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anystalker707 · 1 year

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15 minutes until the night mass

Pairing: Gerard x [Gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 2 000 Genre: Smut Summary: Just a small treat to yourself before the last mass of Sunday. Kind of content: Dom-Sub dinamics / Vampire! Reader / Priest! Gerard / Blood play / Sado-Masochism undertones

MASTERLIST

Temptation is one thing clerical people should be used to the most since they have to give up on so much of their life so they can dedicate themselves to God, solely. Deciding to be part of the Church doesn’t come without a warning, no. Everyone is very well aware of everything it means given their years of preparation to get in charge of such an important role of saving souls and spreading God’s words daily and freeing their consciences of sins weekly.

The church is as empty as it can be on a Sunday afternoon, hours after the afternoon mass and at the ending of the confession sessions. My footsteps echo down the empty, wide halls of the church uncomfortably loudly each time the sole of my foot meets the marble floor, but it thankfully soon comes to an end when I take a seat on the small bench at the end of the hall, on the confessionary.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was one day ago.” My voice doesn’t echo. “I have committed murder, blackmailing, manslaughter, kidnapping, premarital s—”

“I know.”

I chuckle, peeking at Gerard through the confessionary’s grids. “No need to be so rude.”

Gerard hums softly in response, a poor attempt of being serious.

“You know what I’m here for,” I add.

His breath hitches. Gerard is one of the people that, clearly, hasn't ever done a good job as a person of the church. I would even blame myself and take full responsibility for corrupting him if he already wasn’t like that before. Dyed hair and tight jeans. Cigarettes in hands and late night in bars. It was bound to happen.

“I told you not to come here.”

“You know better than thinking I’d listen to that, father.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head. Thinking he can control me certainly makes Gerard believe he is in control of the situation—the situation not being just me, but also his life as a whole. Maybe it gives him the same impression of when he says “I can just stop smoking if I decide to. It’s not that hard, really, believe me. I can stop whenever I want.” Believing you’re in control of what harms you makes you feel better, it seems.

Silence hovers in the cold church halls before the door clicks and opens to reveal Gerard not in the best of his moods. As if he has any kind of authority here with that fake cold glare; it makes me laugh as I stand up and wrap an arm around his waist. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” He tries to pry my arm off him with hushed whispers, looking down the halls even if we are the only ones to crowd the area.

“Don’t be boring.” I chuckle as I walk with him until finding the door that leads to the small chapel from inside the church, pulling him inside with me. It is empty, of course, because everyone is taking care of organizing everything for the night mass that will start soon.

Gerard’s eyes avert away from mine the moment I face him again. “You’re a menace.”

“Calling me that makes me sound boring.” I sigh as I lock the door. “I’m not just some street criminal. I’m a demon.” I grin as I take a step closer to him, but he just steps back until the back of his thighs hit the last pew, where he holds onto automatically.

“Demon...” Gerard furrows his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t be able to get in here.”

“You don’t know a lot about vampires, do you?” I mirror his expression with pity, shaking my head slowly. I tug Gerard by his collar. “I can’t blame you. It’s not like you do a good job as a priest either, so I can’t expect you to know.” Even if I don’t mean everything I say—at least not completely—I can’t resist the way Gerard looks at me in frustration and almost shame.

“It’s not true!” He looks away with a sigh, but I just roll my eyes.

“How many sins do you commit just by looking at me?” I raise my eyebrows, taking Gerard’s jaw between my fingers so I can make him look at me; he has a small pout, hazel eyes meeting mine form under long lashes. “That’s already something, isn’t it? Come on.” My thumb grazes his bottom lip, tracing it gently. “But I don’t think it’s a problem now. We’re driving away from the point and you have a mass to celebrate in a few, right?”

Gerard opens his mouth to say something, but whatever it is, I shut him up with a kiss, lowering my hand to cup the side of his neck. His lips are soft and warm, pleasingly warm, and he kisses back hesitantly until finally giving in to it. His hands reach my torso to pull me closer by tugging onto my shirt, so I deepen the kiss.

The steps to the altar are messy, with us almost stumbling until Gerard’s lower back hits the table and I finally allow him to take a break to breathe. He already looks at me a little disoriented, but he twists his mouth like he always does when I start to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“We can’t have such a nice shirt stained, right?” I glance at him before I help him take his shirt and the collar off, setting them aside on the table. He is shy because of it, the blush going all the way from his cheeks to his chest as he grips a little too tightly onto the edges of the table behind him. “You look pretty today, father.”

“Shut up.” Gerard furrows his eyebrows in a scowl that’s nothing but adorable. His skin rises with shivers when I finally touch him, my cold palms wrapped around his waist.

“Your mouth tells me a thing,” I whisper, “but your body tells me another.” My hand cups the bulge in his pants to give it a little squeeze that’s enough for him to push his hips forward into it. How needy and touch starved can he be? I know it’s not often that I am around to be with him like this, but he still overreacts even to the smaller touches. It is quite curious.

His hair is a little greasy when I push it back to expose his neck, and Gerard automatically tilts his head to the side. My nose runs along the side of his neck and I press my lips to the skin for a moment until I find his pulse. It’s fast; his heart beats faster with the whole situation, which means a faster flow.

Gerard tenses up just by how I open my mouth, my fangs grazing against the skin until I find the right spot to sink them; it makes Gerard hiss and tense up, which he’s aware to only worsen the pain, despite the warnings. The blood starts flowing at the same moment once I pull my fangs away and latch my lips around the punctures instead, sucking onto the liquid gently until Gerard relaxes in my arms, his hips messily rolling into my hand. Horny bastard.

I drink a couple mouthfuls of the blood, shivering at the sublime taste, and just accumulate a third one in my mouth so I can push it all into his once we kiss. Gerard gasps surprised, almost choking on the blood, but he knows better than to stop it; he messily swallows the blood despite the amount that runs down his chin and gets lost while we kiss, falling on his chest and trailing down his torso along with the blood that still flows from his neck. The kiss is messy, with tongue and nibbles here and there, but still not bad. It sets the want rushing in our veins, giving urgency to the kiss that only gets some kind of harmony when I bite his lip enough for him to pause and let me guide it.

The blood starts to dry and turn into something sticky, but I don’t mind it, nibbling the wound on his neck until it starts flowing a decent amount again so I can suck more of the blood away to drink. Gerard lets out what sounds like a soft moan this time.

“(Y/–(Y/n),” he gasps as he holds onto my shoulder.

Nibbles and bruises are left behind as I kiss down to his collarbones, my hand going from his crotch to swiftly unbuttoning his pants so I can pull them down along with his boxers, just enough so his cock is free and I hold it with a firm grip. He’s already hard, twitching in my hand when I give him a few pumps. I look down, observing the bright pink tip in my hold as I try to spit right on it, letting the mix of thick saliva and blood work as makeshift lube to masturbate him while I go back to kissing his neck.

Even if I don’t care whether the bruises I suck onto his skin are visible or not, I still prefer to leave them lower, where there’s more to bite into. His chest seems like the perfect place, not to mention how sensitive he is, moaning and quivering whenever I bite or suck onto his pecs, which intensifies according to how close to his nipple it is. It’s a soft spot I decide not to tease now given how he already starts leaking in my hand; his hips buck forward when I tighten my hand around him and run my thumb across his tip to collect the precum and add it up to more spit in an attempt of making the movements smoother. This time, there’s more blood in my spit, making it seem redder.

The sharpness of my teeth is something I can’t really avoid, so Gerard’s chest easily gets a new set of cuts that easily bleed down his torso. My fangs end up getting in the way and also tugging on the skin along with the incisors whenever I nibble on it, then create cuts when the skin slides free. It’s hot, to be honest.

My hand stills around Gerard’s cock, just holding onto it tightly as I use my free hand to trace one of the cuts on his chest. It’s all fine until I push my finger into it lightly and he gasps, flinching away from the touch—or at least trying to. More blood flows, so I lick it away from the small wound, but can’t resist but push my tongue into the wound this time. Gerard moans at it, quite loudly this time, with a higher pitch, so I make sure to keep doing it while starting to move my hand around him again, tightly and slowly.

“F—Fuck,” Gerard gasps, both hands squeezing my shoulders, fingers sinking into my skin, as his legs quiver.

I drag my fang across Gerard’s pec to leave behind a cut on purpose, this time, making it a longer and deeper one that makes Gerard gasp and push his hips into my hand immediately when my tongue runs across it. His cock twitches in my hand as he pulls me closer and I almost judge it impossible to happen before he fucking comes all over my hand and, inevitably, due to the proximity, over part of my clothes as well.

Gerard’s ridden down his orgasm when I finally pull away, clicking my tongue as I look at the stains on my clothes. “Damn it...” I sigh.

“You’re worried over a few stains?” Gerard scoffs. “Look at what I am looking like!” He motions to his bloodied torso.

I shrug. “And what?”

He narrows his eyes, pursing his lips. “I have a mass in fifteen minutes.”

“And I still haven’t pleased myself, so?”

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

#my chemical romance #gerard way #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #gender neutral #mcr #mcr x reader #oneshot #imagine #gerard x reader #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #vampire #priest gerard

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chans-room · 11 months

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i will write for -> skz, ateez, svt, shinee, kard, block b, btob, got7, dpr, monsta x, NCT, mamamoo <- feel free to send other artists but these are the ones i feel most comfortable writing for

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requests are: open

taglist is: open

updated 1.17.24

Stray Kids

In progress ↴

Craving Connection | nsfw | SMAU, fluff, smut, angst | idiots to lovers | Bang Chan x original female character

Completed ↴

SKZ as Gerard Way MCR 2022/2023 tour outfits | sfw | headcanon/crack

Stolen Sunshine | nsfw | one shot | yandere, dark, smut, angst | vampire chan x reader

Upcoming ↴

On Your Mark | Bang Chan x Reader | nsfw | more to be added

Ateez

Completed ↴

BTS

In progress ↴

Complete ↴

Multi

Complete ↴

Winter Things | nsfw | skz and ateez | headcanons, fluff, smut, moodboard

Upcoming ↴

Pink Pony Club | nsfw | smut, fluff , angst | plus size sex worker original characters | SKZ, Ateez, SVT, others to be added

Spookyfest 2023

Stray Kids as Couple Halloween Costumes | sfw | headcanon/ranking, crack, fluff

Stray Kids Spooky Season Dates | nsfw | headcanons, fluff, smut, moodboard | members x gn reader

Ateez The Craft Moodboard | sfw | demon line + mingi

Spookyfest Presents…

SHINee in Evil Dead

BTOB in Nightmare on Elm Street

Ateez in Friday the 13th

Monsta X in Scream

Stray Kids in IT

#masterlist #chans-room #stray kids fic #ateez fic #kpop writing

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sungbeam · 1 year

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EEEEEK ME TOO 🤭🤭 confession time pt. 2, I might have a platonic crush on you 😔💔 like I wanna be homies but at the same time I can’t have ppl knowing I read fanfics (irls or moots) cause I KNOW I’d get clowned on buT THEY JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND 🤧🤧 so, alas, WE are the true Romeo and Juliet 😔🙏

Like after I send an ask I do check in like every hour just to see if you responded yet DJGNIFN what can I say 🙄☝️

BUT AS LONG AS I CAN BE YOUR ANONYMOUS BESTIE THEN WE’RE SET 4 LIFE 😼🤞

(^ Why did I use so many emojis-)

And you’re right, Floor will be someone’s paralysis demon… MINE 💀

AND EEEEEK DON’T EVEN TALK TO ME ABT THE PROVERBIAL CAMERA CAUSE I CAN AND WILL NOT STOP TALKING ABT IT

ALSO YEAH IT WAS JUST A PIC NOT A VIDEO OF THE SCENE BECAUSE THAT SHOW IS SO WILD IF I WERE TO SHOW YOU A CLIP I THINK YOU’D START CRYING (Plot synopsis: boy tastes a girl in his class’ spit and then gets addicted to it cause she has like… addictive spit… essentially if he withdrawls from her spit then he could die 💀)

I WATCHED IT A LONGGGGGGGG TIME AGO SO I CAN’T REMEMBER EVERYTHING TOO WELL BUT THAT WAS PRETTY MUCH MOST OF IT LMAO IT WAS ENTERTAINING THO IF YOU WANNA TAKE A SHOT AT WATCHING IT 😭

NOT US ALSO HAVING THE SAME TYPE OF MENNNNNNNN (at least in txt) 🤪🤪🤪

And now hold awn world stop-

What did I just see with my two lil ol eyes

A SHIRTLESS,

TEASING,

HYUNJAE DRABBLE/FIC?????

Uh uh, uh uh, THAT WAS SO RUDE OF YOU LIKE WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME IMAGINE THINGS LIKE THIS WITH A MAN I KNIW I CAN NEVER OBTAIN LIKE-

HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL LIKE I WAS GENUINELY LIKE GIGGLING WHEN HE WENT IN FOR THE STRADDLE LIKE THIS I SICK GET YOUR C-CUP TIDDIES AWAY FRIM MY BOOK IM TRYING TO READ, LIKE???

Phew, everything abt Hyunjae makes my heart do somersaults istg-

But even if their storyline was there for plot convenience, I hope to see Quinn and Wren in the future!!! 😤😤

AND EEEEK LITTLE EPISODE ONE SHOT FOLLOW UPS WOULD BE SOOOO CUTE FOR CHANHEE’S LIKE I DEF SEE THE VISION AND I CAN’T WAITTTT

And the quote came from Rosemonde Gerard! “Aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain,” from her poem “The Eternal Song”! It’s super sweet and it was addressed to her husband so I def recommend reading it! Man I love poetry unironically 🥹 I really hope I can find love as,,, lovely(😭) as that one day 🤧

- Love you forever + 1 day, 🌷 anon

PLS PLATONIC CRUSH FRFR ME TO ???? and it's okay bestie, none of the irls know i write or read fanfic cuz they really DON'T understand 😭 like i love my irls but they just don't TT anyways, it's totally okay that ur on anon, we can still be homies this way 😎 literally had one of my underclassmen in hs clown me for using blr instead of ao3, like IM SORRY THAT AO3 ISN'T EXACTLY INTUITIVE AND IM SLOW W TECH????? SHEESH— LMAO

omg i was just TALKING ABT SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMONS 🤩🤩🤩 one james ji chxngmxn !!! anyways—💀

.....uhm addictive spit.... okay 😃 not the greatest visual but ykw u like what u like ig 😭

THE PROVERBIAL CAMERA IS EVERYWHERE IM TELLING U I HAVE INTERNALIZED THE OBJECTIFICATION OF MY FEMALENESS SO MUCH THAT I IMAGINE WHAT PEOPLE SEE WHEN THEY SEE ME LIKE IM OBSERVING MYSELF AND IT TRANSLATES INTO MY FICS 🤡🤡🤡 like it says x reader, but really, she's just a puppet playing a role 😩🤘🏻

PLS. u have know idea how much EMOTIONAL DAMAGE HYUNJAE AND KEVIN HAVE BEEN DOING TO MY SANITY LATELY like wbk i have no dignity left, but my sanity is dropping into the negatives, the bar is in hell, and i am limboing under it 🤣🤣 i once read this thing abt the guy straddling the girl and i was like,,,, uhm,, hyunjae,,, haha,, get over here 😁

I HAVE ONE EPISODE OF THE CHANHEE THING READY BUT IM TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT ELSE I SHOULD DO LMFAOOO cuz the whole idea was literally just an excuse to write that oneshot 🤡💀 anyways, i'll prob think of something, i have all summer—

omg pls i too love poetry unironically like,, one day i will meet someone who makes me write lovey dovey poetry abt warm sunlight and quiet kitchens in the middle of nowhere and not the sad espresso depresso shit i write rn 💀🤣

BUT ANYWAYS !! may ur day be as beautiful as u r !! love u 🌷 mwah 😚

#sungbeam strikes again #🌷 anon

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robinrunsfiction · 5 years

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Consider..Demon!Gerard (he’s such a sweetheart,,calls herbsugar,,darling-also super shady tho)finds the reader dying (mugged maybe?)And brings her back to life(the afterlife??)she lives with him now because thats what happens when a demon saves u ig?Anyways theyre kinda falling in love,,she falls asleep on him on the couch one night,,the next night what do u know things happen and things are said and they end up making out in their underwear in her room,, suuper fluffy,, they fall asleep

Have You Heard the News That You’re Dead?

