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Darkness Within the Light

Chapter 3 of a Dwayne Stephens x Latina!Pregnant!Witch!OC fanfic

Warnings: Threats of violence, allusions to dangerous situations, language, sexual innuendos, Grandpa Emerson (you all know he counts). This entire story is deemed unsuitable for minors, if you are one, you are responsible for your own media intake, you have been warned.

Summary: As Jessamine settles into her new job and begins adjusting to her new way of life, we meet her new landlord, Grandpa Emerson. Cranky, superstitious, and all too aware of her status, Jessamine tries to find even footing with this eccentric old man who’s anxiously waiting for the appearance of his estranged family.

(y’all, i fucking forgot to add the photo the first time i uploaded, it adds to the ambiance and it’s so fucking important and i forgot it💀)

With two clicks and a startlingly accurate aim, Jessamine watched in horror as the shotgun leveled at her head. Her breathing shallowed drastically as she tried to keep calm and stay level-headed. Her abilities and magik could be triggered by her emotional state, and this was one of the worst times and situations to let out a wave of magikal energy.

“The hell you two devil-worshippers doin’ on my property? And speak quick cuz I’m too old to pretend to be interested,” growled the white-haired man as he stared down the scope of his weapon, his finger tightening around the trigger menacingly. He was old enough to look just days away from dying, withered snowy locks flowing stiffly in the light breeze. He was dressed haphazardly, as if he fell into a closet and decided to stay in whatever had landed on him. An atrociously patterned orange and blue Hawaiian shirt lay over a stained wife beater, which was probably once white. He wore thick cotton cutoff shorts that exposed a farmers tan, leading to his mismatched socks and shoes. One foot had an ankle length striped sock and a slipper with a huge hole in the toe. The other sock was high on his calf and had green polka dots and laid in an untied leather work boot.

Flinching at the sawed-off that was just a few feet away from her, she leaned to whisper harshly into Leighton’s ear. “When you said you’d take me to my new ‘living arrangements’, I didn’t think that translated into my untimely death! I though you knew this guy.”

“I know of him, everyone does. He’s killed his fair share of vampires before finally settling here about forty odd years ago. He’s been here as long as I have.”

Icy blue eyes glared at the two Wiccan, distrustful and paranoid. “Now, don’t you two start consorting or whatever it is that y’all’s kind tend to do,” he warned wearily. Standing just a few feet away from them from the top of his porch steps, Jessamine had never felt so threatened in her life. Usually, in life or death scenarios, she was more calm. But now, it wasn’t just her life at stake. Before this baby, she felt expendable and unimportant. All of that had changed and she felt the true burden of her mortality for the first time.

Leighton tried not to take his eyes off of the older man, but it was hard to when he knew his newest charge was in such an awful position. Santa Carla was, for many valid reasons, practically deserted by magikal folk. He preferred it that way. Wiccan had stopped going West long ago, so he was basically alone. While it didn’t do much for his power, he knew he was independent and in full control here without having to account for or answer to anyone. But Jessamine and her baby changed all of that. And he knew that the Great Mother had an intended purpose for the young woman and her baby.

“Mr. Emerson, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. We pose no threat to you or your home, and we didn’t come here with any bad intentions. I’m the librarian in town and this young woman is my new employee. She has fled from a very dangerous situation and she needs a home. Given your background and need for a tenant, I thought it would do to come here,” he assured, stepping in front of Jessamine and holding his arm across her torso protectively.

“I don’t think there’s been any misunderstanding, Mr. Librarian. Lemme make myself clear, I got my own to protect. I ain’t gonna let some fugitive you’re harboring put my family into danger by bringing about a damn apocalypse within my home. I don’t care if you think she’s innocent or too damn pretty to get rid of,” Emerson insisted, not even twitching out of his defensive position.

Jessamine tried not to bristle at his offensive words, and focused at the gun he still had leveled on her. She could easily knock it away from him with a thought, but she knew it wouldn’t help the situation. If anything, it would just make everything worse. And the slight chance that the gun would go off and hit her anyway kept her from making any drastic decisions. For her child’s sake she had to be careful.

Leighton continued arguing with the old man, if not to allow her to stay, than to convince him to let them live. “No one understands your motivations better than she does. She has her own family to protect, growing within her. You know our laws, Emerson, you know that they won’t come for her. But you also know that Wiccans aren’t the only threat in this area. Please, allow her sanctuary.”

Emerson’s glare softened slightly and much to the pair’s relief, his finger relaxed from the trigger marginally. His gaze fell from Leighton’s to Jessamine’s belly, where she had rested a hand above her womb. Jessamine was a bit on the heavier side and she knew that the fat of her stomach might obscure how far along she truly was. However, for just two months (physically at least), she knew it wasn’t obvious yet. Still, he kept the gun aimed at them and they knew better than to try to approach him further.

“And so what? Why should I just take your word for it? For all I know, y’all could be using some kinda mind trick on me to brainwash me into obeying you. I also know that your society doesn’t gatekeep the use of magik. There are plenty of violent outliers,” Emerson dismissed, shaking his head slightly so as not to disable his aim.

Frustrated and feeling tears well up in her eyes, Jessamine moved around Leighton and approached the elderly man, marching forward until the shotgun barrel was pressing into her chest. She met his glare with a determined gaze of her own, though hers was decidedly less severe given the salty water that had accumulated on her lashes in desperation and stress

“Please,” she begged, ignoring the chilled metal that practically burned through the material of her shirt. “I know what you’re afraid of because I am, too. We face the same dangers, whether you acknowledge it or not. I will do anything to protect my baby and give them a safe and happy life. This is the safest place to do that. I get that dark practitioners are threats, but I do not participate in that sort of evil. I swear to you that no harm will come to you or your family as a result of my presence. I will use all of the magik at my disposal to make this a fortress, if that would make you more comfortable. Please, this is my last hope. I am utterly alone in this world and I have nothing to lose or cherish more than my baby. So please! Please!”

Jessamine felt pathetic and was on the verge of sobbing in front of this man. Tears streamed down her round face, but she tried to keep her facial features as smooth and neutral as possible. Her hands covered her stomach as much as they could, a final and useless layer of protection.

Emerson’s glare deepened a fraction before he tossed his head back and laughed. Yanking the gun back, he swung it so it was positioned over his shoulders. Shifting his position, he eyed the two considerably, with a huge grin and a sparkle in his eyes. “Well, why didn’t you just start with that? Shoot! Making my house a fortress? Darlin’, lemme help you with them bags.”

Both Leighton and Jessamine gaped after him as he put the shot gun away carefully and lifted two bags to carry inside. Leighton approached Jessamine from behind, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder. Craning her neck to look at him, she almost giggled at his expression. Mouth agape and his head shaking in disbelief, his mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find his voice.

“That was insane,” he breathed finally. This triggered an immediate response of Jessamine swallowing large mouthfuls of air as she was hit with the reality of the encounter. Everything hit her in that moment. Nathaniel’s death. Her isolation and banishment from her community. The year-long coma she had been forced into. The death threats and conspiracies that followed. Being abandoned by the Council and forced to flee. The weeks of driving. Jessamine was, for lack of better or truer terms, fucking exhausted. She was so fucking exhausted.

Not acknowledging Leighton’s words, she picked up a few bags herself and trailed after the old man.

The inside of the house was huge and largely decorated in wooden Western furnishings. Antlers and stuffed animals, mostly rodents, resided on the majority of the flat surfaces. They were all posed to face the entryway, as if in greeting. There was almost no technology that she could see besides a wall covered floor-to-ceiling with various radio and stereo models being flanked by columns upon columns of disks and records. The entryway was set into a living room, with a winding staircase leading to the second floor. A set of french doors revealed a workplace for Emerson’s taxidermy, the room glowed red from the stained lightbulbs. Another set of french doors -these were glass instead of wood- revealed a dining room that connected to a kitchen, which led to a sunroom and den.

