Ghibli tote bag you had with berries.

He’d watched most of the movies after he saw your bag. He liked Arriety the best.

Clarisse stomped past the Hades table, leaving bloody footprints no one asked about, and smacked him in the back of his head. Nico went back to eating his waffles and daydreaming about your smile.

In the farmers market you would sniff candles and never buy them because Hazel had far too many for all of her spells and the such that he would never run out. And what was Hazel’s was his and what was his was hers, meaning that what was Hazel’s was yours.

Because Nico would give everything he owned, even his favorite jacket, for you to look his way.

And he would buy you flowers, whichever were your favorite.

Maybe the ones from the painting Hazel forced him to take because ‘you can’t just not hang a painting that literally is you, Neeks’.

Italian Girl with Flowers. Joaquin Sorolla. 1886.

He didn’t see the resemblance.

But it didn’t really matter, because he’d get to watch you looking at all the cool things for sale and then he’d take you to the best gelato he’d found so far [he was making a list] or just use the shadows, and take you to a proper gelato shop. Whatever you wanted to do, really.

Nico blinked. He huffed, mainly at himself, and stabbed his waffle. It fell apart on the fork.

“Why’re you angry?”

He looked up from his plate, to Hazel. She was sitting opposite him with a mustache made of orange juice. “...I’m not.”

“You’re not supposed to be pushing down your emotions, remember?” she said sternly, and started picking the green bits off a strawberry. She was eating as many berries as she could, since she wasn’t allowed lollies anymore. The perks of braces.

Nico looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking about the cat glove girl, aren’t you?” she asked with a smirk.

“Cat glove boy, remember?” he muttered, and took a bite of his waffle, wiping squished blueberries off his chin.

Hazel’s golden eyes widened, “Oh yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he said, and was grateful for the excuse to peek your way. You were eating toast. Very pretty-ily. He felt his face heat up.

Hazel perked up, a mischievous grin he didn’t appreciate on her face. “Okay! I’ll go apologize to your boyfriend then-”

Nico stared at her. Why was she like this? She actually went to stand up, and then he yanked her sleeve, pulling her back down to the table. “No! Don’t just… you can’t… stop!”

“You didn’t deny that he’s your boyfriend,” Jason chuckled, sitting down next to Hazel.

“I hate you all,” Nico said.

It was torture.

He felt like Sleepy time potion [Vanessa Stockhard], stuck in the middle of your loveliness, unable to do anything except stare and hope that his face wasn’t too as red as the mushroom he was sitting on.

In the painting.

Not in real life.

Obviously.

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico stared down at the hat in his lap.

He’d done it. He’d actually finished one of the hundreds of projects he’d started in Piper’s efforts to find him a hobby that wasn’t sitting on the fences of cemeteries or standing in line at Mcdonalds.

He had lots of other hobbies, he just… couldn’t come up with them when she was arguing with him.

So they’d gone through writing, painting, records, sleeping, which he excelled in, and then crocheting. None had lasted very long, but he may have had an idea half way through trying to stab Piper with the crocheting stick.

And now he had a white bucket hat with cat ears.

He threw it to the end of his bed, and hid underneath his duvet. Fuck.

Repose. Malcolm Liepke. 1953.

What on Olympus was he supposed to do about the way he wanted to hold you so badly he felt like throwing up and tearing his hair out?

He lay underneath in the pocket of stuffy darkness for a moment, before sitting up, untangling his blankets and teddies from him, and then standing. He may have just had the greatest idea anyone had ever thought of before.

Hazel was still in the shower, singing, most likely, so he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack that was actually just a skeleton, and then stomped out of his cabin, the stupid hat in his fist.

His heart was beating wildly. Stupid heart.

The Wedding Dress. Fred Ellwell. 1911.

He rubbed his face and groaned at the sky. The stars were just peeking out, but it was still pink and yellow, and the sun hadn’t dipped yet. It was hidden by the trees he was trudging through, though.

Fuck.

His chest was hurting.

Nico scrunched up the stupid perfect crocheted hat that just had to stupidly perfectly match your stupid perfect cat gloves because Nico was stupidly perfectly obsessed with you.

You, who was stupidly perfect.

Fuck.

Psyche Weeping. Kinuko Y Craft. 1995.

He trod on twigs that broke underneath his boots and weaved through the tree’s that slowly became more and more laden with hanging pendants and wind chimes and ruins carved into the bark.

He stepped over a thin stream. A frog croaked at him like it was dying. As if it could ever feel like it was dying. As if it could ever fall in love.

Nico groaned at the sky again.

“Just let it all out.”

He turned, and glared. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, actually,” Lou Ellen said, raising a purple eyebrow. It matched the undersides of her curly hair. She pointed to the cabin concealed in shadows and moss and stones behind her. “This is my house. And you are yelling very loudly.”

“I’m not yelling,” Nico argued. “I’m groaning.”

She stared at him for a second. She rolled her eyes. “Just come in, what do you need?”

“I need a spell. Or a charm. Or hex,” Nico said, following her through the wooden double doors. A wind chime tinkled even though the air was still. There were a few bunks lined up against the wall to one side. “Or a magic thing. I don’t care which one.”

The rest of the cabin was filled with small coffin shaped pet beds and empty pink soda cans and voodoo dolls hanging from the roof and rugs with cats wearing strawberry hats on the fluffy material and misty crystal balls.

Lou Ellen lent back on a desk stacked high with papers and paperweights that were actually jars filled with things. “Okay. I have three rules. I don’t kill people, and I don’t make people fall in love.”