Pairing: Demon!Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: TeenRequested By: AnonWord Count: ~2,400Author’s Note: Hi, my name is Robin and I am physically incapable of writing a short story, but this is super super late so I hope that makes up for it! I use the prompt “Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.” from @writing-prompt-s as my guide for this one. Also TW: for mentions of death, but if you didn’t get that from the ask, I can’t help you.

You always knew you were different. You could tell the vibe you gave off wasdifferent of that of everyone else. Dogs growled or ran away when you walkeddown the street. Old ladies would clutch their pearls. If it hadn’t been likethat for as long as you could remember, it would be alarming to say the least.What you weren’t aware of was the fact that most people had a guardian angellooking out for them, and you had a guardian demon.

That’s not to say it made you a bad person, you just had a different way of moving through life. Sure trouble found you more often than others, but you were still having a hell of a good time. That is until the night you stumbled alone out of that bar in a drunken stupor. You’d be fine you reasoned. You were always fine. Until that guy with a knife appeared and you didn’t have any money left to give him and that answer angered him, and then you were bleeding on the ground.

The last thing you saw was a man with black eyes and black hair and a pale face running up, muttering obscenities under his breath, clearly panicked. All youcould wonder was why there was no one to look out for you at that moment.

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t familiar in a room you’d never seen. You sat upand saw your shirt still had the hole from where you’d been stabbed, but yourskin was unbroken underneath. You had been certain you were dying on that street. Was this some kind of weird hospital? Had you been in a coma for years? What was going on?

You got out of the bed and moved quietly toward the door. As you wandered down the dark hallway, you could hear music playing. Following the sound, you found yourself in a living room, where someone, a man with black hair, sat with his back to you.

“‘Scuse me,” you started and he turned to look at you with those same black eyes you saw when you were on the street. “What the fuck?” you gasped asyou backed away. “Where am I? Where did you take me?” You demanded.

He sat down the book he was reading and strode over to you. “My name isGerard. I’m your guardian demon and for the sake of honesty, its my fault you’redead.”

“I’m dead?!” You shrieked. “Demon? Am I in hell?!”

“Not exactly. You’re at my place, which dimensionally speaking, is earth-adjacent… on the hell side. Come sit down, I’ll explain everything.”

“No! I wanna go home!”

Gerard winced. “That’s the thing sugar, this is your home now.”

Gerard had to rush to help you sit down, as your legs seemingly were not working at the moment and you looked like you were about to collapse.

“You see,” he started once you were seated, “most of you humans have guardian angels. A few of you lucky ones get us, guardian demons.”

“How is that lucky? I’m doomed to hell before I even get a crack at life?” Youargued.

“Oh you aren’t doomed, you’re destined to become a demon as well. Knowing you guarding another luck human soul until its time they join our ranks.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“You weren’t supposed to be dead yet. I fucked up.”

“Shocker.”

Gerard descended upon you, his face inches from yours. “Oh sugar, didn’t I dowell for the last however many years? Didn’t you have a life anyone could wishfor?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just swallowed thickly.

“I thought so,” he said righting himself. “Besides, my duty to you is not relieved now that you are deceased. We need to keep you hidden here so management doesn’t know that I-”

“Fucked up and let me die.”

Gerard glared down at you. “Exactly. But don’t worry sugar, I intend to keeptaking the best care of you. I promise you that.”

Despite Gerard’s explanation of events you still weren’t totally convinced he wasn’t full of shit. That was until he left you alone in the living area for a whileand you snuck over to the window to look out.

His apartment was a couple stories up on a busy street. But instead of the usualbustle of cars and people there were what could only be described as creatures.

Sure some of them, like Gerard, looked human, save for the black eyes, or horns sticking out of their hair. Some looked like something you’d read about in ahorror novel. You watched wide eyed as they passed along the sidewalk belowyou, going about their demonic business.

“Believe me now?” Gerard asked, startling you away from the window.

“Sure,” you said sitting down again. It was all too much to take. “But what am Igonna until my destined death day?”

“Think of it as if its one of those days you called out sick from work so you couldsit and watch hours of TV.”

“I’m doomed to watch Judge Judy and Maury forever?! I mean one day is fine, but for eternity?!”

“No, anything you want to watch, read, listen to, its all at your disposal,” heexplained.

“Will I need to do live human stuff like… eat or sleep again?”

“Totally optional,” he said. “Just like all other carnal needs.”

You just rolled your eyes and went to examine the bookshelf. Not surprisingly itwas filled with books on the occult, as well as a lot on history, art and music.

“’Bout what I expected,” you said running your fingers over the spines of thebooks, “for a demon.” When you glanced up Gerard was watching youintently and it made you shiver involuntarily.

“Help yourself to any of them. I have to go meet up with some associates. Don’tanswer the door if anyone comes around, remember, you’re alive.”

You just rolled your eyes as you pulled a book off the shelf and sat down to read.

You had no idea how long had passed, time being more of a human construct it would appear by the lack of clocks in the apartment. Or maybe they weren’t andGerard’s lack of time management was the cause of your current, or ratherpermanent, state of being.

Eventually you got up and watched the demons on the street for a while, then wandered through the rest of the apartment. Who knew Demons would be so sensible as to have guest bedrooms? The closet will full of clothes that seemed to be similar to the style you like while you were alive. You changed out of the shirt you died in, a thought that made you shudder, and into one that was less holey.

Moving on you noted there was no bathroom, but that made sense given what he had said about things that were “optional”. The kitchen was impressivelystocked with rich foods and fancy wines and liquors. Maybe Gerard liked toentertain? Well he wasn’t doing that impressive of a job of it right now youthought as you found yourself getting bored.

As if on cue, Gerard burst through the door. “Miss me sugar?” He askedas he breezed into the kitchen where you were still standing, feeling slightlyguilty, like you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on sugar,” he said slinking up to you and grazing your cheek with hisfingers, “is that anyway to talk to your roommate?”

You made a disgusted noise and rolled your eyes before pushing past him.

“This is gonna be a fucking long eternity,” he muttered under his breath.

The thing you most enjoyed about not being alive was similar to your favorite part of being alive: sleeping. You would sleep as long as you wanted without any repercussions or judgement from others. Gerard certainly didn’t mind, as this left more time for him to do whatever he wanted since he no longer had to watch over you so closely.

Soon though he realized he missed it. He was fond of you, as he had to be based on the nature of the work, but he always enjoyed making trouble for the people who pissed you off during the day. Now he watched as a dark cloud started to gather over your waking hours, the shelves of books and movies and music no longer drawing your interest like it used to. One evening he walked into the living room to find you staring blankly at the wall.

“Novelty of it has worn off, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yea, and the permanence is setting in,” you sighed.

Gerard sat down next to you. “I am truly sorry. You probably don’t believe me,but its true.”

“What happened that night?” You asked as you let your head fall against hisshoulder and he moved his arm so it was around you.

“Remember that guy that was bothering you at the bar earlier in the night?”

“Yea…”

“I scared him off, that’s why he left you alone. He found someone else and theywere gonna hook up in the bathroom and I made sure that the whiskey he wasdrinking lived up to its reputation.”

You chuckled at the thought of the douche who had been talking such big game all night not being able to perform.

“I got carried away, but I’ve always hated guys like that,” Gerard admitted.“There really is a special place in hell for them.”

“Good,” you said, as you settled into him even more. A small smile tugged at his lips. “What else did you do for me?”

Gerard reclined to get more comfortable as he launched into his favorite stories of when he dealt out cosmic retribution on your behalf.

“You’re evil, but like, good evil,” you hummed as you slid down so you were laying against his chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively.

The next thing you knew you were being awakened by a hammering at the door. You both sat bolt upright and looked at each other.

“Gerard, you home?” a voice called from the other side.

“Go hide in your room,” he whispered and you hurried off and Gerard went to thedoor.

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked coolly.

“You got a hot little succubus in there?” Frank asked trying to look past Gerard.

“What’s going on Frank?” Gerard asked again, sounding more exasperated.

“Management is starting to ask about your human. No one has seen her in a while. You still keeping track of her?”

“Of course,” Gerard lied easily. “She’s just been dealing with some shit, so she’sbeen laying low.”

Frank nodded skeptically. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to have you get fired,that would mean more work for me,” he laughed. “Besides, you know what happens when you get fired.”

Gerard nodded, trying not to let the nerves show. He remembered the last time another demon got fired. He couldn’t sleep for weeks it shook him so bad.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, I know you got someone in there,” Frank smirked as he left.

Gerard went back to your room and found you hiding in the closet. “You’re good.”

“What’s going on?” You asked getting up.

“I’m gonna have to go topside and act like you’re still alive, or else I’m as deadas you.”

“Demons can die?”

“Not exactly the same, but it sure as shit ain’t pretty when it happens,” Gerard muttered.

“I wish I could help.”

“Not your fault, sugar,” he said as he headed back toward the front door. “I gottaclean up my mess for a while.”

“When will you be back?”

“You’ll barely know I’m gone,” he winked.

You spent what felt like forever sitting around, bored and lonely and thinking.Thinking for hours about what Gerard was risking keeping you here, and everything he had done for you your whole life. When the door finally opened again, you jumped up excitedly.

“Hey sugar,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yea, we’re good for a while,” he said shrugging off his jacket. “I don’t thinkanyone will be asking questions anytime soon.”

“Good,” you said as you walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug.

Gerard stiffened momentarily, surprised by the affection, but then softened andwrapped his arms around you as well. “You decided you like me then?”

“Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome, but yea, I think I do kinda like you after all. I have really did have the time of my life when I was alive, and I know you’re tothank for a lot of that,” you said before leaning up and placing a kiss on hischeek.

When you pulled back, he was looking down at you fondly. He reached up and ran his fingers along your jaw and leaned in and kissed you deeply. His lips tasted like coffee and red hots, as his arms wrapped around you and held you closer to him. You ran your hands through his dark hair and allowed his tongue to slip in against yours.

You pulled back and Gerard looked at you in confusion until you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along back to the bedroom. He started to undo the buttons of his shirt as you peeled yours off as well. You pulled Gerard back to you again and your lips met as you tumbled against the bed. Gerard held himself over you as he undid his pants, and you slipped out of yours as well. Clad only in your respective undergarments, you continued your heated make out session, tongues moving together, hands roaming over bare skin, marks left upon necks. After what could have been 10 minutes, or maybe a decade, Gerard pulled back and looked down at you “(YN), I’ve never felt like this before,” he whispered.

“What, demons don’t do emotions?”

“Yea, but not usually love.”

You looked up at him and grinned. “Yea, I think I’d like to spend eternity here with you.”

Gerard grinned and rolled over to your side. You curled against him as he wrapped his arms around you and you both fell asleep peacefully.

#Anon #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #demon!gerard way #demon gerard way x reader

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shhh-no-ones-home · 5 years

Text

hospital for souls 3/3 demon!gerard way x reader

+++++++++ Wow these parts are far apart from each other 😅 oh well, sorry I've been trying to write this for a while

Song: mirrors by pvris +++++++++

I stepped through the front door of my house very quietly. My father was sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, looking down at the paper in his hands.

"Did you find some respect while you were picking up your necklace?"

I shrugged my wet jacket off as well as kicked off my shoes at the door. I discarded my wet socks as well before looking up at him. He was staring at me over his glasses waiting for an answer. I shrugged before unclipping the necklace and holding it in my hand.

"Guess not."

I said as I stepped past him to the stairs, dropping the necklace in the waist bin by the couch. I heard the crunch of the paper as he moved but didn't stop ascending the stairs.

"You get your ungrateful ass down here and apologize!"

I heard him call as I slammed my door closed and plopped down on my bed. I groaned in realization that I would get my bed wet and begrudgingly sat back up and stripped completely naked. I looked at my dresser for a good minute before shrugging, locking my bedroom door, and getting in bed without another thought. I didn't have the energy to change, it's not like it mattered, no one was coming in here.

°°°°°°°°°

I laid in bed with my eyes closed. I didn't want to get up yet. The sun was streaming in through my window and I could tell it was morning but my eyes just couldn't do it. I went to roll over when there was a loud banging on my bedroom door.

"Get up! You are in so much trouble after what you pulled last night. Your father is furious! We have church to get to so get ready."

I groaned and stared up at the ceiling.

"I'm sick."

"Don't give me that young lady."

I rolled my eyes and sat abruptly. I gasped and gripped my comforter to my chest. To my surprise Gerard was standing in the middle of my bedroom. My mother knocked again and pulled me out of my stun.

"No really mom, I'm super sick, I think being in the rain that long yesterday did something to me."

Gerard raised an eyebrow at me. I heard her huff.

"Fine, but you're father is going to be even more disappointed you are skipping church."

I looked to the door and saw her shadow remove itself. I sighed deeply before returning my attention back to Gerard.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I whispered aggressively at him.

"I wanted to see you again."

I placed my finger to my lips and shushed him.

"If my mother finds out you're here she's gonna kill me."

I watched him walk to the window and peer out it. I watched him and he just waited for a second. He turned back to me and paced over to the bed, sitting down next to my leg. I gripped the sheet tighter to my chest.

"She's gone."

"You still didn't really tell me why you're here."

"Is wanting to see you not a good enough reason?"

I gave him a look.

"Not usually, no."

He looked down to his lap before looking at me again. Before I knew it he was kissing me. His lips pushed roughly against mine. When I pushed him away he huffed.

"Do you know how Early it is?"

He just shrugged.

"Does that matter? Besides, For me it's late."

He pushed a hair out of my face and twirled it around in-between his fingers.

"I am a night dweller after all."

I crossed my arms over my chest, making sure the sheet didn't go anywhere.

"You still didn't give me a straight answer as to why you are here."