Emerson walked ahead of Jessamine through the kitchen and into the den. Another smaller staircase was there and he began to ascend with a couple of her bags.

“We converted the attic into a living space when my youngest daughter wanted some ‘independence’ after high school before she moved out. It has a small kitchen and a full bathroom. No bedroom, that’s in the living room. I guess it’s what you young folk might call a studio apartment. Pretty spacious since it takes up the top floor of the house,” Emerson explained, opening a door at the top of the stair case and allowing Jessamine to walk ahead of him. Leighton’s heavy steps followed them sluggishly as he had handled more bags than the other two.

Indeed, the apartment was very spacious. Various skylights on the slanted ceiling allowed sun to light the entire place up for their viewing. Practically everything was covered in dust, including a few stacks of boxes that stood in the corner next to the door. Dust swirled in the air, the light fracturing off of it to make rainbows. A small television stood to the far left of the attic with a couple of couches and chairs surrounding it. Next to the boxes was an old desk and bookshelf, which stood empty. To the left of the television, on the far right wall, was a small lift. The lift was about a foot from the floor and had a large bed on top of it. Across from the bed was the kitchen, complete with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and a small dining area. Between the bed and kitchen was a small hallway with only two doors, one was a simple wooden door and the other was s sliding glass mirror; a bathroom and walk-in closet.

“It’s perfect! Thank you so much, Mr. Emerson,” said Jessamine jubilantly, twirling slowly in the center of the space to take it all in at once.

Smiling kindly at her and setting her bags down, Emerson responds, “I already know everyone calls me ‘Grandpa’. You might as well, too.”

Leighton walked in behind Grandpa and set Jessamine’s bags down gratefully, beyond relieved to not be carrying them further. He rubbed his sore shoulders and surveyed the apartment as well. “It’ll do nicely. That desk is great for when you have to bring work home,” he approved.

Grandpa lifted an eyebrow at the young man and crossed his arms. “Young man, I know you ain’t planning on working this woman in her condition,” he reprimanded.

Jessamine laughed, genuinely for the first time in what had felt like lifetimes. “No, don’t worry about that, Grandpa. I’m a historian. Bringing work home is just reading old tomes and translating runes, nothing strenuous.”

Leighton nodded vigorously, intimidated by the old man’s protectiveness. “I would never compromise her health for a few old books, Grandpa, on my word.”

Grandpa nodded along, content with that answer. “Well, all right. I’ll let you get settled. When you’re ready, come downstairs for some food and I’ll help you stock up that old kitchen and clean up.”

“Thank you again, Grandpa, you have no idea how much this means to me,” Jessamine repeated, turning to face the man as he began descending the stairway.

“I think I do, girl. My oldest daughter, Lucy? You remind me of her.” His voice was thick and emotional as he paused on the landing step.

“Is that why you let me stay?” She knew it to be true as soon as she asked, her senses lighting up in response.

“She and her boys are coming to live with me. They don’t know nothing about any of this. Of what goes on in this town. I don’t know how to explain it, how to prepare them. She wanted a better life for her sons. You wanted a better life for your little one. It wasn’t hard to make the connection,” he grunted.

Jessamine could tell he had missed his daughter, which led her to assume that he hadn’t seen Lucy in quite some time. The same could most likely be said for her sons. Jessamine empathized heavily with his situation and fully understood Grandpa’s underlying motive for allowing her there; she had promised to make the entire structure a fortress. He wouldn’t have to prepare them if Jessamine was already there to keep them safe. She don’t blame him, couldn’t actually, she would’ve done so no matter where she ended up living.

As Grandpa’s steps down the stairs faded, Jessamine reflected on what she had learned of this man as she began unpacking her belongings and cleaning up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Emersons - Lucy, Michael and Sam - arrived three days later, and were in for two shocks when Grandpa faked a heart attack and then when they met Jessamine for the first time.

Lucy was a very sweet and compassionate woman who had a tendency to be a bit too lenient on her sons. She had just gotten out of a divorce and had decided to keep it as mess-free as possible. Like her, Lucy was looking for a new start for her family. Out of the three, she was definitely the most optimistic and excited about living in Santa Carla. She and Jessamine quickly bonded when Lucy found out she was pregnant. It was nice having another woman around and it made Jessamine realize that she hadn’t had a single conversation with another woman since entering Santa Carla.

Neither of her sons shared the sentiment.

Michael, the oldest, was nineteen and mostly ambivalent about the move. Jessamine could tell that he tried to remain open to it for his mother’s sake, but he wasn’t all that happy about it. A young adult who was entering his senior year in high school late, due to childhood illness, he was simply trying his best to adjust. He got along well with Jessamine, though her being there had confused him.

As to not make them suspicious, Jessamine and Grandpa had devised a story. Jessamine was a pregnant college student who Grandpa was hosting. Since he regularly had health scares and often forgot to feed himself actual meals, Jessamine earned her keep by checking up on Grandpa every so often and making his meals for him. Though not all that pleased with essentially being a live-in caretaker, it would suit her needs so that she could live and practice her magik in peace.

Grandpa wasn’t at all approving of her practice in the slightest. For one, he thought it was dangerous, both for her health and because he still wasn’t certain what sort of magik Jessamine practiced in. Most of all, he didn’t want his family to find out about her true nature or her real job as a magik historian. Still, they came to an agreement that Jessamine would keep her room locked at all times, whether she was in it or not, and that she would put up charms to keep anyone from seeing or finding out about the various ingredients, potions, spells, and books that would give insight to her being a Wiccan. She promised to go above and beyond to keep her secret from Grandpa’s daughter and her sons.

And while this wasn’t an issue for Lucy or Michael, Jessamine faced a bit of resistance from Lucy’s youngest son, fifteen-year-old Sam. Inquisitive and curious, Sam spent nearly an hour interrogating Jessamine as she tried to make a ‘Welcome Home’ dinner for the trio.

“I think Grandpa should’ve told us that he already had someone living here, doesn’t that make more sense?”

“I have no idea why he wouldn’t have, Sam, I don’t make a habit of reading his letters or helping him write them.”

“Nope, definitely weird. You’re way too hot to be just living here. I don’t believe it for a second.”

“As flattering as I think that was, I’m a bit offended you think I’m lying. Would anyone other than a broke college student go for this type of arrangement?”

“True, but you don’t seem like any old broke college student. Does this have something to do with you being knocked up? I haven’t heard anything about a father.”

Michael just so happened to walk in at Sam’s last question and promptly slapped him upside the head and shoved him aside so that he could walk between them with some boxes for the sunroom.

“You can’t go around saying shit like that, jackass. Plus, Mom told us not to bring it up,” he hissed, chastising Sam. “Apologize, now, idiot.”

Sam had the good sense to look ashamed of himself, realizing he had taken it too far. It seems like this was a reoccurring sequence of his. You felt for the kid if you were being honest, and you were impressed by his boldness.

“I’m real sorry, Jessamine, I shouldn’t have asked all that,” he apologized, looking down at his shoes bashfully.

You laughed lightly and he looked up at you hopefully. Smiling at him, you offer both boys a peace offering. “It’s fine, really. I mean, I get it. Y’all travelled all this way to be living with a weird old man and his 20-year-old friend who’s pregnant. I’d be feeling off about it, too. How about after dinner, we go check out the boardwalk? I haven’t been and your mom is headed that way to look for a job.”

Both boys visibly lit up at the opportunity to do something fun. After a long drive and hours of unpacking, with more to do the next day, boredom was leeching into their systems like a virus. Especially since Grandpa refused to own a television set. Sure, there was one in Jessamine’s room, but she couldn’t lug it down herself for them and they weren’t allowed in her room. For their sakes, she chose not to tell them about it at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dwayne stood away from his brothers as the three of them flocked around a pretty girl who was trying to get an ice cream. They all took turns flirting with her, trying to see which one of them appealed to her the most. Usually, Dwayne would happily participate in these types of games, but he’d felt off lately, and started spending most of his time out with Star and Laddie.