“...And?”

“I’ll break both if it’ll be fun?”

Nico frowned. “No. Aren’t you supposed to say you won’t bring people back from the dead? That’s always the third rule.”

She squinted at him. “Uh…no. I send those people to you.”

Nico squinted back at her, sticking his tongue out. He fiddled with the stupid perfect hat and looked around. There was just more creepy things and stuffed animals. “Whatever. I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I need you to… like,” Nico started. He sighed. He looked away.

This was awful.

He was not about to admit that he might be in love, even if it was to reverse the feelings in the first place with whatever heart ripping out brain altering magic was necessary.

The Apollo cabin would find out through the witch in less than thirty seconds. He would never live it down.

Nico groaned again. “Oh for fucks sake, do you need me to fic your voicebox or something?” Lou Ellen hissed.

Nico glared at her. He groaned again, and then whirled around and stomped out of the weird mossy mushroom cabin. “Nevermind!”

“Fine! Have it your way!...weird little emo.”

Nico glared at the frog croaking at him, and kept walking through the forest.

He followed the little stream through the woods until he could hear wind chimes or Taylor Swift’s latest album anymore.

The little stream widened into a proper stream, filled with a lot more frogs. Why were there so many frogs? He nearly stood on a green one leaping across the path. Stupid frog.

Nico stuffed his hands into his pockets, along with the hat. He was tempted to just toss it into the river. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with all of the silly feelings that felt like the biggest things in the world to him and his silly head full of thoughts about your lips.

Maybe the frogs could use the hat as a home.

“Here froggie… Come here… I said, come here... No I am not taking a tone with you!”

Nico froze.

Fuck. He took a deep breath, probably too loudly. He glanced to the side.

Of course you were catching frogs, knee deep in a river.

You looked over, making eye contact, and Nico realized the moths underneath his ribcage were turning into bats. You squinted at him, hands on your hips, while water swirled around and leaves drifted from the trees above. A bucket was wedged between two rocks next to you.

A frog jumped out of it and landed near your leg, on a lillypad.

“Look Albert,” you said, turning to the frog. “It’s a little Victorian ghost.”

“...I’m Italian,” Nico said quietly. He stared at you. He couldn’t help it. Wow. Fuck. Leo was right. He really was pathetic. “And I’m not a ghost.”

“Okay, Victorian ghost.”

Nico stared at you. Fuck.

After that exchange, he should be able to hate you. Right? Right. He now resented you, and the moths turned bats would stop clawing at his chest and he would go back to having a normal life.

Right?

Wrong.

You squinted at Nico, and then slowly turned to Albert. “I think the cute Victorian ghost is having a stroke.”

Nico blinked once, gulped, and then marched forward through the cold water and frogs, his shoes squelching loudly. Gods. This was so embarrassing. But you thought he was cute, even if you also thought he was a dead english boy, so he would be content with dying from embarrassment.

He shoved the stupid perfect hat into your stupid perfect hands.

And then left in about 0.3 seconds.

»»————-　★　————-««

You stared down at your pancakes. Why were they so gray looking? Had someone poisoned them? You figured that it would be a pretty good way to die, and tipped extra maple syrup onto them before you dug in.

To counterbalance the poison, of course.

You scratched at the mosquito bite underneath the strap of your binder. It had flowers embroidered into it. Your binder. Not the mosquito bite.

One of your siblings across from you kicked at your shin, probably on purpose, but you continued to eat your odd tasting pancakes and picked blueberry grit off your white cat paw gloves. They were your favorite gloves.

They also matched your new hat. The new hat that the cute Victorian but actually Italian ghost boy had given you before he teleported away with whatever dark magic he had stored in all that goth-ness.

You tossed a blueberry at Clarisse when she walked past and tried to bash you over the head.

She wasn’t allowed to ruin your new hat.

You turned to see her flicking the blueberry over at someone else, and your eyes flicked past that too. Now way. You stood up, but you’d lost sight of the mess of dark hair when the Hermes cabin barrelled past.

You clambered onto your seat and stood up there. “Oi! Victorian ghost hat boy!”

The dining pavilion went quiet pretty quickly, and everyone turned to the cute guy with a skeleton hoodie and wide eyes. He pointed at himself when you pointed at him, and then went pink.

Clarisse stuck her arm out so you didn’t faceplant when you jumped down from your seat, and you held onto your new hat as you traipsed across the cracked floor.

You’d never figured out how that crack had got there. But there were bigger mysteries.

Like this cute goth.

His face just pinker when you grabbed his sleeve and tried to tug him out of the entire camp’s curious eyes. A dark skinned girl with a lot of butterfly clips and a Steven Universe t-shirt sent a thumbs up in your direction.

It was only when you were standing by the low burning fire pit in a patch of daisies did you realize you hadn’t really planned far enough ahead.

You took off the cat-ear hat and looked down at it. “...Uhm…”

“Sorry,” the goth said quickly, and when you made eye contact he looked away even quicker. “It’s creepy. Boundaries and stuff, I just… saw your gloves.”

“It’s not creepy,” you argued, putting the hat back on with a grin. He was really cute when he blushed. “I mean, I don’t even know your name, and I have no idea who you are but your eyeliner is really really great and… Holy Hades if you smile like that again can I�� please kiss you?”

The goth with no name stared at you, and then nodded about ten times too many. “Yes please. But, uh.. If you’re gonna kiss me, please, maybe don’t get my dad involved.”