He stood up again.

"Yes I did, I told you I wanted to see you."

He paced around my room, picking up little things and looking at them as he talked.

"I couldn't stop thinking about what you had said in the forest last night."

"What I said?"

"Yeah about being able to let go. I thought about it all night, while I was collecting."

He motioned with his hand.

"I just wanted you to know you made an impact, or something."

I laughed, standing up and properly wrapping the flat sheet around my body.

"Or something?"

He turned and looked at me, tucking another hair behind my ear and gently kissing me this time.

"Ya know, you look beautiful when you sleep."

I raised a brow.

"You watched me sleep?"

He put his hands up in defense.

"No, no, just a little bit this morning. I wanted to wake you but you seemed so peaceful."

I scratched the back of my neck and laughed a bit.

"And I don't think I've ever seen someone sleep completely naked."

I looked up at him and My face went straight.

"Your body is absolutely magnificent."

I covered my face in embarrassment.

"In all fairness, If I would've known you were gonna show up unannounced I would've put clothes on "

He waved his hands in defense.

"No by all means, please, you should be comfortable in your humanly body. I know I am at the moment."

I face palmed.

"Okay well it was great seeing you again but I think it's time for you to leave."

"But i-"

"Besides I have to figure out how to be sick as well as explain myself to my preacher father so it's probably best I don't have a demon in our house when they get home from church."

He gave me a pouty face so I gave him a small peck on the lips.

"I'll come visit you at the hospital after school tomorrow how about that?"

He smiled widely at me.

"Id like that a lot."

"Then it's a deal."

We shook on it and then he suddenly disappeared. I sighed deeply. Now I had to really figure out what the hell I was gonna do.

#wattpad #x reader #gerard way #demon!gerard way #demon au #imagines #one shots #mcr

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your-averagewriter · 2 years

Text

My Masterlist:

Request rules - Requests are open!

MARVEL:

The time heist - Loki x fem!reader

The Ghost: Part 1 Part 2 - Kate Bishop x fem!reader

Work interruptions. - Shuri x fem!reader

"My golden boy." - Adam Warlock x fem!reader

"I'm not leaving you." - Peter Parker x Leo Nikolaev (oc)

"You, my darling, are definitely an exception." - Hobie Brown x fem!reader

"My little fighter." - Hobie Brown x fem!reader

Imagine the Spiderverse characters meeting Miguel's assistant - Spiderverse characters x fem!reader

"They're just teenagers." - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Two Miguels. - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

"She's my wife." - Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Imagine the Spiderverse characters with a flirty reader - Spiderverse characters x fem!reader

Not-so-secret identity. - Pavitr Prabhakar x fem!reader

STAR WARS:

The two Mandalorians - Din Djarin x fem!reader

DC:

The reward - Victor Zsasz x male!reader (GOTHAM)

Arkham breakout - Jerome Valeska x fem!reader (GOTHAM)

"You saved me." - Clark Kent x fem!reader (SUPERMAN)

"I thought they killed you." - Rick Flag x fem!reader (THE SUICIDE SQUAD)

"Fuck off America's sweetheart." - Rick Flag x fem!reader (THE SUICIDE SQUAD)

"It's the only goddamn hat you're gonna get." - Robert Dubois x fem!reader (THE SUICIDE SQUAD)

Office romance - CB!Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

STRANGER THINGS:

“You’re not alone.” - Eddie Munson x gender neutral!reader

Eddie Munson headcannon - Eddie Munson x autistic gender neutral!reader

"Of course not!" - Eddie Munson x autistic fem!reader

YOUTUBERS:

"Your water gave me cancer." - Wilbur Soot x fem!reader

DISNEY:

Mi familia! - Pepa Madrigal x fem!reader (ENCANTO)

ANIME:

The Rumbling: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 - Jean Kirstein x fem!reader (ATTACK ON TITAN)

Memories of you. - Reiner Braun x fem!reader (ATTACK ON TITAN)

The aftermath - Demon Slayer x fem!reader (DEMON SLAYER)

Letters - Shironeki x fem!reader (TOKYO GHOUL)

THE HUNGER GAMES:

The Quarter Quell - Finnick Odair x fem!reader

"I will always wait for you." - Finnick Odair x fem!reader

"You look... beautiful." - Young!Haymitch Abernathy x fem!reader

Warm drinks and kisses - Sejanus Plinth x fem!reader

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE:

"I promise" - Gerard Way x fem!reader

"Just kiss me." - Gerard Way x gender neutral!reader

My Chemical Romance MK Concert! - Short review of the MCR concert I went to

"I love you too." - Gerard Way x fem!reader

Sibling quarrels. - Kobra Kid x gender neutral!reader x Party Poison

Evening gone wrong? I wouldn’t say so: Part 1 Part 2 - Gerard Way x fem!reader

Enemies to lovers - Gerard Way x gender neutral!reader

OTHER BANDS:

“Hi baby, I miss you...” - Vic Fuentes x fem!reader (PIERCE THE VEIL)

"Smile for me, darlin'" - Josh Franceschi x fem!reader (YOU ME AT SIX)

"The Maine are f*cking here!" - John O'Callaghan x fem!reader (THE MAINE)

Follow You. - Oli Sykes x fem!reader (BRING ME THE HORIZON)

Beach proposal - Awsten Knight x fem!reader (WATERPARKS)

"Oh wait, you know me?" - Spencer Charnas x male!reader (ICE NINE KILLS)

Bad day. - Spencer Charnas x male!reader (ICE NINE KILLS)

"I wanna be yours." - Alex Turner x fem!reader (ARTIC MONKEYS)

PREY:

“I’ll rip the damn thing.” “You will not!” - Taabe x fem!reader

Don’t add insult to injury. - Taabe x fem!reader

WEDNESDAY:

Mistletoe. - Ajax Petropolus x fem!reader

Kisses for your work. - Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

The Snake Issue. - Xavier Thorpe x fem!reader

AVATAR:

"Breathing's harder when a pretty girl's touching your chest." - Neteyam x fem!reader

Midnight swim. - Neteyam x fem!reader

"Don't close your eyes." - Neteyam x fem!reader

Our new home - Neteyam x fem!reader

"Thank you." - Neteyam x fem!reader

HORROR MOVIES:

Wrong number...? - Ethan Landry x fem!reader (SCREAM)

"Goddamn red dress." - Stu Macher x fem!reader (SCREAM)

OTHER SHOWS AND MOVIES:

"You're gonna be the death of me." - John Luther x fem!reader (LUTHER)

"We should have a sleepover." - Ken x fem!reader (BARBIE)

"Carm, the pastries!" - Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader (THE BEAR)

"God, I missed you." - Eggsy Unwin x fem!reader (KINGSMAN)

"Hearts for a sweetheart." - Timothée Chalamet!Willy Wonka x fem!reader (WONKA)

"Only for you darlin'" - Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader (FALLOUT)

Lipstick kisses. - Cooper Howard (pre-apocalypse) x fem!reader

I update this masterlist as I do more writing so keep an eye out!

Some of these are from over two years ago, the more recent ones are better quality :)

Enjoy reading!

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highsviolets · 4 years

Text

waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :)

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

“as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that��s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest. And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi @goldafterglow @teaofpeach @justrunamok @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination // taglist link in bio!

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pagesfromthevoid · 3 years

Text

Little Witch | k.m.

1-3-2021

Klaus Mikaelson x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,268

Author’s Note: So this got a little out of hand, and I wasn’t expecting to write this. But I was stuck in a cabin with little to no wifi and my mother decided that she wanted to rewatch the Originals so...here we are. I do love me a horribly wicked character with a tragic backstory; Klaus has always been my favorite.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, emotional and mental abuse, cussing, some heavy making out but nothing excessive

New Orleans was a magical city, no matter who you asked. Whether it was the tourists who got off on ghost tours and psychic readings or locals with their affinity to tell those ghost stories and give those tours —it was hard to deny the whispers that echoed through the streets. New Orleans radiated supernatural energy; little did most know it was because it was genuinely packed with supernatural beings.

Witches once ruled the Quarter, protecting one another and living as a community. Vampires came and went, stayed if they found themselves inclined. Werewolves once lived in the city but were driven out by both the witches and vampires. And now the Quarter was in a fierce game of tug of war between those who practiced magic and those who fed on human blood.

Marcel Gerard held the witches hostage in their own home, banning the use of magic unless given explicit permission —or if they were part of his helpers. He ruled the Quarter with an iron fist and made sure to prove that occasionally by executing a witch here or there. Just because he could. The witches of the Quarter loathed him but he had too much power to fight back. Especially with the Harvest ritual incomplete; Marcel knew when magic was practiced with Davina.

Problems arose when the Mikaelson family returned, with Klaus hellbent on taking power back for himself. The power struggle between him and his once protégé was more of a pissing contest, but it distracted Marcel from witches who passed through the city in their own travels. Witches who didn’t belong to the New Orleans coven came and went from the city, most unaware of Marcel’s rules. Some died because of their lack of knowledge, others went unscathed because they were gone before anything could be done.

She was one that wouldn’t go unscathed, though she wouldn’t be one he’d kill. No, no; she didn’t let anyone tell her what she could or could not do with her magic. But she was also not bound to Marcel’s ridiculous laws for the city —after all, she wasn’t part of the New Orleans coven. She wasn’t part of any coven; not anymore.

When she arrived in New Orleans, it was simply supposed to be a pit stop on her way home from a road trip she’d taken. She stopped to pay respects to a family friend who had passed a few years prior, pick up some herbs for a protection spell or two, and then home to Savannah. She never intended to stay longer than a day or two. She didn’t even intend to perform any magic while in the city.

However, at the little shop she’d stopped in to pick up her items, she overheard the girl at the counter talking about a baby, a monster, and a harvest. And gods, did that peak her interest. She lingered in the shop longer than she probably needed to, listening in. The older woman that the shop girl was talking to was whispering about an original family and a man named Marcel —that’s when she decided to check out.

The two dropped their conversation, with the girl at the register asking basic questions about what shehad planned. Vague answers and polite smiles and money exchanged easily. She leaned over the counter a little, though, to whisper.

“You said the original family is here. Does that mean what I think it means?” She asked, sliding her bag into her backpack. The girl looked surprised as the older woman walked back over.

The two exchanged a wary look before nodding some. The older woman was who spoke up. “The Mikaelson family has returned; with a demon child in their mutt stowaway.”

“Grandma,” the girl scolded. She watched the two carefully. The girl continued the explanation. “Rumor is that Klaus Mikaelson got a werewolf girl pregnant. But Marcel is pissed they’re back, so he’s been taking it out on the witches.”

She pulled back some, glancing out the window with narrowed eyes. “Who is this Marcel guy? Why are you so afraid of him?”

The older woman scoffed. “Marcel rules the Quarter with his army of blood suckers. He’s forbid the witches from practicing. He’s the reason we haven’t finished our Harvest Ritual; he has our last girl and she tells him when we perform anything. Then he sends someone to...” The woman sliced her finger across her neck, making a face of disgust.

She raised a brow, slipping her backpack onto her shoulder. “He sounds like a drag. Klaus, though, that sounds like a fun time.”

“You’re either incredibly stupid or have a death wish.”

A smirk found its way to her lips as she shrugged. “I guess it could be both.” She looked between the two, who seemed just as wary as before, if not more now. “Thanks for the supplies; I won’t be sticking around to find out how all that ends,” she motioned to them indistinctly, “But good luck. I’ve heard the originals are a nasty bunch.”

*****

If only life was so easy, though. If only she could have walked out of that shop, gotten into her car and returned home. But she never did like the easy route; and she was a nosy thing too. She wanted to see for herself what was happening in the Quarter. Unfortunately, though, her desire to be nosy took her once pit stop and made it a rather long stay.

The day turned into a week. A week turned into two. And then suddenly she had been there for a month, staying in a hostel just on the outskirts of the Quarter and living off the two weeks of clothes she had for her previous trip. And it didn’t seem like she planned on leaving any time soon.

Now, in the month she’d been in New Orleans, she’d learned quite a bit. She learned of Elijah, who was the noble older brother of Klaus. She had a few run ins with him, though none of them were anything terribly exciting. Elijah had seemed distracted each time, either looking for his brother or looking for Hayley —the werewolf girl who was carrying a hybrid baby. Which was the next very important thing she had learned about: the baby. In an interesting turn of events, Klaus Mikaelson was fully capable of producing children, given his own hybrid nature.

She hadn’t had the pleasure —or, she supposed, displeasure —of meeting him, though. Not yet. She’d seen him several times throughout the Quarter. Even followed him for a little bit, though she tried to be sneaky about it. He had been wandering down the streets, as if he wasn’t hell bent on destroying Marcel and everything in the town, so it was easy to act like she was also just wandering and totally not spying on him.

“I wonder how many women he’s knocked up over the course of a thousand years?” She’d asked Sophie Deveraux, who had been enlisted by both her and Mikaelson family for her help, when she entered the bar one day. Sophie didn’t particularly like that comment.

She needed a local witch to provide her information on the city, as well as someone on the inside of the situation. Honestly, if she wasn’t so nosy, she would have been just fine leaving. But alas, she liked to involve herself. Besides, Sophie wanted a witch that Marcel couldn’t track as easily. It was a win win for the two of them.

Though that was about to bite her in the ass.

She was following Klaus once again, mostly out of boredom today. They were setting up for the music festival that started tomorrow, and the witches had been banned from the Quarter. Sophie had asked her to go grab something for her, and with that errand being done, she needed something to do. It was then that she had found Klaus, whispering with a blonde woman.

She lingered some, window shopping, so she could listen in. There wasn’t anything too exciting. Telling her to help Marcel, explaining compulsion. Perhaps she was under his control; maybe she should have done something about it. But she didn’t, nor did she plan to. After all, she was only there as an observer.

Well, until she suddenly wasn’t. Brief panic overrode her senses as she was pushed into a wall, away from the crowd of people in the streets. The panic was enough to overwhelm her, and she couldn’t focus long enough to provoke a barrier around herself. When she opened her eyes, she was struck by the piercing green eyes of one Klaus Mikaelson.

“I don’t like being followed,” he hissed, holding her against the wall by the base of her throat. There was enough pressure to remind her that he could absolutely kill her, but not enough to prevent her from breathing.

“I-I wasn’t following you,” she insisted, though she was clearly caught.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you now.” He ordered, squeezing tighter and cutting off the jagged breaths she had.

She tried taking a breath, but gasped instead. She managed to stammer out, “I’m...I’m pretty?”

Klaus’s grip loosened some as he gave her an incredulous look. She inhaled sharply, waiting for him to just snap her neck. Instead though, he chuckled. “You’re pretty,” he repeated, dropping his hand from her throat. She reached up and rubbed the spot, trying to soothe the pain and the fear. Klaus continued to laugh though; she wasn’t sure if it was threatening or not. “I shouldn’t kill you because you’re pretty. You know —I’ll give that to you, love. You have a lot of nerve to give such a vain reason.”