He wasn’t complaining, he adored them both with his whole heart, just as he did his brothers and father. It was just that the idea of having sex or being around women, which he has never had trouble with before, was completely unappealing. And he knew it wasn’t just inside his head because Paul and Marko had begun teasing him about it for months already. Which is why he preferred Star’s company.

It also didn’t hurt that he could acknowledge how beautiful she was without cringing. He had always thought so, back when they had first found her. He flirted with her just as his brothers had and, in the rare moment of assertiveness, he had been the one to offer her Max’s blood to turn her. Dwayne would never consider actually being with her, romantically or sexually. He could just tell that he wasn’t hers to have. And he didn’t want to be. It didn’t feel right. But he could be with her in these moments, silently and peacefully watching over Laddie and making sure his brothers don’t cause too much trouble.

The girl that David, Paul and Marko had been bothering had taken an interest in Marko, and Dwayne could practically feel his elation at having won the game and being able to have his fun with her. As he quirkily extended an elbow for the girl to take so that he could walk her somewhere more private and romantic, Dwayne had rolled his eyes humorously.

And that’s when he saw her.

A girl, couldn’t be over 5’2, walking in between two teenage boys, all three of them looking around the board walk in wonder.

She was curvy, and plump in all the areas that Dwayne liked best. She wore a white lacy top, which was low cut and exposed her chubby tummy. Dwayne’s eyes caught on her large breasts, which he tried to feel bad about before he decided to soak in as much of her as he could. Her long skirt was also white but has pink and green ruffles, similar to one of Star’s skirts. She was decorated in dull gold - belts, hair rings, necklaces and bracelets. Her brown fringe was medium length and was pulled back and out of her face by hair ornaments. Her features were hispanic and her skin was a pleasant shade of caramel. It had been centuries since Dwayne had craved anything but blood and all of the sudden, the sight of a single woman had given him a sweet tooth that rivaled Augustus Gloop.

Her scent wafted to him and he felt like he could survive off of it alone. Cinnamon rolls and peaches. Fuck.

David and Paul were approaching where he and Star were, climbing onto their bikes. Star clambered up behind David and held onto him. Usually Laddie would ride with Dwayne, but Dwayne lifted him up and saddled the boy with Paul. Ignoring them all as they called out it him over his strange behavior and lack of explanation, he strode off away from them.

Following the warm and sweet scent of cinnamon rolls and peaches.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AAHSHFHFH CHAPTER THREE FINALLY

I wanted to do another chapter before leaving on vacation and i was struggling with writers block. i knew how i wanted to do the reveal and all that but none of the in-between content.

And finally, actual plot. I’d spent so much time on the back story that i was worried that it would be too boring. Anyways, i want to post more preferences, headcanons and one shots so if you are interested in that, reblog and tag what you’d want me to write. Remember that I don’t just write for The Lost Boys, if you’re interested. If you’re not interested, then just leave a like :)

Enjoy and await updates!

i adore you and your mind

Random Lost Boys Headcannons

David- The king of side eye

The rest of the boys adopted David’s side eyeing habit

People can usually feel it when one of the boys are side eyeing them

Marko and Paul would’ve loved watching Jersey Shore

Paul would’ve done the Jersey Shore fist pump

“You start at the bottom! Then work your way up!” -Paul

The boys avoid Star at all costs if she’s on her period

But they will tease her from afar about it

Marko goes out of his way to make babies cry when he sees them in public

Dwayne gets baby fever

Dwayne likes to hold random people’s babies on the boardwalk

Paul once went on a boardwalk ride while chewing on tobacco and he threw up everywhere

Paul has 🍃 connections

Marko one time got his cheek pinched and called a cutie by some girl on the boardwalk

And that’s how Marko discovered his weakness for pet names

Star had to ask the boys to get her pads and they came back with panty liners and jumbo tampons

Cue Star’s blank staring as her eyes got progressively watery

David has a disdain for vomit. Any other bodily fluid is fine, but vomit is a sure fire way to get David grossed out

The boys give Star major ick

Star’s ick reaction is blankly looking at the culprit up and down before moving away from them

Dwayne likes 60s music still and will occasionally listen to it in private

Paul owns a bunch of cassettes of mostly metal

All the cassettes were stolen and Paul proudly plays them from his also stolen boombox.

Marko trained his pigeons to shit on command

They all got pelted with pigeon shit after a training mishap

Marko was not allowed to say the word shit after that

Guess who’s back, back again…still without a new chapter (it’ll come out soon, i promise)

For now tho, to feed the masses bc i didn’t really expect my works to get as much attention as they have

The Lost Boys Head Canon: Kissing

David:

*While David isn’t generally an affectionate partner, he has a very physical presence that can be very affective

*His kisses match his presence; they are very slow and seductive, he likes to entice his partner completely

*When he kisses you, it’s very precise, like there’s nothing else on his mind but every single little thing that he’s doing

*David will grab your chin and waist to make sure that you’re completely immersed in him and his kiss, he needs your complete focus to be on him, like his is on you

*He’ll usually only kiss you in private too, he feels like it makes the experience more special, since it’s all for you and you only.

Paul:

*I feel like Paul is a very openly affectionate person, and his kisses reflect that

*When Paul kisses you, it’s very sporadic, but sweet. Like, his mood will change mid-kiss and he’ll go from a simple peck to feral frenching in 0.02 seconds, or vice versa

*Honestly, it’s sort of like a game to him, with you trying to guess his next move or try to keep up with him, kissing him is just really fun

*Paul doesn’t really fully understand that different types of kisses, he knows there are multiple ways to kiss someone, but his main focus is that the act of kissing is enjoyable, he won’t get caught up in the different reasons you might wanna kiss someone

*he likes to twine his fingers with yours as you kiss, or he’ll stroke up and down your arms, he’d most definitely smile during the kiss too. Sometimes he’ll just walk up next to you and press a kiss to the side of your mouth and keep walking

Marko:

*A lot like Paul, he’s a lot more relaxed and open with affection, and thinks kissing should be light-hearted and enjoyable rather than anything else

*He will try to convince his brothers of this line of thinking -especially Dwayne- after kissing you

*To him, kissing you is like inventing religion, it’ll surpass the ages and affect the masses. He’s so cute and sweet about it. His kisses are definitely worshipful

*While not as romantic or thoughtful as his brothers might seem, his main priority when he kisses someone is that they enjoy it, so it’ll always be lowkey and simple so there’s room for conversation on how it feels without it being awkward

*He prefers the relaxed kisses for when you’re just within each other’s presence and are feeling affectionate, like a reminder that you love each other without saying anything

*Marko will definitely cradle your face or hold you in a hug when kissing you, full frontal, and he often laughs while kissing you too, just giggling in disbelief at how lucky he is

Dwayne:

*Every middle-aged-woman-who’s-obsessed with-trashy-airport-novel’s wet dream with the way this man kisses

*Its extremely sensual, almost obscene, and he will often deepen it bc he wants it to go further, and to be honest, it often does

*A lot like David, his affection is reserved for you, but in the way that he will get lost in you that he simply stops caring about the people who might see you

*You take his breath away and he has no other way to handle himself than to make you feel the same way. He’s a romantic, what can he say?

*He will pull you in by your clothing and hold you as tightly against his body as he can, he kisses you like he’ll never be able to again and it induces butterflies like crazy

Horizon: Chapter 1 - Rain and More Rain, Yay

It wasn't that I didn't like Forks. I loved Forks, most of the people I loved lived here, but holy crow did I hate the rain. I think the only thing that prevented me from choosing to live with my dad was the stupid weather in Forks, Washington. Well, that and the fact that I was almost entirely certain that Renee couldn't take care of herself without me there. But she has Phil now and I have. . . extremely soggy boots. I hate wearing boots but they're pretty essential in a place as gloomy as Forks.