“...Wut?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Nico could feel his cheeks growing hotter.

Not because of the sun, specifically, but it was hot and bright in the woods. He’d worn sunscreen though. And forced you to put it on too, once he’d found watermelon scented sunscreen, because you refused to smell gross no matter how sunburnt you would get anyways.

His face was hot and red because of you.

You, who was stupidly perfect and also possibly kind of Nico’s stupidly perfect boyfriend.

“Psst, Victorian ghost boy,” you said with a sing-song voice, quietly, and waved your hand in front of his eyes with your pink, blue, and white painted nails. He blinked. You smiled. “You zoned out again.”

“Sorry,” Nico said, and pulled a daisy out of the ground. He handed it over. “I was thinking about you.”

He hadn’t realized the effect that saying that would have on you, but it was worth it when you opened and closed your mouth like one of the frogs you kept as pets.

“I.. well, what were you thinking about?”

Nico had played his cards right. He smirked, and you shuffled forwards on the checked picnic blanket Piper had stolen from Drew, who’d probably nicked it from poor unsuspecting Demeter or Iris kid. You knocked over the basket of strawberries too, and then took your bucket hat off and stuffed it in your lap with a grin.

He tilted his head down. You were both following a very well rehearsed script. “...Kissing you?”

You launched yourself forwards then with a laugh, your cat-paw gloved hands landing on either side of his waist and probably squishing some of those strawberries at the same time.

The sun reflected in your eyes and Nico held the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours.

You kissed back, and once you both stopped smiling widely, you could kiss back.

Properly.

He scratched his fingernails, the ones you’d painted rainbow that afternoon after catching more frogs and complaining about sunscreen, along your jaw when you bit down on his bottom lip.

Not as a complaint, certainly not, and you knew that too because you just sat back on your knees between Nico’s lap and tilted your head to fit deeper against Nico’s bruised lips.

The ones that hadn’t had a single day off since you jumped up in the middle of breakfast with your gluten free waffles you hadn’t realized were gluten free until he had explained it to you later.

It was intensely crazily unbearably romantic but it also meant whatever cold one of you managed to catch, the other would come down with only minutes later.

And Nico felt like that smug little cat from Julie Manet’s Auguste Renoir.

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #nico #nico pjo #nico di angelo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #nico di angelo x reader #nico x reader #nico di angelo pjo #pjo hoo toa #hoo #nico di angelo x you #nico di angelo reader #nico di angelo x transmasc reader #lou ellen #lou ellen pjo

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rotworld · 1 month ago

Text

22: Echo

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

stranded abroad while a magic-reactive plague ravages your homeland, you've been separated from your fiance for over a year. you fear the worst when you return home to an empty house, but strange sounds and a familiar voice in the night tell you that you are not alone.

->original work. explicit; contains mild/implied gore, mentioned self-harm, fantasy plague, feral behavior.

There is something in the woods that knocks at night.

It won’t do it unless you’re alone. Everything is tranquil and quiet when Nesta stays late in the evening, sharing tea and watching you a little too intently. You wait, curled up against the armrest of a sofa that didn’t used to feel so big and lonely, but it never comes. A gentle breeze nudges through the wind chimes and makes tree branches tap and clatter. “Like that?” Nesta asks.

“No. It’s knocking. It’s much more deliberate.” You rap your fist against the coffee table. One-two-three, holding on the third strike. One-two-three. “Like that, several times. And sometimes there’s a voice.”

“How many times have you heard this?”

“Four times now,” you say. Every night since you’ve been back.

Nesta nods slowly, looking out one of your living room windows at the stiff silhouettes of trees. Sitting in the sill is a clay pot with a handful of leafy stems emerging from the dirt. The spherical shape and bright colors peeking out from the top of unopened flower buds clenched in green sepal sheaths is distinctive and immediately recognizable. It’s a handfasting blossom, a component of traditional Ithyrian courtship. They’re hardy plants that can survive just about anything but they’ll only grow flowers when nourished with magic. Grown indoors without the ambient energies of wild soil, they require much more attention and sustenance. One mage can encourage it to bud, but it takes at least two to make it bloom. They’re often planted after an accepted proposal as a test of dedication, the first unfurling flower determining when talks of a wedding ceremony can begin.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admits. “I don’t want to tell you it isn’t possible, but I’m worried about you.”

She’s trying, you know she is. Nesta is an old friend and a good one. She doesn’t mince words or try to smother you. She was here for all of it, a veteran of the Healer’s Guild who did all she could while Ithyr fell apart. She knows exactly how much it hurts to feel so powerless. There’s still a tremor in her fingers and a stiffness to her gait. Her eyes were hazel when you left Ithyr. Now they’re black and silver, her pupils bulging and uneven like frozen raindrops.

“You told me he was gone,” you say. “Not dead. Missing.”

“Yes,” she says quietly. You can tell it still disturbs her. The healing houses have been in chaos for much of the last year with the Guild’s usual meticulous record-keeping reduced to hasty scribbles on rumpled, blood-spattered parchment. You’ve heard of several cases of patients vanishing, lost in administrative purgatory until their corpse could be located or gone altogether from the healing house. Already cremated? Slipped away to die somewhere more peaceful? Surreptitiously smuggled by loved ones into a dollmaker’s workshop? The Healer’s Guild is half the size it used to be. Answers will take time.

