#and i have to work a proper. 8-5 job now

[hyperfixated-homo]

guess who isn't dead :D

[peach-thief]

.

[megamindsecretlair]

Mr. Black, Part 8 - Final Part

Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), oral (female and male receiving) dirty talk, praise kink, minor D/s elements, dumbass reader, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual. Some mentions of violence.

Summary: The day has finally come to confront the thief! You have planned, you have plotted, and Tre helped you make your case airtight. But nothing could ever got that smoothly right?

Word Count: 5,814k

A/N: If ya'll only knew how hard it was to write this! Lawdt, I love these two and was NOT prepared to say goodbye. But I wanted to start Zyair fics guilt free. Thank you, THANK YOU for reading this and all your lovely comments. I would not be here without yall! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

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You wanted to tell Tre that you loved him but it never seemed like the right time. Once you came to grips with it, you found that you weren’t as scared as you would have been months ago. Things never worked in the proper order when it came to Tre, so why should your feelings? 

You knew that you loved him, loved spending time with him, loved talking to him, and loved how sweet and possessive he was. You loved that you didn’t have to guess with him. What you saw was what you got and after years of unsatisfactory men, he was like hitting the jackpot and winning a cruise bundled into one.

However, with what you uncovered at the job, you weren’t sure if now was the time to distract him. After laying out what you discovered earlier in the week, he asked you to show him the evidence.

You laid out your entire thought process. How you thought you screwed up the numbers on an account but it never balanced. You looked into the most recent invoices but still found discrepancies. So you went back further and further until it was obvious that the thief was skilled.

The week after, Tre took the files so that he could pour over it himself. Not that he didn’t trust you; he just wanted to cross all the T’s before accusing a manager of stealing. You weren’t offended. You were just a lowly assistant. 

During the day, you pretended like everything was fine at work. You didn’t give anyone any indication that a scandal was about to rock the place. You felt vindicated though. They fired all those people around Christmas time. What a heartless place. 

At night, when you were over Tre’s house, he’d cook and peruse the documents while you watched your shows. In fact, it was probably the longest you had gone without having sex with him. And you were horny as hell. He’d turned you into a sex fiend and now your body had to go without. It sucked.

Exactly one week after confronting him with the news, you two spent the majority of the weekend discussing your plan. You didn’t want to cause a scene. That was embarrassing. You argued for getting the police involved. But Tre had more loyalty than you and wanted to give them a chance to fess up. 

That Tuesday morning, you sat at your desk with your leg bouncing a mile a minute. Tre arrived on time and you were there to greet him with his morning coffee. You followed him into his office, taking in his outfit. 

He wore a black, plaid suit jacket, with a black shirt open at the collar. You saw a hint of his gold chains around his neck. You’d never get sick of seeing him and admiring his style. It was always all black, but he dressed extremely well. You loved it when a man took pride in what he wore. You just loved him.

“What’s wrong?” Tre asked.

“Huh?” You asked.

“You look like you swallowed a lemon,” he said and smirked. In the safety of his office, he looked behind you to make sure no one was there before kissing your cheek. You smiled and waved him off. 

“Just overthinking, like usual,” you said. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him. But no distractions. That was final. 

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay,” he said. He put his briefcase down on the floor and slapped a folder onto his desk. You wondered if that was the evidence you had gathered. It didn’t look big enough, but what did you know? He was the type to photocopy stuff so that it was all neat and proper. You tended to have a messier style. 

“I know but–” 

“No buts. We’re going to be okay. You trust me?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” you said. You loved him. You mentally shook yourself. Now it was down to business. Now was the time to get your head in the game. You smiled and went back out to your desk. 

You tried to work, but as it drew closer to midday, you couldn’t help looking at the clock on your computer. You decided to do it after lunch, most people were relaxed after a good meal. Less likely to yell, scream, and throw things. You hoped. 

When two o’clock rolled around, Tre left his office, carrying his briefcase and the folder. He smiled at you and nodded his head. You bit your lip. He said that he wanted you there because you were the one who uncovered the whole thing. You were prepared to give him all the credit. He refused. 

Typical man. You stood up and locked your computer, smoothing down your deep navy dress that might as well have looked black. You didn’t want to be matchy-matchy with Tre but you wanted to wear something more business-like for the occasion. 

The ride up the elevator made you want to vomit. Getting out on the floor made you shake in your heels. Your hands began to sweat and you didn’t have anywhere to wipe it so you just rubbed your hands together. This shouldn’t be this hard right? You had solid evidence and Tre triple checked it for you. 

But why did you get the sense that you were about to get slapped in the face? 

Tre arrived at Lee’s door and knocked, ignoring her assistant altogether that she was in a meeting. Without waiting for permission. Tre opened the door and stepped inside. You were behind him, stuck behind his broad shoulders, so you saw him stiffen before he moved to the side.

In Lee’s office, Little Miss Headband Brianna sat in front of Lee’s desk. She smiled gleefully when she saw you. Very much like the cat who ate the canary. Her fingernails were long and painted black. You could guess why. 

She turned her attention to Tre and you saw her eyes soften. You knew the feeling. Tre made you weak in the knees as well. However, that time was long past and you knew how Tre felt about you. You weren’t intimidated. Except that she still seemed to have it all together while you were still figuring your shit out.

“Well, I must be pretty popular today,” Lee said. She tossed back her blonde hair and looked between you and Tre. A knowing type of look. Like Brianna just got done snitching type of knowing look. 

“Brianna,” Tre acknowledged. “It’s best that you go now. We have sensitive information to discuss.” 

“Oh? Guess I should stay. Newly minted legal counsel and all,” Brianna said, dropping a bomb that stole your breath. This bitch was gonna work here now? 

Tre chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” he said. 

You didn’t want to seem like the clueless, dumb one, so you kept your face neutral and facing forward. Pretended that you knew what was going on. But you didn’t. You really didn’t. 

Brianna shrugged her shoulders. “I needed a change of pace and Chicago was getting too cold for me.” She winked at you but all you did was smile. Hers faltered a little bit. It wasn’t so much fun gloating when the intended target wasn’t taking the bait. 

“I hope California goes a lot better for you,” he said. 

Why was he acting like they were discussing the fucking weather? You wanted to look at him, but you knew his expressions pretty well by now. He wouldn’t give away his thoughts so easily. The plan was to come and confront Lee. This curveball made you feel unprepared. 

“That’ll be all,” Lee said, waving away her assistant. The woman sighed, threw up her hands, and closed the door behind her. Trapping you inside with Tre, his stalker ex-girlfriend, and the manager who robbed this company blind. 

“Well, can’t say I’m surprised, Tre. I figured there was something going on between you. You haven’t been exactly subtle,” Lee said. She sat back in her seat and crossed her long legs. 

Her office seemed to reflect her true self. It was cold and devoid of any real decoration. There was the standard knick knack or two, a diploma on the wall, but nothing that indicated she even worked here. It was always her intention to collect two checks from the company.

“That’s on me. I got sloppy the further in our relationship we went,” he said. Calm. He was too damn calm while you were ready to jump out of your skin. 

Lee and Brianna laughed. “Relationship? Please. She’s an assistant and you’re her boss,” Lee said. 

“She’s actually a floater, according to her intake paperwork,” Tre said. This, you did whip your head around to look at him. “She could be reassigned at any point to another desk once she was done clearing my backlog. So she wasn’t exactly my employee, rather an employee of the company at large.” 

Your lips parted, taking in this new information. What the hell was he on about? 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Brianna said with a haughty laugh. Tre smiled. 

“I know lawyers like specifics. So here’s a copy of her intake paperwork as well as the companies’ policy on interoffice romance. There’s nothing in the rules preventing us from dating. It was even colorfully stamped by HR,” he said. He handed Brianna the folder he had carried earlier. 

You wracked your brain. There was one night last week that he had you sign a piece of paper. He told you that it was to protect you in case there was any blowback. Sneaky bastard. You had to start asking more questions. 

Brianna snatched the folder, stood up, and skimmed through the paperwork, her face twisting the further in she got. You looked at Tre who winked at you. A grin split your face. This man thought of fucking everything. Things you hadn’t even considered. 

All you knew was that it would be the end of your career if anyone ever found out about you two. You were sure that you’d become the office joke. A cliche. A boss banging his assistant. What else was new? 

There was still that possibility. People shunning you, thinking you were getting over by being on your knees. It shouldn’t matter what people think, but it did. You wanted to be an adult and be taken seriously. 

You accepted the risk when you accepted Tre’s tongue down your throat. You only hoped you were strong enough to survive the fallout. 

“You can’t be serious with this shit,” Brianna said, continuing to flip.

“Quite serious,” Tre said. 

“Well, I guess we all learned a lesson about minding our own business, huh?” Lee asked and chuckled. 

“Not exactly,” Tre said and smirked. “I’m actually glad we got that out of the way first. In the folder, you’ll also find the company’s policy on retaliation and whistleblowers.”

“What are you talking about?” Lee asked.

Tre stepped forward and put his briefcase on Lee’s desk. She looked at him quizzically while he opened it and dropped the evidence you collected onto her desk. He tapped the green file and put his hands in his pockets, looking at Lee with furrowed eyebrows and a grimace. 

“You’ve been stealing from the company,” he said. 

Lee looked from the file to Tre and burst into laughter, throwing her head back. Her laugh grated on your ears. Like a cawing bird. “What, what is this? A joke? Something your little girlfriend came up with while she was sucking your dick?” 

You tilted your head and stepped forward. Heat burned in your chest. Like all the words you wanted to say got rolled into a ball and stuck in your lungs. Tre beat you to the punch.

“You can try to deflect by saying something foul, but it doesn’t change the facts. You’ve been skimming off of nearly every big account that we have. Billing them for things we don’t provide and padding your own pockets with it. You didn’t think anyone was going to notice?” 

Lee continued to laugh, but when it was clear that she was the only one, she looked back down at the file. She sighed and opened the first page, skimming through. The smile slowly disappeared from her face as she did so.

“All you have is a bunch of invoices with your name on it,” Lee said. She sniffed and brushed invisible lint from her cream-colored suit jacket. 

“I have my copy with my name on it. But these were your accounts that you passed on to me. The system still has you flagged as the primary point of contact. And no use trying to erase it, I already contacted IT to lock you out of the system,” Tre said. 

Lee turned icy blue eyes towards Tre. “You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? That you’re just going to ride off into the sunset cackling over what you and your whore came up with?” 

You stepped forward again. “Watch how you fucking speak about me,” you said. All respect flew out of the window. She was caught off guard but that didn’t give her any excuse to speak about you like that. In her eyes, you were nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs, and getting over on the company dime. You knew that wasn’t true. What you and Tre shared was special, even as cliche as it was. 

Tre held up his hand. You looked at him, fire in your eyes, ready to keep going. She wasn’t going to walk out of here with all of her teeth if she continued to call you out of your name. 

“You are the stupidest man I’ve ever met. There’s not anything she can offer you that can be worth all this,” Brianna said. 

“I don’t have to explain myself or my relationship to you. That’s the fun part about being exes,” Tre said. 

You grinned at Brianna and turned around to Tre in time to see Lee standing, grabbing her office phone. “Tre, look out!” You yelled, legs propelling you forward as if you meant to put yourself in between him and the desk phone. 

He turned a second too late, enough to bring his arm up and block Lee but the phone still touched some part of him. He grunted, fighting with Lee over the desk phone. You wanted to jump in, but he was a big dude. He could handle his own until security arrived.

You turned, heading towards the door. Brianna blocked your path. “What did you do to him? Why did you break him? He was perfect!” She yelled. 

You stepped closer to her. “He still is perfect. He just doesn’t want your desperate ass. If he gets hurt while I’m busy dealing with you, there’s not a cop in America that’ll find your body,” you said, looking her in the eye to make sure she understood. 

Brianna’s eyes widened, stepping away. Lee and Tre were still struggling. You threw open the door and yelled for the assistant to call security and upper management. The assistant looked at you and you screamed once more to get her in gear. 

Brianna stood frozen in place, looking at Tre like someone stole her puppy. Again, you understood. If you lost him, you’d be sick in the head too. But she only had one more time to look at him like that before you snatched her eyes out.

Tre had managed to flip Lee onto her desk and held her there while you waited for security. An executive showed up and demanded to know what the hell was going on. 

All the adrenaline from the confrontation and fight left you shaky and weak. You sat in the nearest chair while you dealt with the aftermath. Brianna handled the legal side, guess she was good for something. Tre answered most of the questions about the theft. You had to give your testimony when the cops were called in, but they let you go for the time being while they went over your evidence.

The entire office, or what was left of them, came out of their cubicles to witness a screaming Lee being led away in handcuffs. You trailed behind, holding hands with Tre. It hadn’t dawned on you that you were until you passed by Henry. He looked down at your combined hands and you bit your lip. Whoops.

He only smiled and nodded, like he understood. Poor Henry. He deserved someone to love him back, he was sweet and kind. You were just far more interested in mean assholes who enjoyed having the upperhand in the relationship. 

Outside, an ambulance was called to check Tre out. He wouldn’t let you leave, holding onto your hand and keeping you rooted to the spot. “You need to let them check you out,” you told him. Red and blue lights flashed over his mischievous face.

“They can check me out with you standing right here,” he said and gave you a wink. He had a nasty cut above his eye, blood leaking from the wound. It made your stomach watery looking at it. You hated to see him hurt. 

The EMT doctored the wound and gave a brief exam for a concussion. They cleared him, but told him the protocol to have you watch for signs of internal bleeding. They told him to pop some Tylenol and go to a doctor if he didn’t feel well later.

“I got someone to take good care of me,” Tre said and winked at you. The EMT laughed and wished you good luck while he placed a bandage over Tre’s eye. 

You yawned, though you weren’t really sleepy. Exhausted, sure, but you didn’t want to go to sleep. You didn’t want to end the day without getting a few things off of your chest.

“You weren’t going to tell me about the HR thing?” You asked.

“Didn’t want to freak you out in case we ended up breaking some type of rule. I didn’t plan on Brianna being here, though,” he said. 

You looked across the parking lot while she spoke to the cops. Lee was raging in the backseat of a cop car. You shivered in the cold air, night fast approaching and dropping the temperature. 

“No one did. Must’ve got her dickmatized,” you said and chuckled. 

“Ha-ha, I’m glad stalking is funny to you,” he said. 

“OH! You don’t think being possessive and stalker-ish is funny?” You said, being dramatic and clapping. 

“I want you to remember this conversation,” he said. He smirked as he stood up, cleared by the EMT.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” You said, but you started laughing at his expression and couldn’t find a way to stop. He turned stern eyes towards you, eyebrows furrowed and no trace of humor. 

“I’m sorry! I take it back,” you said, laughs erupting from you.

“Remember all this,” he said, his soft voice working wonders on your imagination. You shuddered to think of what he could possibly have planned for you. Then again, he didn’t know what you had planned for him either.

You grabbed your things from the office, awkwardly walking past dozens of employees who wanted more information. You promised to say what you could, hoping that the rumor mill didn’t spin too much out of control. 

Tre didn’t want to let you out of his sight, convinced that you would run from his particular brand of punishment. Considering you knew that his punishments usually involved you bent over something, ass smarting from his spankings, you weren’t exactly complaining. 

On the way to his place, you checked in with him to make sure that he was okay. That he wasn’t hurt in some other kind of way. You tried to tell him that he didn’t have to do anything tonight, he was in a major fight and was hit upside the head with a desk phone. 

He thought you were just trying to get out of your punishment. Well, yes, but that was beside the point. You were worried about him. 

At his place, he let you inside. “I’ll give you five minutes to prepare,” he said, a smirk crossing his sinful face. 

You gasped, smiling despite yourself. “Seriously? I said I was sorry!” You said.

“I know,” he said and smiled. You waited, but he didn’t offer anything else other than that damn smirk. 

You sighed, rolled your eyes, and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Your legs wobbled. Your hands shook for entirely different reasons this time. This was real. This was the right time. And while he was contemplating tearing your ass up, you were contemplating the right moment to tell him. 

Before? During? After? Would he assume you only said it because he got hurt? Or that you said it to avoid getting punished? 

You went to his huge bathroom, stripping out of your dress. Underneath, you wore a sexy new teddy that you picked up with his card. Somehow, your love for him cured your squeamishness about using his money. Go figure. He insisted. And you weren’t the type to overspend on someone else’s dime. So you shopped guilt free for an all black lingerie outfit. 

A sheer, satin little number that showed off your body in the best possible way. The important bits were covered tastefully, but the sheer fabric exposed your belly, back, and top of your breasts. 

It was surprisingly comfortable to wear all day, like sexy pajamas and the best part was that he had no clue. It was for you just as much as it was for him. It made you feel confident, sexy, and strong as you walked into Lee’s office. Brianna was a curveball and you didn’t know how working with her was going to go, but fuck her. Miss Headband wasn’t your problem.

“Five minutes are up,” Tre called out. 

You took a deep breath and looked at yourself in the mirror. You had this. You left the bathroom and stopped in your tracks. No matter how many times you thought you had the upper hand, Tre was always there to remind you who was in charge.

He stood next to the bed with his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, tie loose about his shoulders and slacks on. He took off his shoes and socks, feet planted firmly on the soft carpet. You had seen him in a similar state before, when he was either getting ready for work or getting ready for bed, but never before sex. 

Your jaw slackened. Maybe you ought to wait. Getting spanked by your boss while he looked like this was hot as hell. You rubbed your thighs together, your pussy throbbing. His chest was shiny, gleaming in the light of the room. The chains around his neck shimmered. The black on black on him was killing you from the inside out. 