I missed Charlie though, as well as Jacob. We haven't spent nearly as much time together as we did after his mom died. And now that Rachel and Rebecca are off and living their own lives, I'm basically the only female family member he has left. He used to be somewhat close to Leah, the ex of the current werewolf Alpha, Sam, but their relationship ended when Sam imprinted on her cousin/best friend Emily. No one could blame Leah for being closed off after that. She was always traveling around nowadays and when she was in Forks, it was never for very long. Though, she seems a lot happier and more upright in the new life she's leading. I admire that.

Being in Forks long-term after three years was surreal. It was a complete 180 from my toasty and dry Arizona. There's so much more moisture and green here, it was messing with my vision. Or maybe that's the difference in air quality, it made me want to lay on the gravel roads and list all of the differences, but that's considered impractical.

Charlie was ever silent next to me and if I didn't know any better, I'd think he was uninterested. But no, my father was just as awkward as me and doesn't know how to start conversations. I get a lot more talkative when I'm nervous, but I've learned to enjoy the quiet around Charlie. Out of everyone, ever, I've never felt out of place or overstimulated by his energy. Mostly because he didn't have much outside of sports and fishing.

I knew living with Charlie would be a simple arrangement, which I was looking forward to. I didn't have to do our taxes or pay all of our bill or make sure he had a steady job after quitting the old one. We could simply co-exist, and I could just be responsible for myself. Though I would take control of the kitchen. One thing Renee and Charlie had in common, the only thing they had in common, was that neither of them could cook for shit. I loved cooking though, so it would be nice to have control of a kitchen that wasn't tainted by Renee's failed monstrosities and Phil's flavorless "sport's diet". I have no problem with Phil, it's just his "cooking". No soul, lack of flavor, plus he'd make Renee and I follow it to make sure he stayed committed in the off season.

As we neared the house, Charlie got this secret smile that was wholly foreign on his face, and I noticed the corner of Billy Black's truck in our driveway. I was immediately suspicious and turned in my seat, fixing a wide-eyed stare on Charlie. I sat completely still and slowly leaned forward without blinking. Charlie tensed and leaned away.

"Bella, distracted driving is the number one cause of vehicular deaths," he recited in his police chief voice. I rolled my eyes, noting the roof and window of the car. the green was making me dizzy.

"I'm aware. What's going on?" I widened my eyes further and leaned in closer. I started to breathe obnoxiously loud to irritate him further.

"You'll find out when we get there. Girl, get the hell away from me," he exclaimed. I bet he was wishing he could just get out of the car at this moment.

"I don't like surprises, old man", I grumbled as I sat back in my seat correctly.

"Then don't think of it as one, think of it as a couple of homecoming presents," Charlie retorted sarcastically as he parked on the curb outside of our house. I didn't see Billy or Jacob, but that was clearly their truck in the driveway, which another vehicle was hitched to. It was covered with a tarp so I couldn't see anything but the bottom of the wheels.

"I don't like presents, either. Daaaad", I whined childishly to let him know of my disproval. He very pointedly rolled his eyes at me and turned off the cruiser.

I wrestled with the seatbelt, trying to free myself from the confines of this cage to go argue with my father some more. However, I got distracted by the flash of flushed russet and inky black barreling into my window. Before I could even register why the cruiser was groaning and shaking, I was yanked out of the car and spun around in the air. The combination of the overwhelming amount of green, the fast paced movement of my assailant, and the spinning was getting to be too much and I felt like I was going to hurl my guts out.

When I was finally put down, I immediately crumbled to my knees, closing my eyes and laying my spinning head onto the cool, damp grass. At least it was good for something, dumb green grass.

“Oh crap! Bella! Are you okay?!” Jacob. I was gonna kill him if I ruined this shirt, it was nice despite the fact that it wasn’t one of my summery blouses that I loved and missed dearly. Fucking Forks.

“Isabella Marie Swan! What’re you doing yoga poses on the lawn for?” I heard a shout from the porch. Charlie.

At the same time, someone bellowed, “Jacob Black, you better not have had anything to do with this!” Billy.

Rough hands cupped my armpits and hauled me upright. I shoved my hand in Jacob’s face, not forcefully, and I held it there until I felt better. When I did, I shoved him away by his face.

“Dude, what the hell? I almost threw up,” I said, finding my balance and walking up the porch.

“You okay, Bells?” Charlie asked, laying a hand on my shoulder and helping me inside.

“Yeah, glad to be home”, I muttered as I leaned down to hug Billy and greet him.

“Glad to have you home, sweet girl”, Billy said fatherly. It was like having a second dad, which is surely the way Jake sees Charlie as well.

“So what’s with this surprise y’all had in mind?” I asked diplomatically. I could mouth off to Charlie, because he knows better, but Billy and Jacob took time out of their days and put effort into helping my dad.

“Well, we know you have money saved up for a car, but that’s taken care of. Give or take a few minor repairs you might want”, Jacob explained, jogging over the tarp-covered vehicle.

I winced lightly. “That’s really considerate, you guys, but I really wish you hadn’t gone through all that trouble just for me.” It wasn’t that I wasn’t appreciative, but I liked earning my possessions. And I always felt guilty when people bought me things. Renee loved to give sob stories about being a single mom to get things out of people and I felt as though I was doing the same thing when people gave me things.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, it’s not anything too special. The damn thing used to be a little father-son project for me and Jacob. Now we’re putting it to good use and saving you a bit of money,” Billy dismissed casually.

It made me feel worse. That must have taken months, if not a couple of years of work and effort and here they were, handing it to me after three years of my absence.

“Don’t start that”, Jacob huffed while untying the tarp. “It was just lying around, unused and uncared for, and it’s easier for all of us not to go car shopping and making sure you ain’t getting a shit deal.”

“Jacob! Language!”

Jacob rolled his eyes and in one very exaggerated move, pulled off the tarp.

My mind was blown.

Sure, it was super fricking old and the paint job was a mess, but something about this behemoth truck reminded me of Arizona more than any of the little knick knacks I packed. And a helluva lot more useful. My eyes welled up a bit, but I ducked my head bashfully to cover it up.

I ran to Jacob and hugged him in gratitude before excitedly opening the door to get a feel of my new baby. God, he was perfect. Warmer than I was expecting. Cool, if not chapped, leather seats, a bit of frostiness on the edges of the window. It was perfect. It was…Bella. I loved it.

“This is perfect! Oh my god, thank you so much!” I hollered out the open window that took me a bit too much effort to roll down.

“We’re glad you like it, Bells. Now come inside for your other surprise”, Charlie said while rubbing his hands together to keep warm.

I hopped out the truck, actually looking forward to this next gift. I never really how well they truly knew me. Renee and Phil always did their best, but I had the feeling that the main motivation behind their gifts to me was to show how much money they spent on me. Or they’d just plain gift me things that they like, rather than what I liked. It was a unique, welcome feeling to receive things that have actual thought put into them.

I ran up to the porch, almost tripping and busting my ass, and Jacob didn’t do a damn thing but laugh at me for almost eating shit on the walkway.

Charlie in particular seemed very animated about this particular gift. He kept glancing at me in anticipation for my reaction when I saw it.

It was beautiful.

He had opened all of the cabinet doors, the pantry, as well as the fridge and freezer. Everything, too to bottom, was absolutely filled with various types of food and spices and herbs. Veggies and fruits that weren’t even in season. Meats, cheeses and so many condiments. I was in heaven. Ever ingredient for every recipe I wanted to try was right there for the taking. This time, a tear did slip down my cheek.

“Oh, Dad”, I whispered, still in awe.

