#pls. i want it to not be so cold my fingers freeze to the gas pump

[infamousbeans]

It's called a cold snap because everything breaks once it touches even a particle of air from the outside

[cowpokeomens]

@honeytama I’m so glad u asked

VAMPIRE JOLLY AHHHHH MY CLIT EXPLODED-

Sorry sorry okay so 😔 vampire jolly 😔 you saw a listing for a “personal assistant” and like, you’re desperate, okay? It’s paying damn near six figures and you didn’t realize moving to the city meant your rent would be $1600 a MONTH for the most humble one bedroom apartment you’d ever seen in your life. Never mind your aging cat and her exorbitantly priced fresh food and medication- Anyways! You don’t love the idea but you can’t beat the money, and it says they’ll comp you for gas, so fuck it! You can try! You apply and the person who listed says they’d be happy to interview you over dinner, Nice!

Only it’s a swanky restaurant, nicer even than the place you went to for your high school graduation with that one not-quite grandparent who owns multiple boats. And suddenly you feel very underdressed in your discounted Old Navy attire- though you at least had the sense to not wear jeans, so that’s a win? Whatever! You go in, tell the maître d’ that you’re a guest of some J. Karlsson, and then you try to ignore the way his eyes widen in shock! You don’t like that at all! You certainly don’t like the way you’re whisked clear through the restaurant, past the patrons whose eyebrows raise at the sight of your $12 loafers that you totally didn’t score from Amazon, into a dimly lit and empty backroom.

Only, it’s not empty? There’s a lone figure, sitting at a small table, barren save for a glass of wine. The room is illuminated by a few candles on the table, and you’re immediately like “damn I’m about to be made into a lampshade :-/ someone pls feed Snowball her vitamins when I’m gone 🙏” but then the person looks up and!

Oh!

What the fuck!

Because he’s HOT. He’s devastatingly hot, it’s unfair how hot he is, it’s unfair that you’re wearing Spanx that are two sizes too small because they’re from your junior prom, it’s unfair that you’re here in a pair of Old Navy slacks that dig into said Spanx uncomfortably, its unfair that his hair is cascading around him like some kind of sexy chocolate waterfall and your hair just sits there like normal fucking hair, it’s deeply deeply unfair that when he surveys you from behind the rim of his wine glass you want to roll over and bare yourself to him like a bitch in heat! But the world is cruel, so you pull out the chair opposite of him awkwardly, slumping down into it and immediately gnawing on your lip in anxiety.

His eyes are drawn to the movement, so you stop, correcting your posture and trying to look like a real person! He looks away, and you think he might even be 🤨 trying not to laugh 🤨 which would be charming if you weren’t so nervous! You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something or if he is, but he solves the problem by extending a hand and saying “hello, I’m Joakim Karlsson.” And you’re not a wild animal, you shake his hand back and introduce yourself, but then you realize how fucking cold his hands are and you can’t stop yourself from blurting “iron pills help with that!! I used to have freezing fingers and toes, but then I started taking iron and-“ and then you see that he’s looking very amused, so you shut up, because he’s a grown man he probably knows about iron supplements you dipshit-

But then he’s like “I’ll have to give that a try.” And you’re like aha I am already the best personal assistant in the land!! A waiter blessedly comes over and fills your wine glass, and it smells much nicer than the boxed stuff you usually get, so much nicer than you’re beginning to wonder if you can even afford to try it-

“Go ahead. Dinner is on my bill.” And you don’t need to be told twice, grabbing the glass and taking a tentative sip before accepting that, yeah, this is way nicer than Franzia could ever be. Your eyes slide over to his glass, brows furrowing when you realize it looks a lot….. deeper than yours? Almost thicker.

He follows your trail of sight and says “different bottle. A bit… fresher.” And you nod because you don’t know shit about wine, and who are you to judge if he wants to get himself something nice!! You’re sure whatever he spent on this glass for you was probably spare change compared to what his preferences are. Wine got grosser the more expensive it was, right? Or something like that.

You forget what you were thinking of when he leans forward, elbows bent for his face to rest on his hands, eyes locking with yours. “You applied for the personal assistant position.”

And you are so smart, you even remember to nod!

His mouth twitches, like he’s fighting off a grin, as he continues. “Do you have a resume with you?”

You nod again, brilliantly. He gives you a meaningful look, waiting, and you realize he probably actually wants to see the damn thing. So you scramble to pull it out, handing it over unceremoniously, and your hands are totally not absolutely shaking! Not at all why would you say that-

“Any previous experience in this line of work?” His eyes are on the paper- the pink paper, you groan internally, because you somehow thought that adding a “personal flair” would compensate for lack of actual expertise when you printed it off at 3AM last night.

“Um, I worked in a secretarial position in college, and then I was in an office for a few years-“

“But not specifically in the realm of personal assistantships?” His eyes dart up to you once, quickly, before resuming their perusing.

You really do try not to deflate like a sad birthday balloon. “Well, not specifically, no.”

He nods, closing your poor little resume folder, setting it down on the table. “Can we speak candidly?”

And you’re like he’s literally going to tell me I am the stupidest dumbest person in the world and I should walk directly into oncoming traffic and also I held my wine glass wrong because I’m an idiot but then he says “I’m really prioritizing discretion over experience. To be frank, you’re not qualified for this position-“ and the air literally hisses out of you because you are the saddest birthday balloon in the grocery store right now- “and don’t look so sad, it’s fine. I don’t care that you’ve never fetched coffee for a living. But, I do care about my privacy.” And then he’s leaning in and you can smell him and you didn’t know people could smell sexy!!! But he smells sexy!!! Is this nosefucking?? Is that what’s happening?? It takes you a full second to realize he’s speaking again but you tune in to the best of your ability “… and I’m just not particularly inclined to have someone writing a memoir about working for me after they choose to pursue other passions. You understand, I’m sure.”

And yeah you understand what you heard so you nod again!! And then he’s cocking his head to the side slightly, staring you down with an intensity that makes your cheeks heat up and you pussy clench on thin air as he inhales deeply through his nose before nodding once. “A trial run, then. I’ll have the paperwork sent over tonight. Please take your time to read through it, and let me know if you have any questions or concerns.”