He smirked, seeing your outfit. “It appears we had similar ideas,” he said. 

“Yup,” you squeaked. You slapped your hand to your face. That was not sexy. So you opened your eyes, squared your shoulders, and walked closer to him. “Before we get started, there is something you should know.”

He lifted an eyebrow, watching you approach. Watching your hips sway. The confident dip to your shoulders. You grabbed onto the necktie around his shoulders, wrapping the ends around your hands, and pulled him close.

“What’s that? Begging isn’t going to change my mind,” he said. 

You smiled. “I love you.” 

Tre’s face dropped comically and you smirked, careful not to laugh. This was a serious matter. One that you hoped he took the correct way. 

“You heard me. I love you. I have loved you for a while but it took too long for me to notice. You’ve knocked down every single brick wall I tried to throw in your face. Without even trying. And I’m glad you did.”

You brought him closer, kissing him. He was stiff at first, but he returned your kiss, hands hanging loosely by his sides. You broke the kiss and pushed him down on the bed. His legs spread apart and you walked in between, cupping his face in your hands.

“You are everything I ever prayed about,” you whispered. 

He blinked at you, face unreadable. Did you mess up? Did he not believe you? 

Nerves started to get the best of you. You smiled, nervously, pulling away from him. His hands grabbed hold of your hips, fingers digging in for purchase. You gasped from the force he used. Like he never, ever wanted to let you walk away. 

“A day hasn’t gone by that I didn’t think about hearing those words from you,” he said, his raspy voice going deeper, needier. He stared at you and you smiled, relief flooding through you swiftly and making your knees weak. 

“I know I gave you enough cause to worry–”

“It wasn’t that. I know I can come off a little strong,” he said. You gave him a look. He smiled and shook his head. “Alright, a lot strong. But I knew you were it for me. I wanted to be it for you,” he said.

“And you are. In so, so many ways,” you said. Too many for you to name. Because if you started, you’d be here all night reciting the ways that you loved him. Like some lovesick rabbit. 

“I love you. I’m so thankful you’re in my life,” he said. He grinned at you. You leaned down and kissed him, throwing your arms around his neck. You took your time getting lost in his kisses. Wrapped up in them. Comforted by them. 

Then, you began to kiss down his neck and his chest. His breath shuddered as you went lower and lower. You knelt on the floor, reaching for his zipper. 

“Sir, I’m so sorry to disturb you. But there’s this invoice I’m having trouble with,” you said, making your voice low and sultry. Tre lifted an eyebrow at you, smirking. 

“Is that right?” He asked.

You bit your lip and nodded, pulling his zipper down. You reached for his dick, pulling it free from his briefs. He was already big, swelling with need the longer you held him in your hand. He sighed, air blowing through his nose.

“Do you think you can help me? I think I need hands on instructions,” you said. You stroked him softly, your hands grazing over his velvety smooth dick. He was trying, and failing, to keep looking at you. He closed his eyes, throwing his head back with a delicious moan.

“Go ahead and put your mouth on it,” he said. He dropped his head down, focusing on you. You smirked. You opened your mouth and descended, wrapping your lips around the head of his dick.

He groaned, hips coming off of the bed briefly before settling back down. He cupped your cheek, thumb fanning across it. “Keep doing well like that, I might have to promote you,” he said.

You grinned, suckling him down further. You teased his tip, swirling your tongue and collecting little drops of precum. You sucked the salty mixture down, moaning at his taste. You looked at him while you increased your strokes, drooling on his dick, and sucking him down as far as he could go. 

He moaned, pulling you down onto his dick faster. You obliged, hollowing your cheeks so that he didn’t accidentally make you gag on his dick. You braced your hands on his thighs, giving up total control to him. He used your mouth, little curses flying from his own as he did so. 

You watched him, his image turning shaky as you bobbed up and down. But you loved seeing the transition on his face. The subtle way he stopped being careful and let his primal instincts take over. The way he sloppily pulled you down onto him, gurgling and sucking on him. More precum seeped into your mouth and you swallowed him down.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered before he tensed and let his climax overtake him. He groaned while he unloaded in your mouth and you sucked every last drop. When he was done, his eyes got wider.

“Shit. Did I hurt you?” He asked. 

You rolled your aching jaw and shook your head. “Not at all,” you told him.

He still looked a little horrified. He had been so careful to always be sweet. Giving you pleasure before his own. You only kissed his thigh and rubbed your cheek against his leg, hairs tickling your face. 

He sighed and tilted his head at you. “Why are you so perfect?” He asked.

You giggled and kissed his leg. “Far from perfect. But I’m glad you think so,” you told him. He helped you stand and then you straddled him, wiggling on his lap. 

He grabbed your ass, squeezing your cheeks for dear life. You groaned, gyrating into his crotch. He sighed, kissing along your neck. He kissed along your jaw, capturing your lips with his and you sighed into the kiss, melting into his embrace. 

One of his hands slipped between you, moving your lingerie to the side and sliding a knuckle along your slit. You hissed, gyrating once more. He moaned and pulled away from the kiss. “You weren’t gonna tell me how wet you are?” He asked.

“I thought you liked surprises,” you said with a fake pout, kissing him again. He grinned against your lips. You pulled back to look at him. A dark glint entered his eye while he started to finger you, dragging moans and sighs from you like a musician to an instrument. 

Before long, you were clutching onto his shoulders, hanging on, while you screamed out an orgasm. He continued to pump his fingers inside while you came and when you were done, he pulled his fingers out and licked them. He smirked.

You tilted your head. The hand that was still on your ass, came around your waist as he flipped you off of him and onto the bed. He joined you, pulling your set to the side and dipping a long tongue into your wet heat.

“Oh shit!” You screamed. You tried to wiggle away from him, but he held you by the thighs. He pushed them further apart while he sucked, licked, and teased your clit. 

“Oh fuck,” you whined. Your voice sounded alien to you. Needy. Desperate. Out of your mind with insane pleasure. The love you felt for him only increased tenfold as he teased another orgasm from you. You gripped onto his head, pushing his face into your pussy while he slurped greedily at your entrance.

You collapsed onto the bed with a deep sigh. Your thighs were still shaking as he leaned up into a pushup on top of you. You weakly slapped at his chest, feeling so damn good and noodle-like that you didn’t want this night to end. 

Tre kissed along the teddy that you wore, warm breath fanning across your oversensitive body. He calmed you in waves, body returning to normal before he scooted up. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue. You moaned while he got comfortable. 

You pushed the shirt off of his shoulders, wanting to feel and see more of him. His chains dangled from his thick neck and you watched, mesmerized by the gold. He lined himself up, sliding his dick between your folds to get him nice and wet with your juices.

“I need it,” you moaned, staring up at him like you were drunk. 

“What you need?” He asked.

“I need you,” you whispered. He kissed you again, lips lingering while he slowly pushed inside. You gasped, cries escaping you. 

“I need you, too,” he said. He bottomed out and you cried, clutching him to you. You bit his shirt while he began to stroke, hips rotating and fucking you. 

Your whines were tinny and small, gasping for breath while he fucked it out of you. Your nails scratched him, deep through his shirt, while he stroked. As he did so, he kissed you slowly. His lips warm. His dick big, digging you out. 

“I love you, I love you,” you huffed. The orgasm was approaching fast. Like you were being pulled towards an oncoming storm. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted, each stroke a new declaration. A new stake. Planting himself as deep as possible. Ingraining into your very bones. 

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, desperate eyes locked with yours. 

You pulled his shirt, back bowing, as the storm overtook you. You screamed, eyes rolling back into the void, as you came. You may have been speaking in tongues. You may have been speaking perfect Mandarin. The only thing you did know was that the orgasm was powerful and took your hearing in one ear.

It rung as you held on. Tre’s strokes turned sloppy, uncoordinated, as he grunted and came with a long, suspended curse. “Fuck,” he said. 

You collapsed onto the bed and he collapsed on top of you. You looked at him and laughed. No reason why. You just felt free. Happy. He did that for you.

“You make me so happy,” you told him. 

His chuckles joined yours while he turned his head towards you. “You make me so fucking happy. Even happier if you accepted my marriage proposal,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. You supposed you saw that coming. “I ain’t hear no proposal,” you said. 

He chuckled, getting back to his hands. He pulled out, wet squelching making you hiss and bite your lip. He pulled on the nightstand dresser, pulling out a small black box. You leaned up on your elbows. “Tre, what the hell is that?” You asked.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the box. Inside was a gorgeous obsidian ring, inlay with gold pieces. He slipped it into your finger, a perfect fit. He took advantage of your distracted state, kissing you. He pushed back inside, pulling a deep gasp from your lungs. “Marry me,” he commanded. 

You opened your mouth, prepared to give him another bratty response. He repeated his stroke, knocking the breath out of you with the force of it. “Fu-yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!” 

He smiled wide and it made your toes curl. “You better had a said yes.”

“Or what?” You asked. 

Though you regretted it as soon as he showed you exactly what would’ve happened had you said no. And what happened because you said yes. You made love into the early morning light until you were both too sore and exhausted to do anything but fall asleep after clumsily cleaning each other up in the bathroom.

The end.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

[danieyells]

hi there,

thank you so much for all the voicelines you post !! if it’s okay, can i request subaru’s ?

thank you again !

You're welcome! At some point I might go back and put in the ones I leave out because they don't appeal to me as much lol but since i always end up posting 99% of them anyway I think it's enough for most people hahaha. It's all of them now! Sorry for the delay.

I WAS GONNA OMIT ONE OR TWO BECAUSE OF SPOILERS but eh i'll just warm for like. extra spoilers. since after doing more code peeking it wasn't the spoiler i thought it was. SUBARU IS A SWEETIE THOUGH. I also read Subaru's chats which were put in the code recently and. Man this guy needs anxiety meds. I have a small guess as to what his stigma is, but we'll learn in a few days anyway.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting. It's wonderful to see you again."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"It looks like there's a notice for you. I'd be happy to go pick it up for you if you've got your hands full. Oh, forgive me if I'm overstepping."

oh no he's anxious about helping--

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I really am so lucky to be surrounded by so many kind people like you."

"I never thought I'd get the chance to enjoy the lifestyle of a student until I came to Darkwick. Every day truly is fulfilling here."

it feels like subaru is like. . .the only one who actually enjoys school life here. . .or who really enjoys being here period lmao. . . .

"You think I'm always smiling? Ha ha, I hear that a lot. It just happens when I'm around all of you."

"I may be the captain, but it's just in name. I think Haku is much better suited for the job than me."

"I've been working since I was four, so people often said I was mature for my age. But the truth is, I've still got a lot to learn."

that makes two characters whose parents have essentially been keeping them from normal life and normal childhood for work reasons since they were four year olds. . . .

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"I tend to just have hot water for breakfast. I know it would be better for me to eat a proper meal, but it's just so much effort."

DO WE REALLY HAVE TO START WITH "I NEED THE GHOULS TO EAT PROPER FUCKIN MEALS". . . .

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The campus is so crowded I can never manage to walk in a straight line, so it always takes me longer than I think. Silly, isn't it?"

baby you're hardly the first person i've met with anxiety about crowds. you're fine.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What would I do without Haku's help? Hotarubi would be a mess without him."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I wonder if I should apply early to take out any common artifacts I might need for this mission. I'll ask Haku what he thinks..."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ah!  You surprised me there... I just got back from a small errand. Do you need something?"

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ever since I was a child, the performing arts were my only focus. Maybe that's why people always say my mannerisms are so peculiar. It bothers you too, doesn't it?"

poor boy doesn't know how to act if he isn't acting. . .he doesn't know how to exist off-script. . .no wonder he made a deal with a demon. it's probably the first thing he's ever done for himself.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'd like to go to the cafeteria, but the line is always so long. I feel bad taking time to choose while people are waiting behind me. The bar of entry feels a little high."

i am once again suggesting subaru get anxiety meds. hell go to sinnostra and get some weed, i bet they sell that. i hear it can help.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm just about to go and meet a friend. I hate to inconvenience you like this, but if it's something urgent, could you speak to Haku about it instead?"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"What am I going to do? We're supposed to be meeting up in an hour... If I cancel now, they'll hate me..."

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whew... I'll walk you back to your house, {PC}. Oh, it's no problem at all, I assure you! I wanted some fresh air anyway."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"I have an Anomalous Ecology test coming up. It's such a fascinating subject, I couldn't help but stay up all night studying. Now I'm a little sleep-deprived."

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm going to stretch my legs a little. I might not have a show to practice for right now, but I need to keep putting myself through my paces. I'll get rusty otherwise."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm sorry my phone's been making so much noise. I recently downloaded an app by mistake, and it won't stop sending me notifications..."

awww he's also technologically incompetent. . .poor guy was probably raised with such a heavy focus on his career he just. never needed a smartphone. anyone he needed to contact or who needed to contact him was probably always very close by. it sounds like he didn't even properly go to school before going to Darkwick. Somebody please take this boy on a walk. like anywhere. take him to a library. buy him a churro. can sho make churros? this is somebody who's never had any sort of normal social experience and sees how different he is and wishes it weren't the case, unlike Ritsu who assumes everyone else is like him, i think he'd like to have some more Experiences.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"... ...Oh! Hello, {PC}—I didn't even notice you there. My mind was somewhere else."

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Good morning! Sorry? My hair's messy? You're right, it's sticking right up at the front... That's embarrassing. I'll fix it right away."

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I usually have lunch in the dormitory. I do eat on the terrace with Lyca every now and then, but he seems so busy these days..."

Lyca is one of the members of Obscuary, btw! Seems like he and Subaru are friends.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I didn't take you for a night owl, {PC}. Since you're here, I suppose I'll stay up a little longer. You're sure you're okay? You're not sleepy?"

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Do you visit Sinostra very often, {PC}? I see... Oh, no reason. I was just making conversation. Ha ha."

why do you ask that. . .a certain mafioso captain wouldn't happen to be suspicious of you would he. . .or maybe you owe them money. . .or maybe you used to be part of Sinostra and moved to Hotarubi. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"It's getting late, {PC}. How about we finish this tomorrow? Thank you for keeping me company all this time."

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to come all the way to my room to wake me up—I'd feel terrible. I do very much appreciate the thought, though."

it's okay buddy jin already makes them do it, one more pit stop won't hurt.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, hello, {PC}. Sorry, I was actually just on my way out. I should be back by evening—do you mind if we speak then?"

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Lyca has seen my message, so why hasn't he responded to it? I hope nothing bad has happened to him..."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Lyca will adapt well to human society, I'm sure of it. I'm so relieved that Darkwick chose to trust him. I can't thank you enough for your help."

he really likes Lyca huh? that is his dog.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Then let me tell you some stories. Legend has it that evil spirits appear once you've told a hundred. Now, what number was I up to..."

BOY IS TRYNA GET YOUR ASS HAUNTED.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I don't want to seem like I'm testing you, I just... I get really anxious sometimes... I'm sorry. I'm being weird, aren't I?"

he's the type to ask 'are you sure you love me? are you sure you wanna be with me?' after you get married and move in together and own a house and have two kids with another on the way. he's the hyper anxious 'i'm sorry we disagreed about our favorite colors do you hate me?' friend(affectionate) I wonder though, is he apologizing for seeming like he's testing you because he's using his stigma to see what you've been up to or something. . .? Probably not lol it's more likely he just keeps asking if you like him

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"There is no time like spring. Everyone seems more relaxed this time of year. It's reassuring to see."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I have some sakura mochi. I was just about to prepare some tea to go with it—would you like to join me?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"They have no control over whether they bloom, and yet they get made a spectacle of nonetheless... Oh, sorry—I was talking about the cherry blossoms."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"There are many different flowers growing in Hotarubi, but I think the wisteria are my favorites. This is the best time to see them, so you should take a walk around."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Hot today, isn't it? It's always raining in Hotarubi, so it does provide a little escape from the blazing summer sun, but... Ha ha. It is very humid, isn't it?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Summer makes me think of the ghost story Yotsuya Kaidan. The scene where Oiwa becomes hysterical, having realized her her face has been disfigured— incredible."

Yotsuya Kaidan is one of the best known japanese ghost stories! It's extremely violent, so read the summary at your discretion. The scene in question has Oiwa shown her reflection by her sister's boss to see that the cream she was given by a woman who was in love with her husband was actually some sort of poison that instantly scarred her face. She grabs a sword and goes to kill her, only for her to accidentally slit her own throat.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hotarubi House holds regular festivals during the summer months. If you need a yukata to wear, I'd be happy to pick one out for you."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't mind scary stories, but when that biwa in the tea room started playing by itself, it did make me jump a little..."

slight spoiler, although you can probably figure it out from this but. . .Zenji is a ghost. Subaru currently can't actually see him or hear his voice. . .only Haku, the pc, and, perhaps not so oddly, Towa can afair. All of his youtube content doesn't have him or his voice in it because he can't be recorded by cameras. So Subaru doesn't realize that the biwa playing on its own is actually Zenji playing the biwa.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"The air has gotten crisper, and the leaves are changing color. I know it's only natural for the seasons to shift, so why does it make my heart ache so much?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Oh, these? They're some chestnuts I found. I know—I should give them to Sho. I'm sure he'll be able to make something delicious with them."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"That's another kuchikiri tea ceremony under my belt. It's an annual tradition where one cuts open a tea jar to reveal the tea that was preserved from the first harvest."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"On long autumn nights when the moon is shining beautifully in the sky, it's hard to resist taking a walk outside. Don't stay out until too late though, {PC}."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"...Oh, {PC}. Good morning... I had a hard time getting up today. It must be the cold... Ha ha. Not very captain-like, is it?"