“You like it right? I told your mom to send me ingredients for the recipes you’ve made or wanted to try. Took a couple of months, but I finally got a long enough list and got to work. You like it, right?” Charlie asked once more when I didn’t say a word.

Honestly, I was a bit choked up. “I love it. I love all of this. Being here with you three. The truck. This kitchen. It’s better than I could’ve ever imagined. Thank you so much, Dad.”

He dug his feet into the wooden floor a bit, mumbling a response. His cheeks were bright red and his hands fiddled with the nervous energy from the attention.

“Welp. Me and Jake best get going before the sun sets. Don’t wanna run into any trouble out in the dark”, Billy said ominously. Before I could ask for clarification, he continued. “Glad to have you home, Bella. Take some time to settle in and get ready for school.”

Ugh, school. The one thing that could put a damper on my mood. But I wouldn’t let it ruin my first day. Forks was looking better and better every minute.

I guess the green wasn’t so bad after all.

~*~

End of Chapter One! Any feedback or anything like that? Apologies for any spelling mistakes, I’m like super tired and dealing with a blood disorder.

Hope yall like everything and here’s a small summary of chapter 2:

Bella’s first day at Forks High!

Bella goes to school and hears about the strange family that recently moved in. Later, she meets a couple of them.

She makes some new friends, too. Good for her.

I’m gonna write a blurb based on this, just letting yall know

can we all agree that if emmett and jasper weren’t so depressed about bella drinking all the blood in the house, they would have convinced her that ej was a great name for a boy but it should stand for emmett jasper not edward jacob.

In The Room Where You Sleep

Summary: Dalton was just being curious and stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t have. He then does something he shouldn’t have.

Warnings: Mentions of the Further, mentions of entities, Dalton being a creep, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), sexual fantasies

All credit to @glodessa who wrote the imagine that inspired this, so much talent there and you’re feeding my Dalton addiction

Dalton was your friend. His primary art class was in the studio next to the orchestra rooms where you practiced in. He’d wandered in on you playing a section piece on the violin after he’d forgotten that his class was cancelled.

Since you two had obviously seen each other on multiple occasions when going to and leaving from class, he’d felt comfortable striking up a conversation. He usually wasn’t into initiating introductions, but Chris had started forcing him to interact with more people and make friends. You were the first person he had introduced himself to without her assistance.

In a way, he felt a sick sense of possession when it came to you because of that. It made him feel funny, like he was gross and he tried to stomp it down, but it would crawl it’s way up his throat whenever you talked to him. He’d met you all on his on, without a buffer or cleverly charming segue. You knew him for him from the get go, and still liked him. You liked him enough to start waiting for him before classes for a chat. You liked him enough to exchange contacts and let him take pictures of you to save for his own personal enjoyment put into his saved contacts.

You liked him enough to let him walk you back to your dorms every time he had the chance to. Which he did, considering he started walking a different path to insure that he would run into you more often.

He didn’t think he was odd, not really. Lots of friends took secret pictures of each other. For fun, it was funny, like a secret joke. And lots of friends walked together in between classes, it was normal. Even if they didn’t share certain classes. Or if one of the friends wasn’t completely aware that the other friend was nearby.

Dalton didn’t consider it strange that he didn’t like when you talked to Chris, or any of his other friends. Or anyone that might find you attractive. In his eyes, that should’ve meant everyone. You were gorgeous and people should be falling over themselves trying to be with you, in his opinion. But you were his. His friend, at least. And he hated not having your full attention.

Nighttime was the worst, in some ways. You two had met up on occasion to help each other study or wind down from an intense test. But most nights, you turned in early to spend time with your roommate. Dalton hated your roommate, she was so clingy and always convinced you to go back to the dorms, cutting off his time with you. He thought she was off, or at least very selfish, and that she used every opportunity to guilt you and take advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Dalton would never do that, he was lucky to get to be your friend. You were beautiful, talented, kind and accepting. You even accepted his ability of astral projection without hesitation. You were beyond perfect to him, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you. Constantly, and usually aloud, much to Chris’ annoyance.

“Dolphin! Please, for the love of fuck, ask that girl out already. You’re driving me nuts!” She threw herself back onto the spare bed in Dalton’s dorm in dramatic agony, groaning loudly in complaint.

“No, Chris. She’ll just think that I became friends with her because I wanted to get in her pants,” he dismissed, tossing a dirty t-shirt into his hamper a little too forcefully.

“Isn’t that what all guys do? What’s the big deal?” Chris sat up again to try to convince him. It wasn’t the first time either, but she was almost positive that you liked Dalton back and would rather you keep his mouth too occupied for him to verbally obsess over you. Like he was doing right now.

“I’m not going to do that, Chris. Just drop it.” His voice was unnervingly firm and Chris snapped her mouth shut before another incentive could fall out. Dalton was usually mild-mannered, at least when it came to anyone but his dad, not really the aggressive type. Anti-social and surly, but not aggressive. Unless it had something to do with you.

Chris thought there was something not quite right about Dalton’s crush on you but she figured his abnormal childhood and resulting trauma made it hard for him properly process his feelings. And she was reluctant to ask in case it set him off.

“I heard her roommate is going home to her parents’ for her dad’s birthday, maybe y’all can hang out more this weekend,” Chris suggested instead, unfettered by Dalton’s tone. “She left earlier this afternoon.”

Something seized in Dalton’s chest. You hadn’t mentioned that to him. You didn’t have a reason not to. Was there someone else? Were you going to spend the whole weekend with another guy? Did you have a boyfriend? Anger and hatred for this secret man clouded his mind and he felt like throwing something against the wall until it broke.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” he replied to Chris coolly. “I’ve got some homework to finish, do you mind?”

Chris nodded slowly, grabbing her bag and quickly making her way to the door, watching Dalton worriedly. She gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and left without a word.

As soon as the door shut, he quickly locked it, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging thoughtlessly towards his desk, knocking over a small stack of his sketchbooks and a tin of water. Cursing under his breath, Dalton begrudgingly trudged to clean up the mess before the water could stain or damage any of his work.

After mopping up the water, he flipped through his drawings to check if any of it ruined the paper. One of the sketchbooks was relatively new, but nearly full of pencil and ink sketches. Of you.

Most of them took up an entire page of their own. They were innocent, somewhat, just candids that he’d done while or after hanging out with you. You smiling, laughing, playing the violin, biting your lip awkwardly. Gorgeous and sweet.

There were some other ones, smaller in comparison to the rest and done with a light hand. You changing through the window of your room. You bending over at work. You crying to your mom on the phone after you tore your favorite dress right before a date you ended up not going on. Done in a hurry by someone who was sketching without a still reference.

It was not stalking. No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t threaten you or send you lewd messages. He didn’t get off on scaring you or making you feel unsafe. He wanted you to feel safe around him, did everything in his power to make sure you were always comfortable with him. Plus, he never invaded your privacy, he just looked. Watched. It was friendly, protective even.

Plus, those sketches were nothing compared to the rest. Small enough for three separate drawings to fit on a page, and darkly filled in with a heavy and rough hand.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He was a guy. You were his crush. He couldn’t control his own thoughts, let alone his dreams. It happened, and it was completely normal and natural. Not at all creepy or perverted.

He dreamt of you often. He couldn’t keep his mind off you even in his sleep. Of course, his unconscious mind was different than his conscious mind. Mostly, anyway. A lot more eager for you, hungry for you.

The pencil drawings were of you as you appeared to him in his dreams. Bent over his desk, wearing a string of pearls and a sultry smile. You, on his bed with your legs spread out invitingly, your fingers scissoring your slick folds. There was even one featuring him, his lower face dripping with drool and your arousal as his tongue delved into your wet heat from under you. That one was his favorite, even if the drawing itself wasn’t exactly his best work skill-wise. He had a hard time balancing the pad with only one hand, which he was also using to draw.