He’s standing up then (was he that tall this whole time?? You didn’t think so??), so you stand up too, reaching for your bag, but he’s waving you off with one hand as he downs his wine with the other. “Stay, finish your wine, order a meal. I have business elsewhere, but as I said- the bill is taken care of.” And he’s walking away, some waiter magically procuring his jacket out of thin air! But then he stops! Turns back to you! Says, “Don’t forget dessert. Thank you for your time, enjoy your evening.” And then he’s gone! Poof! And you’re like????? What?????? Anyways I guess I have to write this now.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Drew starkey x reader where the cast is hanging out and swimming at the lake and it’s night. the cast notice the romantic tension between drew and the reader, they all slowly leave so they can be alone. Finally drew kisses her (can u do smut pls)

Hi, sweetness! I actually love this, so cute. And as a water girl/ lake lover, this is dreams.

Author's Notes: I just want to be friends with these people, so badly and this is basically one of my dream parties. And Drew Starkey can take me night swimming anytime... This one is long, but I think it's fun, it's flirty and I think it's kind of sexy. Please let me know what you think xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Sexual references - sexual innuendos (I didn't do full smut, sorry. But it's still fun! I do have an idea for a potential second part...)

Requested? Heck yes! Requests for OBX are open!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

It was the perfect night for a swim. The sky was so clear it was almost as if they could reach up, grab the stars and count them in their palm.

Instead, they all decided it would be the perfect night to have a fire on the beach to accompany their swim. Everyone packed a bag, a cooler and drove down to the beach.

Drew drove her in his truck, just the two of them, down the to beach. His windows down to let the late night summer breeze hit their faces. He smiled over at her quickly when her heard he laugh, her hands pushing her long hair out of her face as the wind created a tunnel in the cab of the truck.

"Windows up next time?" Drew laughed softly as he adjusted his hat on his head then made the turn to the parking lot for the beach. The lot was empty except for the few cars that were waiting for the two of them to arrive.

"No. I like it." She smiled as she twisted her hair and held it to the side while he slowed his truck down, then parked it beside Chase's car.

"Good. I like the whole windblown look on you. It's cute." Drew smiled over at her as he pulled the keys from the ignition and undid his seat belt.

"Says the guy who doesn't have to brush his hair." She replied as she unfastened her own seat belt, then followed his lead and hopped out of the truck.

"You made it!" Madelyn squealed with a slight slur, her arms tossed around her friend's neck, their bodies hitting Drew's truck with a soft thud.

"We were like, five minutes behind you." Drew replied with a laugh as he reached into the back of his truck to pull out her backpack and his cooler. He kicked Chase in the shin as the wavy haired man walked up with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smirk.

"I didn't say anything, asshole." Chase grumbled as he reached down to rub his bruised flesh.

"You thought it." Drew replied under his breath as he lifted their items from the back of his truck and started to walk down from the parking lot towards the beach.

Drew walked next to Chase on the beach, the two watching as Madelyn drunkenly grabbed Her hand, and pulled her down to the shore. An eruption of giggles filled the quiet night air as the cold water of the lake touched the tips of their toes.

"So, you two?" Chase asked as both he and Drew placed their coolers down at the same time. Each man opened the lids of their respective coolers and pulled out either a can, or a bottle of beer.

"Getting there." Drew nodded with a sip of his beer, and another adjustment of his hat on his head. He kept his eyes trained on the shoreline as Madelyn grabbed Her hips and pulled Her down onto the sand.

"Guys! Sorry, we're late. JD forgot that cars need gas in order to function. So, we had to stop." Rudy called from the parking lot, before he came running towards them.

"S'alright." Drew laughed as he hitched at the waist, reached into his cooler and pulled out a beer to hand to the blonde man.

"Are they drunk already?" Rudy asked with a point the girls who wrestled on the beach as he pulled the tab on his beer.

"Madelyn is, yes." Chase laughed as he pushed his hand through his wavy hair.

"Ladies!" Madison yelled as she ran as fast as she could through the sand, stumbling only once, to get to the girls who still wrestled on the beach.

"She's drunk, too. Shotgunned a beer in the gas station parking lot." Rudy snickered while he watched all three women hug on the sand with a raucous of giggles.

"So, we lighting this thing? Or are we going to stand here like creeps all night?" JD asked as he finally made his way over to the rest of his friends and dropped down a pile of fire wood.

The boys took their eyes of the girls, letting them play in the sand for a bit longer, and took to building the fire in the stone pit on the beach. Drew tossed in the match and watched as the flames began to burn up the newspaper used for kindling. He jumped slightly when he felt arms wrapped around his chest from behind.

"Did you bring my bag down?" She asked softly in his ear, the sand from her body falling onto him.

"Yeah. It's right by the cooler. Going for a swim?" He smirked as he turned his body slightly to look at her. If it was possible, her hair was even messier than it had been when the windows were down in his truck.

"Yeah! The waves look like so much fun." She smiled as she ran her hands over his shoulders then made her way over to her backpack and began to rustle through it for her bathing suit.

"First of all, where are you going to change? Second. You're going to freeze your ass off in that water." Rudy replied as he crunched his beer can, tossed it into the garbage bag already full with a few empties courtesy of Madelyn and Chase, then grabbed a full can.

"Question one. I will change in Drew's truck. Question two. You don't know my threshold for cold, Pankow." She replied with a skip in her step as she carried her bikini in one hand towards Drew's truck to change.

Drew flicked a stone at Chase who mouthed a less than quiet "go" at his friend as the woman walked away.

"To help her put on a bathing suit? I'm sure she's fine." Drew replied as he finished off his own beer.

"She might need help tying those strings, Drew." Madelyn stated with a sing-song in her voice, her shoulders shaking from side to side.

"Fuck you, guys." Drew scoffed as he stood up, tossed his empty can then made his way towards the parking lot with his hands in his pockets to sounds of whoops and hollers from his friends.

He walked up to his truck and vaguely saw the shape of her body move around in the back seat of his truck. He bit at his bottom lip, then ran his thumb over it as he leaned against the driver side. It took all his conviction to not steal a peak through the open window.