“It sounds just like him,” you tell her. It’s not quite the truth. It does sound like him, but hoarse, ragged and coarse like gravel. Like he’s sick. Like he’s been screaming.

Nesta finishes the dark, gritty dregs of her tea and sets the mug down on the coffee table. Her hands, unoccupied, go instinctively to the mask sitting in her lap. It’s white and bird-like, a slender beak protruding beneath the dark porthole lenses. She strokes the golden tip at the end of the beak absently, a magical filter that only failed her once. “Have you spoken to Medraut lately?” she asks carefully.

“I’m not having delusions,” you say.

“I didn’t say that you were. But you only just got back. You’re still settling in, and he’s been telling people all sorts of things when there’s still so much we don’t know about arcanapox—”

“Our handfasting blossom is still alive.” You gaze at the curling leaves and wavy, rising stems. You used to sit here with him on the couch, cuddled up together with books or food or just each other’s company at the end of a long day, watching the symbol of your love grow stronger. “It shouldn’t be,” you say. “I’ve been gone for so long, and he’s…I should’ve found a desiccated husk when I came back. Someone’s been taking care of it. I’ve asked around and no one else has been here.”

Nesta studies the pot on the sill with a pensive expression. “It really does look the same as before,” she marvels, a twinge of sadness entering her voice. “That’s remarkable, but…”

You nod. You know what she’s thinking because you’ve thought the same thing all week: If it’s really him, why is he hiding? Why won’t he come inside?

The moon rises, unveiled by slow-moving clouds. Nesta excuses herself. She retrieves her black hooded cloak and slides her mask into place, fully dressed in the formal attire of the Guild. Your heart lurches seeing her in your doorway. If she were just slightly taller, her shoulders a bit more narrow…

The light of her lantern becomes a faint golden glow no larger than a firefly, eventually swallowed up by the shadows of the forest. You close the door and retrieve the empty mugs from the table.

And then you hear the knocking.

One-two-three. A pause. One-two-three.

You drift back into the living room. It’s here again, standing at the window. It’s too dark outside to make out anything but a silhouette looming on the other side of the glass. A moment of silence passes and then you see the shape outside shift. The knocking comes again, one-two-three.

“Caderyn?” you say. For a moment, there’s only silence. Hope wars with despair in your heart. It’s him. It must be him. But how can it be? The figure at your window is much too large.

“Yes,” comes the reply, weak and muffled. You walk over to the window and see him flinch, shrinking back as if fearful.

“Please don’t go,” you beg him.

“I won’t,” he murmurs. “I’m here, dearest. I’ve missed you so much. But I can’t come too close.” He won’t tell you why. You wonder if he still fears he’s contagious somehow, or if the sickness left him with scars he’s ashamed of.

“I’ve missed you, too,” you say hoarsely. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”

“Yes. You’re here, so all is well.”

“Have you been there all night?”

A pause. “Yes,” he admits. “I heard you speaking with Nesta. I wish you hadn’t told her. Now she’ll worry even more.”

“She thinks you’re dead.”

And then a much longer pause, so long you would fear he’d fled if not for the stillness outside. “I am not as I was,” he says.

“But you’re here.” You press your hand against the glass. “We started a handfasting blossom together. I would never abandon you, no matter what.”

Hesitantly, the figure in the dark draws closer. The gentle glow of the lamps and candles illuminating your living room show you flickering glimpses of long, red hair, unkempt and tangled with dry leaves and branches. A hand presses against the other side of the glass, mirroring yours. It’s enormous, the skin gnarled like the scaled talons of a bird, the fingers long, bony and tipped with claws. The eyes peering down at you bear the mark of arcanapox, silver and black with runny pupils.

But it’s him. You would recognize him anywhere. Your face heats and your eyes fill with tears.

“Is it still alive?” he asks softly. You see a flash of dagger-like teeth behind his lips. “I’ve come everyday to feed it, but I don’t know if it’s working through the window. My magic isn’t what it used to be.”

“Come and see,” you plead. “It’s still alive. And with both of us here, it’ll bloom.”

Caderyn’s claws clatter against the glass and he flinches, pulling his hand back. “Do you still want that?” he asks quietly.

“Of course I do.”

Caderyn hunches slightly, trying to be closer to eye level. He studies your expression, searching for any fear, any disgust, any sign of rejection. “I’m afraid,” he admits in a whisper.

“This is home. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.” You step back from the window reluctantly. You don’t want to look away because he might be gone when you look again. You’ve gotten this far before, urged him to come inside only to open the door and see nothing but the empty night. “I’m going to unlock the door,” you say. “And you can come in whenever you want. Right now. Or tomorrow. Or some other time. It’s up to you.”

He makes a sound you never want to hear again—wounded and animal, a weak, mournful keening like a sick dog. Something thrashes against the trees behind him, rustling the leaves. “I’m not the same. It’s not just how I look. Everything is so much more, so overwhelming. I can smell you through the window, it’s—” He cuts himself off with a loud growl that admittedly makes your pulse quicken.

“Caderyn, look at me.”

He does, his chest heaving with quick, frightened breaths. He’s not wearing a shirt or a cloak or anything, you realize.

“I love you,” you say. “And I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

He raises one trembling hand to the glass and sets it beside your face, as though imagining the feeling of your cheek against his palm. When you step away, walking towards the front door, you see him follow. He flits through one window and then the next, a spindly shape moving with familiar grace. You flip the lock and step back, waiting and hoping.