Her hand was still lingering on her throat but she finally had her breathing under control. “Is it vain if it’s true?” She asked snidely, looking up at him now that she was able to focus better. “It was a good enough reason for you to let me go.”

Klaus raised a brow, nodding in agreement some. “Perhaps it’s because I’m also a rather vain person.”

“I’ve heard you’re more of an insane person, but I guess vain works too.”

The hybrid seemed to enjoy her quips, since he’d taken to leaning against the alley wall as she spoke. Then he pointed at her, a wicked smirk playing at his lips. “You’re rather brave, aren’t you?”

She shrugged and motioned with her hands to quote the host of the hostel. “Agnes would describe me as ‘reckless, stupid, and suicidal.’”

“Agnes would be correct then. But I’m feeling merciful today,” he motioned for her to follow as he pushed off the wall. “Come have a drink with me, little witch.”

There was clear hesitation as she considered her options. She was the one that was following him; she did want to see how it all unfolded. She didn’t think she’d be directly involved, of course. She also didn’t anticipate Klaus being rather nice —minus the whole almost snapping her neck bit. And that accent was making her weak in the knees...

Any sane person would have said absolutely not. Any decent, smart witch would cast a spell and send him to his knees. But she wasn’t a sane person, apparently, nor was she a smart witch. She was selfish, and a bit lonely, and Klaus Mikaelson was offering her a drink. Who was she to deny him?

“Only if you’re paying,” she finally said, pushing the strap of her bag up her shoulder some. Then she fell into step with him as they left the alleyway together. “And buy me dinner. Agnes is eating up what little money I have already.”

If he was listening, Klaus made no indication that he cared about paying or feeding her. Instead, he simply offered her his arm and she took it without a second thought. If this was her demise, so be it, she decided. At least her demise was hot.

*****

What started as a beer and a burger with Klaus quickly turned into whiskey on ice and shitty bar peanuts. When that had run out, it became shots of tequila and a question game back and forth. Klaus asked her name, she answered. She asked about his baby, he told her it was none of her concern. A lot of her questions were answered with that, though. He asked plenty of mundane questions about her, but never gave an answer for any about him.

It took her finally not asking about his family, or Marcel, or his past for him to start answering questions. By her third round of drinks, she started asking easy things. What were his hobbies? Painting, he had said. Art in general. What was his favorite food? He reminded her that he didn’t need to eat; she reminded him that food was still good, immortal or not.

His favorite food, as it turned out, were beignets from the little shop down the road. She found that to be the most human thing about him.

“Where are you from, little witch?” He asked, sipping his whiskey after.

“You asked that already,” she reminded him, taking a fry from her plate and biting a piece off.

“You said Georgia; that’s not specific.”

“What, you wanna come home with me?” She teased, raising a brow suggestively.

“Perhaps,” he grinned back, then motioned for her to tell him.

She felt a weird flip in her stomach, noting that she was flirting with the man that was cause for such horrible crimes around the city. Every witch hated him; every vampire despised him. She, briefly, wondered if anyone had seen Klaus as more than just a monster. Besides him pinning her to the wall earlier, he hadn’t come off as more than a snarky but kind man. Their banter back and forth was easy and felt normal. Maybe it was the alcohol though.

“Savannah,” she finally admitted, pushing her plate from in front of her. “Born and raised there, right off of Forsyth Park. You ever been there?” It was a silly question, but she knew he’d answer.

He nodded, finishing off his drink. Pushing the glass towards out of the way, he reached over and snagged the bottle from behind the counter. Then he poured himself another. “Not recently, but I did pass through once right before the First World War started. Beautiful, though I hate to tell you that it doesn’t quite compare to New Orleans.”

She lifted her beer to her lips, taking a long drink, as she listened to him speak. But she laughed at his comment about the two places. “Savannah has less drama. Though I’m sure if you were there, it would find its way.”

“You think I ask for all these things to follow me?”

“I think you thrive on chaos, and when there isn’t any, you find a way to make it,” she pointed her beer top at him, “That counts as your question.”

“It absolutely doesn’t; I’d like for us to expand on the psychological knowledge that you suddenly have.” Klaus pushed her beer out of his face and turned to face her fully. There was an amused grin on his face, which reassured her that she wasn’t pushing any buttons that bothered him. “Go on. Analyze me more.”

“Listen,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s not because I know anything about psychology or something. I just...I don’t know. I’m the same way, I guess.” The label edge of her bottle became significantly more interesting as she started peeling it off slowly. Klaus sat patiently, eying her closely. The silence was becoming uncomfortable as she got it about halfway off, then she finally spoke again. “I get bored easily, so I find ways to entertain myself. Following you, for example. I probably shouldn’t have. You definitely could have killed me, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Why is that?”

“I like to say it’s because I’m a nosy motherfucker, and you have a very interesting thing going on with your whole baby hybrid thing.” She peeled the rest of her label off, then started to fold the paper together as she spoke. “But the truth is that I don’t have a lot going for me so I have a bad habit of getting myself into trouble to feel like I’m not wasting my life away.”

“Why do you feel like you’re wasting your life away?” Klaus questioned, leaning against the bar now as he watched her intently.

“This definitely counts as your question and you have to answer an actual question from me after.” She countered, looking up at him. Her fingers played with the paper idly, giving her something to do. Klaus nodded, waiting for her to respond. She shrugged though. “Savannah has —well, had —a decent sized coven for a long time. Most of the younger generation left and the older generation is too stuck in their ways for me. My mom included.

“I was fifteen when my parents split up and my dad moved as far as he could, and ended up in California. I lived with him for a while but my mom wanted me to learn to practice where our ancestral magic was and so I moved back after about three years. Turns out she just wanted to marry me off to the regent’s son when I turned 21.

“When I told her I wouldn’t, she said I had to or else I’d bring dishonor on my family even more. Apparently, when I left, I broke my mom’s family’s line. No one in my family had left Savannah, until I did. This was the best way to restore the coven’s faith in my family.

“I tried. Like, picked out the dress and went out with the guy for a while. The wedding was planned for the winter solstice, which was a few weeks after I turned 21. But the longer I stayed in Savannah, the longer I dated him, the worse I felt but the worse he got. He...well, he ended up being a fucking dick.”

Klaus listened intently to her story, eyes cast down as he processed what she was saying. But his brow furrowed and he looked back at her. “You told me your birthday was last month. I take it you didn’t marry him, then?”

She took a long drink of her beer, polishing it off before setting the empty bottle on the bar. “It was and no, I didn’t. Like I said, he was a dick. He expected me to stop everything I was doing, become a doting little housewife. Every southern stereotype, that’s what he expected. When I didn’t do something he wanted, he’d break something of mine or take my keys and hide them. He’d report back to my mom like I was a child. It became too much, too quick.

“Like a week before my birthday, he got mad that I was going to drive to California for the week to see my dad. It was the whole plan. I’d visit my dad and I’d be back the week before the wedding. But suddenly that wasn’t okay and he smashed my windshield. Just straight up walked out of the house, threw a brick through my windshield and told me if I wanted to go anywhere, he’d have to take me and he wouldn’t do it. So I...hurt him back. I may have reacted poorly, in hindsight, though.

“You killed him, then.”

She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment as she remembered that night. As she thought back on how he screamed as she boiled his blood from the inside, how he begged for his life before his heart gave out and he just...died in their driveway. How she just left him there as she cleared the glass out of her car seat and left.

“I called my dad on the way and told him everything. Ditched my phone, got a new one and a new number. My dad covered for me, swore up and down he no idea where I was. I spent a few weeks in California before I decided to go back a few days after I turned 21, face the consequences. You know. But I stopped here and...well, everything here seemed way more interesting than whatever will happen back home.”

The bartender, at some point during her story, had slid over another beer. And thank god he had; rehashing her plights gave her the need to be as drunk as possible. Killing a man wasn’t something that the heart or soul took lightly. And the mental toll it takes on someone is just as bad. Perhaps Klaus wouldn’t understand, given how easily he killed people. But he had to at least see that anyone else couldn’t just kill without hurting themselves in the process.

Klaus didn’t immediately respond, though. While she nursed her new beer, thinking back on the events that had transpired, Klaus simply stared at his own glass, counting the air bubbles that popped up when he moved the ice. She didn’t mind that he had nothing to say, honestly. It was better that he didn’t, she thought, since any advice he’d give her would probably be less than helpful. It felt good to tell someone, though. Someone besides her dad, at least.

“So...my turn,” she murmured behind her bottle, voice thrown by the slight echo it provided.

Klaus shook his head though. “I think we’ve asked enough questions, little witch. It’s best to get you home, I think.”

“Hostel home or Savannah home?”

But Klaus didn’t answer, setting a few rather large bills on the counter and standing instead. She hesitated for a moment, but stood as well, following close behind as Klaus left the bar and walked them into the streets of New Orleans. She was buzzed enough to feel pretty good, but not drunk enough to handle whatever emotions would crop up from her sharing her tale of murder. Like before, though, Klaus offered her his arm and she took it.

The walk wasn’t uncomfortable, at least. The silence between them was easy and didn’t need to be filled with useless conversation. With the sun going down, though, it was clear that the people coming out into the streets weren’t just those looking to party; some were out looking for a meal. And many of them were looking at the two in both confusion and fear.

It would be a lie to say she didn’t like the attention. It would be an even bigger lie to say that she didn’t like the tinge of power she felt, either. It wasn’t a lot of power. But it was enough for her to get a taste of what Klaus must feel every day of his life.

Though now, she wondered if that meant he was lonely. Given that no one approached them, let alone smiled as they made their way through the crowd, she had to assume he was. The town knew enough about the original family, with three of them in town. But from the stories she’d heard, it didn’t seem like they got along. Or they did, but they fought. It all seemed convoluted.

“Why did you decide to be nice to me, Klaus?” She asked, breaking the silence.

Klaus tensed some as they approached a large, old building that was marked with an iron M outside of it. She’d passed it before, though she thought Marcel lived there. But she didn’t question where they were going. If this was her demise, if this was all a ruse, she’d accept it. Maybe he’d be nice enough to make it quick, at least.

“I told you earlier, I liked your vanity. I also said I was done answering questions.”

“That’s why you didn’t kill me. Not why you decided to take me out and play the question game with me,” she pointed out, looking up at him as they walked. He had an amused grin on his face but it vanished as soon as he caught her looking. “And let me have this one; I told you I killed a guy and you didn’t even blink.”

He didn’t respond though, pulling her alongside him as he pushed open the gates of the building. It was much bigger inside than she anticipated, adorned with decor that was clearly from another time. They stood in the courtyard in the center of the place, though, as Klaus released her from his hold. She took a moment to step away from him and look around, appreciating the architecture of the building.

Klaus tugged on her bag’s strap, pulling her towards the staircase. She looked over her shoulder before quickly following, trailing behind him. She hadn’t forgotten that he hadn’t answered her question, but she wondered if this was, in some way, his response. When he opened a door at the end of the hall, though, her question was answered.

Inside the room were dozens of paintings. Some done, framed and hung up. Some frames and leaning against various pieces of furniture. Supplies were littered throughout the room, with canvases sitting by the windows and sketchbooks tossed onto chairs. Every piece was different but she could tell they were all done by the same person —by him. She was so taken by the room that she hadn’t even noticed that Klaus had shut the door behind them.

It was a long time before She made any attempt to talk to him, to tell him anything. Much of the silence they were sharing was spent admiring each piece of work individually. She examined and analyzed each painting, noting the colors and the brush strokes. Just by looking, she could tell which were painted when he was angry; which were done when he was calm. It was like looking at his emotions laid out before her —she just had to look close enough.

The final painting she stopped at was of the city itself, half done and in front of the window. It sat on the easel, with the brushes and paint clearly untouched in several days based on how dry they were. The city was just as magical in the painting as it was outside the window, but something about his painting was more inviting. Maybe it was because it was done by someone who knew this city better than anyone else; he’d mentioned his family helped build it. Whatever it was, though, she liked it. She liked them all, honestly.

When she finally turned to face Klaus, he was sitting down on the couch, watching her closely. His expression was hard to read, though. Throughout her stay in New Orleans, she’d been able to tell how he felt by just looking at him. Most people could, though. When he was angry, it was pretty obvious. Whatever he was feeling now, though, wasn’t as obvious. She moved to the couch, sitting beside him and pulling her legs to cross them under her.

The two were silent for a few more minutes before she finally spoke. “I think you answered a lot of my questions by showing me all these.”

He nodded some, clasping his hands together in front of him. Though now he wouldn’t look at her and she realized what was going on:

Klaus Mikaelson was nervous.

“You don’t show this off a lot, do you?” She asked, leaning in some. “I think I get why; I can see everything in them.”

It was then that Klaus finally turned and looked at her, a rather soft smile on his face now. “Not many people see me and think of an artist. Most see me as a villain —rightfully so, I suppose. I will not deny that,” he explained, looking around the room now as he took in his works. “You, for some ridiculous reason, saw a villain and decided you were not afraid of him today. Perhaps it’s because you have other things you fear over me, perhaps you just didn’t care. It doesn’t matter. You accepted a drink with me after I almost killed you, followed me willingly, and pestered me with questions that no one has asked me before; trivial things that would otherwise never matter.

“I decided to continue the evening because I happened to enjoy your company, little witch. You are the first person in quite some time that I haven’t had to force to spend time with me. And you were a decent distraction from my own problems.”

“And I’m pretty.” The comment came out before she could control herself, with the moment probably being ruined. She gave him a sheepish smile.

But Klaus only chuckled, nodding in agreement. “And you’re pretty, yes. It certainly helped your case.”

The two watched each other for a moment, both smiling as they enjoyed the moment. It had been a long time since she felt as at ease as she did now, and it felt good. Every story she’d heard about Klaus over the last month seemed exaggerated now, though she knew they weren’t. She knew that he was a wicked man with wicked intentions. But in this moment, he was just a man who was just as fucked up as she was. He was someone who needed someone to willingly listen to him and be with him without being afraid of him.

Maybe she could be that person. One day with him certainly equate to anything special, but it was enough to want it to. She’d gotten herself involved enough to watch, but now that she was sitting in his home with him, she didn’t want to step back into the audience again. She wanted to help, give him that company that he clearly wanted.

It wasn’t clear if Klaus wanted the same at first, and maybe his next move didn’t mean anything, but he had leaned closer. It was enough for her to notice, to feel the warmth of his breath against her cheeks. It was then that she couldn’t take it anymore. The space between them disappeared as she pushed herself to her knees and pulled him into a heated kiss. Klaus didn’t waste any time returning the gesture, pushing her back onto the couch in order to deepen the kiss.

It wasn’t a desperate, lust filled kiss like either were used to. They weren’t tearing at each other’s clothes in order to get them off, but instead his hands roamed down her sides and over her hips, holding her down. Her hands ran down his chest, then back up to run her hands through his hair. The two remained tangled like this for what felt like forever, before she pulled back to breathe and catch her breath.

Klaus rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed as her fingers left his curls and lingered against his collarbone. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered.

“Just tonight?” She whispered back, opening her eyes to look up at him.