Jin, Taiga, and Ed are all prone to not getting out of bed. and Yuri falls asleep on operating tables when he has down time. Trust me Subaru you are perfectly captain-like.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Today, I'm going to order ingredients from one of my favorite stores so we can all make negima—tuna and scallion—hot pot together. Please, do join us."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's cold out today. I was just thinking about lighting the fire. Would you like to come and warm up with me?"

oh subaru you don't even know how that sounds

(between 8pm and 5am)

"People say winter makes you want to snuggle up with someone, but I find that a good blanket does a much better job."

i agree that blankets are much easier to manage than people lol. probably warmer too.

His birthday: (February 20th)

"A present? For me? Thank you... I didn't expect you to do anything for my birthday, so I'm a little caught off guard. I really appreciate it."

Your birthday:

"Um... Happy birthday.  I really hope this year will be a wonderful one for you."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I hope I can depend on your guidance and support again this year."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Chocolate? Oh, It's Valentine's Day, isn't it? Does that mean these are for me...?"

nah i just wanted you to look at them. YES THEY ARE FOR YOU BBY. why would you be showing him chocolate if it wasn't for him! On any day, not just valentine's day!!

White Day: (March 13th)

"These are for you, {PC}. I put in a special order for monaka from my favorite confectioner in Ginza. They're wafers filled with bean jam—I hope you like them."

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Earlier, Haku told me he was switching houses. It gave me a real shock— I'm very relieved that it wasn't true..."

i bet subaru made the most scared kicked puppy face and started apologizing for being such an awful captain and blamed himself for that haku would go to a different house and haku had to quickly explain it was just a prank for fear that subaru might burst into tears.

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Happy Halloween. I know it's nothing special, but I've prepared some treats for the occasion. Oh... But you're more than welcome to play a trick instead."

please don't trick him. april fool's day was hard enough for him.

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. We already have our New Year decorations up in Hotarubi, so it has a real east-meets-west atmosphere now. I hope everyone is okay with it..."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Everyone seems busy at the moment. Maybe I should use this opportunity to tidy the garden..."

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC}? Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just worried because you were so quiet..."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"You're back... I'm so relieved. I was worried I'd done something to make you feel uncomfortable..."

this man shakes like a chihuahua 24/7. like you can taste the anxiety coming off of him. i love him. he's so pathetic(affectionate). i wanna squeeze his hand reassuringly and tell him everything's gonna be okay. i wanna hug him and pat his head. i wanna take him places so he learns more about the world outside of working. i wanna watch him do schoolwork excitedly because he's never really gone to school before and it's a new and exciting experience. i want him to experience the most mundane aspects of life with wonder.

good boy. yeah. get him anxiety meds /nodnod

[lousypotatoes]

The Sun's In My Heart

Warning! This post contains murder, mentions of sex, and lots of cussing. If any of these make you uncomfy, please read with caution.

Song Recommendation:

you should see me in a crown - Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11

"Hey Vaggie?"

"What do you want?" Vaggie said.

"Do you and Charlie have a second?" she asked. "Me and Alastor made something that we think could help get more guests for the hotel."

"What exactly did you and Alastor make?" Vaggie asked, eyeing Y/N suspiciously.

"Find Charlie and find out," she giggled, walking away. "We'll be downstairs."

"They'll be here in a minute," she said as she walked down the stairs.

"Ah wonderful!" Alastor said. "Thank you for telling them, dear."

"It's nothing to thank me over," she waved off, walking over to stand next to Alastor. "But you're welcome."

"Alright," Angel Dust said from the couch. "What's the deal with you two? You fuckin' or what?"

Alastor didn't say anything, but Y/N saw that his eye started to twitch, his smile becoming more forced.

"It's nothing like that Angel," she awkwardly laughed. "We were just really close when we were alive,"

"You're not doin' a good job of convincin' me, toots."

"Oh my Satan, how many times do I have to explain it to you?"

"This will be the last time, dear," Alastor said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Unless our friend wants to hear his screams broadcasted to all of Hell."

Before Angel Dust could reply, Charlie came downstairs, dragging Vaggie by her hand.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so excited to see what you guys made!" she gushed, sitting on the couch. "Thank you guys so much for taking the time to make whatever it is,"

"You don't have to thank us, Charlie," Y/N said. "Besides, it was Alastor's idea to make the whole thing."

"Yes, but you also had part in making it," Alastor said.

"Can we just watch whatever it is now?" Vaggie asked, annoyed.

"Oh, right," Y/N said sheepishly, turning on the TV.

"So, what'd ya think?" Alastor said, turning off the TV after the commercial ended.

For a moment, Charlie and Vaggie didn't say anything, they just had looks of confusion and shock on both their faces.

"I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?" Vaggie said angrily.

"Hey, we worked hard on puttin' that together!" Y/N said, putting her hands on her hips.

"It's good," Charlie said, a fake smile on her face. "Alastor, Y/N-I mean," Charlie couldn't find the words to say.

"Do you not like it?" Y/N asked.

"No! No!" Charlie exclaimed, waving her arms around. "It's amazing! Thank you both so much for making it, but um..maybe the tone is a bit off?"

Neither Alastor or Y/N said anything. Vaggie continued to glare at both of them angrily.

"We want people to want to come here," Charlie continued. "This makes it look...umm-"

"Bad," Vaggie interrupted. "The word you're looking for is bad."

"We made it like that 'cause we thought it was funny," Y/N said, glaring at Vaggie.

"Hilarious is a better term for it, my dear," Alastor said, tilting his head.

"It didn't explain anything about how we're trying to save demons from extermination, which is the whole fucking point!"

"The commercial explained all of that," Y/N said.

"It didn't explain any of it!" Vaggie said angrily, crossing her arms.

"Vaggie is right," Charlie said. "The commercial was to let Sinners know we are trying to help them."

"Well, my dear," Alastor said, running his fingers across his cane. "I haven't been active in Hell for some time, and everyone remembers me from my radio show. The proper medium to express oneself! But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement, so we had a little fun with it." he finished, smirking.

"Oh, fun. You had a little fun with it?" Vaggie said, standing up. "Well, this is not what we want representing us."

"You said you wanted help," Y/N said, a small frown on her face. "This is us tryin' to help."

"Well then try harder," Vaggie said. "When you two showed up, both of you said you would help run the hotel, instead you're mocking us! Nobody's going to want to come to a place where two powerful Overlords think is a big waste of time!" she finished, sitting back down, scowling.

"Just be grateful we're actually trying to help," Y/N said as calmly as she could, taking a seat next to Angel. "You know what people think of this place. They all think it's the most stupidest idea ever. At least you have people like me and Al wantin' to help."

Before Vaggie could respond, Angel raised his gloved hand from the couch.

Vaggie turned her attention to him, "What?"

"If'n ya filmin' a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?" he said, all four of his hands pointing to himself.

"Angel, you're a porn star."

"A famous porn star," he corrected her, putting his legs on Y/N's lap. "I'll have the horniest sinners knockin' down these walls to get in."

"We are not filming a porn as a commercial." Vaggie said. Charlie just looked concerned.

"Why not?" Angel asked. "Sex sells, don't it? I swear, you film a threesome with mister fancy talk creepy voice and miss dommy mommy vibes and me, you'd be rollin' in participates willin' to stay at this tacky hotel."

Blushing, Y/N immediately pushed his legs off her.

"Gross, Angel,"

"Haha! Never going to happen!"

"Angel," Charlie began, smiling awkwardly. "I appreciate you wanting to use your special skills to, um, attract folks to the hotel, but- I don't want to exploit you in that way!"

"Oh, please, baby," Angel waved off. "This body was made to be exploited. I got the arms, I got stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity-"

Y/N walked over to Alastor as Angel continued to talk about his body.

"Told you she wouldn't like the commercial," she muttered as Charlie's phone began to ring.

"All that matters is that it's entertaining, dear." he said. "Everybody likes a good laugh, don't you think?"

"Hey, I have a question," Angel said, interrupting Y/N and Alastor. "Why can't you just make people stay here babycakes? Since you're so powerful and all."

"I can," Y/N said, her eyes glowing red for a split second. "I just don't feel like doin' it."

Vaggie scoffed.

"What about you freaky face?" Angel asked

"Oh, trust me, I can!" Alastor said ominously, his antlers beginning to grow.

"Why do you think I'm here?" Husk called from the bar.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"You actually think I'd be cleaning bottles and listening to you fuck's bitch and moan all the time if he wasn't forcin' me?" he said as he cleaned a bottle.

"I like being forced," Nifty said, popping up from behind the bar.

"Keep that to yourself, Niff,"

"What, you don't love being here with me, Whiskers?" Angel teased.

"Call me Whiskers again and I'll jam that bottle down your throat!" Husk threatened.

"Kinky. Come one keep talkin' dirty."

"Angel, let Husk do his job," Vaggie sighed. "And no, we can't force sinners to stay here. They need to choose to."

"I'm choosing to be here, and I think it's all stupid." he said. "We're in Hell, toots. That's kind of the end of the road, ain't it?"

"Well maybe it doesn't have to be."

"Nobody's made it out Vaggie," Y/N pointed out. "How do we know getting redeemed is even possible?"

"We just have to try," Vaggie said. "It doesn't mean it's not possible."

"Hey," Angel said, putting his hand on Vaggie's shoulder. "Whatever means I can keep crashin' here rent free. Crack is expensive."

"I've been meanin' to ask, Al," Y/N said quietly. "Are you here to get redeemed?"

"Heavens no!" Alastor chuckled. "I'm simply here for entertainment!"

"Explain more, please," Y/N said.

"I came here because I love seeing wasteful souls struggle to accomplish something meaningful and fail spectacularly!" he exclaimed. "Isn't that why you came here?"

"A little bit yes, but-"

Before Y/N could finish, she heard Vaggie and Charlie.

"But-But the extermination just happened. What could they want this soon after-"

Charlie cut off Vaggie "This is the perfect opportunity, Vaggie," she smiled. "I could get Heaven on board with my plan."

"Charlie hold on-"

Charlie ignored Vaggie. "There's no way I can mess this up!" she said, pacing all around the room. "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"It's just a meeting," Vaggie groaned.

"When I speak to them, I'm going to change their minds and touch their hearts, or whatever angels have, actually."

"This could be bad," Vaggie said.

"Vaggie, it's gonna be alright!" Charlie said, taking Vaggie's hands and spinning around. "Something tells me that today will be a happy day in Hell!"

And with that, Charlie bolted out the door.

Everyone but Husk and Vaggie crowded around the door.

"She's halfway down the street," Y/N called out, giggling.

"Is she-?" Vaggie started

"Oh, she's dancin'," Angel finished, taking a drink of his booze.

"Ugh, no!" Vaggie groaned.

Y/N was currently sitting in her room, going through paperwork of all the demons she killed. Something about seeing the number of lives she took away really boosted up her ego.

Going through the paperwork, she remembered the conversation she had with that woman on the phone before Alastor came in and brought up the idea for the commercial.

Remembering it, her eyes glowed a dangerous red. She was going to hunt down this woman, and she was going to do it now.

She opened her bedroom door and strode out, giving out a dangerous energy that even Angel and Vaggie knew not to mess with.

"I'll be back soon, Vaggie," she said, knowing that Vaggie wanted to ask. "I have some business to take care of, I shouldn't be gone long."

"What kind of business, hm?" Alastor suddenly asked, startling her. "You seem to be in a rush."

"It's something that I want done and I want it done right now." She said. Alastor saw the dangerous glint and his grin grew wider. "You're welcome to join me. Or not, I don't care."

Wanting to see Y/N in action, Alastor nodded eagerly. "Alright then,"

Y/N smirked. "I suggest you find another to keep up with me,then," she said in a way that caused Alastor to get goosebumps. "'Cause I'm not walkin' to my destination."

With that she walked out the door and unfurled her wings. Alastor was amazed on how big her wings actually were. He wanted to touch them.

"Y'know, it's quite rude to stare."

Alastor blushed, not knowing that Y/N saw him staring.

"My apologies, Y/N," he said, his eye twitching in embarrassment. "I'll meet you at our destination,"

"How do you know where I'm goin?"

"I have my ways."

Y/N grinned. She liked this side of Alastor, and she liked it a lot. She wanted to see this side of Alastor more often.

"Good luck keepin' up,"

As soon as she finished her sentence, she shot up into the air, flying gracefully. Alastor had never seen anything like this before, she was so beautiful and graceful, just like she was when she was alive. But something about seeing shoot up in the sky like that made something stir in his heart that he hadn't felt in a long time. He smiled genuinely, then melted into the shadows, following Y/N as best as he could.

As Y/N flew over Pentagram city, she tried to smell out and hear that bitch as best as she could. She had never done this before but decided that she wasn't going back to the hotel until that woman's head was off her body.

Flying past The Vee's Tower, she finally found her target. She didn't know how, but she just knew that it was her. The woman was walking out of the tower, a coffee in her hand and texting on her phone.

Swooping down, Y/N grabbed the woman and flung her into the wall of a nearby alleyway. As soon as Y/N landed on the ground, Alastor materialized out of the shadows, his grin wider than ever.

The woman's eyes were closed "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU A-?" she screamed, but as soon as she saw Y/N and Alastor in front of her she stopped talking.

"Is this the business you had to take care of?" Alastor asked, leaning on his cane.

"Unfortunately, yes," she said, not taking her eyes off the woman.

"I'm assuming this is has to deal with the services you offer?"

"No, she just really fuckin' annoyed me," Y/N said. Her eyes glowing red, she walked over the woman. "No wonder you're so stupid. You work for the Vee's don't you?"

"If you kill me," the woman said meekly. "They'll come after you."

Y/N laughed. "They won't do anything," she grabbed the woman up by her throat. Alastor was watching intently. "You think I'm scared of the Vees? Sweetie, it's the other around."

One of the woman's arms ripped off. The woman screamed in pain.

"This is what happens when you piss me off, do you understand?"

The woman nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"I don't think you do," Y/N said

She summoned an angelic knife and pushed it straight through the womans throat. The woman gurgled but died quickly.

Alastor stared at Y/N with wide eyes. He had never seen anything more attractive.

"Did you enjoy watchin'" Y/N asked cockily.

"Immensely, my dear," Alastor breathed out. "I wish I would of saw you like that when we were alive.

Y/N giggled "So do I. Now we should head back to the Hotel," she said, dusting off her pants. "I'd hate to attract an audience."

Back at the Hotel, everyone was sitting on the couch, Vaggie pacing in front of them.

"Okay, so Charlie is dealing with something very important, so while she's gone, we are making a new commercial." Vaggie said. "One that represents her vision and what we're doing here. Alastor, we need a camera."

Alastor snapped his fingers and a camera from back when Y/N was alive popped up in Vaggie's hand.

"A video camera," Vaggie said.

Alastor hummed in dissaproval, but snapped again. The old camera disappeared and a modern video camera popped up in Vaggie's hand.

"All right! Let's do this!" Vaggie said, pumping her fist into the air.

"And....action!"

Y/N watched as Vaggie recorded a scene of Husk and Angel at the bar.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel," Husk said, the script in front of his face. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I've been a bad boy," Angel said suggestively, climbing onto the bar. "And I need a big strong daddy to put me in my place...on the path to redemption!"

Seeing Husk's face made Y/N feel bad for the cat but also giggle.

Husk rolled his eyes and groaned. "Well, you come-"

"Oh yes!" Angel interrupted.

"-to the right place."

"Cut!" Vaggie cried out. "Okay Angel, I need you to be less horny, if possible. And Husk, could you maybe not have the script in front of your face?"

"I ain't no actor! I can't memorize this shit!" Husk said, throwing the paper on the bar.

"We could improve this shit, babycakes," Angel purred. "Rawrr~"

Husk pushed Angel off the bar. "Whoops,"

Vaggie sighed. "Husk, come on!"

Y/N went back upstairs, killing that woman made her tired and she wanted to take a tiny nap.

"Not going to watch them down there?"

Y/N jumped and saw Alastor standing in front of her.

"Jesus Christ, Alastor, what is it with and scarin' me all the damn time?"

Alastor chuckled. "I can't help it, my dear. "You're too easy to scare."

Y/N scoffed and continued to walk to her room. Alastor followed her.

"I'm way too tired to argue with you right now,"

"Maybe you should get some rest then, dear,"

"I was on my way too when you scared me,"

"Am I annoying you?" Alastor asked, still following her.

"A little bit, yes," Y/N mumbled, as they reached her room. "I know Vaggie wants me to film a part, so could you maybe wake me up?"

"If you need me too, then of course,"

"Thank you Al," she smiled genuinely. "And thanks for comin' with me earlier. Usually, I like doin' stuff like that by myself, but you added somethin' nice to it."

"If anything, I should be thanking you," he said. "You put on quite the show for me today. I applaud you. I'll leave you to rest now."

Alastor melted into the shadows, leaving Y/N flustered and grinning cheesily. He was just like how he was on Earth, despite the psychopath tendencies, she liked that part of him too. She went into her bedroom and flopped onto her bed, sighing happily, her dead heart beating rapidly in her chest.

Y/N woke up from her nap to a knock on her door.

"Come in," she said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The door opened and Alastor stepped in the room. He smiled genuinely when he saw Y/N in her sleepy form.