Dalton sighed and picked up all of the sketch pads, putting them back where they were and collapsing on his back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should bring up your roommate leaving and confront you about not telling him. You must have had a good reason, right? It’s not like you were getting tired of him or anything. Right?

As he drifted further and further into his thoughts, the room became darker around him. Standing up to fix his lamp, he caught the sight of himself sleeping in his peripheral. He’d fallen asleep and accidentally projected.

He didn’t do so often anymore, the Further was a scary and dangerous place and he was cautious of bringing something back with him. But it had its advantages, for pranks or finding out things that others couldn’t. Surprisingly, he’d never used his ability to watch you. You were too pure and beautiful to see through the lenses of the Further, he liked seeing you surrounded by light and color, with no potential of evil spirits ruining the experience for him.

But just this once…

No! He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

You trusted him, it would be so easy. And it’s not like he was trying to be a weirdo, he just wanted to see if you had plans that weekend without having to actually ask you. It would only be once, for a few minutes. He wouldn’t mess with you or your things. He would just listen in and leave.

He grabbed the lantern and walked out of his room. He could’ve found your dorm with his eyes closed, but since it was in a different building and he was traveling through the Further, it took him longer than he would’ve liked. But at least he didn’t encounter anyone. You lived on the second floor of your dorm house and yours was nicer and more expensive than his. You had your own bedroom and personal bathroom, not having to share with your roommate and the rest of your floor like Dalton did.

Your door was unlocked and after he entered your dorm, he locked it himself, knowing he’d have to unlock again it in order to leave. Your bedroom door was open and he could see you through it, sitting at your desk and typing on your phone. Silently and curiously, he peered over your shoulder to watch you text your roommate.

He rolled his eyes at seeing her contact but ignored it in favor of the messages being sent. Mostly average, just you being your considerate self and asking about her trip home. She, obviously, sent paragraph after paragraph detailing every insignificant second of her weekend away, not once asking anything about you. The entire conversation revolves around her and Dalton had to bite his tongue to avoid scoffing in your ear, which was inches from his mouth.

Finally she asked about you, specifically your plans for while she was gone. Luckily, she could serve a purpose for once, Dalton thought.

You mentioned work, homework and just relaxing and Dalton was tempted to leave and rid himself of his craving to kiss you. Then, he saw you type his name. You wanted to surprise him by inviting him over for a sleepover. Your roommate responded by teasing you about you and Dalton finally progressing to the next stage in your friendship; a relationship.

Huh, maybe your roommate wasn’t as bad as Dalton thought she was.

Dalton’s heart was racing as he continued to read all of your roommate’s suggestions for extremely sexual twists on common sleepover activities, all in order to seduce him. You didn’t have to try to seduce him, but trying any one of these wouldn’t hurt. He felt his cock hardening in his pants and knew that he probably should’ve left. Like, now.

But then you sighed loudly into the empty air. Your head dropped back, your lips parted and you shifted awkwardly in your seat, your thighs pressing together tightly. Dalton felt his mouth water just watching you and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He decided that he would wait until you either went to the bathroom or fell asleep. If he tried leaving before then, you might catch him.

So he stood off to the side and simply observed you from up close. You seemed more deflated when you weren’t around him, less animated and poise. Less…cheery. You continued to stay at your desk texting your roommate for a while before getting up for a glass of water. It seems like she was going to bed. You paced around the kitchen as you sipped your drink, looking slightly anxious about how the conversation ended. Dalton regretted not reading it along with you and now he couldn’t because your phone was off and locked.

Huffing out a tense laugh to yourself, you marched back into your room, passing Dalton to get to your phone. You continued pacing as you opened up your messages and scrolled until you found a particular contact, hesitating for a moment and then opening the chat thread. Dalton stood in front of you this time and read his own name from upside down. Why were you pausing when it came to texting him? Did this happen often? We’re you inviting him over?

He watched you type out a greeting and began pacing in your room. When the message delivered, Dalton panicked before remembering that his phone was next to his actual body. You wouldn’t catch him over his phone notifications sounding off in your otherwise silent room.

You turned off your phone and sat on your bed, your back straight and your eyes staring out into nothingness. Your leg bounced erratically and you started checking your phone every thirty seconds in case you missed his message. You were waiting for a response from him, Dalton realized. And he couldn’t do that while he was standing here with you.

Now was definitely the time to go and you gave him the perfect opportunity when you started collecting your things to take a shower, muttering to yourself about how desperate you were. It was clear that you were agitated from waiting on his message, and he supposed it was because he hardly ever took more than 20 seconds to start typing back. He only took long if he was busy, and he would always tell you beforehand if he was.

As much as he wanted to watch you undress yourself and shower, becoming aroused slightly once more at the idea, he wouldn’t cross that boundary when you were so vulnerable and unaware. It was completely different from the times he watched you change your shirt or remove your bra from outside your window. He was in your home and you were going to be completely naked. Dalton wanted go reserve that honor for when you would strip in front of him eagerly, at least for the first time he ever saw you naked.

*~*~*

Gasping, Dalton sat up in his own bed, his erection pressing against his sweats and his body feeling sweaty. He immediately opened his messages and read your message asking him what he was doing. Getting his own clothing, he walked to the common bathroom in his dorm house and stripped, sending you a picture of his shower stall with the reflection of his bare torso halfway in the frame.

He’d never been so forward with you before. You’d seen him shirtless on occasion, he wasn’t shy about his body, but never on purpose and he hardly ever sent you pictures instead of just telling you what he was doing. But now that he knew you felt the same way he did, he felt confident enough to give actual signals to tell you that.

He turned on the shower and waited for the ancient water settings to actually heat up the water. As he was about to step in, you messaged him back with a photo of your own.

You were wearing nothing but a robe, tied at the waist, but doing a very poor job at concealing your cleavage, and your hair was soaked. The mirror that you had taken the picture in was fogged and he could see streams of steam swirling in the air around your head. So you liked really hot showers, fuck, that was attractive to him. You smiled shyly into the camera with one of your hands clutching a towel in your hands.

You: “I just got out of the shower, how funny is that?”

God, you were adorable without even trying. He wondered if the placement of your robe was intentional or if you were just that sexy without trying to be. It could go either way, you were as effortlessly cunning as you were absurdly oblivious to your affect on others.

He quickly went through his shower routine quickly, not taking his time to enjoy the water and relax like he usually did. He didn’t want to keep you waiting again. He decided to toe the line of flirtation and idle conversation once more by sending you another photo. This time following your lead with a mirror pic. He was still shirtless and brushing his teeth with an overly wide and sud-filled smile. His shorts hung low on his hips and his entire frame was centered in the photo this time.

D: “What’s up?”

It was a lame line, but he wanted to keep the conversation going and see if you were going to invite him over. He spit out his toothpaste and gargled mouthwash, accidentally swallowing some as you replied back. Coughing at the strong taste burning his throat, his eyes widened as he memorized every pixel of the photo you sent, catching on to his little provocation.

The mirror in your bathroom was still slightly fogged but he could clearly see that all you were wearing was a t-shirt. It was big enough to cover your thighs, so Dalton didn’t know what you were wearing under it and he could see your nipples poking through the material ever so slightly. He dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down hard, hand clenching on the edge of the counter. He gathered his shower stuff and walked back to his room, keeping his towel gathered in a ball in front of his crotch in case he ran into anyone this late.

It didn’t occur to him to read the message you sent until he was about to send one himself. He was so distracted by your selfie that he completely forgot that he was in the middle of a conversation with you. He wondered if it was weird to be more turned on by you in your pajamas than you soaking wet and in a towel.

You: “Nothing much? What are you doing right now?”

He sat down on his art stool, and angled the camera at the mirror that sat in the corner between his spare bed and the wall. He hadn’t gotten the motivation to actually put it up so it laid on its side and only showed from his waist down at this angle. The picture showed his bare stomach, shorts and legs, with one of his feet braced up on the leg of his seat.