"Good in there, hon?" He asked softly, his hands still in his pockets as he kept his eyes fixed on JD's license plate across the lot. He would not look at her bare back as she tried to tie up her bikini, one hand holding the triangles of her top to her breasts while the other reached behind her to tie the strings.

"No. I hate these fucking things. Can you help?" She grumbled from the backseat, as she reached to open the back door and shifted in the seat so her back faced him.

"Sure." Drew nodded as his bottom lip made home between his teeth again. He took the large step forward to stand behind her then took hold of the strings to her bikini and pulled them tightly around her chest.

"Thank you." She replied softly as his fingertips brushed over the back of her neck and tied the strings in a knot, his hands lingering over her shoulders for a brief second.

"You're welcome. This is a nice colour on you." Drew stated as he hooked his index finger in the top string of her deep purple bikini.

"Thanks, Drew." She smiled as she sat up on her knees in the backseat and faced him.

"Lady! Are you coming swimming or not?" Madelyn yelled from her spot on the sand, her bathing suit already on which led both Her and Drew to believe Madelyn changed on the beach.

"Yes, Madelyn! I'll be right there!" She laughed while she pushed her hair back from her face.

"Tell Drew to hurry up with your bikini! It's not that difficult!" Madelyn giggled as she took a swig from a wine bottle before she took off back towards the fire pit.

"Don't say anything back. She's more wine than woman at this point. Come swimming with me." She laughed as she reached for his biceps as he held his weight against the door frame of the truck. She pulled her body up close enough for a kiss but didn't give him the satisfaction of pressing her lips to his.

"Alright. I don't need help with my swimsuit, though." Drew grinned as he pushed himself off the truck and walked back towards the fire. He let out a heavy exhale when he knew he was far enough away from her earshot.

Drew, Chase and the girls made their way into the brisk water for a nighttime swim while Rudy and JD chose to stay and tend to the fire. Chase let out a loud yelp as a wave rolled in, cold water reaching up to his chest.

"You're a baby, Stokes!" She laughed as she began to tread water, then make the few front strokes over to Drew.

Drew took hold of her waist then pulled her close to keep her above the rolling waves. Their height difference apparent in the water.

"It's fucking freezing. What are you? A polar bear?" Chase replied, teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around himself.

"You have to go under! Otherwise you're just two different temperatures." Madison giggled before she dove under the water, her feet splashing water high above everyone's heads.

"No. Fuck that. I'm not drunk enough for this." Chase shivered as he began to make his way out of the water. He raised his eyebrows at Drew as he looked at the woman in his friend's arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

"I'm coming, too. I need more wine." Madelyn smirked as she swam over to Chase, her own eyebrows raised up at Drew.

"I'm going back up, too. Rudy is ruining that fire." Madison stated quietly as she pushed her long hair back from her face, and made her way towards the shore.

"They're all wimps." She smiled up at Drew, her arms around his neck as they both waded in the water as a large wave rolled over them.

"I don't know, hon. It is kind of cold in here." Drew laughed with his hands on her lower back to keep her close. It was the closest they had ever been, with the least amount of clothes on.

"I think it's nice. And you're warm, so I feel good." She stated softly as she placed her right hand on the back of his neck, her fingertips twirling the hair.

"Don't get me wrong. I'll deal with this cold water if I can have you wrapped around me like this. I really don't mind it." Drew grinned as he wrapped his left arm around her waist securely while his right hand grabbed at her thigh.

The two of them simply waded in the water for a bit, wrapped around each other and in the sexual tension they had created. She kept her hands on the back of Drew's neck, occasionally twisting a bit of hair at the nape.

"Drew?" She asked quietly after a few moments of sweet silence between them.

"Yeah."

"Did you see anything when I was changing in your truck?" She smiled at him as she placed her hands on his shoulders, her eyebrows raised.

"I mean..I may have seen just the side of these." Drew replied as he tilted his head to the side, the hand he had on her thigh reached up to brush the underside of her breast.

"Drew!" She laughed as she tossed her arms around his neck and pulled him close for a hug, her legs tightening around his waist.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. You're so pretty." Drew smiled while he nuzzled his face into her neck and tightened his grip around her.

"I forgive you." She whispered as he pulled his face from her neck and looked into her eyes, his nose brushed against hers.

Drew muttered a barely audible, "thank you" as his adjusted his hold on her, both his hands on her thighs to keep her around him. He felt her hands in his hair, giving the slightest of pulls and the other shoe finally dropped.

Drew pressed his lips to hers, closing the tiny space between them. He released a sigh of relief through his nostrils while she whined ever so softly in the back of her throat. The kiss between them had been building for weeks.

They finally broke apart, but only for air. Drew gripped at her thighs while he peppered her lips with kisses. Her hands pulled at his hair as she tried to catch her breath again.

"Drew?" She asked between pecks on her lips.

"Yeah, honey?" Drew muttered as he kissed his way from her lips to her neck.

"Do you think I could steal a peak at you in the back of your truck? It seems only fair." She asked as she released a heavy breath, her hands on his shoulders as his lips created a seal on her neck.

"You can have way more than a peak if you want, honey." Drew grunted as he lifted her higher around his waist, he pulled his lips off her neck so he could look at her face.

"Okay. Will you take me back to the truck to get warm?" She asked softly, her eyes downcast to watch as her fingertips caught the beads of water on his chest.

"Thought you'd never ask." Drew grinned as he adjusted her legs around his waist, then began to walk them back towards the shoreline. He placed her back on her feet softly on the sand and gave her backside a nudge towards the parking lot before he ran his hands through his hair.

"Are you guys finally coming back to the fire?" JD asked with a raised eyebrow as he poked the flames.

"In a second, yeah. She's cold, so we're just going to sit in the truck and warm up. Change out of these swimsuits." Drew replied as he shook the water off his fingertips.

"Whatever you say, Drew." Madison grinned as she rolled onto her stomach in front of the fire and cracked open another can of beer.