"Vaggie wants you downstairs," Alastor said quietly, an amused smile coming to his face.

"I'll be down there in a minute," Y/N said groggily. "Thanks for wakin me up, Al,"

"You don't have to thank me," Alastor waved off before heading out the door. "I'm glad you slept well, my dear."

After he left, Y/N got out of bed and straightened out her outfit and her hair before heading downstairs. When she got down there, she saw that the whole downstairs area looked like a set from a movie. There were lights and cameras everywhere, and everyone besides Alastor was dressed in outfits from the time you and Alastor were alive.

Y/N was impressed.

"Alright everyone!" Vaggie said as soon as she saw Y/N. "Let's make a fucking commercial.

After all of them were done filming for the commercial, they sat around or on the couch, waiting for Charlie to come back, and for the commercial to air.

Y/N heard Charlie come in through the front door. Vaggie heard it to, getting up to greet her.

"Charlie!" Vaggie said, hugging her. "How did it go? Did they listen?"

"Oh, uh...They sure did..hear it! But um-" Charlie said.

"Oh! Come here!" Vaggie exclaimed, pulling Charlie towards the couch. "We have something exciting to show you!"

"Alastor and Y/N pulled some strings and it's about to air," Vaggie said as her and Charlie.

"We pulled a few limbs too," Y/N giggled.

"Wait? The commercial?" Charlie said, confused. "You all made a new one?"

"Yeah, one of my better performances, if I do say so myself," Angel said, grinning.

"That's...amazing," Charlie said, her eyes sparkling.

"Shh! It's starting!" Angel shushed.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hot-" Vaggie said on the TV before the signal got interrupted.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Y/N said in anger. Everyone reacted the same way she did.

A news broadcast came on.

"Breaking news in Hell today!" Katie Killjoy said on the TV. "We have just received word from the Heaven Embassy that the next extermination is happening sooner than ever before."

Hearing those words, Y/N's eyes widened in shock and fear.

"Do you know what that means Tom?"

"No, what does that mean, Katie?" Tom Trench asked.

"It means we're all royally fucked!" she answered, her neck snapping.

The camera cut to the Extermination Day timer, the numbers going down from 358 to 176.

"Wait...what? Why!?" Angel exclaimed.

Everyone in the room besides Nifty had looks of shock and confusion on their faces. Even Alastor didn't have his usual grin on his face.

"We are so fucked," Y/N muttered

sorry it took me so long to upload, i've been really busy lol

angel dust and husker are my spirit animals

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

Taglist 💋

@maksdust @trippoverrt @slytherin4ever @lucifers-silhouette @a-small-tyrant @leviwife1 @mo-0-o @cutiebimbo

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Three - Two Old Fashioneds

W/C: 5.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Your first shift at The Bourbon goes less than smoothly and more chaotic. Does the town's hard-ass really have his shit together like he leads everyone to believe?

A/N: guys I'm so excited for this to pick up even more (i want to make them kiss like barbies but all in good time)

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The ins and outs of a bar were something you could have never anticipated and while similar in certain ways to a diner, there was a distinct line that separated the two.  A diner had grumpy old men complaining about not getting their coffee soon enough.  The bar had grumpy old men slurring their words, groaning about their lives and insisting that a ‘cute lil thing like you’ would fix everything.  You had to stop yourself from gagging, plaster a smile on your face, and carry on.  Because one complaint and you could be out of a job, only proving that you couldn’t handle the ‘rowdy’ customers as disclosed by the boss, who now that you thought about, hadn’t seen in the last forty minutes.  

Not one other server was on staff to at least show you the ropes, it seemed like you were the first one.  One of the bartenders, Jett, who had been the one you’d seen working the day before, was unfortunately selected to both train you and run the bar for the most part tonight, no time for a proper introduction before you were thrown into the deep end, only a quick exchange of names.  It was a Thursday night but apparently to people in Knife’s Edge that meant the weekend started early.  Poor Jett was nineteen years old and the whole bar depended on you two ever since 8:00 PM when you clocked in for your very first shift.  It was nauseating having to ask him stupid questions in between attempting to serve tables while he made drink after drink, desperately trying to keep up with each order and delivering them to the right customer, even going as far to step out from behind the bar to tend to some of your tables.  You assume he was probably used to it, what with how he did it without hesitation and seemed to have his own little system in place.

It wasn’t your fault, he assured you.  It’s just that you happened to pick up your first shift the very night that the kitchen ran out of beef which also happened to be the main ingredient of one of The Bourbon’s only menu items, the famous Shreddar Burger topped with an ungodly amount of cheese and jalapenos.  Turns out the customers went wild for it.  It didn’t seem appetizing but you weren’t going to argue with the crowd favorite.  And now it was being requested left and right, the explanation that the kitchen was currently out but should be back to whipping up another round soon, not enough for their hungry bellies.  The best you could offer was a basket of fries until the beef magically showed up, Jett insisting that someone was taking care of it and that the cook would be back to whipping them up as planned sooner than later.  You were beginning to lose faith in his promises but proceeded one step at a time regardless.

Just one more task and then the beef will be here and I won’t have to hear another damn grievance over a heartburn-inducing burger. 

Yet it seemed to never come to an end, table after table requesting the very same order each time; only for you or Jett to break the news that their precious burger would have to wait and that again, the best you could offer were some fries or chicken wings, neither measuring up to the pedestal they held this burger on.

By around 9:15 PM, out came Eddie from the kitchen, door swinging behind him as sweat dripped from his brow.  He was out of breath, chest heaving while he gestured for you and Jett to come over to which you obeyed, zigzagging around tables in a hurry with a tray tucked under your arm, brows pinched together stressfully.  A new party of eight had just arrived which prompted you to push three tables together to accompany them, their drink order hadn’t even been taken yet and Eddie seemed to pick the worst time to call an impromptu meeting, in the middle of a never ending rush.  Burgerless.  

“Beef’s here.  Jett, I need you to help with the rest of the boxes so we can get burgers going.”  He instructs, the boy immediately following orders and frantically heading through the swinging door at full speed, very aware that he still had the front of house to attend to.  “And you, Bambi, change of plans.  I need you in the kitchen.”

So much to unpack in just one sentence.  The kitchen?  Bambi?

“Well–I-I thought I was just a server–”

“I said change of plans, I need you in the kitchen.”  Before you could ask further questions, he disappears into the kitchen and for a split second you turn to glance at the full bar awaiting service only to wince and follow him.  No one was managing the front and that made your nerves twitch but you suppose the boss knows what he’s doing.  At least you hope.  Your first hour or so had been a shit show.

Pans clanked against the metal worktop as he shoved them out of the way, clearing the space and igniting the flat top all while not batting an eye at you or caring to further explain.  You could just make out the formation of numbers on his lips, no sound coming out, but he was distinctly lip syncing the numbers one through three over and over.  It was strange though you didn’t have much time to process it, instead opting to internally lose it over the sheer idea of filling in for another position.  You didn’t sign up to be a cook and this was way out of your scope of skills.  He deemed you as incapable of being a server and now he was putting the foundation of this place on your shoulders.

“Randy, our cook left.”  He begins, oiling up the surface, his focus never faltering.  “Don’t know why, don’t know where.  All I know is I went to pick up beef and when I came back he was gone.”  

Jett scrambles near the back door, hauling boxes of beef into the walkin freezer as your eyes dart between him and Eddie, a certain queasiness forming in your stomach.  Eddie continues pulling supplies out and though it's within your rights to demand to return to your original position in the front, you can’t, the words won’t come out.  

“So you’re gonna flip burgers, Jett and I will be in and out to help while also holding it down out there.”

“I don’t even know how to ‘flip burgers’!”  

It comes out less hostile and more alarmed, your eyes feigning apprehension at the current inconsistency of the place.  In any other circumstance you should leave, quit with your dignity intact however that is not an option and you are in no position to be calling any shots; you begged for this job, afterall.

“You don’t know how to flip burgers.”  He deadpans.

“I-”

“You ever flipped a pancake?”

It’s not a genuine question, more of a mockery of your simpleminded excuse.  His head drops to catch your line of sight that had been previously shooting around the colorless kitchen, saturated in grays and whites that would drive anyone mad.  

“That’s not what I meant–”  You proclaim, setting your tray on an unoccupied work top.

“Just–cook the meat.  Make sure it’s not raw.”

As if that wasn’t the whole point of ‘cooking’ it.  This guy must have thought you had mush for brains yet he was the one with a crumbling structure of a business just based on what you’ve experienced in one night.  One hour, even.  You were starting to miss the senior citizens from the previous evening that appeared to have had a great deal of patience in comparison to the younger crowd that seemed to have more audacity and a shorter attention span.

“But what about–”

“Stop asking questions!  Just follow my lead.”  He demands, rushing out to the back, the door propped open so he could assist Jett in retrieving the remaining boxes from his truck.

What lead?  There was no lead.  Only chaos.

You idled next to the grill, shuffling your feet against the grimy tiles beneath you and taking notice of the astonishingly disgusting drain on the floor, coated in some kind of copper-colored grease.  At least if Eddie came back in to yell at you for not doing anything, you had the excuse of manning the grill, ensuring his precious bar didn’t burn to the ground though metaphorically, it already was.  What else were you supposed to do?  

–

You were sure the smell of beef, onions and cheese were going to be crusted into your hair for eternity when all was said and done.  Eddie and Jett had been taking turns walking you through the steps of creating this so-called famous burger and after a few mutilated testers, you eventually got the hang of it and it became a game of rinse and repeat.  Sometimes an order for a rare cooked burger would come in and you could only hope that you cooked it just enough that it wouldn’t bring on a nasty case of food poisoning to whoever had requested it.

Eddie stood behind you at the fryer, back to you while putting together another batch of fries to store under the heat lamps while you pieced together yet another burger, setting it along the space designated for finished meals along with its corresponding ticket underneath.  Eddie dumped some fries onto the plate before swiping it up and delivering it to its table.  When he quickly came back in to repeat the same motions, a question lingered in the back of your mind and it only made sense to ask it.

“Why am I on burger duty?”  You question, mentally facepalming at the phrasing you chose.

“Come again?”  He gives you another chance.

“I-I mean, if I’m brand new, why put me in charge of one of the most important things on the menu?  Why don’t you cook and I keep serving?”  

It seemed like a valid concern, only your first day and suddenly you’ve moved up to head of the kitchen?  Okay, maybe not head of the kitchen but that’s how it felt when thing one and thing two were constantly rotating out and mainly only managing fries and other small bar foods that were simple enough to make in big batches.  The grease from it all felt prominent on your skin, and you feared your sweat was going to become one with the vegetable oil.

“Every person out there knows me.  And I know them.  I know how to butter them up.”  He explains, a rogue curl escaping his messy bun in the mayhem of it all as he dumps another large portion of potatoes into the fryer.  “You…well, you know.”

It’s uncertain whether that was meant to be an insult or simply him losing his train of thought.  Either way, you didn’t read much into it, only nodding hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll throw you back to the wolves in no time.”  Eddie half jokes, exiting the kitchen once again, this time with plates balanced on his forearms and palms, Jett zooming past him to start up another round of wings.

“So, how are you enjoying hell?”  He laughs, giving his hands a good scrub down.

“Oh, it’s amazing.”  You exaggerate, piling some cheddar cheese high on top of the charred meat, topping it off with jalapenos and a bun, then plating it up with some fries.

“Well, I promise it’s not like this every shift.  And contrary to what you may have seen tonight, Eddie’s a good boss.  Just kinda cranky but you learn to ignore it.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”  The man in question rushes by, heading for the walk-in freezer, yet again counting in threes, this time using his fingers as well.

–

As promised, you were sent back up to the front once things had slowed down, the bar emptying out aside from a few regulars that had straggled behind.  It was a manageable workload between three people, plus Jett was able to offer a little more in depth training behind the bar as well as giving you the official tour of The Bourbon.  

There was the main room where all the action was, dimly lit to create a nice ambience littered in knick knacks that decorated the walls, torn band posters covering the ceiling along with some Christmas lights.  Of course there was a pool table though you hadn’t witnessed any intense games in your short time here.  Jett took the liberty of educating you on the kitchen a little further should anything of tonight’s nature happen again.  You learned where everything was kept for their small but cherished menu, where the storage closet containing all the cleaning supplies was as well as the back office which was only reserved for Eddie according to Jett.  Lastly, he showed you the dumpsters, in case you happened to be on trash duty and he even gave you strict instructions on how to close them back up so animals wouldn’t rummage.

Now you were back behind the bar, being taught to make the signature drink, an old fashioned containing cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.  You could appreciate it, a bit spicy and a touch smooth, accompanying that burnt wood taste that would get you there fast.  It wasn’t a difficult drink to make however, perfecting the presentation was what set you back.  You couldn’t simply toss a cherry and an orange twist into the liquor, it had to be done tastefully.  Or that’s how Jett explained it, claiming that those were Eddie’s words.  The drink was in a way, an art and you couldn’t be sloppy with it, not by The Bourbon’s standards.

A  hectic night of becoming a makeshift cook, training as a server, and an intake of so much new information would do a number on anyone and the bags under your eyes clearly showed the physical exhaustion you were experiencing.  You didn’t think you ever worked so hard even at the diner back at home during rush hour.

“Little lamb made it through the night.”

Tilting your head up from the cocktail before you momentarily, you’re met with that pair of intimidating but gorgeous eyes, nearly black in the low lighting of the bar.  It was interesting, you’d seen many brown eyes in your lifetime but none of them resembled something quite like the universe he held in his, his outlook on things noticeably different from the average person.  He had taken a seat at one of the stools on the opposite side of the bar from you, some paperwork laid out in front of him as he began scribbling something down.  All you could offer him was the raise of your brow in acknowledgement of his presence, too engaged in perfecting the cherries on the toothpick just right, balancing them on the rim of the glass like a circus act.  

“They’re too close together.”  Eddie remarks, his gaze glued to the paper he had been marking up, an inventory list you notice at a second glance. 

“Hmm?”  You might as well have been in your own world, some kind of trance caused by fatigue pulling at your muscles and overworked mind.  

“Cherries.  They’re unbalanced.”

For a man of such few words, he still seemed to say a lot.  The attitude ingrained in his tone never appeared to let up and it felt as if something was either always bugging him or losing his interest.  Never content, always sour and sharp-tongued.  

“Oh.”  You sigh in defeat, as if it were impossible to simply pick up the toothpick resting against the glass and your finger and move the cherries, solving the case of the wobbling toothpick.

Jett emerged next to you after participating in some small talk with a regular at the end of the bar, a grin on his youthful face despite what a shit show the night had been.  So far you observed that he was something of an optimist, smiling his way through tough situations.  It was refreshing.

“There you go!”  He praises, gesturing greatly to the drink you’d just created.  Your third try at it. 

“Jett, you’re bein’ a shitty example.  Leaving your sheep unattended.”  Eddie grumbles, sticking a toothpick in his mouth.  You’d be lying if you said you wished he’d stop sticking toothpicks in his damn mouth.  Well, half-lying.  You’d admit he looked good chewing on a tiny piece of wood but he did it far too often.

Wait…sheep?  Were you the sheep?  Was this a jab at you?  You’d just spent the night keeping this place afloat and he was insulting you once again?

“Munson, I’d say I’m doing just fine considering you left us without a fuckin’ cook the whole night.”  Jett defends.  You want to grimace, knowing this wasn’t the standard when talking to your boss but Eddie seemed unphased while the boy kept grinning at him as he leaned against the bar.  “Plus, it seems like this sheep kicked ass on only her first day.”  He nudges your shoulder with his, sliding the drink you’d just concocted in front of Eddie.  You smiled in appreciation of his kind words.

“I didn’t leave you without a cook.  Cook fuckin’ left without telling anyone.”  He reasons, immediately throwing half the drink back in one swig.  

Please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty, please don’t taste shitty.

“And I guess you proved not to be as dainty as I thought.”  Eddie admits to you, throwing the rest of the drink back.  No complaints yet.  Only what you could make out to be a compliment.

“So can she stay?”  Jett pleads, bottom lip jutted out for emphasis.  He seemed to have taken a liking to you but then again, the place was short staffed so maybe he was just desperate to have anyone help out.

Eddie looks up from his list, pen tapping against the bar top with annoyance.  There was still no indication whether the old fashioned had been any good or not, seemingly forgotten about amongst the conversation and it was quietly eating at you.  The need for validation.

“That’s up to her, kid.” 

Both pairs of eyes landed on you, anticipating your answer.

“Well, uh, I dunno.”  You shrug.  “Was I even any good at making a drink?”  Like you had a choice in accepting the job, this is all you had.

“I dunno.”  Eddie replies, sliding the glass back over to you.  “Try again, let's see.”

“That’s a yes.”  Jett chimes in.  “Big boy wants a refill.”

“Jett, I will personally give you a swirly.”  There’s a glimpse of humor in Eddie’s tone, the smallest you’ve seen within him so far though you refrained from giggling.

“Oh, a swirly?  Real mature.”  Jett mocks, Eddie quietly snorting a laugh in response.  

His smile was cute.  

And it may be the first time you’d seen a genuine one from him.  He had dimples, deep, deep dimples.  It was a wonder why he didn’t put them on display more.

In the midst of the banter, you began whipping up another old fashioned, The Bourbon way.  You figured it wouldn’t be your place to insert yourself among the jokes, being the new girl.  It was best to keep quiet until you blended in a bit more.  Several customers throughout the night had already initiated conversation stating they’d never seen you before and you didn’t need to draw any more attention to yourself than you’d already received.