Klaus returned her gaze, a cheeky grin on his lips as he ran the back of his hand against her flushed cheeks. “We’ll see how you fair tonight before we make that decision, little witch.”

#klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries

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fanficteen · 4 years

Text

Old Friend

deucalion x reader

“(Y/N)?” Rafael’s voice crackled on the other end of the phone. “McCall?” “I need your help.” Sirens whirled in the background. “You what?” “There’s a hunting problem.” That cleared absolutely nothing up. “I’m an author, not a cop, McCall.” “At the shipyard,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard you. “Remember I told you about the Hale attack?” “McCall,” you heard, muffled, on the other end of the phone. “Name’s a little too close to home, ain’t it, Ferrell?” “Please.” The line went dead. “Hale attack? That was a fire.” Your heart plummeted in your chest. “Hunters.” You scrambled for the door, not even bothering to lock it as you ran. You’d heard about them coming, heard about the new pack, the True Alpha. Hell, you’d even helped once or twice, when Melissa or Argent called you in. But you hadn’t made the connection between McCall and Scott McCall, the tiny, chubby little kid you’d looked after while his mom worked.

Guns were already firing when you reached the shipyard, and someone was crawling for cover. Or, trying too. He was far too old to be Scott, even as his eyes flashed red, claws extending to drag him across the ground. Three teenagers were scattered around the yard, another man crouched behind a steel beam. You waited, as the Hunters moved forward. Then the barrage ceased, though they kept their guns raised. You launched forward, then, and cut off three from the back with ease. You grabbed a fourth by the throat and tossed him into another, finally drawing their attention to you, as you managed to grab the wounded wolf and bolt in their confusion. “Made a new friend, Scott?” That voice sent chills down your spine, blood-soaked memories clawing their way from the pit of your mind. Your parents – human parents, dead on the floor, just for protecting you. “Just in time to bury them.” You swept through the group to the woman speaking, throwing her to the ground. She spun to look at you, as she landed, but you were already moving, surging towards her. Through the corner of your eye, you caught sight of one of her hunters moving towards the stone column, where Scott was crouched, and you changed courses, knowing you wouldn’t get there in time. Then an engine revved, and suddenly there was a Jeep spearing into the shipyards and the Hunter went flying from the impact. You felt a bullet shatter your shoulder and growled, turning back towards Monroe as two new faces joined the fight. She glanced at you, then behind her, and took off for her car, her men following behind her. Half of you wanted to go after her, but Scott needed you more than you needed revenge. Scott’s pack soon grouped up around where he was struggling, vainly, to stem the blood flow of the wounded man. You pushed him aside, lightly, kneeling in his place. The man ignored you, still focused on Scott. Something about Gerard and knowing he couldn’t win. His breath cut off. “It’s really started, hasn’t it?” None of them stopped you, but you could feel them staring as you leaned forward, eyes flashing black, as you buried your claws in the back of his neck. “Hey!” The late werewolf – a Hale – grabbed Scott’s arm as he protested. “She’s a Grim,” he breathed, as the man’s flashed open and he gasped for breath. “She just – she just brought him back from the dead, right?” Stiles asked, jaw dropped. “I’m not insane?” “She just brought him back from the dead,” the redhead agreed. “He wasn’t quite dead,” you corrected, immediately darting out of the way as the man swung onto his hands and knees, choking in mouthfuls of air.

“Who – wait, (Y/N)?!” “It’s been a while, pup.” He stared as you rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly. “Pretty impressive pack you’ve gathered. A handful of Hales, a Banshee, another Alpha…” You glanced at Stiles. “…the Sheriff’s son. Very human, very smart. You’re taking good care of him, right?” You carefully placed your foot on the wounded man’s back as he moved to stand. He swung his head around to glare. “Sorry, but you should stay down there, sir.” “Gonna introduce us, Scott?” the late Hale prompted. “Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Scott gestured between you and the pack, “Everyone, this is (Y/N). She used to babysit me as a kid. I did not know she was supernatural. (Y/N), this is Derek, Peter, Malia, Lydia, and you know Stiles.” You tilted your head, surreptitiously, towards the recovering wolf. “That’s Deucalion.” “He’s who?” you questioned, earning a half-hearted laugh from the man on the ground. “Can I get up, now?” he requested, lightly, his voice still rough around the edges. You hesitated, then offered your hand. “You have to let me help you, though.” He glanced from your hand to your face, then sighed and took it, letting you help him to his feet, supporting his aching body. “Nice to meet you, oh Mr Demon Wolf, Destroyer of Worlds, pep-talker of my favourite kid.” He chuckled, lowly. “Nice to meet you, Miss Death-Defier, Beacon Hills’ Grim, babysitter of the True Alpha.” The others were all staring at you, wide-eyed, when you both looked back at them. “We should leave.” “I want to take him to Deaton,” you added, as they all nodded. He sighed, and you all waited for him to protest. “What?” he challenged, letting you help him towards your car, “I’d rather see the Druid than die.”

The roar echoed through the school, reverberating in your chest – pain, anger, hurt. “Scott?!” Before you could take off, Deucalion grabbed your arm. “You don’t know how to fight it.” “Scott’s hurt!” “He’ll be more hurt if you’re dead.” You sighed, but nodded, mutely. “Let me go ahead.” He offered you his hand. “Unless I squeeze your hand, don’t open your eyes. It knows how to trick us.” “Don’t you need that?” You glanced at his hand, and he offered you a lopsided smirk. “If I do, I’ll just throw you with my punch.” You snorted, but took his hand anyway. “Give me some warning, I’ll even put my claws out and actually make myself useful.”

“Bobby?!” The Coach spun at the sound of your voice. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you hurt?” “Just looking after my players,” he answered, brightly. You raised an eyebrow. “Some asshole thought he could get away with touching my boys outside my office. I mean, sure, Jackson and Ethan aren’t my team anymore, but they’re still –” “Bobby, are they okay?” “What? Of course,” he huffed, folding his arms. “I hit him with a lacrosse stick.” Deucalion raised an eyebrow. “Not all of us have fangs and claws.” Then he paused for a moment. “Hang on, you’re the asshole–“ “Coach?” You heard a clatter in the nearby entrance hall, as Scott appeared, but just surged towards him. Deucalion headed for the noise. Blood still stained around his eyes but he smiled, offering a soft laugh, as you checked him over. “I’m fine.” “You blinded yourself?” Horror coursed through you. “He what?” Bobby demanded. Jackson and Ethan appeared, from the same direction Bobby had come. Ethan did a double take, but Deucalion held up his hands in surrender, and the boy approached, warily. “Coach, why are you here?” Stiles questioned, still entirely bewildered. “He just saved us,” Ethan admitted, making Derek raise an eyebrow. “Malia?” Peter crashed through the doors behind them. “Malia– you’re okay.” The girl in question smiled, brightly, crushing her father into a hug. Peter froze. Derek kicked Stiles before he could snicker. “Coach saved you?” Stiles asked, returning his attention to the boys. “No need for that tone, Stilinski.” “He beat a hunter unconscious with a lacrosse stick,” Jackson explained, and Stiles’ jaw dropped further. “Wait, do you know about this, Coach?” Scott asked, brows furrowed. “Of course I know. That’s my sister fussing over you.” “She’s your what?” “I’m adopted,” you assured the baffled teenagers.

Deucalion cleared his throat, summoning your attention. He held up Monroe by her collar. “She’s still alive.” “You won’t kill me,” she sneered, “McCall won’t let you.” “McCall’s not my Alpha,” Deucalion responded, eyes flashing red. “Yet you still deferred to him.” Deucalion snarled, but looked back to Scott. “This is your territory, Scott.” The boy hesitated. “But it’s a war for all of us.” They hadn’t even seen you moving before her heart dropped to the floor. “(Y/N)?!” “What the hell?!” Deucalion didn’t speak through the teenaged chorus, just discarded the body, unceremoniously, curious gaze fixed on your face. “A woman after my own heart.” Malia elbowed Peter, cutting off his muttering. “Was that her?” A sob tore from your throat at Bobby’s question, raw and ragged, but you nodded. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your brother, or at Scott, afraid of what you would see there. So you just held Deucalion’s gaze, as if begging him to understand… something. Anything. Even you weren’t sure what. The man was a killer, after all. You didn’t need to justify yourself to him. You could hear Bobby explaining, behind you, but still didn’t dare look back. You flinched when Deucalion finally broke the impasse by taking a step forward, but didn’t move away. He continued forward, slowly, until he had closed the distance between you, a warm hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” The question was stiff, awkward, but you couldn’t say you expected any different. Before you even registered what you were doing, you slumped forward, burying your head in his chest. He went stiff for a moment, but you soon felt his arms inch around you, one hand coming to your hair. Your sobs began to fade, breathing falling into sync with the soothing fingers trailing through your hair. “Am I seeing this right– ow, Derek!” A low growl rumbled from Deucalion’s chest, vibrating through your body, and Stiles fell silent. With a shuddering breath, you pulled away and looked up to meet the eyes of the Alpha of Alphas. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was gentle. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “You just single-handedly destroyed a well-manicured, decades-old reputation.” There was no anger in his voice. “I think you did that when you started practicing pacifism,” Peter drawled, making both Scott and Deucalion glare at him. He shrugged, but didn’t try to take it back. “Can I suggest we leave?” Lydia piped up, quietly. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a shower.” She looked down at her dust-covered hands, the stains of blood and sweat on her clothes. Murmurs of agreement followed, and you all headed for the doors. “Scott, if you see your father, tell him I’ll be by tomorrow.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I just magically realised you were about to die, did you?” You didn’t bother listening to their mumbled responses, just made a beeline for your car. “Call me tonight!” Bobby shouted after you. You waved your agreement.

#pack mom reader #tw past trauma #tw parent death #tw murder #deucalion x reader #deucalion #teen wolf deucalion #teen wolf #coach finstock #bobby finstock #adopted!reader #adopted!finstock!reader #tw violence #tw gore #tamora monroe #coach is secretly soft #tw guns #tw injury #tw major injury

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yourfriendlyneighbourhoodlosers · 3 years

Text

Fandoms I write/draw for(+ masterlist and request rules)[UPDATED RULES]

REQUEST RULES

1, I have my requests on anon if you would like, but please let me know your age so I don’t feel uncomfortable writing(or drawing) NSFW for a certain character.

2, Due to comfort reasons, both Mod Daniel and Mod David will not be writing NSFW.

3, I will NOT write Inc*st, P*dophilia, Non-con, Non con Somnophilia, Zooph*lia, M*rder, Su*c*de of a character, or homo/transphobia.

4, Same rules from above go for my art.

5, No hate on my art please

6, DO NOT INTERACT WITH VENT POSTS

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Good Omens

DR1

DR2

DR3

MCU

Hamilton

Dear Evan Hansen

Hannibal

KPOP

MCYT

Slashers

Bands

Kakegurui

Heathers

MASTERLIST

DR1

+Makoto Naegi+

+Kyoko Kirigiri+

+Leon Kuwata+

+Toko Fuwaka/Genocider Syo+

+Celestia Ludenburg+

+Mondo Oowada+

+Kiyotaka Ishimaru+

+Byakuya Togami+

+Chihiro Fujisaki+

DR2

+Monomi+

+Akane Owari+

+Hajime Hinata+

+Chiaki Nanami+

+Gundham Tanaka+

+Hiyoko Saionji+

+Ibuki Mioda+

+Mikan Tsumiki+

+Nagito Komeda+

DR3

+Kokichi Ouma+

+Miu Iruma+

+Shuichi Saihara+

+Rantaro Amami+

+Kaede Akamatsu+

+K1-B0+

+Maki Harukawa+

+Korekiyo Shinguji+

+Gonta Gokuharu+

+Kirumi Tojo+

GOOD OMENS

+Crowley+

+Aziraphale+

+Beezlebub+

+Gabriel+

MCU

+Tony Stark+

+Steve Rogers+

+Bucky Barnes+

+Peter Parker+

+Pietro Maximoff+

+Stephen Strange+

+Hela+

+Thor Odinson+

+Jennifer Walters+

+Loki Laufeyson+

+Wanda Maximoff+

HAMILTON

+Alexander Hamilton+

+John Laurens+

+Thomas Jefferson+

+James Madison+

+Elizabeth Schuyler+

+Angelica Schuyler+

+Margarita Schuyler+

+James Reynolds+

+George Washington+

+Charles Lee+

+Samuel Seabury+

+Philip Hamilton+

+Marquis De Lafayette+

DEAR EVAN HANSEN

+Mark Evan Hansen+

+Connor Murphy+

+Zoe Murphy+

+Jared Kleinman+

+Alana Beck+

HANNIBAL

+Hannibal Lector+

+Will Graham+

+Alana Bloom+

+Freddie Lounds+

+Abigail Hobbs+

+Jack Crawford+

+Frederick Chilton+

+Beverly Katz+

KPOP

+BTS+

+EXO+

+Zico+

+BLACKPINK+

+MAMAMOO+

MCYT(If anyone in this list is uncomfy with fanfic, do not hesitate to let me know. P.S. No NSFW will be written for Tommy, Dream, Fundy, and Tubbo)

+Fundy+

+Technoblade+

You’ll Always Be Pog in my Book

+Dream+

+Tommyinnit+

+GeorgeNotFound+

+Wilbur/Ghostbur+

+Tubbo+

+Jschlatt+

SLASHERS

+Brahms Heelshire+ (Brahms: The Boy)

+Micheal Myers+ (The Halloween Franchise)

+Jason Voorhees+ (The Friday the 13th Franchise)

+Norman Bates+ (The Psycho Franchise)

+Billy Chapman+ (The Silent Night,Deadly Night Franchise)

+Stu Macher & Billy Loomis+ (The Original Ghostface Killers)

+John Kramer+ (The Saw Franchise)

+Freddy Krueger+ (The Nightmare on Elm Street Franchise)

+Charles Lee Ray+ (The Chucky Franchise)

+Damien Thorn+ (The Omen)

+Sweeney Todd+ (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street)

+Harry Warden+ (My Bloody Valentine)

+Jennifer Check+(Jennifer’s Body)

+Jason Dean+(Heathers)

+Jack Torrance+(The Shining)

+Vincent Sinclair+(House of Wax)

+Jack+ (The House That Jack Built)

BANDS

+Gerard Way+(My Chemical Romance)

+Frank Iero+(My Chemical Romance)

+Adam Gontier+(Three Days Grace)

+Patrick Stump+(Fall Out Boy)

KAKEGURUI(We barely write x male reader for Kakegurui, but you can request it, just know we might not do it)

+Mary Saotome+

+Runa Yomozuki+

+Midari Ikishima+

+Kirari Momobami+

+Kaede Manyuda+

+Yumemi Yumemite+

HEATHERS

+Jason Dean+

+Veronica Sawyer+

+Heather McNamara+

K-DRAMAS

+Go Yoo-han+(Color Rush)

+Choi Yeon-woo+(Color Rush)

+Jeong Joo-haeng+(Color Rush)

T-DRAMAS

+Shi Yi Jie+(HIStory 2)

+Fei Sheng Zhe+(HIStory 2)

C-DRAMAS

+Wei Wuxan+(The Untamed)

Wei Ying(Wei Wuxan) with a reader with tattoos

+Lan Wangji+(The Untamed)

#good omens #danganronpa #dr1 #dr2 #dr3 #marvel #mcu #hamilton #dear evan hansen #deh #hannibal #kpop #mcyt #slashers #bands #heathers #kakegurui #foreign drama

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

Someone Get Me To A Church

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Drama, Horror

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 1. Prompt: “Exorcist”.