Drew muttered under his breath as he grabbed Her backpack then made his way through the sand towards his truck - the back door open. He walked to the front end of the truck, dropped the bag then made his way around the open door where his heart began to race.

"You're naked." Drew stated flatly as he looked at the woman sat up in the backseat of his truck without her purple bathing suit, the heat of the truck blasting.

"Can't sit around in a wet bathing suit, and you have my bag." She smiled over at him.

"Yeah, but you're naked in the back of my truck." Drew smirked as he held his weight against the frame of the door, his eyes scanning her body shamelessly.

"Do you want to come be naked in the back of your truck with me, Starkey?" She laughed as she turned to sit up on her knees, facing him.

"Uh huh. Sure do." Drew nodded as he reached down to untie his swimsuit then tugged it down to his ankles. He climbed inside the back with her and shut the door behind him, leaving his swim trunks in the parking lot.

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment Thank you for your support! xoxo

Requests for OBX are open!

[the-passenger-if]

Angsts sequel pls 🥺 how do the ros in the last break up ask react to Newman coming back and trying to fix things?

“I don’t care why you did it,” Fiama says, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the street.

“Can’t we discuss this somewhere else?” C.C. Diner’s regulars are staring at them from the windows. Fiama acceded to give Newman a minute of her time, but she doesn’t seem particularly interested in going anywhere farther than a few feet away from the building.

“No, and I am very busy. Are you done yet?” And she still isn’t looking at them; she hasn’t since they stepped out of the diner.

“Fiama, please. I swear I had very good reasons to do what I did.”

“Mh-hm, so you say.” She glances over her shoulder. “Do me a favor, will you?” Finally, she looks at them and the blank stare she throws their way makes something inside Newman shrivel and die. “Take those reasons and shove them up your ass.”

She makes to leave, and Newman tries once more, “You can’t lie to me. You still care about me, Fiama. You still care about us.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “I did care about us. Six months ago. I’ve moved on. Bruno has moved on.” She gives them a once-over. “You should do the same. Don’t come back, and don’t bother my son. It’s over.” With that, she turns around and goes back into the diner, leaving Newman alone in the street.

---

Jonny listens to Newman’s story in silence, he hasn’t made a sound since they showed up in the video store with an awkward smile stuck on their face.

He closed the door—it was almost closing time, anyway—and came back to position himself behind the counter. Newman didn’t attempt to follow him; they knew Jonny needed that space, at least for now.

“And that’s what happened,” Newman finishes. Jonny doesn’t say anything; he just keeps staring at his fingers on the counter. “I know it doesn’t change the fact that I broke up with you—“

“Over the phone,” Jonny says, then looks at them in the eye. The vulnerability in his expression almost has Newman reaching out, but they can’t, not yet. “You broke up with me over the phone,” he winces as if the memory had slapped him.

“I had no choice.” They aren’t losing their cool, they have their emotions under control. “I wouldn’t have been able to go away if I…” They shake their head, move to the counter flap and lift it just a bit before checking for Jonny’s reaction. He has stepped away from the counter, standing straighter. He’s eying them warily but that’s it. Newman lifts the flap all the way and steps closer to Jonny. “I missed you.” He blinks, and they take another step, and then another one.

Once they are in front of Jonny, he finally speaks. “You hurt me. I shouldn’t…”

“I will make it up to you,” Newman says holding his gaze. “It doesn’t matter how much time it takes me to make it right; I want to be with you, Jonny. I want you.” Sheepishly they take his face between their hands and slowly close the gap between them. Jonny's muscles are tense, but he doesn’t pull away, and after a few seconds he kisses Newman back. When Newman hugs him tight, he finally relaxes, practically melting against them.

---

It had taken them almost four years, but Newman finally caught up with them. Their sneaky companion is sat at the bar. They don’t look anything like the Roach that swaggered their way all those years ago, but they have no doubt it’s them sitting there, sipping a drink that looks radioactive under the blacklight of the club.

It’s surreal. As Newman heads toward them, that’s the only thought in their head. This whole thing is surreal. And then Roach is twirling around on the metal stool, and fixing them with a stare, and suddenly the dreamlike sensation crashes on them with a vengeance.

It really is like staring into a mirror, a mirror that’s four years younger than them, but still. The son of a bitch really stole their face.

“Look at that,” Roach says in Newman’s voice and a sly tilt to the words. “Fancy meeting you here.” They follow Newman with their (Newman’s) eyes until they take a seat next to them. “This is a bad omen, by the way,” Roach continues before taking a sip of their fluorescent cocktail. “Only horrible things happen to those that come across their doppelganger.”

“Even if said doppelganger is fake?”

Roach’s smile turns sharp but they don’t reply, they just empty their glass and set it on the bar. “Alright, tell me everything. I want to know how you realized.”

Newman can feel their mouth pursing at the memory of the first time somebody got overly familiar with them just outside of a gas station restroom. “They called me ‘Roach’.”

“There has to be more than that!” Roach says with a laugh. “You are unforgettable.” They wink at Newman with sadistic glee.

“Ugh… look, Roach. I’m sorry, ok?” Better to get this over with. “Things happened, things that were hard to explain, things I couldn’t drag you through.”

Roach hums distracted, then flags the bartender.

“I want us to fix what we had, I want—“

“Another one,” Roach says with a seductive smile while pushing the empty glass toward the bartender. Then they point at Newman, “And one for my… twin here. I’m planning to get wasted tonight, and they are paying, so keep them coming, hunk.” Then they look at Newman. “The night is young and we have all the time in the world. If you can make me remember why I cared in the first place, then maybe, I’ll think about it, what do you say?”

---

“You’re trespassing private property,” Horizon tells Newman as they see them approach. “Ranch 48 isn’t open to the public.”

Newman comes to a stop in front of their ex-partner and, ok, maybe they weren’t expecting to be welcomed with a kiss but the coldness in those gray eyes feel like stalactites hanging over Newman’s head. They raise their hands. “Horizon, please let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, and I have a very busy schedule. Please, leave.” Their voice is polite, but those eyes… if looks could freeze.