“Make it a double?”  Eddie interrupts your process.

Again you look up to meet those large eyes, practically black holes absorbing any and all light aside from a tiny sparkle you found that survived within them.  He was asking and not demanding.  He owned the whole damn place and yet he was asking you to make it a double when he could very well just tell you.

“Yeah.”  You whisper, unsure of yourself.  A double just meant…well, double, right?

So you turn to Jett who was now scrubbing at an especially sticky spot on the bar.  He didn’t take any notice in your silent plea much to your regret.  You looked like an idiot, pondering over what exactly the measurements should be since today's training didn’t exactly cover what to do should someone ask for a double.  At least you knew how to use the entirety of the kitchen though…

“Just another shot.”  Eddie instructs, emotionless.

With a nod, you kick right into action, using what you learned and putting it to use while remembering to add an additional shot and not completely overlook it in your uneasiness.  You didn’t care to peer up at him once more, uncertain if he was still watching your every move and unsure whether he would reprimand you for making one mistake in crafting his drink.  He said nothing so it was safe to assume he had resumed filling out his boring paperwork.

“See, she’s a natural!”  Jett applauds upon turning back toward you as you carefully pierce the cherries with a toothpick, balancing them just how Eddie had taught you.  

It really wasn’t rocket science and you could feel the humiliation seep into your bones at the thought of him judging you for simply not being able to figure out why they kept falling in before.  You were by no means a natural.

“You’re gonna be the new favorite, I can already tell.  Everyone’s gonna love ya.”  Though Jett’s words are appreciated and far too kind, you can’t help but doubt his confidence in you.

You were used to being a fly on the wall, observing and keeping to yourself among loud personalities.  And you were okay with that.  Being so removed grants you the ability to perceive everyone else without barely even being perceived yourself.  It was flattering, the way Jett talked you up having only known you for a few hours but you knew you were nothing special.  He was just being nice and most likely picked up on your anxious undertones.

Eddie remained mute, continuing to scribble away at the paper in front of him as if you and Jett weren’t there.  Just as silent, you slid the drink over into his peripheral before occupying your hands with a rag to wipe up any remnants caused by your shaky hands.  He only scanned the drink over once before tapping his pen against the counter, three times.  Always in threes.  

Awaiting his consensus on your bartending, you pretend to pay no mind, as though his opinion is the last thing on earth you would want.  Really, it’s all you want.  To know if you exceeded at crafting the bar’s signature drink or if you failed so miserably that he wouldn't let you behind the bar again.  After all, your official job title would be ‘server’ and server’s didn’t generally make drinks, they served.  But this wasn’t a normal bar and it seemed everyone was performing more than one job at a time so if you had to make drinks you might as well be somewhat good at it.  And if not, it could render you useless in his perception, seeing as he’d already underestimated you before.

When he finally takes a sip, large hand wrapped around the glass, you refrain from sucking in a breath because although he had already had one, he gulped it down like water.  This time it seemed he was performing a quality check.

“Good.”  His monotone voice doesn’t convey much other than you’ve at least satisfied him to some extent.  But that's it.

Next to you, Jett celebrates again before tending to another customer and then yelling out for the last call.  Eddie’s focus doesn’t budge from his work while he sips away at his drink, this time nurturing it rather than greedily throwing it all back.

–

Some time around 12:30 AM Jett had dashed out after the bar received a phone call from his mom complaining that the racoons had stormed their barn and came too close to threatening their chicken coop again.  With all patrons now gone and only cleaning and closing left to be done, Eddie dismissed him from work and told him to get a better handle on the raccoon situation seeing as it happened three times in the past month.  Jett muttered something about how raccoons are relentless and how they will find a way if they really want to on his way out.  

With one last wipe down of the tables and a thorough cleaning of the bar top, all that was left on your mental checklist given to you courtesy of Eddie was making sure behind the bar was organized and pristine for the following day, bottles accounted for, and glasses washed and dried.  He was absent for a good thirty minutes but you concluded he was doing his share in the kitchen as you heard the clanging of metal on metal and a few curses every now and then when there was an extra loud crash. 

The sudden crackle of a speaker and booming music startles you, a glass nearly slipping out of your grasp at the sound.  A harsh metal song blares through the bar, guitar wailing and bass vibrating, causing a few bottles to gently clink against each other on the shelf.  Seconds later, Eddie came sauntering out from the back office with a broom in hand and a cigarette hanging from his bottom lip, unlit.  

You try to ignore whatever he may be up to but find it impossible not to look up from the glass you were polishing off.  His hair was unruly, now out of the confines of a bun and seeming to have only gotten bigger throughout the night and–he wasn’t using the broom for sweeping.  Instead, he crawled on top of a freshly cleaned table with his dirty, clunky boots and poked at something in the rafters, tugging it forward.  You wanted to be mad that he was stepping on your freshly scrubbed table but you couldn’t help but be curious, pausing your motions to stare and try to predict his next move.  

The end of the broom was looped under the handle of a small wooden box and his arm stretched out to open it before pulling some cash out of his pocket and sticking it in the box.  Then he closed it back up and shoved it back into place, out of sight.  Once he jumped down off the table, he began walking toward the back again, stopping in his tracks when he realized you were standing there watching him the whole time.  

A puff of air escapes his lips, his bangs briefly blowing upward before resting back against his forehead.  You tear your gaze away, now more interested in cleaning water droplets off of another glass.  Your heart pounding, his footsteps only inch closer and closer and yet again, he is on the opposite side of the bar from you, staring you down.  It was obvious he had forgotten you were there.  The unlit cigarette is plucked from his lips in between his fingers and tucked behind his ear.

“You didn’t see that.  If it goes missing, I’ll know it was you.”  He speaks so gruffly and low, as if someone might hear despite the place being empty.

Nodding in submission, you can’t bring yourself to catch his fierce gaze.

“Yeah?”  Eddie pushes for a verbal response, more intensity to his tone.

“Yes.”  You chirp.  Like a pathetic little bird.  

Satisfied with your answer, he hums, resting the broom against a stool before making his way around the bar, pulling a rag out of his back pocket and assisting you with wiping down the remaining glasses.  There had to have been at least a dozen left and by the looks of it, he had finished his tasks and wanted to get out of here.  So you worked in silence, side by side.

It felt like an eternity but it must have only been two minutes later when you began to feel antsy.  Like you were supposed to initiate a friendly conversion.  Some kind of bullshit small talk.  And then your better judgment kicks in, telling you ‘better not’ since the man beside you didn’t seem like the small talk type.  In all fairness you weren’t either but it felt like you had to constantly conform to certain standards.  Then your mouth started running without a second thought because one thought provoked you and now you just had to know.

“So…the bingo night…is that a regular thing?”

A side eye from him may as well have shot daggers directly into you, his movements pausing as he scowled.  So you backtracked.

“N-nevermind–”

“Yes.”  He answers abruptly, much to your surprise.

“Oh.”  

Your voice comes out soft, as if trying not to spook an animal.  And for as annoyed as he looks, he’s the one who answered after you attempted to give him an out.  He was a very conflicting man, hard to read and mysterious.  

“Every Wednesday.  The senior home wants its residents to get out every now and then.”

“And…they chose a bar?”  A smile tugs at your lips, one that you can’t help.

“What’s wrong with that?”  

His face shows offense but his tone holds some kind of amusement, the slightest bit of personality seeping through the cracks and exposing itself to you.

“I just–nothing, it’s just, out of every place they could choose…a bar?”  You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, shaking your head.

“I mean, we’re the only place that offered.”  

There’s a genuine kind of hurt behind his words.  You’re unable to determine if it was directed toward your question or something else wading through his mind.  Or if it was even meant to slip out in any way based on how closed off he was.  Your guess was that his sudden projection of an emotion was a slip up and that it was up to you to ignore it otherwise he’d give you an even harder time.

“Oh.”  Again, your soft spoken voice carries itself gently to his ears.  “That’s…nice.  Really nice.”  You say honestly, glancing at him.

For having such tough armor and such offputting behavior, Eddie was pretty.  His curls were messy and appeared to be pieced apart by his fingers running through them constantly, leaving them fuzzy and unkempt.  But still appealing.  And his side profile illuminated by the warm lights was soft but still manly, handsome.  He was good looking, there was no denying that.  His personality was rather repelling though and good looks could only get you so far, not that he was flaunting how attractive he was and using it to his benefit.  

Coming out of your trance, you find that you’re both down to the last few glasses, silence taking over once again.  Out of the corner of your eye, you take notice of the way Eddie’s mouth forms numbers again, without sound.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

All mouthed as he seems to breathe unevenly.  You don’t draw any attention to your observation much like earlier when you’d caught him doing the same thing.  There were depths to him that you were beginning to feel were unexplored by anyone other than himself.  A loneliness detected beneath the surface of his solid and impenetrable armor.

~end~

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[dittaturamonegasca]

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

[thebindingofpillo]

It’s been a while since I did a proper character introduction so this will be a little all over the place but MAGGY queen of my heart, best girl 2kforever is here!!!! Read all about her under the cut.

As with everyone else in the cast, Magdalene is a Normal Person trying to move through life the best way she can. While she’s aware or the existence of the supernatural, her strategy is to chug along and having a normal life in spite of all this. So who cares if the Angel of Destruction is chilling in her living room? That’s her boyfriend and he’s gonna help her with dinner, don’t be rude.

Her and Isaac are adopted siblings - you can find out about Isaac here - and they both have an artistic drive BUT while Isaac’s passion lies in figurative arts, Maggy is more of a writing type. Personality wise, I envisioned her as a really sweet, passionate girl, but also with an extremely short fuse. Quick to anger! But also very quick to calm down if people don’t respond to her anger - Judas is a master of this trick, while Isaac can get as emotional as her and their fight usually devolve into screaming matches.

This doesn’t mean she’s constantly looking for a fight, in fact she knows how to keep her cool if the situation calls for it. Her emotions only get the best of her if she’s with people she trusts and if the situation is dire enough (like discovering your beloved boyfriend killed the son of God…). She’s also a huge nerd! And a bit feral. Could either ramble for hours about her interests or eat a bell pepper like it's an apple. That's why her boys love her so much. Her and Judas met when they were in middle school and have been inseparable ever since. They bonded over their mutual interest in history and literature, so much so that they ended up pursuing a higher education in their respective fields. But while Judas had no problems getting a masters, Maggy spent years struggling to complete a base three-year degree* and ended up dropping out entirely. In the years she wasn’t studying, she focused on writing and publishing her first book, but that didn’t go so well either. She eventually ended up applying for a job at a kindergarten not too far from her home - where she met Lilith - all the while still trying her hand at writing. She’s currently working on a second book, with the help of Isaac (illustrations) and Judas (research).

*I am using my own experience with Italian university, I don’t know how American colleges work lol sorry. Anyway in Italy university is divided as such

Laurea triennale (three-year degree) - 3 years. This is the basic degree.

Laurea magistrale (masters degree) - 2 years. You can only access this after completing the three-year basic degree.

Dottorato (doctorate) - 3 years. Can only be accessed after completing the 2 year masters degree.

If you wanted to get a doctorate you’d need to go through 8 years of school. Judas has completed 5 years of studying (therefore has a masters degree) and is now taking a sabbatical before working on his doctorate. Magdalene dropped out after a couple of years and never completed the basic three-year degree. Hope this is clear enough!

Anyway, dropping out of school didn’t make Magdalene any less educated. She loves learning! And both her and Judas have amassed a huge library filled with every single book that captured their attention. She’s also very curious and has a knack for teaching herself new things, like calligraphy, cooking, and even lerning new languages. Everything that catches her attention - from mushroom growing, to crystals, to ancient religions - is free game!

Despite all this, dropping out of school and seeing her first book flop did put a damper on her overall mood. While her loved ones reassure her that her worth isn’t defined by her successes or lack of thereof, deep down she feels like a failure. Sure, she has a job, but idling away the rest of her life at a 9 to 5 isn’t really a thing she sees herself doing. At the same time, she’s afraid of putting too much hope into this new book, because another failure might push her to give up writing altogether and make her truly miserable.

As for her religious belief, she’s a born again Christian. She had a slight crisis of faith after highschool - nothing too serious, she just didn’t see the point in going to mass every week and was frustrated that this thing that was supposed to bring her joy felt more like a chore than anything. With her being a rebellious teenager at the time, she did a complete 180 and converted to satanism for a while. Her parents didn’t really support her decision, but they didn’t stop her either, as teenagers are teenagers and they just wanted their girl to be happy (and not hurt anyone or herself in the process).

During this phase of her life she dabbled a little in witchcraft, and her knowledge of tarots and crystals comes from here. She didn’t do much more than that though, as she was still a bit skeptical of the whole magic ordeal.

Eventually she met Azazel, who was nothing short of horrified to see her proudly announcing she was a satanist, since he had direct experience with the guy and could attest he was an asshole. Seeing a real demon from hell scared her half to death but since he was very sweet and knowledgeable, he managed to help her find her faith again and answer all the questions she might have had in the meantime. This does not mean that Magdalene is now the stereotypical Good Christian Girl Trademark. While her faith in God is stronger than ever, she still takes all the rules imposed by the human Church with a grain of salt. She’s not a zealot, but still goes to mass and tries to love her neighbour the best way she can (even when it’s difficult!).

More stuff (rapid fire)

She likes to joke she’s the world’s worst Catholic as she still reads tarots from time to time and stili has her pendulum and crystal collection

While she still has an interest in divination and magic, it’s from a purely cultural perspective now.

Her new book is about… the adventures of Perseus. I am getting meta with my story lol

I had the idea she was able to mend clothes and sew, but I don’t think it fits her too much anymore, so now whenever she needs something done she gives it to Isaac.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 11: Private Party

WC: 6366 | R: Explicit | CH: 11/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

*EDDIE*

“Huh,” Eddie huffed, flopping down onto Chrissy’s neatly made bed. It jostled the carefully arranged mountain of pillows that were stacked up against the headboard, sending several of them tumbling to the floor. Why did girls always have so many goddamn pillows?

“So that’s why you never let me come in here before. You do live in a two bedroom!”

Chrissy bent to retrieve her fallen children and put them back in their proper place, except for the last, a bright pink fuzzy number with a cross-stitched peace sign on its front that she wacked him in the back of the head with. “I thought we’d moved past this. Haven't I apologized enough for the whole setup thing?”

He stuck out his bottom lip, arms crossed over his chest. “Will the lies never cease, Christine? I feel robbed! You and Robin were never sharing a bed?!”

“We are now and that’s what matters, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved a hand through the air. “But where’s the pining for the person lying right next to you night after night?! Where’s the lovesick staring at the other person’s face while they sleep and wishing you could just tell them how you feel?! Where’s the drama?!”

“I think we've had more than enough of that around here—for life. Maybe now it’s time for us all to just be happy.”

“Happy…” Eddie repeated with a sigh. 

He hadn’t meant for it to come off so melancholy. He was happy—really and truly.

It’d been a month of pure bliss since he and Steve returned from Hawkins together hand-in-hand. Since all four of them had come back together with apologies, and made up. 

The weeks had been full of passionate nights, and sometimes mornings when he and Steve were both too tired to do much more than cuddle once he came home from the bar—punctuated by lazy afternoons by the motel pool, and double dinner dates with the girls whenever Eddie’s work schedule would allow for it.

But just there, in the background, in the dark corner of Eddie’s mind was this great big looming thing.

“Uh oh. Is the honeymoon phase over already? Did Steve finally realize all your flaws are actually annoying, and not cute quirks?”

“No! Of course not. And I resent the implication that my many eccentricities are anything less than adorable.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Something’s bothering you. What’s wrong?”

Eddie hesitated. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a secret or anything, but it didn’t escape his notice that Steve hadn’t brought up the subject of his impending new job placement even once since their little talk.

“Nothing is wrong, exactly. It’s just… did you know Steve is staying here—or like, moving here—permanently, when the summer is over?”

“Robin mentioned he was thinking about taking a job at the elementary school, but I didn't know he’d decided.”

“Well, he has, and he wants me to think about staying too.”

Chrissy, who had turned away to rifle through the cosmetics bag sitting open on her dresser, froze, the tip of her mascara wand hovering just above her lashes. 

“And are you?” She asked after a beat, resuming her makeup routine. “Uh… thinking about it, I mean?” 

“Am I—” Eddie grunted, slapping his hand down on the bed. “It's literally the only thing I've been able to think about for weeks!”

“Weeks!” She screeched. “Wait, when did this happen?”

“The day we drove back.”

She gaped at him through the small mirror of her blush compact. “And you’re just telling me this now?!”

He shrugged. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Eddie,” She sighed, snapping the compact shut and spinning on her heel to face him. 

“So, what are your thoughts?”

While he knew she asked out of curiosity and concern for him and Steve and the implications for their future together, she was asking for herself too. 

She’d often made comments over the years, during their all too brief phone calls and in letters, about them living near each other again one day, either in the same town like they did as kids growing up in Hawkins, or better yet, in side-by-side homes or at the end of the same cul-de-sac. 

But those kinds of picket fence dreams were never Eddie’s style, or so he’d always told himself.

“I think…” Eddie stared down at his own hands now resting in his lap, nervously spinning his chunky rings around and around. 