D: “Chilling in my room now, you?”

You responded a minute later in much the same fashion. This photo didn’t show your face either, but he could see your hair and the junction between your neck and shoulder at the top of the photo. You were stretched out on your bed, your legs propped up in front of you and you holding the weight of your upper body on your other arm as you snapped a photo of yourself. From the way your shirt rode up on your thighs, you weren’t wearing any shorts, but he couldn’t see your underwear.

You: “Same. My roommate left to her parents’ house so I have the place to myself.”

Was this your way of implying that you wanted him to come over? How does he respond to that information without sounding weird or letting on that he’d already known? Should he tell you that he already knew? He decided that now was the perfect time to reorganize his desk and actually put up the mirror in his room. It took fifteen minutes for him to respond and the guilt ate at him now that he knew how you reacted when he didn’t message back quickly.

D: “Oh, really? Yeah, I kinda always have my place to myself, haha :)Look what I finally did.”

The added “haha” looked so stupid that he wanted to jump out his window. He hoped the selfie he sent to you would make up for it. He was standing in front of his mirror, acting as if he was only trying to show you the mirror you’d been bugging him about putting up. He was still shirtless and a light sheen of sweat made his body glow slightly from the exertion of his impromptu redecorating. He angled his phone to show a grin, but the rest of his face was covered.

You took a few minutes to respond yourself and Dalton thought he understood your anxiety about having to wait for messages. He felt the anxiety was all the more potent now that you were sending each other photos of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the tension, the anticipation ate him up and he was beyond keyed up.

You: “I got bored being here by myself so I’m doing my makeup :p”

You: “Oml, finally!”

You were kneeling in front of the camera with your legs slightly spread. The lighting in your room made it hard for him to see what your underwear looked like and he felt like a pervert for being disappointed. Probably not as bad as he would’ve felt before he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Your hair was put up into an updo so it was out of your face and it reminded him of that Pamela Anderson hairdo that you complained about not being able to do. You looked beautiful, your makeup was darker than you normally had it, more like dark seduction than pretty fairy. Dalton wondered if that was on purpose.

He sent you a closeup selfie of half of his face, his eyes mostly angled down at the phone screen instead of the actual camera and a slight smirk on his lips. His neck, collarbones and one of his shoulders were on display for you as well

D: “Guess I got bored too. Your hair looks like Pamela Anderson’s, btw”

D: “I like your makeup, it looks good!”

You responded quickly and without a photo.

You: “Are you joking me?! The one time I’m not bending over backwards trying to do it right…”

Dalton had to take a minute to recover from the mental image of you bending over backwards, particularly the image of how your breasts would look at that angle when your next message came in with another photo.

You: “Come over?”

This time, your phone was placed close to the floor and angled up for Dalton to see your knees pulled up to your chest and you dramatically and exaggeratedly pouted at the camera, your dark red lips shining in the camera flash. The flash also, probably unintentionally, highlighted the junction between your legs and he could actually see your panties this time. White lace. Son of a bitch!

Instead of responding, he jumped around his room and tried to gather all of his shit to take to your place and was pulling up his jacket when he noticed some papers on his bed. His homework that he had told Chris about earlier and completely forgot about. It was due at midnight and his teacher was a hardass about homework.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed loudly in his empty and otherwise silent room and he slammed his things down on the bed in anger.

As desperate as he was to go to your room and potentially spend the night inside you, he was stuck inside his dorm unless he wanted his grade to tank. With a heavy heart and tense motions, he sat in his chair, a different one from his stool, and faced his mirror. He spread his legs so that he was man-spreading and propped a leg up on the edge of his bed. He held up his homework in one hand above his head and made a faux-angry face at the camera, his expression not even making at dent when it came to showing just how angry he actually was. He gave himself a minute of fantasizing about your lips kissing marks all over his body before snapping the picture and sending it to you.

D: “I was on my way when I remembered I had homework. Fucking sucks! Raincheck? I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning?”

He ordinarily didn’t curse over text, or in general. He wasn’t a prude about swearing, but he just didn’t feel the need to do it. However, he also needed you to understand that he wasn’t blowing you off, and then he genuinely was upset about not being able to spend the night with you. He felt it was probably too risky sending you a picture where he was very obviously at half-mast and worried that he was being too forward and would make you uncomfortable.

Two minutes of complete agony imagining all of the ways that you would dismiss him and tell him to forget about it, or get angry and misinterpret what he was telling you. Now that the conversation couldn’t go anywhere, the anticipation wasn’t alluring and fun, it felt like acid burning his skin.

You: “Oh, please do your homework! Grades are important. Breakfast sounds good! Goodnight x”

A kiss, you messaged him a kiss. And you were completely fine with it. For the first time in his life, Dalton felt the urge to do a chest bump with a bro. He was on top of the world right now. He was tempted to rush his homework and run over to you as soon as possible, but as soon as he sat down to do it, he knew that the assignment required all of his time and attention. Fortunately, the assignment itself was relatively simple, but it was incredibly time consuming, which is why he’d been putting it off.

Two hours later, he took some pictures of his completed homework and sent them to his professor’s email. It was fifteen minutes til midnight and he wondered if he should risk going over to you now. You weren’t expecting him, though, and for all he knew, you were asleep or something. He debated texting you that he was done and seeing if you’d extend the invitation to come over again, but you hadn’t even brought up his last picture and that made him a bit insecure. What if you were trying to just ignore it as a way to say you weren’t interested? Even back in your room, when your roommate was encouraging you to take advantage of having your dorm to yourself, you had only denied all of her sexual innuendos. He knew you liked him back, but maybe sending you a picture of like the one he sent was too much too fast?

Oh yeah, astral projector. He could always just pop in and check without actually having to check. It was fine the first time, right? No big deal anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He relaxed on his bed and before long, he was picking up that lantern once more and leaving his body behind, making sure that all of his lights were on to protect his body before he left the room.

You had been in your room with your door mostly closed when he came in again. You really should make sure your front door was locked, he thought. He heard little whimpers coming from your room and was immediately concerned, automatically assuming that you were crying. Your bedroom door was swaying on account of the industrial fan that you insisted was the only thing strong enough to keep you cool at night. He had no problem opening your door and putting it back in place, making it look completely natural in case you noticed.

From what he could see, you were looking at your phone and were mostly covered by your blanket. Only one of your hands was holding your phone, which Dalton found odd because you normally preferred using both hands. Finally seeing your face, Dalton noticed that you had no tears on your cheeks or in your eyes. You weren’t crying. What the hell were you looking at on your phone?

Him. You were looking at a picture of Dalton that he’d sent to you. More accurately, you were looking at the second photo he had sent you, the one where he was brushing his teeth. It took Dalton several moments to begin thinking again to put the dots together.

Oh. Oh.

Just as Dalton registered what you were actually doing, you threw your blanket aside in frustration and essentially showed him that he was correct. He watched in rapt fascination as you rubbed your clothed center over your panties with two fingers. You kept focused on your phone, swiping over to the photo of him after he hung up his mirror, as your index fingers slipped beneath your lacy white underwear and into your slick heat. Your breathing was loud and shallow, the occasional moan slipping through as you touched yourself.

Dalton should not be here. He knew that. He knew what was and what wasn’t appropriate, his mom made sure he knew how to respect women, so he knew what he was doing was the furthest thing from okay. He also knew that he would have to be dragged by his teeth to get him out of your room. His cock swelled and twitched from under his shorts as he stood over, watching you masturbate to a picture of him. In the low lighting of your mostly dark room, he could see the shine of your wetness on your fingers and over your folds. He wanted to drag his tongue over your labia and savor every drop you gave him. It was all for him, after all, he was entitled to it.

You groaned in annoyance through your teeth and yanked your panties down your legs. Dalton’s severely dilated gaze zeroed in on them and he made a mental note to grab them before he left when your shirt joined it in the floor. You were completely nude and sitting up on your bed, in a very similar position to the photo where you had shown him your makeup. He’d never look at it again without thinking of this. He wished he had a picture of this.