“I have no right to ask anything from you, I know, but you have to give me a chance to explain. Everything that happened was a mistake…”

“’Everything that happened’?” Horizon frowns at them. “You have no idea about what happened. You—“ realizing they are raising their voice, they stop, close their eyes and take a deep breath. Next time they open their eyes, the calm and collected coldness has returned. “You hurt me deeply, I mourned what we had… poorly… but I came out of it stronger, better.” They stand straighter. “I respect myself too much to sacrifice all that over a few excuses.”

“I respect you too!”

Horizon’s mouth twists with skepticism. “If you did, you wouldn’t have come here in the hopes of disturbing whatever little peace I could’ve garnered in the last six months.” They sniff. “Now go before Velour sees us talking. And don’t come back. You aren’t welcome here.”

[bang-and-a-blintz]

Through the Darkness

CHAPTER TWO - DEJA VU

Fandom: Dracula (2020)  

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)  

Rating: Mature  

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 1,999

Holy shit it was getting hot in here, Roxana thought as she wiped her face with the crisp white towel and then tossed it on the table with a sigh. Even though it was starting to freeze outside, her kitchen was scorching. Absently, she hoped that the pipes wouldn’t burst again, which had already happened twice this winter. 

All the food was prepped and ready for the guests that evening, she went through and turned up all the ovens so they’d be set by the time everyone would begin to arrive. Roxana glanced at the clock and then looked over the menu once more before grabbing her jacket and walking out back to smoke a cigarette. 

“Well this cold weather can kindly fuck right off.” She grumbled, fighting the wind to flick her lighter. After a few more clicks and curses, she succeeded and took a long drag. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes for a moment, leaning back against the back door.

It had been many long years of busting her ass to get to where Roxana was today: the proud owner and executive chef of her own thriving restaurant. She should feel carefree as usual. But there was just something off about this night, she couldn’t help but to feel on edge all day long and when she brushed it off earlier, she was unable to shake the intensity in which it grew. 

Thus the cigarette. Roxana usually tried to moderate her vices, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t chief down almost an entire pack already that day.

“Bitch I thought you quit smoking!” So much for a moment to herself.

Roxana turned to see her sous-chef walking towards her, all bundled up so that no inch of skin showed, and he was shivering quite dramatically all the while glaring daggers at her. “Look at you being on time! Guessing the streetcar froze up and left your cheap ass with getting a cab?” 

“Ha fucking ha.” He burrowed even further into his down jacket and impatiently waited for her to move away from the door, “That streetcar was packed up tighter than Cooter’s on a game night, baby, I nearly had to fight someone’s granpaw to get up in there. Honestly now, what could be so urgent? He ninety. Well? Are you gonna fucking get out the way or what, Rocks? I’ll be no use to you with frozen fingers, I’ll tell you what!”

She chuckled and tossed the butt in the trash before gallantly opening the door. He wasted no time rushing in and placing his hands close to the ovens. Al Patrone had been her kitchen partner at their previous job and if it had not been for his endlessly entertaining sass, she would have never made it in that horrid place. They became thick as thieves from years of bickering back and forth over the fires.

So it was no surprise that when Roxana told Al her plans to start her a new restaurant, he immediately pick up his knives and followed her out. Even though he had been with the establishment for nearly a decade, Al didn’t bat an eye when he gave them the finger and left.  The owner was a xenophobic and misogynistic piece of shit anyways. Fuck him. 

The idea was presented to her, Roxana somehow ended up in the right place at the right time, because that’s how these things usually happen. While she was throwing back tequila shots at the Monteleone, she met some famous actor - not that she gave the damn, his name was Tom…or was it George? - they chatted the evening away. The next day she invited him to the restaurant she had worked to show him some local cuisine. 

Even though he was positively salivating over her seared pompano, the man constantly bemoaned to her about the lack of small and intimate restaurants in New Orleans. He wasn’t wrong. Most of the fancy to-do joints all sat three to six hundred people a shift and seemed to have a turnover rate higher than a pornstar. 

The guy basically wanted a butler and in-home chef, but not actually be at his home. To all the peasants working in the food industry, the idea was laughable.

“Oh and how would I keep up the bills with serving just one table a night, huh?” She had huffed and signaled for another round of shots. “Seems like some whimsically ludicrous pipe dream to me.”

He had looked her dead in the eye, suddenly sober enough for the moment, “If you can cook the way you do in this shit hole, then darlin’ I can only imagine what you could whip up when you’ve got nothing holding you back. I know people who would pay the building’s rent in a single night after eating just one of your meals. I’m fucking serious.”

Who was she to deny that sort of opportunity?

Roxana had gotten a steal of a deal on the building and simply fell in love with the neighborhood. It was in the Irish Channel down closer to the river with a breathtaking view of the Crescent City Connection bridge. The property was an old Spanish colonial styled building with dark red stucco that faded in areas revealing the old brick beneath. High white arches lined the front entrance, the gas lanterns flickered shadows against the ceiling and danced when the large canopy fans spun lazily. 

It seemed to almost slink into the darkness of the night, hiding in plain sight amongst the other homes on the street. The large and ominous oak trees stood guard out front, their branches were natural curtains and their roots fenced in the broken sidewalks like a front yard.

The interior was a stark contrast with light gray brick walls with natural reds scattered across, aspen wood flooring, and industrial piping that lined the walls with vintage light bulbs. Very bright and open in a comforting coffee-shop sort of feel.

There was just one large black table that severed the room in half. The chairs assembled around the exterior of the rectangle while the inside had a long walkway down to the front. Similar to hibachi-style but instead of the large grill top, there was an empty space that allowed Roxana and Al to personally serve each dish directly. 

In the back, the kitchen gleamed and sparkled, the burners all neatly arranged on the large island in the middle of the room reflected the lights above and glimmered like diamonds. Roxana would meticulously scrub everything down every night before finally closing so it would always remain spotless. 

It was simple and elegant, intimate and relaxed. She put her blood, sweat, and tears into the remodel and hoped beyond all hope that it wouldn’t all have been for nothing. Roxana had a strange sort of optimism about the project, something she had never felt before, and so she decided on naming her restaurant Sanguine. 