“Me and Steve, I think we’ve done this whole thing out of order. We’ve been living together essentially, since before we were a couple—before we were even friends really. Then we both said I love you within the first few weeks, and now considering permanent for-real moving? Moving towns, moving in together—on purpose this time? That’s huge! I mean, all that’s left after that is to get married, and grow old together, and die, and—” 

Suddenly Eddie felt like he couldn’t get a full breath, what little air he did manage to take into his lungs doing nothing to ease the burning in his chest. His heart raced wildly, and he swallowed hard, tilting wide terrified eyes up to look at Chrissy. 

“Oh god, do you think he wants to get married someday? I don’t know if I’m built for—“

“Ooookay, babe. Let’s just calm down for a second here.” Chrissy sank down onto the bed beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into her side—resting her cheek on the top of his head. 

“For one—honey, gay marriage isn’t even legal.”

Oh right. 

Her words should have filled him with relief, and they did, but to his surprise, just as equal was the feeling of disappointment brought on by the reminder. 

“And for two—” Chrissy went on. “It doesn’t have to be all that. You can always have your own rooms, if say, you decide you want to stay here but you need to slow things down with Steve, or just want some space.”

“No—” He was shaking his head before she’d even finished. “No, I don't want to go backwards. I–I love having him right there. I love his face being the last thing I see before I go to sleep, and the first I see in the morning even though that means waking up at an ungodly hour. It’s totally worth it for his goodbye kiss. I love his sweetness, his gentleness, and the sound of his voice. The soft little smile he gives me when he’s half asleep and I crawl into bed at the end of the night, like I'm his favorite thing in the whole fucking world.”

Eddie took a big breath, he could wax poetic on everything he loved about Steve for hours if she’d let him, but what it really boiled down to was one simple fact. 

“I just love him, Chris.”

Chrissy sniffled, leaning away from him to wipe carefully at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Sorry. I just never thought I'd hear you talk about someone that way.”

Eddie sat up too, shaking his head at himself. “Yeah, me either.”

“So, what's holding you back?”

“Honestly? I wanted to say yes right then and there, the second he told me. The second I recovered from the shock, anyway. But he looked so nervous about it, and scared, and we’d just put things back together again, and—and so I’ve been doing what he asked.”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. 

“I really don’t want to mess this up, and I know I don’t have a lot of experience with this stuff, but I can't help feeling like it’s too soon, like we’re going too fast. What if it fizzles out, and a year from now we can’t stand the sight of each other?” 

She snorted. “Highly unlikely.”

“How do you figure?”

“I think at this point you can admit that you’ve had a crush on Steve since high school, maybe even middle school. That’s a long time to carry a torch for someone. If it’s lasted this long, I’d say those feelings are here to stay.” 

Eddie pushed himself to his feet, resisting the urge to stomp like a petulant child. “Jesus H. Christ. First Uncle Wayne, and now you?! I’m never gonna live that down.”

“Who’s had a crush on who since high school?” Robin's voice filtered in from the other room, just before she appeared in Chrissy's doorway.

“You didn’t tell me she was here.” Eddie scowled at Chrissy before swinging his gaze back around to settle on Robin. 

They may have made nice since he fixed things with Steve, and Eddie did love the shit out of her, but he and Robin’s relationship was akin to that of a slightly antagonistic brother and sister, and he lived for the bit. “Don’t you have a job you should be doing, Buckley?”

Robin cocked her hip, leaning it against the door frame as she crossed her arms, giving him very pointed eye contact. “Don’t you, Munson?” 

Frowning, Eddie glanced at his watch. He had a decent amount of time left before he had to be at the bar to start setting up for Chrissy’s surprise party later, but he still needed to go back upstairs to change, and to get a different little surprise ready for the other love of his life.

“So, you’ve had it bad for Steve since high school too?” Robin said when he didn't hit her with a comeback. “Jeez you two really are perfect for each other.”

Eddie began to roll his eyes but stopped mid-motion as he processed all of what she’d just said. “Wait… too?”

“Oh,” Robin’s eyebrows flew up. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Eddie took a slow step towards her with narrowed eyes.

“Right!” Robin straightened abruptly, hooking a thumb over her shoulder as she started slowly backing away. “So, I’d better get back to the desk. I was just stopping in to say hi and, uh, grab my lunch… I left it on the counter.”

“Robin,” Eddie growled after her, “get back here and explain yourself!” 

“I'll see you tonight!” She shouted back, followed immediately by the slamming of a door.

Coward.

Eddie sighed, looking back to see Chrissy with both hands covering her mouth, practically in tears with silent laughter. 

“I guess I'd better go too, don’t want to be late for work.” Eddie grumbled.

“Sure, Eds,” Chrissy said, eyes still sparkling. “I’ll see you later.”

As far as she knew it was going to be a night like any other. Steve was off the next day, so once the motel office closed for the night, he, Robin, and Chrissy would come to Tide’s to hang out where Eddie could join in from behind the bar whenever he wasn’t busy with customers. 

It being a week out from her actual birthday, she didn't suspect a thing.

Eddie had talked to his boss, and Dan agreed to close the bar to the public from ten p.m. on for a private event so they could celebrate his best friend with the fanfare she deserved. The older man also offered to handle the guest list, aware that Eddie and his friends didn’t know many of the locals yet, and promised to keep it to those he knew to be allies or members of the queer community themselves, so everyone could feel comfortable being themselves for the night without fear of judgment.

As the clock ticked down to party time, Eddie couldn’t stop watching the door, his eyes searching for Chrissy’s blonde ponytail, or Steve’s familiar swoop of chestnut hair, any sign that his three best friends had arrived. They’d put up the private party sign an hour ago, and slowly began to clear the bar of any straggling tourists while the weekend bouncer, Manny, sat out front on a stool, ensuring no one uninvited got inside.

At ten o’clock on the dot they finally arrived, and for a moment all Eddie could do was stare.

Weather due to the heat, which had hit another level as July turned to August, or as a personal assault on Eddie’s sanity, Steve had forgone his usual polo shirts and button ups in favor of an old Madonna tour t-shirt that he’d cut into a crop top, showing off even more tanned skin to its best advantage against the crisp white of the fabric. 

It was an effort, but Eddie forced himself to look away and jump into action, ducking under the bar to rush over and greet his people.

He pressed a quick kiss hello to Steve’s cheek but didn’t let himself linger, going right for his best girl straight after, scooping her up into a tight hug and spinning her around. 

Chrissy threw her head back, squealing with delight as her feet lifted off the ground. 

“Happy Birthday, Chris,” Eddie said as he finally set her down, pressing lips to the top of her head. 

Her eyes darted all around the bar, taking in the small crowd, the rotating lights, the decorations, balloons, and finally the big hand painted banner strung up above the bar. 

“This is all for me?” She asked.

Eddie grinned, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he turned to address their fellow revelers.

“Excuse me everyone!” He shouted, waiting for the music to be turned down before continuing. “I want to thank you all for being here, and Dan especially for helping put this all together. I’d like to introduce you all to the birthday girl!” 

Hearty applause broke out across the room, as well as shouts of, “Happy Birthday!” And even a few good natured wolf whistles when Chrissy leaned away from Eddie to steal a kiss from her girlfriend.

“Were you in on this too?” Chrissy shouted to Robin over the cacophony.

Robin nodded, “I take no credit though. I might have known about it, but Eddie did all the work.”

Before Eddie could correct the record and explain again that he really owed it all to Dan, the man himself was striding up to them.

“Evening, girls, Steve.” Dan greeted them warmly. 

Steve, and the girls to a lesser extent, had been spending more and more time at the bar lately, and had all quickly become friendly with Eddie’s boss.

“And a very happy birthday to you,” the older man continued, inclining his head at Chrissy. “If you’d like, I thought I could take you and Robin around and introduce you to some of your guests?” 

The girls agreed, promising to meet back up with Steve and Eddie a little later, before rushing off to mingle.

With a palm pressed to his lower back, Eddie led Steve over to the bar. Not that he actually needed the guiding hand, but Eddie was gonna go nuts if he didn’t get to touch Steve soon, and it was one of the few ways he could do that while still maintaining some semblance of decorum.

Steve slid into his usual barstool down the end by the corner, furthest from the speakers so they could actually carry on a conversation, pouting when Eddie let him go to sneak back behind the bar.

“I thought you’d be on this side of the bar tonight.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, with you dressed like that?” Eddie drummed his fingers along the bartop. “Keeping this wood between us is the only way I'll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“Who said you had to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Steven,” Eddie warned.

“I thought this was a safe space tonight.”

“Yes love, but I don’t think Dan would appreciate it if I dropped to my knees for you in the middle of the dance floor.”

Steve sagged in his seat, letting out an over dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine.”

Eddie chuckled. Sometimes he wasn’t sure who was rubbing off on who more.

They chatted a little about Steve’s day on the beach while Eddie put together their drinks. The usual for Steve, Jack and Coke with lime, no ice, and a tequila on the rocks for himself. Apparently, the jellyfish were out in full force and it sounded like Steve had spent half his day treating burns with vinegar.

“So, Robin said something interesting earlier today,” Eddie said after a while, when Steve was finished with his stories, and he was pouring out their second round of drinks for the night.

“Oh yeah?” 

Eddie opened his mouth to elaborate but quickly snapped it shut as his boss appeared at Steve’s side—alone.

“Abandoning our girls already, Dan?” Steve asked.

The older man huffed a laugh. “I was just getting in the way anyhow. Introduced them to Tracey and her partner Pat, and the four of them seem to be hitting it off. Figured I’d leave them to make friends. Tracey’s the manager over at Ocean First bank y’know.”

Eddie smiled widely as he met Steve’s eyes, and he knew they had to be thinking the same thing. Not to get ahead of themselves, but if Chrissy and Robin got in good with someone from the bank, it could make all the difference in the motel’s future. 

“That’s, uh, a good friend to have,” Steve commented.

“You aint kiddin’!” Dan clapped Steve on the shoulder, his eyes scanning the room. 

Suddenly he perked up, saying to himself “Oh, there he is,” and began to wave someone over.

Eddie followed his line of sight to the door and nearly choked on his own spit.

Motherfucker.

He felt all the blood drain from his face as another man approached, a younger man who looked to be about their age—a very attractive man who looked eerily similar to the one Eddie had seen from his hiding spot, kissing Steve goodbye on the fateful night that had changed the course of his life forever. 

Eddie reached over, curling a possessive hand over Steve's where it rested on the bar. He held his breath, waiting for Steve’s reaction, but he was oblivious, looking down and taking a sip of his drink.

“Boys, this is my son, Danny.”

Steve's head snapped up at the name, looking horrified as his eyes landed directly on the newcomer.

“This is Eddie,” Dan continued his introductions, completely unaware of the sudden tension in the air. “My best bartender—though if you let slip to Brenda I said that I’ll deny everything. And this is—

Danny smiled, flashing a set of perfectly straight white teeth. “Lifeguard Steve.” 

Eddie hated him.

“Oh! I see you two already know each other.” Dan chuckled, giving a little shake of his head. “Well, that’s a small town for ya! Anyway, I gotta go check on a few things so I'll leave you three to chat.” 

Eddie watched the man walk away, wondering if it would be weird to ask him to stay, and when he turned back found that Steve wasn’t looking at Danny anymore, his wide worried eyes were now trained squarely on Eddie's face, hand tensing under his hold.

And whatever feelings of jealousy Eddie might have felt were gone in an instant, replaced with the need to prove to Steve, as well as himself, that he could handle this without doing any number of stupid things to ruin what they had.

He squeezed Steve's hand once firmly before letting go, leaning out to offer it to Danny, who took it with a raised eyebrow. 

“Good to meet you, your dad tells me nothing but good things,” Eddie said, keeping his voice calm and even as they shook.

Danny tilted his head. “Ditto.” 

Eddie cleared his throat, resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his pants when they separated. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Sure. Just a coke though, I’m driving tonight.” 

As he poured the soda Eddie could feel the man’s heavy gaze lingering on his face, scrutinizing him. He set the full cup down but Danny didn’t take it, instead resting his chin in his hand as he looked thoughtfully between the two of them.

Eddie topped off his tequila, and braced himself.

“So, Steve,” Danny said, addressing Steve directly for the first time. “Is this the guy?”

Steve's face, which had already been flushed and radiating discomfort, burned a bright cherry red at the question, but he didn’t shy away. He shot off a soft shy smile at Eddie as he answered. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped the glass he was holding. “You told him about me?!”

“Good,” Danny said, ignoring Eddie’s outburst, holding back a laugh as he finally took a sip of his coke. “I’m really happy for you, Steve.” 

It sounded sincere enough that Eddie might have relaxed, but then the man’s gaze was swinging his way. 

“And you—I hope you know how lucky you are.”

Eddie swallowed hard, nodding absently, too stunned and confused to form any kind of verbal response.

“Well,” Danny stood abruptly, leaving his barely touched soda to sweat on the lacquered wood top. “It was nice to finally meet you, Eddie, but I think I'll get out of your hair. I should probably go see if my dad needs help with anything anyway. And it was good to see you again, Steve. I’m glad things worked out.” 

There was a beat of tense silence between them as Danny left, but as soon as he was out of earshot, Steve was falling all over himself to apologize.

“Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had no idea he was–” 

Eddie couldn’t help cutting him off, saying again, “You told him about me? On your date?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you! I… Eddie, you have to know. You have to know the only reason I even agreed to the date with him was to get over you, and he could tell I was distracted.”

“Oh.”

“I know we never really talked about that night, um–”

Eddie reached out, once again covering Steve’s hand with his own. “Listen, baby, I'm not upset at you, okay? I’m not gonna freak out, or run away again, or any of that, I promise you. But I don’t think I need to hear the details.”

“No, Eddie. It’s not—” Steve shook his head. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. Nothing happened. Well, um, very little happened.” 

“It’s fine, Steve. I was being an idiot then, and we weren’t—us. Whatever you did before we were together is none of my business.”

“But I couldn’t do it!” Steve blurted out.

“What?”

“We were—” Steve dropped his voice down so low that Eddie had to lean in close. “We were about to, and—”

“No, stop. I don't need to hear–” Eddie pulled back suddenly, waving his hands, only to immediately lean right back in, his chin practically resting on the bar, eyes level with Steve’s. “Okay, no. I mean, yes—no. Fine! Just tell me. It can’t be worse than whatever I'm imagining.”

“Oh my god, '' Steve groaned, burying his head in his hands for a second before looking up again, peeking at Eddie between the gaps of his fingers. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but he was two fingers deep in my ass and all I could think about was how much I wanted it to be you. So I told him I needed to stop.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed. So many emotions coloring the single word.

It was so—sweet. And yes, admittedly, relieving in a way, though he’d had no claim to Steve at the time. 

Okay, so Eddie was a fucking caveman, a jealous animal—so sue him! 

But somehow, above all the rest, it was so incredibly fucking hot to learn that his baby, his needy boy had wanted him—and only him—so badly that he’d stopped practically mid-fuck with someone else.

Eddie’s breath picked up, and he knew his eyes had gone dark and heavy lidded, his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed, drawn out and breathy, his tongue darting out to lick across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining in the party lights. “Eddie, you can’t look at me like that, not when there’s hours till we’ll be home where we can do something about it.” 

Eddie’s eyes remained fixed on Steve as he shouted from the corner of his mouth to his coworker. “Hey Dawn, I’m gonna step out for a smoke, you good?”

He wasn’t even technically on the clock right now, they could manage without him for a while. 

“Yep!” The girl replied without even turning around.

Eddie untied his apron, only breaking eye contact to duck under the bar. He took Steve’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulled him along towards the kitchen.  

“Where are we going?” Steve whisper-shouted from behind, barely audible over the music.

Eddie stopped just short of the swinging double doors, pulling Steve in by a belt loop to speak in his ear. “Somewhere we can do something about it.”

This late into the evening the kitchen was closed and empty of staff. The big overhead fluorescents had been shut off and every surface scrubbed to within an inch of its life, clean and gleaming in the soft glow of the emergency lights and the red exit sign on the back door.

Eddie continued to lead the way, past the prep tables and behind the line, all the way to the very back and through a heavy insulated door. 

He tried to feel bad about how unhygienic it was to do what he hoped they were about to do in here, but in his defense the food was all wrapped up or in air-tight secure containers. Also bleach existed, and Eddie was more than happy to clean up after himself.

Besides, It wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen in a restaurant walk-in.

It was a frenzy from the moment the door banged shut behind them. Eddie twisted his hand into the front of Steve’s shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. Their mouths connected, all tongues and teeth and hot steamy breath mingling in the frigid air. Steve’s fingers pushed into Eddie's curls, scratching at his scalp, tugging at the root, while Eddie's hands found their way to that slutty little bare strip of tummy that his boyfriend had insisted on teasing him with tonight, gripping hard on either side of Steve’s waist as he moved them further in towards the rear of the walk-in.

Steve hissed as his back hit the chilled metal of the wall, his skin breaking out in goosebumps under palms hands.

“Sorry, baby,” Eddie cooed in sympathy, grinding his own hardness against Steve’s as he nipped at his lower lip. “It was this or the bathroom, and I didn’t particularly want an audience.”

Steve pushed off the wall, grinning as he grabbed Eddie hard by the shoulders to spin them around, switching their positions and pressing him into the wall instead. 

Eddie went willingly, delighted as Steve unknowingly played right into the dynamic he was hoping for tonight, and waited for Steve’s lips to find his again, even reached out to pull the other man in again, but Steve slipped from his grip to drop straight to the floor, a desperate and hungry look in his eyes.

With well practiced fingers Steve quickly undid Eddie's jeans, yanking them down to his thighs so roughly he might have stumbled without the wall to lean against. He had a second to feel the cold air hit his most sensitive bits of bare skin before Steve swallowed him down, taking him right to the back of his throat. 