You recently started volunteering at a church that provides meals to the homeless. Despite not being particularly religious, you develop a bond with one of the priests there, Gerard. But, when a demonic entity appears on the church’s doorstep, can you and Gerard send him back to Hell, where he belongs?

Trigger warnings for violence, and mentions of alcoholism.

You’d been volunteering at the soup kitchen for about a week now. It was operated by St. Benedict’s Catholic Church. You’d attended Mass there as a kid, but it had been a while since you’d really considered yourself a “practicing” Catholic. Still, the work was relatively easy. Mostly chopping vegetables, and ladling soup into bowls. And it felt good, doing something to help the homeless people in your city.

“We’re about done for the day, Y/N,” smiled Ruth, one of the older volunteers. “The last guest has finished eating. Now, we’ve just got to wash his dishes, and then we can go home.”

Most of the volunteers had left already. The bulk of the dishes were already clean. There had just been a couple people who had come in at the very end of meal service. You’d been waiting for them to finish their lunch, before you closed up for the afternoon.

“If you bring the dishes into the kitchen, I’ll finish washing them for you,” you offered.

“Oh, you’re such a dear,” Ruth said gratefully. “I’ve been using my hands all day. My arthritis is starting to flare up.”

“Go home and take your medicine,” you said gently. “I can handle the rest of it on my own.”

“Thank you,” Ruth replied, handing you a small stack of bowls and utensils. “God be with you!”

“Oh, uh, you, too,” you mumbled, heading into the kitchen. You were surprised to find someone else already standing by the sink.

It was a handsome, black-haired man. You’d seen him walking around with Father Geoff earlier. His white collar, told you that he must be one of the other priests from St. Benedict’s.

“Hello,” you greeted. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that anyone was still back here.”

“I was about to leave,” the man shrugged. “I saw someone had spilled soup on the counters, so I was giving them a wipe down before I headed out.”

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, setting the dishes down in the sink. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I’m Gerard,” the man introduced, offering a hand.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand. Wow….his skin is so soft. “It’s nice to meet you, Father Gerard.”

“Oh, I’m not quite a ‘father’ yet,” Gerard chuckled. “I’m just a deacon.”

“What’s a deacon?” you asked.

“I just graduated from seminary school recently,” Gerard explained. “So, I’m still in training. I haven’t taken my final vows yet.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. He’s still a man of the cloth, you told yourself. So stop thinking about his soft hands….and his pretty face.

“Hopefully, if I do a good job, Father Geoff will ordain me soon,” Gerard said hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can do it!” you assured him.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gerard chuckled. “Would you like some help with those dishes?”

“Oh, sure,” you said gratefully, handing him a dish towel. “If I wash, can you dry?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Gerard smiled.

You quickly got to work, scrubbing the crumbs off a spoon, and then handing it to him. He wiped it dry, and placed it on the dish rack.

“How long have you been working here, Y/N?” Gerard asked curiously.

“Oh, I just started lasting weekend,” you confessed, handing him a bowl.

“That’s wonderful,” Gerard smiled, wiping the bowl with a rag. “Father Geoff told me that most of the volunteers are older, and have been doing this for years. It’s hard for him, to find younger people, who are interested in joining the program.”

“It’s…..really not that wonderful,” you said sheepishly, looking down at the coffee cup you were scrubbing.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The truth is,” you sighed, “I’m not going to be with the volunteer program for very long.”

“Why not?” Gerard frowned, taking the cup from you.

“I’m….,” you reddened, ashamed of what you were about to say. “I’m just volunteering here, because my probation officer asked me to.”

“Probation?” Gerard blinked.

“Yeah….I fucked up,” you admitted. “I’m sorry…..messed up. I shouldn’t swear on church property…”

“It’s okay,” Gerard assured you. “Go on��.?”

“I did something stupid,” you continued, embarrassed. “I was a first time offender, so they didn’t throw me in jail. Thank God. But, I was given twelve months of probation, and the judge said I have to do 50 hours of community service.”

“What crime did you commit?” Gerard asked.

You looked at the floor. He probably thinks I’m a disgusting sinner, you guessed, cheeks burning.

To your surprise, Gerard took your hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It was a DUI,” you confessed. “I know, it’s dumb, I should have just called a cab, instead of trying to drive home….I didn’t think. And then I got pulled over, like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Y/N,” Gerard said softly, squeezing his hand. “God loves you, even when you make mistakes. And only He can judge you….I myself, am certainly in no place, to judge anyone.”

“What do you mean?” you looked up into his hazel eyes, confused.

“I may be a man of God now,” Gerard explained, “but in my early twenties, I lived a sinful life, and did many stupid things.”

“Really?” you gasped, surprised.

“Yeah,” Gerard said shyly. “I was….an alcoholic, and a drug user. My family forced me to get help…..Alcoholics Anonymous is a Christian based organization. While I was in rehab, I started reading the Bible a lot. I found Jesus, and that gave me a purpose. The Lord helped me fight my inner demons, and become a better person.”

“I’m really glad that becoming Christian, was able to help you get sober,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “You turned your life around….that’s definitely something to be proud of.”

“Thank you,” Gerard said, touched. “I hope that God helps you to turn your life around, too, Y/N. I know that you can do it.”

You stared into his eyes, overcome with emotion. He was being so sweet to you, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it. His face was so close to your own…..you were tempted to do something you shouldn’t. But, suddenly, you heard a loud crash coming from the dining area.

“What was that?” Gerard gasped.

“I don’t know,” you turned, facing the source of the sound. “I’m going to go check it out.”

You found a man sprawled in the doorway. His hair was short and black, and arms were lined with tattoos.

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “Sir, are you okay?”

You walked over to his side, and offered a hand to help him up. He didn’t look hurt, but something in his gaze seemed….off.

“Please,” the man begged. “I need help….”

“Um….meal service is over,” you informed him, nervous about the way he was still holding onto your arm. “We’ll start serving food again around noon tomorrow, if you’d like to come back…”

“No,” the man shook his head. “I don’t need food….I need you to…..”

“To what?” you wondered.

“Oh, god, it’s too late,” the man gasped. He shoved you away. “You need to run. Now.”

“Run?” you repeated. “Run from what?”

“I can’t hold him back any longer,” the man sobbed.

“Him?” you echoed, still confused.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes turned pitch black. A wicked smirk crossed his face, completely unlike his previous expression. He spoke in a deep voice, that was not his own.

“You cannot save him…..die!”

The man lunged at you, wrapping his hands around your throat. You tried to scream, but he tightened his grip, and you couldn’t breathe.

Why was he doing this?! He had been acting normal just a second ago….why would he attack you? Were you really going to die?

“He..lp,” you pleaded, terrified. “Please….somebody….help!”

“Get your hands off of her!” Gerard cried, punching the man in the jaw. He hit the ground hard, his hands leaving your throat, as he fell backwards. You gasped for air.

“Y/N, who is this guy?!” Gerard demanded.

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never seen him before in my life!”

The man got up again, and lunged at you once more. His eyes were completely black - no pupils, only sclera.

“Get back, in the name of Christ!” Gerard cried, pulling a small cross from his pocket, and brandishing it at the stranger.

To your surprise, the man retreated. Why did that work?

You got behind Gerard, still frightened. He shielded you with his body, as he pointed the cross at the man again. The man took a few more steps back.

“Who are you?!” Gerard asked.

“Beelzebub,” the man replied.

“What?” you gasped. You’d heard that name before, in a horror movie. “That’s the name of a demon from the Bible, isn’t it?”

“Yes, foolish one,” the man cackled. He pulled a small knife from his back pocket, and advanced on you again.

“Y/N, we need to get out of here!” Gerard warned. He grabbed your arm and pulled you with him as he ran towards the kitchen.

The man pursued you. “Come back here and die, foolish humans!”

“He just called us humans….like he’s not one?” you realized.

“Y/N, run out the back door, now,” Gerard pleaded. “Don’t look back.”

“No, I won’t leave you behind!” you insisted. This psycho is gonna stab him!

The man backed Gerard into a corner, and raised his knife in the air.

“No!” you cried. You grabbed a dirty frying pan out of the sink, and used all of your strength, to whack the man in the back of the head.

He crumpled to the ground. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor with him. You looked down and saw that his head was bleeding.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “What if I killed him?”

“He was going to kill me!” Gerard reminded you. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first, when he was choking me,” you replied.

Your eyes returned to the unconscious man on the kitchen floor, still in shock.

“His head injury actually looks pretty minor,” Gerard said, kneeling down to look at him more closely. “There should be a first aid kit, in the sacristy. Will you help me get him up?”

“You’re going to treat his injury?” you asked, surprised. “He tried to stab you!”

“But I say unto you,” Gerard quoted, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”

“....What?” you blinked.

“That’s a bible verse,” Gerard clarified. “Matthew 5:44.”

“So….you think helping him, is what Jesus would do?” you guessed.

“Yes,” Gerard said simply. He picked the man up, and threw him over his shoulder.

“....Ok,” you decided, “I’ll help you.” You followed him to the next building over, the church annex.

Gerard is a far better person then I’ll ever be.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard sat the unconscious man in a chair, and started wiping the blood off his brow. You got the first aid kit off the shelf, and handed Gerard a roll of bandages.

“Thank you,” Gerard said, and applied the bandage to the man’s face. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. This stranger had just tried to murder you both!

“Could you get the chain, from the second shelf down?” Gerard asked. “Normally, we use it to lock the church doors at night. But, I think it will work for this, too.”

“....This?” you repeated uncertainly, handing him the object he’d asked for.

Your heart hammered as you watched Gerard tie the man’s hands behind his back.

“....This man is going to need more help from us,” Gerard said grimly.

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly,” Gerard said, looking pale, “this poor soul has been possessed by a demon.”

“Huh?” you laughed nervously. “No way….demons aren’t real.”

“I believe in God and all His angels,” Gerard insisted. “So, I have to acknowledge that the Devil, and his fallen angels, exist, too. Thankfully, the Vatican has a guidebook of sorts, to train priests, how to perform exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms,” you repeated. “Gerard, you can’t be serious.”

“You saw his eyes,” Gerard said quietly.

You shivered as you remembered how the man’s eyes had looked while he was trying to strangle you. Dark. Inhuman.

“And he identified himself, as Beelzebub,” Gerard reminded you. He picked a bible up off the shelf, and handed it to you. “Here, read this!”

You looked at the passage he was talking about - Matthew 12:22:

Then they brought him a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him, so that he could both talk and see. All the people were astonished and said, “Could this be the Son of David?”

But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, “It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.”

“The….the prince of demons?” you repeated, heart pounding. “You’re saying that’s who’s sitting in that chair right now?”

You looked over at the man. He still hadn’t woken up.

“I...I’ve never performed an exorcism before,” Gerard confessed. “To be honest, I’m nervous. But that man….he asked you for help, didn’t he?”

You thought back to what the man had said to you, when you first found him sprawled on the steps. He had pleaded with you for help, before he started attacking you. That must have been the vessel speaking - not Beelzebub. You imagined what it must feel like, to be possessed. To watch your hands choke somebody, but not be in control of them.

“You’re right,” you decided. “We have to help him.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard pulled another book from the shelf, took a deep breath, and began reading from the page.

“Let us pray,” he began.

You crossed yourself, clumsily, and clasped your hands together. You were out of practice - you weren’t sure you being here was going to help at all.

“God, Creator and defender of the human race, who made man in your own image, look down in pity on this your servant, now in the toils of the unclean spirit,” Gerard recited. “Now caught up in the fearsome threats of man's ancient enemy, sworn foe of our race, who befuddles…..”

You jumped as man in the chair stirred, and woke up. He narrowed his unholy, black eyes at Gerard. “Silence!” he demanded. “Be silent, before I break these chains and kill you, you bastard!”

“B-befuddles and stupefies the human mind,” Gerard stammered, thrown off by the interruption.

“Keep going!” you encouraged, even though you were shaking with fear. “Don’t stop reciting the prayer!”

“....Stupefies the human mind,” Gerard went on. “Throws it into terror, overwhelms it with fear and panic. Repel, Oh Lord, the devil's power, break asunder his snares and traps, put the unholy tempter to flight….”

“You think you and this harlot have the holy power to exorcise me?!” the demon snickered. “I know your secrets! Both of you are filled with sin!”

“Y/N, hand me the holy water!” Gerard urged, ignoring Beelzebub’s taunts.

You ran to the shelf, and grabbed the bottle, tossing it to Gerard with shaking hands.

He opened it, and poured a few drops into his hand. Trembling, he approached the man, and drew the sign of the cross in holy water, on his forehead.

The demon screamed in pain, as though Gerard were spraying him with acid.

“By the sign of your name,” Gerard cried, “”let your servant be protected in mind and body!”

“Who are you to call upon Him?!” the demon demanded. “You think He will help you defeat me? Ha! You are unworthy - the both of you are destined for Hell!”

He swiveled his head around, and fixed his unholy black eyes on you. “Does your new priest friend know you are a disgusting drunkard?” he laughed cruelly. “Does he know that you almost killed an innocent child, when you chose to drive home from the bar that night?”

“How…..how do you know that?!” you gasped. You’d swerved at the last second, that night, crashing your car into a retaining wall, instead of the little boy, who had been playing in the street. But you still had nightmares, about what would have happened, if you hadn’t been able to grab the steering wheel fast enough. He’s right. I’m disgusting….I’m an awful person.

“She has confessed her sins, to me, and to a judge, in a court of law,” Gerard said, surprising you. “And she is doing penance for that sin now - working in my soup kitchen, and helping me to save the poor man you’ve possessed. God asks no more of her than this. I am certain He forgives her.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Does he really mean that?

Gerard poured more holy water into his hand, and made another cross, over the man’s heart. The demon howled again, in agony.

“What about your sins, deacon?!” Beelzebub growled. “You are just as vile as she!”

“I know he used to be a junkie,” you said quietly. “But he’s a better man now! God forgives him, too!”

“I speak not of the sins of the past, you fool,” the demon cackled. “I speak of the sin he has committed today!”

“What sin?” you demanded.

“He began thinking lustful thoughts, as soon as he laid eyes on you,” Beelzebub accused.

“What?” you gasped.

Gerard’s face reddened. He turned away from you in shame. Could it be true?

No way, you thought. The demon must be lying, to distract us.

“Gerard, finish the prayer!” you cried.

“Your lecherous desires make you unfit for the clergy,” the demon smirked.

“....I….I’m filth,” Gerard mumbled, staring down at his shoes. “God, forgive me….”