True to her friend’s word, he made a few calls to some of his famous friends and told them to come down. One thing led to another and it blew up. These prominent and wealthy clients started to come in droves, they craved the exclusiveness, and they would happily pay beaucoup money for it. It all worked out flawlessly.

They decided on hiring just a hostess and valet, while Al helped Roxana run the kitchen and service. She took good care of her employees and in turn they treated her with the utmost respect, making sure that everything was impeccably done and ran smoothly.

That was three years ago and business was still very much booming.

“Are you gonna stop daydreaming and help me whip up these fucking cakes?” Al shouted over the music that he insisted on blasting full volume as soon as he put on his white double-breast chef jacket. 

“Oh calm yourself before your sweat ruins my recipe.”

Al’s eye grew wide in offense, “My sweat would give this bland shit some real flavor, honey.” 

Roxana barked out a laugh and grabbed a bowl. The two friends began to work together in easy synchronization. Shortly after, the hostess named Angeline peeked into the kitchen to tell them that the guests had begun to arrive and then returned to start seating. 

Al finally turned down the tunes to a reasonable level for a restaurant, but there was still a ringing noise echoing in Roxana’s ear. She shook her head and pulled the amuse-bouche out of the oven. 

They were having a smaller table than normal this evening with only five people, some local politicians that she had served before - the mayor, his wife, his popular defense attorney buddy, and two other names that she did not recognize.  

While they put all the finishing touches on the first two courses, the chefs could hear the absent chattering and boisterous laughter of their guests. However, one voice in particular caught their attention with its luscious baritone.

“Well hello there.” It was slightly muted behind the walls but the British accent was unmistakable. Al looked over to Roxana and waggled his eyebrows, she laughed and waved him off. 

“Good evening, sir, you must be Mr. Balaur. We’ve been expecting you, please come in!” Angeline’s cheerful voice lilted at a slightly higher pitch than normal. 

Al elbowed Roxana, “You know what that means, baby girl, we finna have a looker!”

She wiped away a smudge on the plate before nodding in satisfaction at the finished product, “What about that frenchman with the yacht last week you were schmoozing?”

“Rocks, please, that boy was twink-city-slams and should’ve stayed over at Tulane by them frats.” Al finished decorating with a little dusting of paprika on the remoulade and sighed dramatically, “I have moved on to bigger and better. Just need to pop down to Oz and find myself a daddy.” 

“What you need is therapy.”

“I already have a therapist.” Roxana rose a brow, her smile crooked goofily at her eclectic friend’s antics. Al popped a hip and gave her a look over his shoulder, “And her name is tequila, baby.”

She laughed openly and smacked him on the arm, “Alright, alright, let’s get this dinner going, you scoundrel.”

They filled their arms with plates and made their way towards the dining room.

With every step, the ringing in her ears grew louder and louder. Roxana frowned and tried stretching her shoulders to shake it off, but no avail. The two turned the corner and placed the plates down in front of each guest, then took a step back to politely let the clients quiet their conversations. 

As the chatter died down, Roxana could still only hear the roaring sound that permeated the cavity of her brain. Her arms lit up with goosebumps. What the actual fuck is happening? Her mind was frantic as she looked around at the faces of those dining, a chill crept up her spine in anticipation, and the hairs on the back of her neck shot straight up when her eyes met the sight before her.

Then everything was silent. Save for her heartbeat, which suddenly spiked as if she took off for a marathon. Thump, thump, thump, thumpity. 

“Oh fuck.” She didn’t even hear herself whisper.

But it caught the man’s attention and drew it from the woman seated next to him, his head tilted and ears perked at the sound of the beating drum within Roxana’s chest. 

Slowly, he turned his gaze towards her with a lazy smirk that almost immediately slipped from his face as hers came into focus. His jaw dropped slightly, gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed and his dark eyes softened in wonder. “Agatha?”

[ghostwinchesters]

Can you do Sam + Support pls??

you mean sam who just left home for stanford and finds a dog, aka bones ???? you betcha.

he wants to stay on the bathroom floor forever. he still feels nauseous but you can’t vomit emotions and he doesn’t have anything else to throw up. he feels so fucking alone. maybe this was a mistake.

there’s a knock on the bathroom door. “hey, man. you’ve been in there forever.” sam freezes. maybe going to the men’s bathroom at two in the morning in a middle of nowhere gas station was a mistake too.

“i’ll be–” sam coughs and rips off some toilet paper to wipe his mouth. he tries to lower his voice. “i’ll be out in a second.” he forces himself to his feet, shaking his aching head to try to get rid of his tunnel vision. he turns the water on cold and splashes it on his face. some of it drips uncomfortably down his neck and under his sleeves but he’s already disgustingly damp from the drizzle outside. he pulls his hoodie low over his eyes and slings his duffel bag over his shoulder again.

he takes a deep breath and pulls the door open, moving past the guy standing there as quickly as he can, head ducked.

he grabs a few granola bars and a bag of chips and dumps them on the cracked counter. he avoids looking the cashier in the eye while he digs around for a few dollar bills and leaves as quickly as he can.

he turns the corner into the dark parking area next to the gas station, trying to stay close to the small awning and out of the rain. something brushes against his leg as he drops the change into his bag and he jumps, his hand going for the knife tucked into his belt.

there’s a soft whine and sam exhales in relief as he looks down. “oh my g-d. don’t–! what are you still doing here?” he bends down to pet the golden retriever’s tangled fur. “you have to stop following me, boy. i can barely take care of myself, okay?”

the dog licks his face and sam huffs out a tired laugh.