Light, nervous footsteps pace back and forth. You hear him come closer, then start to leave. You hear him change his mind over and over again. He scares himself when his claws clatter against the door and your heart sinks at the silence that follows. Then, very softly, you hear creaking. The groan of old wood pushing against the frame. Caderyn pushes the door open in stages but he stumbles through in a rush as though he may not have another chance. He has to duck to fit inside, his head bent much farther than seems necessary until you see him clearly for the first time.

He has horns. Not curled like a ram’s but straight, jagged protrusions like spikes growing out of his skull. Some are long and some are short, just barely peeking out of his hair. Some are smooth and some are bumpy and segmented. Several of them, you notice, are broken. The sharp ends have been snapped off unevenly, leaving crooked nubs behind. He hunches to keep the unbroken ones from scraping the ceiling.

Your heart aches to see him so afraid. He keeps his claws low, one hand covering the other. He’s naked from head to toe, mud and wet grass caked to his thin, trembling frame. The scales aren’t just on his hands but all of his limbs, tapering off at his elbows and just below his knees. A long, hairless tail whips back and forth behind him.

When you open your arms, he makes that sad sound again and lunges for you, knocking you both to the floor. You don’t know how long you lay there with him in your arms, sobbing into each other. Eventually, the sobs fade to sniffles. For a long time, you just look at each other. You savor the feeling of one another’s skin without a window in the way. There’s so much you want to ask him, so much you want to do for him—when was the last time he had a proper meal, or clothes? But you don’t want to let go of him yet. Part of you worries this is a dream. The way he looks at you, the quiet awe in his eyes when he caresses your cheek, makes you think he feels the same.

“Let me wash your hair?” you ask him.

He walks slowly through the house you once shared, studying every room as if seeing it for the first time. His gait is loud, sharpened by the large talons on his feet. He ducks into the bathroom behind you and he sticks close while you gather towels and shampoo, unwilling to be too far away. You’re startled when he plasters himself against your back, arms wrapped around you, his whole body vibrating with a low, constant thrum. Purring, you realize. He nuzzles against the top of your head.

You conjure rain, testing a slow trickle against your palm and warming it to a more pleasant temperature. Caderyn’s grip is loose enough to let you turn around and face him but he won’t let go any more than that. So you stay, flicking your wrist to start a small downpour. When you tug on his shoulder, he immediately drops to his knees so you can reach the top of his head. You pluck the twigs and leaves from his hair and rub the dirt from his face. The water swirling down the drain is a stormy color streaked with red. Your stomach lurches.

You hadn’t noticed in the orange lights of the living room. Hadn’t looked closely, too relieved to have him back. But Caderyn is covered in blood. It’s dried in splotches across his body. It stains his claws, his fingers and his lips. There are large, gummy scabs along his scalp, tender spots that make him hiss when you brush against them. “What happened to you?” you ask, stroking a broken horn with your thumb.

Caderyn shuts his eyes, enjoying the warm water and your gentle touch. “I can’t tell you everything,” he whispers. “Not yet. I’m not ready. I’ve done things I shouldn’t. I’ve lashed out in fear and anger. I’ve…hurt people. I tried to tear my horns out, but sometimes all I could do was break off the ends.” When you freeze in shock, he nuzzles against your hand. “It hurt. I probably shouldn’t have done it. But I kept thinking that it would help. I would look more like you remembered me.”

“Caderyn,” you say softly. “I didn’t expect to come back here and find everything exactly the same.”

“We’re mages. We don’t change. If we do, it’s because we choose to. We can control it,” he insists, his voice becoming strained.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his face into the crook of your neck. Caderyn shudders with a soft whimper. This is what upset him most. Not just his eyes or his horns or anything else, but all of it; the idea of it. Mages are not accustomed to loss or grief. Time is a companion rather than an adversary. Death is a distant tragedy, a sad thing that happens to mortals. Change, when it happens at all, is often a whim or fleeting fancy, easily reversible. You can’t imagine Caderyn, your beloved and reserved and meticulous Caderyn, realizing suddenly that his eyes are burning and his limbs are hardening and there are monstrous horns growing out of his head, and not being able to stop it.

“You really haven’t changed as much as you think,” you tell him.

He laughs bitterly. “Love, you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying. I knew it was you from the moment I heard your voice. I recognized you as soon as I saw you.” You reach for him, gently slipping your fingers beneath his claw to scrub the blood away. “These are your gentle hands. I can feel how careful you’re being not to scratch me. They’re the same.” His eyes glisten with tears. “And your eyes. The color is different but I still knew them. You look at me the same way you did before. And this is your lovely red hair—”

Caderyn kisses you. It’s a sudden, forceful move that makes you lose your balance but he cradles the back of your head with his hand when you fall. He climbs over you on the wet tile, his hand cupping your cheek, and presses your lips together again, and again, and again. He keeps pulling back. Looking you in the eye. Searching for rejection. You wrap your arms around him and feel the soft tremor of his purr. It’s like you never left; like a year hasn’t passed. Everything is different, yet exactly the same.

Caderyn knows your body better than anyone. He trails his palm down in a slow caress, lingering everywhere that makes your breath hitch. He’s careful like you knew he would be, slow and cautious as he tugs your clothes off, never leaving a single scratch. You whine when he pulls away, slinking down your body with appeasing kisses down your chest and stomach. He nudges your legs apart and settles between them, palms keeping your thighs open. You shiver feeling his breath come in warm puffs against your sex.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him.