What the hell? Had the demon’s words really thrown him off that much?

“Jesus died for everyone’s sins, right?” you reminded.

“....Right,” Gerard blinked, picking his head up. “He died for your sins, and mine, so that all who accept Him as their savior, can enter Heaven.”

“Jesus loves you - so talk to him, and ask him to help us send this son of a bitch back to Hell!” you urged.

“Right,” Gerard nodded, and began reading from his prayer book again. “O Lord, keep watch over the inmost recesses of this man’s heart; rule over his emotions; strengthen his will. Let vanish from his soul the temptings of the mighty adversary…..”

“I am mightier than anyone!” Beelzebub shrieked. “I am the Prince of Demons! Feel my wrath!”

You screamed as the lights flickered and books started flying off the shelves. You ducked as a book of hymns nearly hit you in the face.

“Stop!” Gerard cried. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“You do not command me, mortal!” Beelzebub snarled. “Watch what happens to those who challenge me!”

Suddenly, you went flying. An unseen force shoved you backwards, pinning you against the wall. You were like a rag doll, controlled by invisible hands. Your head was slammed into the wall, over and over. You screamed with pain. The back of your head began to bleed.

“Please, stop hurting her!” Gerard begged.

“Call off this ritual, and I will do as you ask,” the demon bargained.

“No!” you cried, even as your consciousness began to fade. “Gerard, please! Finish the exorcism!”

With tears in his eyes, Gerard began to pray again:

“Graciously grant, Oh Lord, as we call on your holy name, that the evil spirit, who hitherto terrorized over us, may himself retreat in terror and defeat, so that this servant of yours may sincerely and steadfastly render you the service which is your due; through Christ our Lord! Amen!”

“AMEN!” you cried. Then, everything faded to black.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke up in a hospital bed, your head swathed in bandages. The back of your skull still hurt.

How did I get here? you wondered. The room was totally quiet, aside from the beeping of your heart monitor.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door.

“....Gerard?” you called hopefully.

“Not quite,” said an unknown voice. A black-haired man, with a familiar face, stepped into the room.

“Beelzebub?!” you gasped. Had he come to finish you off?!

You grabbed your IV pole, hoping you could brandish it as a weapon.

“No!” the man said quickly. “Beelzebub is gone!”

“....Oh,” you realized, setting the pole down. So, the ritual had worked. This meant that the man standing before you, was not the demon, but the poor guy who had gotten possessed.

“I’m Frank,” the man introduced. “The nurse told me that your name is Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “That’s me.”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, that you got hurt, because of me,” Frank said sadly.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, sincerely. “You didn’t ask to have your body taken over.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Frank added. “You and that priest saved my life.”

“Do you know where the, uh, priest went?” you asked. You wanted to see Gerard again.

“I think he took off after he drove us here,” Frank confessed. “Apparently, he told the doctors, that we both fell down the cathedral steps, and hit our heads that way.”

“Do you think they actually believed that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I think they wouldn’t believe the real story,” Frank chuckled, “even if we told them.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A week later, you were released from the hospital. You had made a full recovery. You had told your mom the same lie - that you “fell”. Nobody knew what really happened. You hadn’t been particularly religious in a long time. But now, confronted with the reality that demons existed, you found yourself praying to God to protect you, every time you left your house.

You were out and about today, running errands. You hadn’t meant to stop at the church, but you found your feet walking there before you knew it. There was no Mass going on, at this time of day - the place should be completely empty.

You pushed open the heavy doors, and found that the church was almost empty - except for one. Gerard sat in the first pew, closest to the altar, his head bowed in prayer.

His head snapped up, when the door slammed shut behind you.

“Y/N?!” he gasped, turning around to look at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pray,” you replied. “I didn’t know that you would be here.”

“....I’ve been praying a great deal since I last saw you,” Gerard sighed. “Please, come sit down.”

You walked to the front of the church, and slid into the pew beside him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concerned. “Is your head still….?”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “I had a pretty bad concussion, but I’m better now.”

“Oh, thanks be to God!” Gerard cried, relieved.

“Thanks be to you,” you corrected. “If you hadn’t sent that demon packing, he would have kept using his weird psychic powers to bash my skull in.”

“It was only through God’s power, that I was able to exorcise Beelzebub,” Gerard shrugged. “But, thank you for being there to help me.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence.

“....Father Geoff said he plans to schedule my ordination ceremony, for All Saint’s Day,” Gerard said finally.

“That’s a month from today,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “In one month, I’m supposed to take my final vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity.”

Chastity. You mulled this word over in your head for a moment. In Catholicism, priests were forbidden to have any type of sexual, or romantic, relationships. Their bodies and minds, belonged only to God.

Gerard knew what the rules of priesthood were, when he decided to go to seminary school, you considered. He was okay with giving up being touched, for the rest of his life.

“You’ve spent years, training to become a full-fledged priest,” you smiled faintly. “You must be very happy, to finally be reaching your goal.”

“I should be happy,” Gerard sighed, “but I’m not.”

“Why not?” you blinked.

“Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Gerard confessed, in a low whisper, as if he didn’t want even God to hear it.

Your eyes widened. “.....Me?”

“Yes,” Gerard flushed.

“Gerard…,” you asked hesitantly. “Was what the demon said, during the exorcism, true? Have you been having….lustful thoughts about me?”

“I have,” Gerard admitted with shame. “God forgive me, but I have.”

“It’s okay..” you said softly.

“It’s not!” Gerard argued. “I’m supposed to be a holy man! I’m not supposed to creep on some pious young woman.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” you said quietly. “The truth is…..I’ve been having lustful thoughts about you, too.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. “.....Really?”

“Yes,” you blushed. “The moment I met you, I started thinking about your handsome face, and your soft hands. I wanted to be touched by them.”

“....I haven’t touched a woman since I entered the seminary,” Gerard hesitated. “I thought I was okay with that. I never missed it. But now? Ever since I left you at the hospital, I’ve been dreaming of taking you into my arms, and kissing you.”

“Do it,” you said breathlessly.

“I can’t!” Gerard argued. “I’ve spent the last four and a half years, training my hardest to become a clergyman. Now that I’m on the precipice of everything I’ve worked for, suddenly I fall into temptation?!”

“Why?” you had to ask. “Why would you question your whole career, over someone you’ve only met once?”

“....I’ve seen you more than once,” Gerard revealed.

“Huh?”

“It was on Christmas Eve, a year ago,” Gerard explained. “I was helping Father Geoff with midnight Mass. You came to church with your parents, wearing a gorgeous black dress.”

“I remember that night,” you realized, “but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“I didn’t give the sermon,” Gerard recalled. “Geoff did, while I performed smaller tasks, like holding the chalice, during Communion.”

“I was feeling kinda sick,” you remembered. “I didn’t take Communion that night, because I was worried I’d spread my germs to the rest of the congregation.”

“After Mass ended,” Gerard went on, “I watched you leave the church. There was a homeless man, sitting outside. You walked over to a hot dog stand, and bought him a meal. Even though you were in fancy clothes, you sat and talked with him for a bit, while he ate.”

“It was just a hot dog,” you shrugged. “They’re only a couple dollars.”

“Only a couple dollars,” Gerard repeated, “and yet, every other person who had just left the church, walked past him, and refused to buy him one, when he begged, and said he was hungry.”

“They just ignored him,” you frowned. “Like they think they’re better than him, or something.”

“Even on the holiest night of the year,” Gerard recalled fondly, “you were the only person who chose to be kind. To me, this was a Christ-like action.”

“Christ-like? Me? No way!”

“I was fascinated by you, and I hoped I would see you again, at the next Mass,” Gerard admitted, “but, you never came back, after that.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “After Christmas break ended, I went back to college. During spring semester, I made some friends who were involved with Greek life. I started going to frat parties, and clubs, a lot more. I would usually get so drunk on Saturday nights, that I would be too hungover, to go to church, the next morning.”

“I see,” Gerard nodded. You expected to him judge you, but there was none of that in his expression.

“....I’ve decided I want to quit drinking,” you said seriously. “Especially after my car accident. Beelzebub wasn’t wrong….I really could have hurt someone.”

“When I first started getting sober,” Gerard said empathetically, “I was a mess. I had made so many mistakes, driven so many people away. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I didn’t even know, if I wanted to be. But….God saved me. Religion gave me a reason to live. A purpose. That’s why I decided, I wanted to thank God, by dedicating the rest of my life, to Him, and Him alone.”

“But….what if that’s not God’s plan for you?” you asked. “What if He caused you to meet me, because He wants us to be together?”

“Are you saying God wants me to kiss you?” Gerard replied, bewildered.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But, I know that I want you to.”

Gerard couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He pounced on you with a passion that surprised you, knocking you backward onto the pew. His body covered yours as your lips met.

His lips were even softer than his hands. It was like the floodgates had opened. Consumed with desire, you twisted your hands into his hair as he kissed you harder, deeper. You cried out, and the sound echoed against the walls of the empty cathedral.

“We….we can’t do this here,” you gasped. “This is a house of God.”

“And I was meant to be a man of God,” Gerard panted. “But instead, I am now your man. I will be yours, as long as you will have me.”

“Have me right now,” you gasped, pulling him down onto you, for another searing kiss. “Have me forever.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #priest gerard #alcoholic reader #gothtober

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anystalker707 · 1 year

Text

Be good for me

Pairing: Gerard x Vampire! Reader Word count: ~ 1 400 Genre: Light angst / Comfort / Intense Summary: In the light of all the murders that have been happening lately, (y/n) decided to pay Gerard a visit. Kind of content: Blood play / Religious themes / Gaslighting [a/n]: Not proofread.

Gerard was far from being the best person, and that’s exactly what had sweat trailing down the back of his neck as he read the first pages of the daily newspaper issues sprawled over his desk. The last one, which had been delivered to his front door that morning, had a picture in black and white of the police leaning over a body covered by a white sheet while the big, black letters above it read SIXTH BODY FOUND THIS WEEK.

The press was going to play dumb, of course, none of them wanted to receive a death threat attached to their desk with a pocket knife. Either way, Gerard was aware. He knew that pattern of killing very well—the way the bodies lacked some organs along with blood, with precise wounds—, and it was clear someone had bothered the vampires yet again. It alone made him think over and over about all the favors and connections he ever had with them. Maybe he had helped rival groups without knowing? Or didn’t do something right?

A shaky breath escaped his lips as he tried not to overthink it, muttering critics towards the others—who did The Used think they were to mess with the Deathwish gang, after all? It was no surprise one of their men showed up dead across the sidewalk without any blood in their veins. Gerard chuckled while lighting up a cigarette he stuck between his lips.

All that calmness lasted until Ray’s voice rang in the back of his mind. “I heard something regarding Deathwish,” he had said during dinner, “but keep it low.”

God help him it hadn’t reached their ears.

The church wasn’t far from the house. It only took him a cigarette and a few minutes of walking before he found himself inside the holy and quiet place, only accompanied by God, his angels, and saints. It was all silent, with barely any noise coming from the outside, and that lack of noise made the place more comfortable along with the dim lighting. Only the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling kept the place alive, summed up with the yellow lights of the candles burning with a favor someone asked from God. It almost had Gerard listening to the quiet prayers people would mutter under their breaths, mumbling into their praying hands.

He had been close to that ambient once, truly close. He could still remember the name of each of the images that sat behind the altar, fragments of long prayers, but instead of being a comfort, it was much more of a weight in the back of his mind. Ironically, the church still felt like a safe place. Whether it was because of his family or the rumors of vampires being weak before holy symbols... he didn’t know.

“Thought I wouldn’t find you?”

Gerard’s blood felt cold. His eyes widened and he swallowed dry. Anything he did could send him not six feet underground, but straight to hell.

They sat a pew behind him, leaned forward so their elbows rested above their thighs, their steady and deep breath hitting the back of Gerard's neck. Even from that distance, Gerard could smell the fucking blood.

"Why would I hide from you, (y/n)?" Gerard sounded tense. Jesus, that anxiety would get him into actual trouble at some point.

"I don't know, you tell me," (y/n) scoffed with a chuckle. "A church would be the first place I'd head to if I needed to protect myself from a blood-sucking demon."

"I keep my faith alive."

"Sure you do," they hummed, reaching out a hand to Gerard's shoulder. "But you needn't be so tense. All I wish from you is a favor." Their fingers found his dress shirt's collar and pulled it down just enough to trace their cold fingers against his skin, feeling it rise with a shiver.

Gerard wishes he could feel nervousness, to be afraid of (y/n)—it would be a lot less pathetic than wanting more.

"What would it be?"

"I need to know where Ray is." (Y/n)'s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, sinking into the skin just at the same moment Gerard tensed up and gasped. "I know he's one of your close friends, practically family, so—"

"I can't!"

"—so that's why nothing too bad will happen to him. With respect for you. All I need to know is where he is, hm?" Their words were muffled against the back of Gerard's ear. Fuck.

"S-Sorry," his voice trembled, and for a second he wondered what his friends and subordinates would think if they saw him in such a state. "But I can't. Ray is like a brother to me."

A gush of air hit him, even making the flames of the candles tremble, and (y/n) now sat by his side with their forehead almost pressed to his. "Look, let's not make it harder than it actually is, hm?" They had an arm around Gerard's back, their other one held his face so he wouldn't look away—Gerard groaned softly as he nuzzled into their hand. "I need to know where Ray is. He won't be the tenth person. He won't be on the next newspaper cover, baby. Don't you trust me?"

Only lost bits of words escaped Gerard's mouth, no thought being allowed to be completed because what if (y/n) didn't like his answer? What if he said the wrong thing? What if he said where Ray was and the others found out?

"I trust you," Gerard's voice was small and trembling. "But..."

"Shhh, it's fine," they whispered and let their lips trail down to his neck, bending his head to the side. "I'm not forcing it out of you. Just relax for me.”

Gerard couldn’t help but comply, pressing his lips together as he let himself go in their arms with a shaky sigh. A shiver ran down his spine with the light touch of their lips that eventually opened up as their touches turned into open mouthed kisses that now and then had a breath caught in his throat. His hands sought for something to hold onto, anything but not (y/n)—his hands balled into fists around nothing by his thighs, letting his nails pierce into his palms, only not painfully because of how short they were.

(Y/n) tugged at the thin skin with their teeth, having fun in how easily Gerard reacted, something they’d extend for longer if they weren’t so anxious. They wouldn’t drink blood from anyone and subject themself to drain the blood from men with rotten bodies; they’d only get the best from the best, and the best included Gerard.

A squeal came from Gerard at the same time (y/n)’s teeth pierced through his skin, escaping his throat as much as he tried to muffle it down, but soon the pain turned into a discomfort he was already used to and allowed him to relax into their arms. (Y/n) had to bring an arm around his body in order to hold himself up properly, all of that without ever disconnecting their lips from his neck.

No matter how much they wanted to, Gerard would never serve as a proper meal—a dessert, maybe, a snack, but not a meal. Firstly because (y/n) didn’t want to risk losing him, and secondly because he wouldn’t be so special if they kept drinking from him as if he were cheap wine.