“do you really not have anyone looking out for you? did someone just fucking leave you at the bus stop?” he rubs his ear gently. “are you just as alone as me?”

he stands up, shaking his head. “fine, dammit. i’ll try to sneak you into my motel room if i find one.” he pats his leg and makes a kissing sound. “come on. let’s get out of this shitty fucking rain.”

sam looks over his shoulder before unlocking the door to his room and letting the retriever slip in before him. he bolts it behind him and pulls out his canister of salt and pours it onto the floor along the bottom of the frame. the dog sits next to him, waiting patiently.

sam stares down at him and wrinkles his nose. “you need a bath. i need one too, but i think you really need one first.” he walks to the bathroom and turns the water on, dropping his duffle bag on the closed toilet lid. “i hope you don’t mind wat–” the dog jumps into the tub, splashing onto sam’s legs. he sighs. “okay, we got that covered. you better not use all the hot water though.”

he kneels down and runs his fingers through the dog’s fur, trying to get some of the matted, muddy parts of his fur clean first. they end up having to use an extremely unfortunate amount of sam’s shampoo before sam shuts off the water and grabs a towel off the counter. he groans in discomfort as he leans over the dog and dries him off.

his ribcage hurts and he’s been wearing his binder for way too long. the dog pushes his nose against sam’s chest gently and whines. “what?” the dog does it again, more insistently, and sam winces. “okay, okay. i’m taking it off in a second, boy. i’ll be fine.” he dries him off enough that he’s not dripping anymore and drops the towel on the floor. “come on, get out of the tub. my turn.”

the retriever leaps off the bed excitedly when sam comes out of the bathroom and sam can’t help but smile again as he runs his fingers through the dog’s much cleaner fur. he checks the door and the salt before falling onto the bed, completely exhausted.

“maybe i should name you, huh?” sam scratches behind the dog’s ears. “not to sound attached, but you need a name.” they lay quietly for a few minutes. “ugh, i don’t know. everything i keep thinking of just makes me think of dad and hunting.” his breath catches in a suppressed sob. he doesn’t need another breakdown right now. “and dean.”

the dog licks his face, replacing the tear that slipped down his cheek with slobber. sam laughs shakily. “gross, but thanks. i appreciate it.” he wipes his face with the sleeve of his sweater. “you know what? bones. i’m going with it, i don’t care.”

bones licks his nose this time and sam smiles tiredly, turning the bedside lamp off. he’s still so far from okay but maybe he’ll get there.

hhhhh this is so messy and,, not great but i’m fuckin tired so yeet

send me a character/pairing + a phrase !

[the100imagine]

Imagine: Hollow.

Requested by Anon. Includes: Bellamy Blake x Reader. Request: * Please do a reader and Bellamy request where they get kidnapped and held hostage so they get to know eachother, and become really close. So when they are rescued they dont like how they live so far from eachother and cant sleep. So Bellamy turns up at her house with love confessions and filled with fluff pls * Bellamy x reader imagine where Bellamy has hypothermia so reader unabashedly keeps him warm like taking off her clothes for skin to skin contact. And Bellamy's all freezing and flustered

Note: Not my best, nothing ever really is, but I put them together bc they would have been too short otherwise and I didn't really know how to write it. HOW THE HELL DO I END IMAGINES??

     It wasn't the same, and you doubted that it ever would be. For almost a week you had forced yourself to stay awake, because you didn't want to wake up one day and realise that you were still stuck in that place, that being rescued didn't happen, that you weren't back home and safe, but rather in the small cage that you began to rot in for almost two and a half months. A shallow and shaky breath escaped your dry and split lips as you laid on your back, above the blankets, on the bed. It was cold, the rain fell heavily with large hailstones, and the wind blew against the walls of your home loudly, howling and whistling in a high pitch. There was an uncomfortable stinging sensation from your eyes as you willed them to stay open. There was no doubt that they were bloodshot and bruised from the trauma that you were forced through.

    But dark circles were the least of your problems.

    The others in your clan grew worried as you shut yourself away from them, avoiding any confrontation. They knew that you stopped eating, fearing that they had done something to your food like the other people in that place did. Their haunting gas masks and heavy breathing was all that you could see and hear every time you stared down at a plate of food. The effects of sleep deprivation, and the hallucinations that followed, caused you to see the food deflate in the wooden bowl and ooze out a light grey colour that filled up the bowl and overflowed until you dropped it and rubbed at your eyes, only to see that, when you reopened your eyes, the freshly cooked meat, recently picked berries, and small potatoes, from the small garden, was knocked over on the ground, and covered in mud.

    They tried to help, they tried to get you to talk about it, but they only made matters worse. Every time you thought about it, it only resurfaced the old memories that you wanted to forget and keep hidden. They had to give up trying at some point, they knew it was only putting more stress on you, but they didn't want to let go of it completely because they knew that would be worse than making you talk about it straight away. It wasn't something that you could ignore forever, they wanted you to realise that, but for now, it wasn't time to open up and hold hands with everyone to tell them what happened.

    They had to give you space until you were ready.

    When you were rescued, you hadn't been rescued alone. One of the members of Skaikru, a group that you hadn't known about as you had been held prisoner during their crash landing, had been in a cage next to you. Bellamy tried, to the best of his abilities, to fill you in on what happened, but of course, there were some facts missing and he didn't know a lot about your clan. You weren't surprised, you knew that Ingranrona Kru didn't get involved in a lot of Coalition activities, preferring to stay to themselves. So, when you had been rescued, your people were quick to take you back to your village and keep you far away from any more possible dangers.

    But they might have been quick to judge.

    It was unavoidable that you would have grown close to Bellamy. He was the only person you had been around after being alone for over a month before he was brought in. You didn't even see the people who kept you prisoner for more than five minutes a day. So, when you were back home, you struggled to feel safe anywhere. Bellamy had often tried to get the people who held you both prisoners to leave you alone, risking his own life for yours, despite not knowing you. He kept telling you that everything was going to be okay, that you were going to be rescued, that you weren't going to die in a cage surrounded by dead rats and small bones. He even managed to get his arm through the gaps of the cages to get to you, holding your hand in his tightly, rubbing this thumb across your skin as he reminded you that you were going to get out of there, you both were.

    It wasn't until a month and a half later before his words became true.

    A soft knocking at your door caused you to blink, escaping your memories for even just a short moment. With furrowed eyebrows, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of your bed before you lit a few small candles, heading towards your door. When you pulled the door open slightly, keeping your body close to it so it couldn't be opened more than a few inches, you saw Bellamy standing outside in the rain. The water caused his curly hair to fall straight, his clothes hung heavily and his teeth chattered while his body shivered. He opened his mouth, having to talk loudly, over the rain and the wind.

