Take A Seat And Stay A While ☕️

[secretwritesstuff]

Table of contents + Updates

Hi evb!! Welcome!!!! feel free to dm me for anything as I plan on setting up commissions in the future.

Buy me a coffee (to fuel my late night writing) https://ko-fi.com/secretwritesstuff

Buy secretwritesstuff a Coffee

Become a supporter of secretwritesstuff today!

What I will write for- Jjk, Invincible, Demon Slayer (Aged up), Castlevania, and your OC’s, Any nsfw not listed below.

What I won’t write- NSFW with minors involved, NSFW with Animals involved, themes glorifying homophobia, racism etc. I have the right to not write topics at any time and to my discretion.

Current series- What the hell happened to my roommate

Parts-

P1-

Post by @secretwritesstuff · 2 images

💬 0  🔁 3  ❤️ 30 · What the hell happened to my roommate? p1 · Part 1? Pls lmk if u like this I’ll keep writing. sorry if this is bad I just

P2-

Post by @secretwritesstuff · 2 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 5 · What the hell happened to my roommate? P2 · Tw: Blood, Angst, Wounds, Isolation, Vampires It’s been three weeks, twenty on

P3-

Post by @secretwritesstuff · 2 images

💬 1  🔁 0  ❤️ 3 · What the hell happened to my roommate? P3 · Tw: Blood , violence/ambush, vampires, psychological manipulation/glamour, mild

[secretwritesstuff]

What the hell happened to my Roommate? P4

Jjk AU Vamp!Reader X Choso

TW: dead dove, black flag self insert (you), mentions of blood, vampirism, mentions of fear/panic attack, angst to fluff

You have been warned!

Nine thirty at night.

By the time you made it back to the apartment, the air itself felt different. Choso heard the doorknob click and turn, feeling a cold chill down his spine. He had moved off the floor to the couch where he spent the last few hours before you got back in a spiral of confusion, and fear.

There was no way it wasn’t blood, that much was clear. But why would she hoard it under her bed?

“What’s up y/n?” He forced a brittle smile, though his stomach churned. How could he look at you in the eyes? Should he confront you? Or should he stay in his own business? How would he explain that he invaded your privacy, went through your room?

“What’s up Cho? You leaned over the backrest of the couch playfully gazing at him. “Day off?” You asked as you slid down into the space next to him haphazardly.

The entire situation almost felt comical, a dangerous, man-eating creature bothering this poor confused human. Like a cat playing with a mouse moments before its inevitable fate between its jaws. Not like Choso was yet aware of the full extent of the potential danger he was in. Yet. As you reached over him for the remote, you start scrolling through Netflix until you find a random drama. “You said a while ago you were trying to catch up, still wanna?”

The casualness of the question brought back a familiarity that temporarily made him forget about everything- the fear melted and for a moment he was just him and you were just you. He nodded, visibly relaxing as he pointed to which episode he didn’t finish yet, as you both aimlessly complained about some of the characters. The hours of the evening blended until before he knew it, its twelve forty seven and his eyelids had weights attached. His hand clumsily reached for the remote as his eyes drift towards you.

“Damn, you look tired as hell” You mused with a half smirk looking bright and awake as ever. The television bathes your face in flashing blue lights as the actress on television’s voice fades into the background. As you snickered at Choso’s sleepy expression, his eyes drifted to your mouth. He blinks. Suddenly as his expression sobers he blinks again. “Looks like you finally woke up, huh?” You teased again, but he’s not laughing. His eyes are fixed on your mouth.

This has to be a dream, there’s no way. Choso’s mind races as the warm blanket of drowsiness is yanked off him, reality hitting him like a cold bucket of water. As he looked at you, on the verge of sleep at first, he noticed a small glint from the tv as you spoke. As his sleepy eyes focused, he realized. Are those fucking fangs? No. That’s like, impossible. As he sat up slowly, his heart rate skyrocketed, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“Choso?” You asked, confused. Your hand went to your mouth, suddenly aware of the insistent press against your lip. Shit.

“Y/n…” Choso paused, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, breaking into a cold sweat. “It’s time for you to explain what the fuck has been going on around here.” He pointed at you, specifically your now, obvious fangs. “Are those fucking fangs?” His breathing got faster and heavier.

“Choso- calm down- please” You quickly began to try and make an excuse, but the cat was already out the bag. In fact, the cat was pissing in your shoes by now.

“I will not be calming down until you explain not only this and but the serial killer fridge under your bed. Are you a vampire or something?” He laughed humorlessly as his fists balled into his lap, in a fruitless to hide the obvious tremor.