You looked like a goddess or some kind of celestial siren as you arched your back and groped at one of your breasts and toyed with your clit. The chill of your room and the sudden banishment of your blanket had your flesh covered in goosebumps and your nipples hard. Dalton wanted nothing more than to cover your body with his and discover new forms of pleasure using his tongue, hands and cock. You were everything, you surrounded him and took up so much everything. And yet, he wasn’t actually with you, no matter how much he wished he could be. He didn’t know why he couldn’t try, you were his now. You admitted to it. Maybe not to him directly, and maybe you didn’t know he was there, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Dalton approached your bed and was about to rest his weight on it when you grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the mountain of pillows you had on your bed. You shoved it between your legs and adjusted it so that the woven seams pressed between your folds. You rested your weight on it and rolled your hips experimentally to find a rhythm and angle that felt best. Soon, you were panting and gasping, and Dalton could barely hear you over the stupid fan.

As you rode the pillow, Dalton lost his restraint. He either had to take care of himself now and fully condemn himself as an actual peeping tom and a pervert, or take care of you and risk you freaking out and losing you before he could actually have you. He’d rather hate himself for a little while than you hate him forever. He reached into his shorts, cupping his erection and squeezing lightly. He bit his lips and tried to keep quiet. He didn’t think he would last long, and he didn’t really care to either. He’d worry about that once he was actually inside you.

Dalton started off with slow and trading strokes before working up to the rhythm you set for yourself. You were grinding down on the pillow with slow and long thrusts, lowering your body slightly so that the seam of the pillow rubbed your clit. Dalton imagined his face replacing the pillow and started speeding up the movements of his hand, spitting on himself to help his hand move more fluidly along his shaft. Coincidentally, you started to quicken as well, humping the pillow desperately instead of steadily rolling your hips.

“Dalton! Oh…fuck! Daltonnn…” you cried out softly into the seemingly empty room. As the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, you lost strength in your arms and fell to the mattress, your hips still moving rhythmically as you came. Your limbs felt electrocuted and twitchy, and you could do nothing but gasp and whimper as you came down from your high. Rolling over, you reached down and caressed your soaked folds, moaning softly as your fingers became coated in the stringy remnants of your wetness.

Dalton nearly fell to his knees in his desire to suck your fingers into his mouth and devour your cunt. Luckily, he managed to stay upright and went rigid as he came in his hands, making sure the pearly white spurts of semen didn’t make a mess anywhere in your room, if they could. He wasn’t actually entirely sure how it all worked when he was in this state, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

He waited until you fell asleep to grab your panties and leave your dorm, falling back into his own body and finding it a mess. His shorts were soaked at the crotch with his cum because his actual hands couldn’t stop his real orgasm from staining his clothes. He tore off his shorts and decided to sleep naked, hiding your panties in his pillow case.

*~*~*

You woke up refreshed and well-rested the next morning, still not used to the stillness and quiet in the absence of your roommate, Carla. Usually, she was up by now blaring metal music while she got ready for the day and you would make the two of you breakfast. You went to do just that when you heard a knock at your door and remembered that Dalton was supposed to come over with breakfast.

You told him to wait through a text message and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, yanking them on as you made your way to let him in. Much to your surprise, the door was unlocked, though you don’t remember leaving it that way. In all fairness, you also don’t remember the last time you had locked it, so it was fair game.

Dalton greeted you with a large smile, showing off his extended canines, and a bag from your favorite pastry shop. It was hard not to blush after what you did when you saw the pictures he sent you, but the food was also distracting. You excitedly took the bag from him and started rifling through it as he guided the both of you to your room. Had he ever been inside your dorm before? How did he know which room was yours?

Before you could ask him, he plopped himself onto your bed and settled onto his stomach. He then used a pillow to prop up his chin. The same pillow you had used last night.

There was something about the way he was smiling at you. The way he was watching you.

“So, did you sleep well last night?”

********

Lemme know if you want a part two or maybe a “What if Dalton hadn’t had any homework?” situation.

This was super fun and sorry if it’s too long

anyone who follows from my old account, gimme a shoutout and i’ll follow back :)

learn how to put your fics under a read more. no one looking through tags on this site wants to scroll through 20 pages worth of your self indulgence

i don’t know how. dick

ty is the definition of a beige flag, his flag probably glows in the dark too and there is no right or wrong way of interpreting what it means

Dalton is totally a green flag. but he would break up with you in an instant if he thinks his “condition” puts you in danger. he prioritized your safety even if he had to let you go.

Possessed Dalton on the other hand, is a big red flag. playing with your feelings, only use you for his own benefit. but sexy af. I know. probably has a rope kink or something. and is it just me or does he looks bigger when he gets possessed?

and then there is our king Ty who probably would give you a mixed signal. idk.

*starving victorian child*: please, sir? may i have some more?

(please work at your own pace and prioritize your physical and mental well-being over everything. this was fantastic and i’m ecstatic to read more! please tag me in any updates)

See the Devil in I - Michael Myers x Reader

Masterlist

Prologue ~

Summary: Dr. Loomis knew Michael was dangerous, but the day had come where Michael had to be let out on good behaviour. When Laurie was told she had a brother she never knew about that could be placed in her care if she consented, Laurie’s roommate y/n decided to stay and live with Laurie and the notorious Michael Myers.

"Laurie Strode, are you aware why you're here today?" Asked a lawyer, formally.

The lawyer sat at a table in the centre of a white, plain, clean-looking room. On the lawyers left was a Smiths Grove Sanitarium doctor, and on his right sat famed killer, Michael Myers.

Michael sat there quiet as ever. Thick leather straps kept has arms and legs tight to the chair. Guards with batons lined the walls and door, watching and waiting for him to so much as lift a finger.

Two people sat across the table, one of which was Laurie.

"Yes I know why I'm here, it's kind of what we've been working towards." Laurie replied slightly incredulously.

"Yes I know, but it's a formality. I have to know that you know the situation, just so we can avoid any misconceptions or gaps in understanding."

It was then that the doctor took over, explaining things that Laurie already knew, as a 'formality'. "Laurie, over the last six weeks you've been coming here and meeting with your brother, Michael Myers. Over this period, there have been no incidents and no reports of Michael displaying violent behaviour. Now I know you knew this from the start, but we've now reached the point where if you feel ready and comfortable, Michael can move into house arrest and probation under your care as his only living relative, as you are of legal age."

"Now Laurie," the lawyer continued with a professional smile, "unless you have any objections, please sign here, here, and here, to complete your end of the process!"

With a deep breath, Laurie decided yes, she was really doing this and taking a known killer, and apparently brother, into her home. So she signed at each line with a speedy hand.

"Wonderful!" Grinned the lawyer, hurrying everything along. "Now! Ms l/n! As Laurie's housemate, you've decided to continue living with her with the addition of Mr Myers, correct?"

"Yes sir," replied y/n, suddenly unsure now that she'd actually met Michael. Well, 'met' wasn't really the word. They haven't been formally introduced yet - while Laurie met Michael over those six weeks, y/n never did. Now here they sat, and y/n could see Michael's cold stare, tense muscles, and quiet, dangerous demeanour.

"Are you aware of Mr. Myers past crimes of murder?"

"Yes sir." The dead eyes of a murder stared at her, how could she not?

"If you consent to living with Mr. Myers as Ms. Strode's housemate, just sign here."

And she signed.

-

A/N: ok! So that concludes the prologue! In this story, the Halloween films did take place, but not with Laurie, so she doesn't have a past with Michael - sorry for the confusion, but it works better for the story this way. Hope you're enjoying thus far, and feel free to comment any ideas for the story!

Hope you have a great day/night,

~ trick-or-fucking-treat