“What do you think I’ve dreamed about for the past year?” he asks. Heat blooms in your belly from the look in his eyes. He leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to your heated flesh. “I dreamed of you. Every night, I dreamed of you. Your smell and your voice and how your body fits against mine. How cute you look in my Guild cloak. How wonderful you taste…” You’re embarrassingly sensitive and reactive, your hips bucking from the gentlest lick. “I missed this,” he whispers between swirls of his tongue and soft suckling. “Missed you so much.”

Caderyn brings you to climax once with just his mouth. Then he does it again, adding his palm and the pads of his fingers. It feels strange, but not unpleasant. His scales feel smoother than they look, the texture adding small ridges of pleasant friction. Every sound he draws out of you emboldens him, makes him even hungrier for you. You’re begging for mercy when he pushes you to the edge of a third orgasm because he’s still going, his mouth still around you with his eyes closed in bliss like this is all he needs to live.

You pull at the closest thing you can reach and it’s one of his longer unbroken horns. You realize what you’ve done only when he suddenly goes rigid and you let go immediately, worried that you’ve hurt him. But the sound he makes—a long moan, accompanied by a hard thrash of his tail that splashes water across the floor—wipes away your concerns.

“Caderyn, please,” you say breathlessly. You spread your legs wider in invitation. His nostrils flare.

It’s not the sweet, slow lovemaking you sometimes dared to envision, nor is mindless, animalistic violence, but something in between. Your legs are around Caderyn’s waist as he presses into you. He wasn’t this big before, and he didn’t have so many strange, varied textures on his cock. His palms press into the tile floor on either side of your head and his hips pump in small, quick thrusts that soon turn hard and relentless. There’s barely any build up before he’s pounding into you, the sounds of skin slapping skin loud and echoing in the bathroom.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Marry me. Please marry me. Give me eternity beside you.”

If you could think—if you could do anything but gasp open-mouthed and meet Caderyn’s wild thrusts—you would know you’ve already had this conversation. You’ve said these things before. You’ve had that heart-fluttering moment of joy as you chose a pot and a handful of seeds and the perfect sunny spot on the windowsill. You would also think that it doesn’t matter. Love is ongoing. Sometimes it feels good to hear the words again. Sometimes, when it all goes wrong, you need them.

You say yes, over and over. You cry his name. Caderyn starts to shake and then he’s hunched over you, his hips snapping faster and harder. You hear a shrill crunching sound as his claws rake through the bathroom tile, leaving long gouges beside your head. He looms above you, his hair a long, heavy curtain like red velvet. It could be the water that slides down his cheeks and chin, now a spotty, uneven trickle as you lose focus, but it could also be tears. You feel his rhythm falter and then his hips slam into yours, the last thrusts deep and grinding.

He cums with a long moan. The tiles under his claws shatter as he jerks and shudders, hilted inside you. “Love you,” he babbles, a chant under his breath. “I love you. I love you so much.” His hips strain and grind into you as he fills you, cock pulsing with every thick spurt of cum. The spell breaks while you lay there, trying to catch your breath. When the sound of soft pattering water stops, your shared panting and soft sighs fill the space.

“Caderyn,” you say. He hasn’t pulled out yet, or even moved. He’s still leaning over you, his hands buried in the mess he made of the floor. “I have to get up and finish your hair.” He smiles softly. You gasp when he rolls his hips. He didn’t go soft when he came, you realize. He’s still hard and twitching inside you. “Caderyn—”

“Can it wait a little longer?” He thrusts into you again. It feels different now. Slower, gentler, much less frantic.

He knows it’s real now, you think. He knows he’s home. “Yeah,” you say. “It can.” You reach for him and he lowers himself into your arms without hesitation, pressed against you chest to chest. You’re not thinking about his claws or horns or tail, or how much bigger he is now, or how his eyes are the eyes of every mage who has survived a brush with death. You’re thinking about how warm he is, how familiar he smells, and how beautiful your handfasting blossom will be. How in the end, some things don’t change much at all.

After a year of tossing and turning, pacing, and weeping, you will finally sleep soundly again.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original #summary makes this sound very ominous lol but this is another kind of fluffy piece

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aquagirl1978 · 6 months ago

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Meet my OC: Charlotte (IkePri)

Name: Charlotte Lelouch Paired with: Chevalier Michel Relationship: romantic Age: 27 Hair Color: dark red Eye Color: hazel green Birth Sign: Aquarius

Early Life

Charlotte came to live at the Palace in Rhodolite at an early age. Her mother, Clavis' sister, passed away when Charlotte was very young. With her father not in the picture, the now orphaned Charlotte moved into the palace to live with her aunt Leticia and cousin Clavis. Clavis and Charlotte were the best of friends, with Charlotte following her older cousin around and getting into trouble with him.

Incredibly intelligent and kind hearted, Charlotte was much like her cousin down to the matching birthmarks below their mouths. The one glaring area where the two differed was on their relationship with Chevalier.

Charlotte often acted as a buffer between the brothers. Clavis, never wanting to be alone with Chevalier, brought Charlotte along with him to make things more bearable. Chevalier, who tolerated so few people, allowed Charlotte to remain as, in his words, she, unlike her fool cousin, knew when to stay quiet.

After the death of the former queen and her aunt, Charlotte's future was unknown, until Sariel agreed to let her stay. He reasoned that it would be detrimental to her to remove her from her closest living family member.