    "I know it's late, and I know it's been over a week, but…"

    He couldn't finish his sentence, a shiver ran through his body uncomfortably and he tried wiping the water from his face, causing his hair to move back, showing the cut on his forehead. You moved away from the door and pulled it open, grabbing onto the soaked sleeve of his jacket, pulling him inside before you closed the door quickly. As you turned back around to face him, the dim light from the candles highlighted his own bruises, his own dark circles and the cuts along his skin. Bellamy tightened his fists together, not wanting to lose feeling in his fingers as he continued to talk.

    "I can't sleep, I can't… I—"

    "Take it off," you interrupted, watching as his lips began to turn blue, his skin growing pale.

    "What?"

    You pointed to his clothes. "They're making you worse."

    "I—"

    "I will light a fire, just—" You motioned to his clothes again, glancing down at the floor as a small puddle of water collected beneath him. Without hearing what he had to say, you walked over to the small fireplace and placed some dry logs inside, lighting a small match before you flicked it inside, poking at the logs with a long metal poker, keeping an eye on it as the flames began to engulf the wood. The sound of heavy, wet clothing dropping to the ground echoed from the front door. You turned around as saw Bellamy only shrugged off his jacket and shoes. "What's taking you so long?"

    "Oh, you meant—" Bellamy pulled at his shirt and you nodded.

    "It's soaked, take it off."

    Bellamy nodded and pulled the back of his shirt of his head, he was grasping at the material, mumbling to himself as he struggled due to the lack of feeling in his fingers. Quickly, you grabbed his jacket from the floor, hanging it up on the wall for the water to drip off. He threw his shirt on the small clothes string next to it before he fiddled with his belt, shaking and occasionally losing some balance as he stood. You moved his shoes and placed them near the fire, stuffing strips of paper inside to absorb the water. Bellamy cursed to himself quietly, moving his hands away from his belt to breathe warm air on them.

    "Do… Do you need help?" He turned to you, noticing how you didn't keep eye contact with him for more than a second. Bellamy nodded his head, hating the feeling of the water dripping from his hair to his back. With a nervous nod back, you walked over and quickly undid his belt, allowing him to pull it through the belt loops before he placed it over the small wooden chair by the wall. After you turned back to the fire, Bellamy quickly got out of his trousers and shivered, hanging them up before he noticed you hesitantly taking your own clothes off.

    "What are you doing?"

    "It will help warm you up faster."

    "Uh…"

    "Not like that, just… sit."

    Bellamy sat down in front of the fire, noticing that you placed a thick woollen blanket down just in front of the fire. He picked it up and unfolded it, wrapping it around his shoulders before he quickly placed his hands in front of the fire, rubbing them together while you got out of your clothes and picked up a small towel to dry his hair. His skin was ice cold to the touch as you sat next to him, drying his hair as he tried getting more feeling to his fingers. He shivered again, closing his eyes tightly, clenching his fists together as he breathed out deeply, gritting his teeth together.

    "You'll warm up soon."

    He didn't respond to you straight away, only turning his head to glance at you with red cheeks and tired eyes. "I know. I know I shouldn't have come here so late, or at all, but—"

    "It's fine, Bellamy. Just focus on getting warm, okay?"

    "Okay." He nodded, turning back to look at the fire, staring intently as you dried the rest of his hair as best as you could before you threw the small towel over to the wooden chair. Bellamy was quick to wrap one side of the blanket around your shoulders as well. He tried keeping his eyes on the fire, but every so often he found himself glancing back over to you, looking at the bruises on your legs that travelled up to your stomach. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

    "For what?" You asked, keeping your arms around him to help warm him up faster.

    "I should have tried harder to stop that from happening to you."

    "You didn't know they were going to do that."

    "I should have. I've seen it happen before, at Mount Weather, I lived through it. I even inflicted it on Lincoln and one of my own people."

    "That's not who you really are though, is it?" Bellamy knew it was rhetorical. His cheeks only grew warmer, which was either from the fire or because of how close you were to him. "Do your people know you're here? Or will they wake up and think you were taken again?"

    "I left a note."

    "How long will it take before they find it."

    "I left a big note," he corrected himself. "I wrote it on the wall of my room."

    With a nod, you rested your head on his shoulder, watching as he kept his hands out to the fire to warm them up and bring feeling back to them. Bellamy still shook lightly, but it wasn't as much as before, and he stopped chattering his teeth, there was, even more, colour to his lips as he ran his tongue along his bottom one before his jaw clenched as his eyes glanced to you before flickering back to the fire.

    "I, uh…" Bellamy cleared his throat. "I don't know about you, but, um, I haven't been sleeping. Like at all," he admitted, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. "I also don't trust people like I used to, and even the people that I did trust, I'm scared of letting them get close to me. I don't know what happened to us there, or what they did to us, but I hate it."

    "I can't sleep either. I don't want to wake up and find out that I'm still alone, that I'm still a prisoner."

    "I just want things to go back to how they used to be."

    You moved your head away from him, feeling the cold air at your cheek again, sending a shiver up your spine. "I don't think it ever will go back to how it used to be. I want it to as well, but realistically?" Bellamy nodded. "I think I'm just too broken to be fixed."

    Bellamy frowned. "I know what you mean."

    "I'm just so tired," you whispered quietly.

    "I will watch over you if you want?"

    "I can't ask you to do that, you even said it yourself, you haven't been sleeping either."

    "I don't mind, I just want to be here. I want to know that you're okay." You smiled faintly, breathing deeply as you looked at him. He turned his body to face you instead of the fire, his hands took hold of yours, they were a lot warmer now. "I'll stay, okay? If you'll have me, then I'll stay. I just need to be with someone that I know I can't trust. I just need it."

    Bellamy continued to look at you, waiting for an answer. If his people did worry, then they would know where he was, he said it himself, he left them a big note. It was probably something that you both needed. After all, he has been the first person that you've spoken to for longer than a minute since you got back. After a few more seconds of silence, you gave him the answer he was hoping for, a softly spoken whisper of the word, "Stay."