(Y/n)’s tongue dragged against the punctures, catching the most of the blood they could before the tip of their tongue pushed into one of the wounds. Gerard hissed as his hand found (y/n)’s thigh and his fingers sank into it with a strong hold, but according to how they kept their motions, he was forced to let go of the breath he held, eventually whimpering. They could almost catch their name among the mess of sounds that escaped his lips, almost sobs, something that just had the feeling in their stomach bubbling up.

That couldn’t last long enough, it never could. (Y/n) was panting when they pulled away while Gerard leaned against their side, seeking comfort in the cold and bloodless body of the creature. He buried his head in the crook of their neck, taking deep breaths.

“The south house,” Gerard said quietly, almost muffled. “Near Delaware. Ray is there.”

(Y/n) thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to get there or how to bring Ray here as they licked their lips clean, then cracked a grin. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” They chuckled, and pulled away just enough to press their lips to Gerard’s, letting him taste his own metallic taste on (y/n)’s lips.

#gerard way #x reader #x female reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #mcr #mcr x reader #gerard way x reader #vampire #revenge #fan fic #fan fiction #my chemical romance #my chemical romance x reader #imagine #oneshot #writing #my writing

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

The Rockstar AU series: SPN / CM / RPF crossover! Featuring Harry Styles and lots of chaotic gay shenanigans. Feel-good fluff. Most pieces can be read as standalones.

Marshmallow Crime Lords series: DCU x Marvel. In which Jason Todd, Bucky Barnes, and Clint Barton reform the Gotham underworld while being secret cinnamon rolls. Roughly 95% Batfam nonsense, identity porn, borderline crack, and domestic fluff; 5% plot. WIP.

If It’s A Highway: Jason Todd (DCU) x Bucky. A Red Hood: Lost Days/post-CA:TWS fusion. WIP, explicit.

Dangerous: Walker / SPN crossover. Dean Winchester x Cordell Walker, 367 words, rated R.

On The Edge: SPN/Lucifer crossover. Sam Winchester x Mazikeen. Demon blood, in a sexy way. 493 words, explicit.

Five: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader x Mazikeen. Smutty lil threesome ficlet. ~660 words, explicit.

Under Pressure: Bandom, Gerard Way x Brendon Urie. Fluff Friday drabble: “Strangers at the pub forced into a karaoke duet.” ~670 words, rated G.

Triple Shot: Frank Iero x Gerard Way. Fluff Friday drabble. Coffee shop meet-cute, so very cliched. 608 words, rated G.

Big Damn Heroes: Buffy x Supernatural crossover! Assorted surprise pairings. Mostly just character-driven lolz and geeky references galore. ~4930 words, rated PG-13.

Leave Your Boots By The Bed: SPN/BtVS, Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane. Companion piece to Big Damn Heroes. Surprisingly soft, with lots of extremely athletic sex. ~7350 words, explicit.

This Tall To Ride: Sam Winchester x Frank Iero. Nobody asked for this weird-ass crossover but I fucking love it. Raunchy blowjobs with much hair-pulling. ~2750 words, explicit.

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writingforyourpleasure · 4 years

Text

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

Characters: GERARD WAY x Reader

Link to chapter four : https://writingforyourpleasure.tumblr.com/post/616411340391759872/on-the-road-again

Warnings : None

Author’s note: Hello ! Hope you’re all doing okay during those strange times ? Sorry for not posting but I had my en-of-the-year exam, but it’s now done and , I only got a few homework to hand-over now and my second year in college’ll be done !Here you go thank you to keep reading .

5. “ Pun-master “

You woke up, feeling something or someone moving in front of you . You started to groan at the uncomfortable feeling not wanting to get up just yet.

“And what owe me the pleasure to be assisted by your presence tonight sir Way?” You said while looking for plates.

The mass finally moved away , listening to your complains .

You woke up what felt just five minutes later but probably was in reality hours after it. Your eyes fluttered slowly as if they were disconnected from your brain. A light shine from the outside was peeking through your tinted window as soon as you truly started to wake up , you realized that Gerard wasn’t here anymore.

“Right…” You breathed out to yourself. Honestly you didn’t want to wake up. You were scared , scared of overthinking this , and because of that you actually was overthinking it . Your brain wasn’t playing on your favor . You didn’t knew how you were gonna survive today. The worst was, you didn’t knew how to act with Gerard , what happened yesterday night wasn’t that big of a deal, really , but again ; you were overthinking it . You just wanted to act normal with him , and was prying your brain to not let you down once you’ll see him. You felt so stupid for having a crush on one of your coworker and friends. You got up and hoped for the best.

You got out of your nest , only to find that you were alone in the bus and that you already had arrived into the next parking’s venue . You went directly to the kitchenette and groaned realized that you guys were short on coffee. You finally resigned yourself and went for the shower.

You got out of the bus a dozen of minutes later to find the parking lot empty except for the security that was already keeping everything on check. You checked your phone to see that it was 3pm . You had enough time, to get yourself a coffee somewhere and not stressing about when to comeback since you didn’t had to repeat with Dex or anything. You put back in your , old black Green Day’s hoodie, pocket your phone . You’ve dressed yourself as unfashionable as it is socially allowed , your laziness was clearly reflecting itself through most of your actions today. You put your headphones on , listening to the last Fever 333’s album and searched on google maps for the nearest Starbucks, once again a reflect of your laziness you figured.

You arrived to the welcoming smell of dirty beans being ground and hot milk.

Once you got your order you looked around for a seat since the place was pretty full, luckily you got one in front of the glass and on both sides what appeared to be two couples . Great. You hope that you’ll be lucky and won’t have to witness the same amount of smooshing in both of them. The teenage one , on your right , were the ones all over each other, with the boy groping at every part accessible of his what-you-presumed-to-be his girlfriend. The one on your left were two men in suits holding each other hands while talking , you sat facing the widow and the other empty seat. You got out of your backpack your sketch book and a pencil starting to draw people passing by while music took you in other world. A tap on your shoulder took you of guard , you got off your headphones .

“Yes ?” you turned around your head to see who was trying to get your attention.

“Hey, is this seat taken ?” Dex was smiling down at you with a big smile.

You said nothing instead kicking the seat in front of you, back to the glass for them to seat.

“I feel like it’s been a while since we talked .” Dex said sitting and looking expectantly at you.

“What are you talking ‘bout we talked just yesterday.” You said not looking up from your sketch book.

“Don’t play dumb y/n , you know what I mean. Like just the two of us ?” Dex sighed , seeing that you decided to not play cooperative . This time you did look up to your friend with a blank expression . Watching their eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It’s true , lately you tried to somewhat distance yourself since you were trying to figure out what the hell was happening with Gerard and you knew that being close to Dex would not help one second . Your friend knew how to read you even when you tried to hide something as well as you could. You had thinked that if Dex was about to ask questions it would make it weird since you were all working together . If you fucked up at any moments , you’ll have nowhere to hide and sometimes it can be a great deal of pain . But apparently you didn’t succeed not to make it awkward since your friend was not so happy that you act a little colder than usual . You were already fucking cold to any strangers , so to be cold to them was shitty. You sighed and run a hand through your now greasy hair . You needed to take a shower quickly , maybe it could wait after the show .

“Hey earth to y/n, hellooo?”

“Huh yeah sorry I was gone for a few…”

“Yeah no shit .”

“Sorry… like for all of it it’s true I’ve been kinda avoiding you guys.”

“Meh it happens , I mean it’s okay we all got our own problems.”

Dex tried to stay warm inside of the Starbucks but you could sense that being against a cold ass window wasn’t helped them to get the warmth that provided the Starbucks.

“I’m so cold….” They whispered as they took a gulp from their drink.

“Well….then stand in a corner .” You replied taking a large gulp of your hot drink too.

“What-Why ?”

“Think..”

“No….. please tell me it’s not because of what I think dude.”

“Coz’ corners are 90 degrees.” You said with a smug smile.

“Ho god …. Ok you know what maybe it’s for the best to be socially distant haha. It is so bad please do not do that again?”

“You’re asking way to much to the pun master .”

“More like the master of fucking nothing y’mean .”

“What did you said peasant , I think I didn’t quite hear that ?”

“Ho nothing .” said your friend smiling like a fool.

“Y/N I’m still fucking cold !” Said your friend trying to warm themselves up by rubbing strongly their arms.

“And how is that my problem , my dear?”

“Someday I really am going to kill you , y’know?” Told Dex between their teeth, with a little grunt along the way.

“Y/N , Can I borrow your scarf? I’m seriously freezing. ”

“Well I can’t turn into a heater for you now can I? So do you want me to set you on fire? Because, I mean it’s still an option? Like I have my lighter right here so….?” You joked while giving them your scarf.

They gave you a warning glance as if they believed you . Then on a very exasperate note they sighed and said :

“Why are you like this?”

You both laughed at that getting some curious looks from other clients. Once both of calmed down you try to get serious talking about the elephant in the room .

“Hey , can I ask your advice on something?”

“Absolutely , but I only advise communication, homosexuality, or murder.” Answered your friend earning a smug know-it-all smile out of you.

You were about to start to get off of your chest the whole “Hey I think I may or may not like the lead singer of the band for which we’re working for.” They cut you off.

“WAIT!”

“Yeah ?”

“Are you absolutely positive this isn’t dangerous or something?” They looked very serious about this , which had the reflex to make you roll your eyes deep inside your skull.

“I’m 95% sure, but yeah, I’ve failed fourth grade math so…” You decided to answer her stupid question with a stupid answer.

“Ho okay then we’re good I failed second grade! So just before we start , how long will this take ? I got to pick up my dog at the salon. «You both laughed at that. «No but like seriously we’ll have to go back to the bus eventually . Maybe tell me along the way back?”

“Alright , alright” You both got up from your seats and finally got out of the Starbucks.

“So huh, you remember when we got the 1 week break , alright?”

“Right. “

“Well huh, me and Gerard started talking by text pretty often during this time.”

“Ho. Did you now ?” They said waving their eyebrows in a suggestive way.

“No not like that calm down, you demon fuck .”

“Always a pleasure to fill my responsibilities.”

“You weirdo….” You whispered under your breath.

“Ho do not act if you aren’t even weirder man ! “

“Anyway, I just , I don’t know . I think, I think I may like him y’know?”

“Well it’s pretty comprehensible , I mean he’s hot .”

“I’m not talking about this you twat!”

“Ho c’mon you can’t say he isn’t !”

“Haha ,He is , I ‘ve sight too I’d let you know. It’s just not the point here .”

“You do? Sorry it’s hard to tell when you dress yourself like that .

“You bitch!” You choked on your drink , coughing violently.

“I’m just kind of dreading to really assuming the whole ‘hey by the way I’m hitting on you’ I don’t want to make it weird during the tour , when we’re not even at the half of it. And I don’t wish for everyone to see that I am hitting on him. I’m not ready.” You explained to Dex , not really wanting to expose everything you and Gerard said or do , foremost because there’s not that much to say

“Maybe not hitting on him is a good call since if you do I’m pretty sure he’s gonna freak out hearing your lame puns.”

“May I recall to you that I’m the pun-master AND the master of pickup lines ?”

“You completely suck at pickup lines, bro.”

“No I don’t !”

“The last time you tried one of you’re pickup lines was on this poor cute girl in Louisiana when you said ‘Are you Google –“

“CUZ YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’M SEARCHING FOR !!!”

“Yeah no wonder it didn’t worked !”

“I’m a genius , you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“You wish . So why are you’re feeling attracted to the guy ?”

“Well you see my kink is when people actually care about my feelings and what I have to say. And Since I know him he seems to correspond to this criteria , so I find it pretty attractive and hot since it’s my main kink.”

“Yeah , too unrealistic. Settle for bondage like the rest of us.”

“Where you ever nice Dex ?”

“2012, worst year of my life.” You laughed at what your friend said . “No but more seriously y/n, just let it happen y’know? And when you have the feeling that both of you are having a moment then maybe hit on him but stay subtle y’know?”

“I just want him to take me out…”

“Like, on a date or with a sniper ?”

“He’ll have to surprise me .” You both laughed before changing the subject to the little surprise you’ve both had planned for Max, since he was spending all of his nights and days working on your band , you wanted to do something nice for him. You bought a cookbook a few weeks ago for him as a present for the occasion, he often baked pastries as a distressful way to exhale from work time. Even though the bus condition made it hard to cook anything big it already was a good start. And you bought some bottle of Irish hard cider, since he had said it was the best thing he ever tasted when you all took a vacation to Dex family house there. After getting back to the bus everything went pretty fast , but the talk with Dex about Gerard was still playing in your mind. Ames saw that you were lost in your thoughts most of the time and ask you several times if everything was okay, you tried to act like you didn’t knew what he was talking about and you all moved on with your day . Mikey, Frank , Gerard and Ray were already in your bus when you had come back from your coffee session, and they yelled at you for not texting them and taking them with you. You brushed it off saying that next time you would. Gerard had tried to share looks with you during the day but you were too much caught up into your head to notice.

The show this night was nice and almost too short even if you guys took a ten minutes on My chemical romance planning since you played a special song. Once you were backstage Ames and Billy started their routines taking everything off stage to let place for the boys. To go faster Max offered to help them. It gave you and Dex a chance to run to the bus to prepare your little plan. You took any cushions , pillow and anything fluffy you could find , when you were done the bunks were quite a mess but you didn’t want to think of it since you still had to prepare the hard cider and the cake you brought from the Mark & Spencer’s not having too much time to find anything else. By the time everything was served , you knew that My chem was done with their show too , so you decided to prepare them a part too , you made a point to serve a apple juice instead of the cider for Gerard , not wanting him to feel excluded or anything. Max had been held backstage by Billy and Ames who were your dearest allies as ever.

You installed yourself with every plates and drinks giggling between the two of you alone in the bus to stupid jokes.

A knock made itself hear through the bus and Billy appeared into the kitchenette area before being followed by Ames and Max , who where looking at you with huge smiles spread across their face and a snort from the three of them.

“What the fuck did you do with our beds ?” Asked Max between a laugh.

“Well we did a pillow fort !” Answered Dex.

“Isn’t that a little childish ? “

“Does it means you don’t want to join us ?” You asked Max.

A silence swept through the bus.

“…Move over .” Said Max entering your huge pillow fort and already going for the cake and drink.

“Wait there’s a party and you guys didn’t told us about?! “Said Frank entering your bus.

You handed a plate in his direction , earning a smile from him before he arrived by your side as well as everyone else too.

Frank was on your right while Gerard was on your right and all of you were in a cercle eating and joking about stupid stuff.

“Hey you look better than this morning it’s good to see.” Whispered at your side Gerard offering a sweet smile before readjusting a few locks behind his ear.

“Well It’s because in the end we migrate towards comfort , and I realized that I am most comfortable around you , all of you.” You said returning a bright smile to the man.The night went along before Frank spoke up .

“Guys how are you gonna clean this mess to sleep tonight ?” Painful groans made themselves heard from all of you.

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