Childhood Friends

When they were young, Charlotte had a somewhat distant, but respectful, relationship with Chevalier. She would remain (mostly) quiet in exchange for borrowing books from his library. They would sometimes read together, with minimal words exchanged. She was in awe of Chevalier - his genius, his grace, and as she got older, his looks. She never understood why Clavis hated him so much, and perhaps a part of her tried to get closer to Chevalier to improve their relationship.

There came a time in Charlotte's education when she, to put it nicely, outsmarted the palace teachers. Sariel was at a loss as to what to do with her - being the hellcat's cousin, no one wanted her as a student. That is, until the second prince agreed to be her tutor.

From that day on, they would spend time in each other's room studying together. Chevalier was impressed with her intellect, and found her thirst for knowledge refreshing. Unlike her cousin, she was not obsessed with besting him and was therefore able to focus her attention where it mattered.

It was during these study sessions when Chevalier first noticed he was experiencing strange feelings. They weren't unpleasant, a bit bothersome if anything. Over time, he grew accustomed to them, so much so that he even enjoyed these new feelings. He knew then it was time for him to stop being Charlotte's tutor.

Dating Chevalier

Now we get to the anti-climatic part of this story. I don't want to put anything here, because this is where it gets fun - flirting and kissing and teasing and more - and I have fic ideas planned for their dating journey. I'm gonna kinda just end it here, if I don't I'll ramble on until I can't write anymore words on this post. Charlotte has lived in my head for close to three years now, and I have a lot of stories in my head. Some I might share, some I won't.

On that note, I do welcome any and all asks about her, about her relationship with Chevalier and Clavis and anyone else in the palace. I will be reblogging OC ask games moving forward - always feel free to ask about her. I also have a modern AU for Charlotte and Chevalier which deviates greatly from canon. I might actually be more invested in that one, as I have far greater creativity there.

I also had so much fun working on this for Charlotte, that I have created another OC, this one for Ikemen Villains, and I hope to have her page up soon.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikepri oc #my oc #chevalier x charlotte

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dudecreature · 2 years ago

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False Confidence (sometimes works)

Drunk! reader x Ghost Synopsis: The reader drunkenly flirts with a tipsy Ghost. Warnings: Alcohol consumption Additional tags: fluff, crack treated seriously Word Count: 1.9k

AN: this is kind of a mess, but I'm hoping you guys enjoy it (plz like, it fuels my confidence)

Deep, deep down you had known that you shouldn’t have taken those last two shots, but everyone was drinking and having a really good time. You didn’t want to be some Debby-Downer. Especially after arguably one of the best missions your team had completed in forever. No casualties, no injuries, and they were in and out in less than 4 hours. So you guys decided to up the normal celebration.

The straight vodka shots had started to go down a bit too easily and that's how you knew you needed to slow down. You were five shots in and the world had started to rotate every time you blinked. You thanked whatever was watching over you that you were on the couch rather than a stool at the bar. If that were the case your ass would have been on the floor a long time ago.

Against your better judgment, you lifted your arm with your shot glass in hand. Making eye contact with Soap, he gives you a wide grin and goes to pour you another shot. The glass spilled over, Soap giving you a more than generous pour. Your eyes went wide at it, and your face split into a sly smile, giggling to yourself you bring the glass to your lips. Jerking your head back, you take in the alcohol, and your body involuntarily twitches at the gross flavor that's barely there. Once you swallowed it all, you pulled your head back forward and locked eyes with him.

Ghost.

Shiiiiiit.

You held eye contact for as long as you could before needing to blink. Does he ever blink? You don't know how long they had stayed closed but when you opened them he was gone. What the hell? You look to your right in search for him and when your eyes only found a blubbering Gaz, leaning on Soap you looked left. When you do all you can see is the familiar skull mask, inches from your face.

With a startled “Ack!” you push yourself away hurriedly. You push his shoulders back, only to realize you are the only one to have moved. You felt your face heat up and become apparent as to how drunk you actually were.

“Geez, Ghost, you scared tha fuckin shit outta me.” Your words slur together as you attempt to avoid eye contact with the mountain of a man. When he says nothing you look back at his face, slowly gaining a drunk false sense of confidence. Your eyes roam around his mask-clad face, darting between his dark hazel eyes. From a normal distance, they usually look brown, but now that you can get a good look at them, they have a bit of a forest green around the pupils. Never would you have said this sober but the confidence the liquor gave you was acting as a superpower.

“Your eyes are so… pretty”

This shocked him, you think. His eyes widened, and he let out a huff of air. You could see the smile that he had on his face through his eyes.

“Do you want to repeat that?” Ghost muttered ever so close to you. You could smell the Kentucky bourbon in his breath, his favorite. You swallow at his words, how was he always so steady? He seemed to never waver in his words or actions, even when he wasn't stone-cold sober he was a rock.

“Hmm?” You blinked up at him and tilted your head in slight confusion. In reality your ass was not listening, his eyes were just too damn entrancing. You could hear him chuckle, you could practically feel it. It rumbled through his chest, and with how close he was, through your shoulder and side as well.

“I said… Do you want to repeat yourself?” His deep voice caused you to shiver. His confidence seemed to influence your confidence to spike as well. You smirked and let your eyes roam over his mask, as if you were trying to see through it, to his bare face. You could not only smell the bourbon coming off of him, but you could smell him as well. He smelled like gunpowder and body wash, gritty but clean, just like Ghost.