“Well since you’re already past the point of freaking out, yes. I am a vampire. Yes, we are real. No, I wont eat you. Yes I show up in mirrors. No, I wont burn to a crisp outside. Cover everything?” You said as though you have had to explain this a million times. “And I knew you were in my room. I could smell you everywhere, and would suggest you stop snooping but you already found something that I think would deter you from continuing.”

Well there it was. Dropped right in front of him. But now, his fear was gone. He should be horrified at the fact that yes, there is a god-knows-how-old monster sitting next to him, but what horrified him more was how he felt. Like some form of satisfaction. The mystery was solved. His suspicions were confirmed.

The next morning was.. not as rough as expected.

Eleven thirty-five in the morning.

You rolled out of bed into the kitchen, yawning and no longer bothering to keep your fangs retracted as your eyes move to Choso who’s already awake, getting ready for work. “G’mornin’ y/n” He hums as though nothing happened. Less hassle for you. No messes. No police called. You got to keep your roommate. “Morning” You hummed back, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

The next weeks floated by, like the sun after days of rain. The atmosphere lifted as your relationship healed, the only weird thing being his near desensitization to the fact that you were quite literally his natural predator sharing a space with him. Though, if you were as much as a threat as you seemed, he justified in his head that he would have much sooner been dinner, instead of up again at two in the morning, tv fading into the background as the two of you scrolled aimlessly, enjoying each other’s company. You giggled at some random dumbass video, shoving the phone into his face as you laughed at his disinterested reaction.

“You know you get annoying as hell sometimes right, y/n?” His gaze switched from your phone to you, as he took his AirPod out. He raised a brow, trying to hold back the curl at the end of his lip. “Uh-huh, keep calling me annoying and I might just bite you one day.” You threatened as a joke, flashing them now carelessly.

“And how do I know you wont?” He asked, only half-joking this time. “Seriously, those looks scary as hell.” His eyes lit with curiosity as he looked at you in a completely different light. “You keep looking at them like they’re a toy or something, dumbass.” You said amusedly. “What, want to touch them or something?”

“Actually, kinda.”

[secretwritesstuff]

What the hell happened to my roommate? P3

Tw: Blood , violence/ambush, vampires, psychological manipulation/glamour, mild invasion of privacy, and a heavy dose of mutual angst.

It’s been sixteen days since the incident. A distant memory. A distant memory for anyone but Choso. His roommate is not who they seem. You’re hiding something and he can’t put his finger on it yet.

Twelve forty-five at night. You were growing bold. You left without explanation to only return with visible satisfaction on your face. Choso, sprawled on the couch as usual at this time, trailed his eyes slowly to you. “Hey, Y/n, back already?” His lips curled into a casual half smile, however his eyes showed poorly veiled suspicion. “Mhm..” You hummed a response, your entire body humming with a warm, satisfied feeling after a successful hunt.

He watched you leave and rose, waiting a beat before sliding into your room, door slightly ajar. Entering your room secretly sent a deep twist in his stomach. Dread, and worst of all a sickening thrill as he invaded your space. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Where your ceiling fan ran, there was no lightbulb. Not broken, not off, gone. Pitch black encroaching darkness as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, flicking the flashlight on as it flooded the room with much needed light. Despite the lack of light, your room was neatly organized, nothing out of place, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m losing my fucking mind. What am I doing?” “She’s just weird and dosent have a lightbulb?” Choso muttered to himself, about to leave as the guilt of the invasion of privacy got to him, turning until he noticed a low hum. Turning the flashlight back on, his eyes narrowed. You never had a mini fridge to his knowledge, but something about the persistent hum leads him to your bed. Neatly made, with dramatic sheets draping to the floor off the bed. Carefully, he lifts the sheets looking under.

A mini fridge.

“She probably keeps her skincare in there.” He mutters into the empty room dismissively, letting go of the sheets before he walks out. As he returns to the couch as he goes back to scrolling on his phone, something about the fridge nags at him.

As you go back to your room- that’s when the unmistakable scent of Choso hit you- he’s been in here. But it seems unlikely that he looked entirely through your stuff as you calmly, almost too calmly walk out your room.

As he felt your presence behind him, his veins ran ice cold. He was six foot two, nearly twice your body weight but for some inexplainable reason his senses overloaded with terror he fought with every inch of his body to suppress. She knows. He doesn’t know how but she knows. “So what were you up to today?” Your voice sounds unnaturally casual. Forced. He turns his head and makes eye contact with you. The way your (e/c) eyes glittered inspired as much awe as they did horror.