Eddie could do nothing but moan, letting his head fall back against the wall for a breath, waiting for his brain to catch up with the rest of him, so lost in the sensation of Steve's mouth, scorching where it engulfed him, that he almost forgot his surprise. 

Winding one hand through Steve's hair in encouragement, Eddie used the other to take Steve’s hand from where it rested on his thigh to guide it around to his ass. Steve only hesitated for a moment before kneading at the soft plump flesh, still bobbing his head up and down the length of Eddie’s cock, but faltered and froze as his fingers bumped up against the base of the silicone plug that had been nestled in Eddie’s hole for the last several hours.

Steve pulled off with a soft gasp, letting the tip of Eddie's cock rest on his tongue as he looked up, watching Eddie’s face with something like awe as he pushed on the plug. 

From the tips of his toes to the top of his head Eddie felt his entire body flush with a new heat, it prickled along his neck and chest, and he had to fight to keep his eyes on Steve and not let them fall shut at the sudden intensity of his need.

“Where did you get this?” Steve asked, sounding wrecked in a way that Eddie suspected had less to do with the brief blowjob, and more to do with his little stunt.

Eddie whined as Steve tugged on the toy, pulling it out about an inch before pushing it back in again, punching the air from his lungs. 

“Would you believe there’s a little mom and pop sex shop not far from here?” Eddie forced out between panted breaths.

Steve hummed, grazing his lips over the skin of Eddie’s inner thigh as he released the plug, leaving it in place for now. “I guess this town really does have it all.”

Eddie chuckled softly and reached down to pull Steve to his feet, cupping his cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“Fuck me?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

Steve made a pained noise, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck, peppering kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, fuck—want it.” Eddie tilted his head back to give Steve better access to his throat. “Been thinking about you bending me over—dreaming about it.”

The words were barely out of Eddie’s mouth before Steve was growling, gripping him up again and moving him—manhandling him in a way he never had before as he gave Eddie exactly what he wanted—bending him over a low, blessedly empty shelving unit.

Steve pushed at Eddie’s shirt, dragging it roughly up and over his head before tossing it to the floor somewhere behind them. He leaned over Eddie’s back, pressing kiss after kiss down the entire length of his spine, pausing at the base of it, resting those big hands on Eddie’s ass again, spreading him wide and taking hold of the plug to gently pull it out, placing it on another nearby shelf.

Eddie swallowed back a whimper, his body clenching around nothing, suddenly empty after so many hours of being filled, but he knew what was coming would be even better, and the sound of Steve’s zipper coming undone only made him clench harder. 

Eddie flushed again, another rush of warmth as beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow in anticipation. There was a brush of rough denim against the back of his thigh, and then velvet heat as Steve pressed in close, rubbing his hard length between Eddie’s cheeks, teasing over his hole.

“Condom?” Steve asked, sounding like it was a struggle just to get the word out.

They hadn’t been using them at all since both their test results had come back clear. And Eddie could appreciate Steve wanting to make the cleanup easier on him since they were out in public for the night, but it couldn’t have been further from what he wanted.

“No,” Eddie pressed himself back, his body shuddering as the tip of Steve's cock caught on his rim. “No, wanna feel it when you come inside me for the first time.”

“Fuck, okay.” Steve sucked air in harshly through his teeth. “Lube?” 

“In my back right pocket.” 

Eddie glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see Steve raise the packet to his mouth, tearing it with his teeth before pouring it over himself. Some of the cool wetness dripped down onto Eddie as well, and Steve spread it around with two fingers, pushing just the tip of one inside at first. When he was met with no resistance Steve plunged them both in at once, reaching and curling until he found that sweet spot inside Eddie that sent his eyes rolling back, and had him writhing and bucking his hips against the hard metal of the shelf. 

“Please, Steve, I’m ready,” Eddie begged. 

Mercifully, Steve didn’t make him ask twice, easing his fingers free before lining himself up, and inch by gentle inch began to push his way inside.

It felt like an eternity before Steve finally bottomed out, and Eddie wanted to cry with how good it felt to be full, really full, for the first time in he didn’t even know how long. It wasn’t something he let himself have very often. He really did prefer to top as a rule, but sometimes—sometimes he just needed it, wanted it, and tonight he also wanted to give Steve the last part of himself that he’d been holding back. 

With shallow careful thrusts Steve began to move, draping himself over Eddie’s back, pressing lips to whatever swaths of skin he could reach. 

Tears streamed from the corners of Eddie’s eyes, overcome with the feeling of being had in this new way by someone he loved, who loved him back. It felt incredible but he soon needed more. Eddie tried to rock back on instinct, but found Steve hands already on his hips, stilling him before he could move an inch.

“Steve,” Eddie whined.

Steve shushed him, rubbing small soothing circles into Eddie’s lower back with his thumbs. “You always make me feel so good, just let me return the favor.”

“I thought you were cold?” Eddie grunted, trying again to fuck himself back on Steve’s length, but the other man’s grip was like a vice.

“Not anymore,” Steve said, and Eddie could practically hear the smirk in his voice, though he did sink a little deeper, still keeping his pace frustratingly slow and even, like he was trying to drive Eddie insane. “Seeing you fall apart like this? We could be standing in the middle of a snowstorm right now and I'd still be sweating.”

And oh he’d definitely be paying Steve back for this later.  

“Baby, please,” Eddie whined again, a high-pitched, desperate sound he could hardly believe had come from his own mouth.

“How soundproof do you think this thing is?” Steve asked.

“How should I fucking know?!” Eddie growled in frustration. “Why?!”

Without warning Steve snapped his hips, slamming into him so hard that for a second Eddie couldn’t even make a sound. He threw his head back, mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure—followed by an actual scream. Steve surged forward, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth, pulling his head back to hiss into his ear, hot breath ghosting over Eddie’s skin as he rammed into him again and again, hard enough to shake the shelving unit that was bolted to the floor. 

“No reason.” 

There was nothing slow or gentle about Steve after that.

For a while Eddie lost himself to the pounding rhythm and the loud slapping of flesh as Steve fucked into him impossibly harder and faster. 

He’d never last at this rate, it was just too fucking good, and he wasn’t alone. Before long Steve was reaching for him, stroking Eddie’s cock as his own breaths became ragged and he began to lose his rhythm.

With one last powerful thrust Steve came, cock pulsing violently as he buried himself deep inside, and Eddie’s last coherent thought as he followed him over that edge, losing control as he felt himself being filled up with Steve’s release, was that they really ought to switch things up more often.

Steve laid across Eddie’s back for a long minute as they both came down and caught their breath, neither really wanting to move at all, but inevitably Steve grew soft and slipped out, leaving a trickle of cum slowly leaking from Eddie’s hole in his wake.

“Eds, honey, do you have your bandana or anything on you?” Steve asked softly.

Eddie looked back, biting his lip, suddenly shy about what he wanted as the afterglow began to fade. “No, uh, but I was hoping you would plug me back up instead?”

“Jesus, Eddie. Yeah—yeah, okay,” Steve stuttered, his dick giving a valiant twitch against Eddie’s leg. 

Eddie was loose enough, and slick enough with the combined mess of cooling fluids that the plug sank home easily, and he was grateful he’d worn black jeans tonight to help mask any residual mess. 

When their pants were back in place and he’d retrieved Eddie’s shirt from the floor, Steve took him in his arms and lowered them both to the floor, cradling Eddie in his lap as he kissed his forehead.

Eddie knew the rest of the summer would go by in a flash. 

Before long the season would be over, tourism would slow as vacationers traveled home for the year, and the beaches would start to empty. 

The new school year would begin.

Though they hadn’t talked about it, Eddie had seen the note on their dresser. He knew Steve’s final interview was in two short days, and he’d be expecting an answer soon. 

And for once, the idea of it didn’t fill Eddie with panic.

He'd done his thinking. 

He’d weighed the risks and pondered the worries, done the calculations in his head and realized there had only ever been one answer to this equation. 

For now he let himself bask in the moment, so safe and comfortable in the circle of Steve’s arms, the brush of soft lips pressed to his brow.

He knew what he wanted—had known it all along.

Now he just had to find the perfect way to tell Steve.

Chapter 12

All my thanks and love to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend, and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated and if you want to be tagged, just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

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@gregre369

[friendlyengie]

I would love to hear ur hcs about the mercs sleeping habits (including ur OCs ofc)

ive always wanted To draw something for this but ive never had the like. Idea to do it in a way that would land the punchline. But basically on their days off I think Engineer is up until sunrise and Demo sleeps until sunrise and they sometimes catch each other in the middle but otherwise they wont see each other until theyre forced to start waking up at the same time again for work.

Anyways . Specifics. Hm.

Medic- trying to write this out for him I’m torn between “despite the way he is, Medic’s sleep schedule is shockingly consistent” and “he surgically removed the need for sleep out of his brain when joining Mann Co. and now sleep is like a recreational activity for him.” I genuinely think it could go either way.

Sniper- sleeps a solid 8 hours and still manages to pass out standing up during mission briefings. I don’t think his sleep is particularly pleasant, easily startled due to spy anxiety. But during his inappropriately timed naps? He could sleep through the base exploding probably.

Scout- Shockingly well put together morning person if he gets to sleep on time. Usually the second person up after Soldier to go on a morning run and shit. But if his sleep schedule is thrown an hour off track it all goes out the window. Drag his out of bed and he goes right to the couch and back to bed.

Heavy- With the way he lived growing up I could see him really having trouble with sleeping. Not easily startled, but very restless. Type of guy to occasionally have a “Something is Very Wrong” instinct kick in at 3 am and is perfectly aware that trying to get back to bed afterwards is a lost cause, so he’s learned to commit and has a handful of things that he does to pass the time instead.

Engineer- great at giving well thought out advice on why sleep is important, follows it unless he doesn’t. Celebrates his ability to keep himself on a good sleep schedule for a few weeks by letting himself go multiple days with no sleep if he feels like it’ll be “useful” for whatever he’s working on. Started to cap himself off at a 72 hour maximum after a 5-day streak resulted in the genius decision making that went into getting drunk and lobbing off his hand (And then remembering he probably should’ve had Medic around, or a proper gunslinger prototype built before doing so.)

Pyro- probably sleeps but always seems strangely and immediately attentive if you go to wake them up.

Demoman- respects his sleep schedule and expects you to as well. Fuck your all nighters, he knows how comfortable his bed is and he’s taking it. Hours vary depending on how much he’s been drinking, which will also determine how well he participates in the “guy who can just kind of fall asleep anywhere” club.

Spy- I feel like the only thing worse than sleep paranoia about spies is being a Spy trying to have a proper sleep schedule. Less as a result of his current job and more as a result of the many jobs hes taken in the past, I’d think Spy’s developed serious paranoia to letting his guard down in most regards, sleep included. Smoking supposedly “helped” the issue way in the beginning, most definitely just exasperates the issue now. Usually walks around the base with clear intent as to not be heard by anyone, so he’s probably got most of them convinced he sleeps pretty routinely.

Soldier- Consistently, on the dot, like clockwork. Not always the first to bed, but always the first to wake up. Wouldn’t wake up if you launched a bomb through his window but if you tried to gently nudge him to wake him up he would attack you like an enemy combatant and now you have to fight him and win.

[glitterypin]

tagged by bestie @snugsunresplendence (sorry to arrive so late to the party but work has been an absolute whore)

1) were you named after anyone?

I grew up knowing I was named after one of my father's aunts (whom I loved very much as a kid - she died when I was 12). A lot later I found out that my grandmother wasn't my mother's biological mother and that my mother's biological mother also shared the same name, so there was some intent there, as well.

2) when was the last time you cried?

I teared up a bit after therapy today but the last proper cry with full sobs and snot was Saturday after work byecause work lately has been an absolute WHORE.

3) do you have kids?

No and I don't want them.

4) what sports do you/have you played?

I played volleyball when I was a kid. I'm not at all sporty and I'm also super fat and out of shape that even though I wish I could run or hike, my body just can't.

5) do you use sarcasm?

Quite a lot, since I was very young. Not in a cruel way anymore, though. Like, I'll be sarcastic like "such lovely weather we're having!" when the weather is very obviously shitty.

6) what's the first thing you notice about people?

I don't even know. The look on their faces, probably.

7) what's your eye color

Dark brown.

8) scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I don't believe in recreational fear.

9) any talents?

I'm very smart, good with words and I have a good instinct for narrative structure. Sadly, I am wasting all of this in discussing other people's writings instead of writing my own things, because I counterbalance my talents with an unhealthy level of laziness.

10) where were you born?

A hospital in Athens, Greece.

11) what are your hobbies?

I like watching films, reading, writing (small things, nothing that requires any level of effort or commitment), baking and also doing absolutely nothing, sometimes accompanied by music.

12) do you have any pets?

No. I'd like a cat but I don't feel ready for the responsibility of taking care of a living thing, yet. I got a pot of basil a few months ago and right now it's a pot of soil with two brown sticks sticking out that I still water every few days, pretending that it's just a phase and that I haven't actually killed the very dead thing.

13) how tall are you?

166cm, I think

14) favorite subject in school?

Chemistry, probably. I'm sure it wasn't the same every year but I was a lot into chemistry for a long time, I remember as much.

15) dream job

Well, screenwriter, I guess. Except I'd also need my dream personality to go with this dream job because the way I am now I just can't.

tagging! @gothic-goon @yourfluffiestnightmare @ivankaramazov07 @santacoppelia @lavend3r-mo0n

[gayautisticraccoon]

15 questions, 15 people

I was tagged by @fr-wiwiw! Haven't done this before so thank you for that!

1. Are you named after anyone?

Nope!

2. When was the last time you cried?

Literally last night lol

I'm fine trust xD

3. Do you have kids?

No. Never even been in a relationship but also never want kids for various reasons

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Ye, probably a little too much. And due to the way I talk thanks to my tism people often don't realize I'm being sarcastic LOL makes for some very awkward moments sometimes but I'm trying to get better at that lol

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Not sure tbh! Probably the outfit and choices they made about their appearance like Tattoos and Piercings. I just love seeing peoples different styles

6. What's your eye colour?

Blue C:

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

I enjoy both but my silly little brain needs it's happy endings tbh, I'm already depressed enough as is LOL

8. Any special talents?

Not that I can think of tbh. I am a very average person LOL

9. Where were you born?

A small town in the North West of Germany ^^

10. What are your hobbies?

Gaming, watching movies/shows, reading fanfic, indulging in fan content in general, listening to music

11. Do you have pets?

Nope! I used to have a bunny and 7 mice though but haven't had any pets since then. I hope one day I can get a pet raccoon, I love them sm

12. What sports do you/have you played?

I don't exercise like at all (I know, I'm fat n lazy but I just cannot find any activity I enjoy, fight me). I used to do gymnastics back in elementary school and was in a tennis club during 6th grade but as I said, nothing ever really stuck with me. P.E. was my worst nightmare back in school

13. How tall are you?

173cm (5'7'' in freedom units I believe?)

14. Favourite subject in high school?

English 100%

15. Dream job?

Funny thing, this topic has been bugging me for a while. I never planned on making it past the age of 16 so here I am at the ripe age of 24 working in retail with no idea what to do with my future. I studied Media Design (so like Digital Art n stuff) but I can't see myself actually working in that field tbh, I mostly did it to not do nothing after graduating. My brain just shuts off as soon as it becomes mandatory to be creative. That and I don't think I'd be good enough for a proper job in the field. So yea, I'm just kinda rolling with it for now lol

I'm not sure who to tag so I'll just leave this open and say anyone who hasn't been tagged and wants to participate can join in on the fun!

[theminecraftgay]

I literally have less than 5 USD. I’m still too sick to be able to do proper commissions, but RedBubble is doing free shipping on stickers if you want to help me out there! I only make 20% of RedBubble money, but it’s still appreciated! There’s not just stickers, and if I’ve drawn anything you want that’s not up there, let me know! I’ll add it!

I will still take smaller commissions (bust / headshots) but only with fair warning that I will not be on the same work pace as I prefer to be on.

Help your local trans disabled failboy have bus money to get to work and school. I’m waiting on getting my insurance back (I’m not even going to pretend I’ll have enough cash to refill my meds) and I might not get paid until June, so anything helps! If you want to help but don’t want stuff, my Venmo is theminecraftgay (shocker, I know)

EDIT (so info doesn’t get lost in rb nonsense)

I’m losing my job. If I wanted to keep it I’d need to be in school but my mum just got in a car accident and now our household of 8 has one small car and that’s a major priory, so I cannot afford the class anymore. I’m finding side jobs for the summer, but all of them are either a month out OR have an indeterminate pay schedule. I still don’t know when the job I have now will pay me, and this is now the last week that I’ll have it.

The day my mum and her partner got in the crash, my dad was supposed to pay child support. He didn’t. Again. So we couldn’t even buy groceries before they headed out to the funeral.

I’m like 90% over my flu so comms are now fully open. Anything helps, I know everyone is having a hard time right now, so I do understand if all you can do is share and move on. Thank you everyone for always being so supportive of me and my art.

Edited Sunday, May 12, 2024. Original May 8th, 2024.

[animasolaoriginal]

(4) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 4: The Truth

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.4k -- READ ON AO3

when a girl learns more than she can handle

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

Additional warning: there's sexual assault ⚠️ in this chapter, just a small scene, but I'll tag it nonetheless. Nothing too graphic, but the implication is there! Read at your own risk!