Carefully listening around you for what the others must be doing, to ensure you won't get the shit embarrassed out of you. Soap was attempting to make Gaz laugh, while Price was humming an indiscernible Brittany Spears song in karaoke with a fat cigar in his mouth. You knew you were in the clear for at least Ghost to hear. With all the confidence you could pull out of you, you locked eyes with the man and declared,

“I said you are pretty. I mean... Your eyes are pretty. Not that you aren’t pretty I just haven’t ever seen your face.” In your drunken stupor, you had accidentally confessed. He huffs at your idiocy and attempts to interrupt you but you just keep fucking talking.

“Not that I am asking to see your face that is completely up to you! And if one day you trust me enough that is cool too!” You began to see the playful deadpan cross his eyes as he continues to stare down at your rambling form. All the previous confidence faded away.

“Wow... I make quite the mess out of you don’t I? And I haven’t done anything yet.” Confidence oozed from his lips. His eyes roamed over your face, lingering on your lips for just a moment. You felt as if you had melted into a puddle right there. His words drilled into the back of your mind, you absolutely had to be dreaming right now. No way in hell would Ghost be this open and flirtatious with you.

You had tried your best to hide the fact that you had found him attractive in the past, but there were moments that you had most likely done a piss poor job at hiding it. You always complimented his kills, whether it was from him sniping over your shoulder or when he performed a close combat takedown right in front of you. Once you had watched a takedown he had done during practice and not so quietly sat in awe with a “Holy shit that was so cool”.

Steeling yourself up, you try to look as confident as possible in front of him, but 6 fucking shots were really hitting you now. The guys always had made fun of you for being a lightweight, and now you can see two Ghosts in front of you.

“Hahaa there are two of you now?” you giggled and reached at the man on the right but your arm met straight air. How was he doing that? You reach up with both hands and close them around his cheeks. There we go. You were able to see him as one now, and he stopped spinning, you smiled and thumbed his cheek gently. Your fingers began to trace the teeth of his mask, admiring the detail and humming at the idea of the care he took into making it.

Unbeknownst to you, Ghost had frozen under your gentle touch, eyes never leaving your face. His face flushed as your fingers graced his rough lips through his balaclava. Internally he was fucking panicking, but he would never let his external show it. He tried to swallow but choked up and it must have sounded like a gruff attention grabber because you had stopped your movements. Your hands didn't leave his face, and your eyes traveled up tantalizingly slow to meet his gaze.

When you were caught off guard by the clearance of his throat, your hands may have stopped moving, but they didn't leave his face. You attempted to stutter out an apology, but the words just came out as mumbled garble. You shut your mouth and simply took him in, what you could see of him at least. His light eyelashes flutter with each of his blinks, his eyes roaming over your face greedily.

“You’re fuckin’ gone, mate. How much have you had?” Ghost asked, his face intensely close to yours. He examined your face, scouring eyes, searching your face for an answer. You knew he wouldn’t wait long for an answer, but your brain wasn't working properly. You couldn’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you two sat in silence. Until your mouth spoke for you.

“Enough to take you, big guy.”

What?

What the fuck?

No way you just said that out loud.

‘Please, if a god is listening, please tell me I didn’t just say that out loud.’ You look to the sky and plead for any merciful higher power to listen to you. When you heard no response you look back at the man whose face is still in your hands. His pupils had blown wide and his brow cast a shadow over his eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. You could see him smirk under the mask, hell you could feel the way his face moved. It was terrifying how close you were.

“I’m cutting you off, love. Let’s get you some water.” With that, he pushed himself away from your touch and you watched him go. When you registered fully what he said, you push yourself off of the couch and go to follow. Your body had other plans though. You found yourself looking up at the ceiling and consequentially everyone else in the room who had gathered around you. Ghost just sighed and put the glass of water on the coffee table before helping you sit up, ensuring you hadn’t hit your head on anything (other than the fucking floor).

“Drink.”

He guided the glass to your lips and you sipped the chilling liquid as much as you could. His hand under your chin to keep your head level, the other on the glass. Completely focused on the gentleness of his hand on your chin you barely heard him say to the others. Something along the lines of “I’m goin' to take them to bed eh?”

Bed? His bed? Well shit I wouldn’t mind that. You look to the others ready to just sleep and they looked at you so weirdly. Ghost put the glass back on the coffee table and stood. He reached his hand out to you and you relished in the warmth of his hands. He pulled you up as if you had weighed nothing to him, it may have been a little too hard because it felt as if you were fucking launched into space.

“Jesus Christ Ghost!” you shouted and grasped at his shoulders to steady yourself, his hands met your waist. He led you down the winding, never-ending halls of the compound until you were met with a door. You couldn’t tell whose door it was but you were ready to sleep, a lone mattress would work at this point. When he opened the door you saw your bed, your wonderful, soft bed. Thank god. You reach for the bed hoping to plop in and clock out, but Ghost’s hands prevented this. You looked towards the man and pouted. He laughed at your face and shook his head.

“Your depth perception is off, love. You would have smacked right into the floor.” With that he guides you to your bed, pulling your covers back, revealing the most comfortable thing you had ever seen. He gently helps you into the bed, allowing you to get comfortable before pulling the covers over you. Your eyes feel like they are 30 pounds each and they are a struggle to stay open. It’s only when you feel the soft pets of Ghost’s hand on your head lulling you to sleep that you give in. Before you drift into dreamland, you feel a gentle pressure on your forehead.

“Can’t wait to see what you remember.” The lights turn out and the door clicks softly.

#dudecreature #dudewrites #call of duty #ghost x reader #fanfiction #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x female reader #ghost x gn reader

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