“Nothing much, and you?” His voice scratched like dry parchment as he, wouldn’t- couldn’t look anywhere but your eyes as you spoke. He felt entranced, he wanted to spill what he actually done, and afterwards all his secrets to you. He felt as if he was climbing a mountain with ball and chain attached to his ankle as his world narrowed to you, his breathing ever so slightly stuttering as he fought the urge to tell the truth. Suddenly with a sigh from you, this intense feeling subsided. “Y’know just on the move..” You softly chuckled with no mirth.

As the conversation continued, the stifling atmosphere lightened as for a moment, it seemed as if everything was normal again. But, the moment you parted ways to your room, you slept soundly as Choso faced a nagging thought as he kept going back to that damn mini fridge.

Sixteen hours, twenty two minutes and one restless night of sleep later. 5:07 pm. You were at work and it was his only chance to see what was in that fridge. He wasted no time slipping into your room, taking note of the exact angle you left the door open, how exactly your sheets were creased as he raised your blanket for the second time.

The hum of the inconspicuous fridge sent a cold chill down his spine. There’s no way there’s face serum in there.

As he opens the door with a soft click, his suspicion is confirmed.

He grips the frame of your bed for support as the dull light of the fridge shines on neat stacks of translucent bags. Filled with thick, crimson liquid. As he picks it up and reads the label, he opens it and the iron scent only further disturbs his churning stomach as the color in his face drains.

His phone drops to the floor with a sickening thud, onto your carpet as his trembling hand re-seals the bag, forcing himself to focus as he puts the bag back on top of the others, shutting the fridge and meticulously making the room exactly as he left it. As soon as he leaves, he sinks to the floor against the wall as his mind scrambles to process what he just saw.

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[secretwritesstuff]

What the hell happened to my roommate? P2

Tw: Blood, Angst, Wounds, Isolation, Vampires

It’s been three weeks, twenty one days and however many minutes, hours and seconds since the change. Choso’s Roommate is not who they seem and he is growing more suspicious and worried by the moment.

Two days, four hours and sixteen minutes later. You blurrily come to in a cold sweat in your room, the dull ache in your chest growing to a searing roar matching the one in your throat. You rub your eyes only to notice the caking of dark brownish-maroon blood under your nails and on your skin. As you sit up, you feel the dried blood soaked rags painfully remind you of the disaster of the previous hunt.

Knock “Y/n?”

The disorientation melts away, pain only a distant hum in the back of your mind as your ears pick up another heartbeat. It felt as if you had been transported back into last night, your senses immediately sharpening as every fiber in your blood starved, exerted body tells you to sprint through that door and feed.

“Choso?” Your lips press into a fine line, jaw clenched tight as you could barely anchor your body to the bed.

“Y/n, open the door now. You’re scaring me. What’s going on? Do I need to call someone?” His usual drawl was gone, replaced by a concerned, bordering on frantic tone.

Knock

Knock

Slam

“Choso, stop! I swear I’m okay, just leave me alone.” The words shredded at your aching throat like you were throwing up gravel. “I wouldn’t lie to you, trust me, please!” The words shredded at your soul as you lied so boldly. There was no response on the other side of the door, only the disheartened, slow dragging steps leaving you back in your room, your only company the dim ray of light outside as you blacked out for the second time.

Upon opening the bathroom door after the night of the incident, Choso froze. As he took in the scene, shock turned to panic as he spun on his heel and rushed down the hall to your room. “Y/n?” No response. He slams his fist on your door met with only silence. His hands trembled as he stared at the door to your room, grabbing his phone. He hesitated. He has never known you to get sick not even once, or ever visit the doctor. Who would he call? Would you want him to call? Probably not.

He puts his phone in his pocket, running a hand through his hair as he tries to soothe himself. “Y/n can take care of herself. She’s probably asleep. It could be anything. I’m overreacting.”

I’m overreacting

Deep down he knew that was a lie, this situation was anything but ordinary.

Twenty four hours and five minutes later after talking to Choso through the door, you can’t avoid this for a moment longer. You slink down the hall into your bathroom, undressing your clothes stiff with blood as you examine your poorly dressed wound. As you peel away the bloodied, yellow gauze, you are unsurprised to find perfectly newly knit together skin underneath, as if the gauze and layers of dried blood were nothing but Halloween props. As you turn on the shower, the satisfying hiss of water fills your ears as you scrub harshly, though it only washed away the filth on your body, not the guilt festering in your mind.

You slipped on a pair of sweats- probably Choso’s as they hung loosely around your hips, along with a shirt that was definitely his. Shuffling down the hallway, thinking about what explanation would be the least catastrophically suspicious. “Choso?” You called his name, leaning over the back of the couch where he sat, trying to ignore how simply being around him triggered your thirst to return with a vengeance.

His eyes shifted drowsily to you. It was clear he hadn’t slept much.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Not “Explain yourself?”, not “What happened?”, not even a shred of irritation. Just pure tiredness and relief.

“Choso, I got in a really bad fight.” You held his hand in both of yours as you forced your eyes to tear. “Promise not to tell the police- or anyone for that matter. It’s personal. I know you care. It’s settled now..”

“Trust me.”

The rot of guilt took root deeper into your soul the more you spoke, a sickening twist in your stomach as you watched Choso’s face seem brighten with trust and relief.

Bullshit. He wanted to believe you, he wanted to trust you, he had all the reasons to but he couldn’t. His stomach felt like a million cockroaches scurrying inside, turning and making him feel sick as he watched your eyes wander anywhere but his as you spoke. What were you feeling? Restraint? “Y/n. I don’t fully understand but I trust you. Be careful, please..” He enveloped his lumbering arms around you, as you hugged him back, and for a moment, there was no suspicion, no lies, just connection.

Pls interact for more parts!!

[secretwritesstuff]

What the hell happened to my roommate? p1

Part 1? Pls lmk if u like this I’ll keep writing. sorry if this is bad I just want to get back into writing!!

Content warming: angst, violence, blood, (user is a vampire) duh, mentions of alcohol.

Vampire!Reader x Choso!Roommate JJK AU

It’s been three weeks. Twenty one days, six hours, fourteen minutes and however many seconds since the change.

That’s what Choso has been calling it in his head. You had been his roommate for nearly three years since you moved in, and for three years, you’ve steadily grown accustomed to his soft, protective demeanor. You learned each others routine, he knew you liked the thermostat at exactly 73 degrees Fahrenheit; you knew he hated the color orange. He was used to your laid back, yet conversational demeanor, which is why when three weeks ago, you went out to the club with your best friend, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

When he heard you stumble into your room in the young hours of the morning, nothing was wrong. When he heard the clumsy slam of container, he was startled out of his sleep, but nothing was wrong. ‘She probably drank too much’. When he woke up in the morning to brush his teeth, only to find streaks of blood on the sink, accompanied by heaps of wrappers of gauze, something was wrong.

It’s been eighty four years. Eighty four years of unending thirst. For eighty four years you have walked this earth as a ‘human’ by day. By night, the only thing human about you was your appearance. Tonight was no different. As you slipped into your usual clothes for a night like this, not a shred of anxiety crossed your mind. Instead, an almost manic bloodlust began to simmer beneath the surface as the familiar tingle in your throat roared to a burn as your gums began to ache.

You zipped your jacket, ears pricking to pick up the rhythmic beat of Choso’s heart in the other room. As the bathroom door swung open his eyes shifted from his phone to you, looking your frame up and down appraisingly “Club?” He asked, unsurprised. “Mhm, back soon” You answered as you shut the door behind you, taking a huge exhale. You would never get over how absolutely fucking tempting he was every waking moment in that apartment. Ever.

It’s eleven twenty two at night your fangs by now are partially retracted, pushing insistently against your glossed lips. You shook those thoughts of him out of your head as you felt the bass of the nightclub from outside the building, opening the door as the barrage of lights and people hit your senses like a flash bang, as the next few hours blur.

It’s only in the cool of a distant back alley, do you finally return grounded, in your arms a weak human quickly losing strength as your fangs dig deeper, soothing your thirst as you let the passed out form of the stranger slump to the ground, the satisfaction of the blood laced with the tang of alcohol in it clearing your mind of its bloodlust addled state. Not clear enough until it was too late.

The satisfied, warm hum in your veins turned to ice as you felt a slash against your chest, as your eyes tried to hazily focus on the end of the alley. “Stay fuck out my hunting turf if you know what’s good for you. Next time it’ll be your head.” The chilling threat echoed in your soul as you knew whatever rival vampire you just pissed off wouldn’t let this happen again without the cost being greater.

Three forty-eight in the morning. Three forty eight and thirty seconds in the morning and a missed text as you finally make it to your apartment, fingers slipping on your own blood as you fumble the key into the door.

Three fifty and 16 seconds in the morning as you clumsily push the long forgotten bottles of shampoo and body wash aside, clattering to the floor as you dig out a first aid kit.

Three fifty-one and eight seconds as you cover the rapidly healing slash in your chest with yellowed gauze, your breathing finally slowing as you register the bleeding has stopped, adrenaline dissipating as a dull pain sets in and the atmosphere itself seems to double in weight as your limbs turn leaden.

You shamble to your room- somewhere between floating and crawling before locking the door and closing your eyes, spiraling into an inky void like slumber.

P2 is out!

Post by @secretwritesstuff · 2 images

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 5 · What the hell happened to my roommate? P2 · Tw: Blood, Angst, Wounds, Isolation, Vampires It’s been three weeks, twenty on