4

There are eleven people in this camp, Nebbia included, but there are more than a dozen horses, and she's only managed to take care of half of them before Ben beckons her into the shade near the tree line, close to where Thunder grazes, and presents her with food.

And only then does she notice that she's starving. She takes the steaming bowl with shaking fingers, not caring how dirty they are. Horses can be surprisingly dusty, and she can only imagine them running through sand storms or muddy terrain.

The mountain of a man sits on the ground, leaning against a log, his long legs stretched in front of him, one knee angled, his own bowl in one large hand while he pushes the soup's contents around with a spoon in the other. She settles next to him, bringing the stew to her nose and inhaling deeply. Vegetables, some sort of meat, a hearty broth, all so savory and delicious smelling, she feels her mouth watering just staring at it.

“So Ginny is the cook?” she asks with a side-glance. “And Milly the washer, the Stacys work in the supply tent, you are the horse guy,” she keeps listing. “Mitch runs the place and Steve... helps him? What do the three other men do?”

He watches her with an amused glint in his dark eyes. “They mostly sit around and drink,” he says with a deep chuckle. “They're more useful on... well, for other things, outside the camp.”

Nebbia stares at him, so many questions burning under her nails. But for now she focuses on the food, bringing the bowl to her lips and taking a cautious sip. Humming softly, she closes her eyes as the warm liquid runs down her throat.

“Also we do switch our chores, you know?” he adds while she enjoys her food. “I cook sometimes, or provide the meat. And I can stack boxes, too.”

She looks at him as she lowers the bowl and smirks at him. “Have you ever washed clothes over a washing board?” she teases lightly. “Or in the creek?”

“Milly never let me,” he replies with a wink. “And I do not want to mess with that woman!”

A laugh spills from her lips before she rolls her eyes. “Sure, Ben,” she says, holding his amused gaze. “You're afraid of a tiny little lady?”

“Those are the worst,” he chuckles, gently poking her with his elbow. “Right, short stuff?”

She shoots him a dark glare, but can't keep the smile down. It feels so easy to joke with him. “Oh, right you are, mister mountain! We're ankle-biters, after all!”

He nudges her again, giving her another wink before he goes back to eating his soup. She keeps looking at him as she does the same. They eat in comfortable silence, surrounded by the buzzing of insects, the neighing and snorting of the horses, and the bird song in the trees behind them. It's so peaceful, and she still wonders what the catch is.

How did she go from worrying about doing her job right and not dying doing it, to casually sitting on a meadow with this large man who is still technically a stranger to her – and despite it all, it feels right. Feels good. And she realizes she has missed being so... carefree. She hasn't been carefree since the day the Madam has told her she had to start serving men now.

Without training, without proper warning. That first night, with her first cock in her throat, she has wanted to die, to never do this again, because it had hurt so bad and was awful and dirty, and she has been so ashamed of it, disgusted by it. So much so she has scrubbed her tongue afterwards until it has bled.

And even though she has endured it, it never got easier, she always cared about it, about trying to make it better for herself, about doing a good job, about holding it together until the customer was gone. Then she would worry about the next one, and the next... An endless cycle of worries, and she only learned to hide her true feelings better, to pretend she didn't care.

But now she is here, worry-free, for now at least, sitting in the shade, eating a hearty meal, next to a nice man for once. And it all feels too good to be true...

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ben whispers beside her, leaning towards her. She flinches and almost drops the bowl.

“Uh, nothing,” she replies, giving him a weak smile, trying to focus on the stew in her hands.

“Really?” His voice is a low hum in the air.

She takes a deep breath. “What's the catch?” she then blurts out, putting the bowl to the ground next to her as she turns to him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in worry.

“The catch?” he asks, deep lines on his forehead.

“This is all... well, it feels so different, so nice, so easy. And life isn't supposed to be that easy, is it?” She fidgets with the hitched-up part of her skirt, pulling her knees to her body and hiding them under the wide material.

“You sound awfully bitter for an eighteen-year-old,” he muses, scooting a little closer to her until she feels the warmth of his hip against hers. “But you're right, life isn't as easy as we sometimes wish it would be. But it's easier here, I promise. You're not alone, you're not forced to do things you don't want to do,” he adds, tilting his head to her as she cautiously turns hers towards him, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes are gentle, warm, inviting, she can't look away. “You can ask for help here. You can say no...”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating his words, still fixated on him, and the elephant in the room. “What do you do, Ben? Outside the camp?” she then whispers, watching him frown slightly, before he looks away with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trying to make a living,” he then says quietly, his eyes wandering over the camp and the house in the distance, while hers wander over his body, the gun on his belt, the cowboy boots, the muscles in his exposed forearms. “With any means necessary,” he adds, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She stares at him, torn between wanting to feel scared of the image that pops up in her head (Ben holding a gun to another man's head, his face hidden behind a bandana, his other hand closed around a sack of money or other loot) and wanting to justify his actions, wanting to see reason, to understand it. Making a living... by taking it from another? She remembers the supply tent, how well stocked it was, his room full of little boxes and trinkets, how much money he's spent on her last night.

“So, I was right?” she then whispers, licking her lips as she looks him over. “You are the type I would encounter on a Wanted poster?”

He looks at her, his face unreadable, eyes hard and slightly darker, his jaw clenched. Without saying anything, he tilts his body to the side and puts his hand into his back pocket, fishing out a folded piece of paper – that he hands to her.

She frowns, takes the paper and slowly unfolds it. The page is weathered, yellowish, crinkled. Its edges are sharp and rough as if it's been looked at a lot. And there it is, Ben's face, pencil drawn. He looks a little younger there, his hair a bit thicker, the beard less full, the shape of his jaw more defined. The eyes are the same, hard and deep, only with less lines around them.

There are words over and under it, but she can't read them, yet she assumes this is a Wanted poster, maybe it says Dead or Alive, listing his crimes in dark font she can't make out. She traces a finger over the picture of his face, trying to process what this means. He's an outlaw. A criminal. Wanted by the law. What did he do?

“I have another one,” he says quietly, watching her closely. “It's even older than that, about twenty years old.” She looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. Wordlessly he fingers another folded piece of paper out of the chest pocket of his shirt and holds it between his index and middle finger, asking her to take it. “It might surprise you...”

She doesn't know what to expect, but she takes it, unfolds it, looking between him and the even more yellowish paper, even more used than the other one that lies on her knees, Ben's drawn face looking up at her while the real one has his eyes fixed on her hands.

Inhaling deeply, she flattens the paper, more words on the top and the bottom, but this time there are two pictures on it. One of Ben, looking even younger, with just the shadow of a beard, nothing more than stubble, hollow cheeks and a straight nose, his face hard and his eyes even harder. And next to him, in the other picture, she sees...

Herself.

Her eyebrows furrow. It's a girl, with long wavy hair in a side braid (just like she has now), draped over one shoulder, a round face with a pointy chin and high cheekbones and a small nose, beautifully arched eyebrows and full lips, and eyes that pierce her soul. Even in the sepia tone of the aged paper and the fading black print, they are lighter, almost shimmering in the way they're drawn. Her eyes.

She looks up at Ben in slight surprise. “Is that...”

“Your mother,” he says softly, gently taking the paper from her shaking hands, now tracing his rough fingertip over the edges of the girl's face on it.

Nebbia doesn't know what to think. Seeing her mother on a Wanted poster does nothing to her. Somehow it fits the image she has of her, an outlaw would also abandon her child in a brothel, right? Something hot twists inside her stomach, something bitter at the edge of her throat.

“We were... a good team,” Ben continues with a smile, oblivious to her lack of reaction, as he stares at the drawn face in front of him. “They never got us, not for long anyways.”

“What did you do?” she whispers barely audible, leaning slightly closer to him as if the horses could listen in to their conversation. As if the camp surrounding them didn't already know what they were discussing. The camp of outlaws.

Ben looks up at her, quiet for a moment as his eyes wander over her face, the same face as on the paper in his large hands that he slowly, carefully, lovingly, folds up again without looking at it. “Taking from the rich. Sharing with the poor.”

He makes it sound so... poetic. “You've been robbers. Thieves,” she says, not even putting it as a question. “You're outlaws, wanted by the law...”

There's a twinkle in his brown eyes, before his lips tilt into a smirk. “Yes,” he replies quietly, holding her gaze. “Does that scare you?”

It should.

But then she thinks back to her initial thoughts about the man sitting next to her. Good guys, bad guys, does it even matter? In a world where a sheriff can treat her like the whore she's been, leaving her bloody and bruised, while an outlaw like Ben has treated her with so much respect she almost wishes he'd be a little rougher with her. Does it make sense? Probably not. Does it matter? Not really.

“No,” she says, as steady as she can manage. “You've not given me any reason to be scared.” Yet.

His smile is dazzling, his lips curl up over straight teeth, one very visible dimple on his bearded cheek, the lines around his eyes deepening. “And you don't have to worry about anything, sweetheart. No one's gonna harm you, me included.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, and she can't help it, she smiles back, her cheeks warming up, before she slowly lowers her eyes back to the poster on her knees, Ben's stoic face looking up at her. “What... what does it say?” she asks after a moment of silence, her finger tracing the letters she cannot understand.

He watches her, his smile fading. His hot breath hits her cheek as he exhales loudly while leaning over her, his arm draping around her shoulder before he takes her hand into his gently, guiding her finger to the top text. “This says WANTED,” he whispers, and she shivers as she feels the roughness of his beard against her cheek, while he moves her finger along the edges of the large letters. “That's my name,” he continues, showing her the line of letters beneath the title.

She holds her breath, the warmth of his touch making her feel dizzy. Her eyes wander from how his big hand holds her smaller one to his drawn picture. He moves their joined hands lower, to the lines below his face. “That's the reward.”

“How much is it?” she breathes, not daring to move much.

He huffs a laugh, his jaw moving against her cheek. He's so close, his touch gentle, his body leaned over her as he holds her hand, embracing her comfortably. “$1000.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Yes, quite the sum,” he replies, almost sounding proud. There's smaller lines of text below that, and he slowly drags her finger over each word as he lists them. “These are my... felonies,” he says quietly. “Stage coach robbery, train robbery, bank robbery, horse theft, trespassing, property destruction.” He pauses, her finger pressed to the last word. She can make out six letters.

She waits, breathing shallowly against him. “What's the last word?”

He inhales deeply, slowly letting go of her hand and leaning back, retrieving his arm. She watches him as he takes the paper from her, folds it back together, then slips it into his back pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. It still chills her to the bone when he stands up, looks down at her with dark eyes and replies: “Murder.”

A little gasp escapes her. Her eyes wander over his hands, those large hands, long fingers, with veins and tendons moving under tanned skin, the calloused feel of them, full of scars and scratches. And she hears the crack of a nose as he's slammed the same hand, a brutal fist, into the other man's face. Because he's called her a whore.

She doesn't know how she feels about it. He's a strong man, she's seen his muscles, felt his strength, witnessed his brutality, violence, but when she looks into his warm eyes, she cannot picture him murdering someone. Her mind still gives her possible images.

Bullets flying through the air in quiet hisses, wood splintering, meaty thuds when they hit their target, shouts, yells, cries of pain. Blood seeping into the dirt.

Her eyes move to the pistol peeking out of the holster on his hips.

The barrel of a gun pressed to someone's temple, a strong hand holding them in place. Whispered threats, wide eyes of the victim, and then a finger on the trigger, bending, pressing down. Muffled cries, the echo of a gunshot, then sudden silence. Blood everywhere.

She swallows hard and looks down, hugging her arms around her knees. A shadow looms over her, and she lets out a little shriek when Ben crouches down in front of her, his large hands on her knees, his eyes boring into hers.

“Don't be afraid of me,” he whispers, eyebrows furrowed. “And don't trust these words. There's always more to a story than a simple word...”

Tell me then, she thinks, her lips trembling, unable to get the thought out.

“I'll tell you another time,” he says softly, as if reading her mind, one hand moving up to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping over the corner of her mouth. She holds her breath, her heart thundering inside her chest. “Okay?” His question hangs in the air.

Are you okay with not asking any more questions for now?

She nods into his hand, and he smiles slightly, then leans up and presses his dry lips to her forehead before he straightens and holds out his hand to her. She looks up, confused, flustered, not sure how to act, but she grabs his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. He holds it for a moment longer, watching her closely.

“Alright,” he then says, letting go of her, rolling his shoulders. “Let's get back to work, hm?”

The sun is setting behind the house, tinting the whole camp in an orange hue. The horses have been fed and brushed, some of them have braids in their manes and tails now, and she looks back at the fifteen horses and recites their names in her head. She's always been good with names somehow.

On the other side of the meadow she sees Ben carrying a sack of feed towards the troughs. She gives the little chestnut girl named Foxie, who snorts and bows her head as she smiles at her, a last pet, a last praise (“Good girl, Foxie.”), and then makes her way to the tall man who dumps the sack with a low groan to the ground.

“Looking good,” he growls in his deep voice, rolling his shoulder as he takes a look around the meadow and the happy horses. “Not sure Bill will appreciate what you did to his Libby, though,” he adds with a smirk, and she looks back to the tall mouse gray mare whose black mane is decorated with little wild flowers and braids.

She huffs a little snicker, blushing slightly. “Might make his ride to the brothel more pleasant,” she says under her breath, and Ben looks at her and barks a loud laugh, his large hand coming up to pat her back playfully, causing her to stumble slightly.

“Good one,” he croaks out, shaking his head, his hand still resting on her back. “You're a feisty one, eh, Miss Nebbia?” he jokes with a wink.

Her cheeks burn up even more as she looks away, feeling the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her blouse.

“You'll fit right in here with us,” he says softly and leans slightly over her, his hand sliding down to her lower back.

She turns her head to him, giving him a timid smile. His brown eyes glow in the light of the setting sun, causing her to stare at them longer than is necessary. Appropriate. He nudges her side with his fingers and smirks at her, then lets go and walks past her.

“Come on now, I think you deserve a wash,” he tells her.

Her heart skips a beat as she thinks back to last night, sharing a bath with him. Even if it has been rather innocent, with both of them on either side of the tub and only the occasional touches (You had your foot on his cock, she remembers with a little gasp, is that considered innocent?), it hasn't left her mind, and the want is still there. The want for more.

Nebbia follows him back to the house, but instead of entering it, he takes a turn to the left and rounds the corner. She can see the sheets and clothes billowing in the soft evening breeze near the creek, a little behind the house, and Milly walking between them checking if they're dry already. What she hasn't noticed before is another area further to the left, fenced off with tarps, nestled between two large pines.

Ben stops in front of it, watching her closely. Once she approaches him, standing small before him, looking up with a curious furrow in her brows, he gives her a smirk and raises one corner of the tarp, showing her what's behind them. She frowns further. It's not what she has expected.

It is like somebody took a wooden barrel, sawed it in half and presented the new pieces as tiny bath tubs. She might fit into it if she squatted, but she couldn't see Ben fitting anywhere near those tubs, unless he'd use it as a foot bath. Her disappointment must have been visible on her face.

He laughs softly and leans closer. “Sorry, darling, looks like you gotta do that on your own this time.” Her head snaps to him, her lips parted. It's almost creepy how easily he can read her.

His large hand closes around her smaller one as he pulls her past the tarps, letting them fall behind them. The area is small, only the barrel tubs and a small fire-pit between them with a large pot full of water on it. It smells like soap and flowers.

“Looks like Milly has it all ready for you,” he says softly, testing the water with his pinky, raising his eyebrows in confirmation, nodding to himself. “Just get in the tub and use the ladle here,” he points to a large wooden ladle hanging from the pot, “to pour water over yourself to wash. Leave it in the tub when you're done. You think you can do that?” he asks with a teasing smirk.

She stares at him, then at the set-up around her, ignoring the tease in his voice. Her eyes wander to the second bath tub. “Will you... join me?” she whispers quietly, stupidly hopeful.

He scoffs a laugh, his hand on her shoulder. “No, this is for the ladies only. Us filthy men will wash in the creek. Milly's made that very clear.” She looks at him, smiling tightly, trying to hide the pout threatening to take over. He seems to notice the struggle and squeezes his fingers into her collarbone gently. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

With that he leaves her standing there, beside the steaming pot of water and the strange little bath tubs. The tarp flaps down again after he's gone. An unsteady breath escapes her. She feels strangely empty without him, alone, cold despite the fire burning beneath the pot. Somehow she's gotten used and accustomed to his large presence, and without it, she can barely breathe.

And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

She's spent the entire day with him, or in his close proximity, and last night has been... so intimate, even though nothing has happened (sexually), but he has been there, treating her right, being nice, giving her hope. And he took her with him, allowing her a chance, letting her sleep in his bed, inviting her to meet his people, fighting for her honor, giving her something to do, making her feel like part of something.

But she isn't part of anything if he's not here. It's a strange revelation, and she wonders how she's become so dependent on him, on anyone, when all her life she's been alone, despite being surrounded by so many people. The girls at the brothel haven't been friends, nor family, Madam Claire was not like a mother, more like a... mistress, not giving praise, but demands. Mary has been the only one who's looked out for her, at least a little over the last two years, checking in occasionally, and Nebbia realizes with a heavy heart that she may never see her again.

She wonders what she's doing right now, but then she knows what she's doing, or going to do this night. The same as every night.

It feels unreal to be away from there. Inhaling deeply, the warmth of soapy, flowery steam filling her lungs, she starts undressing, layer after layer, thinking about what she would be doing if she were back at the house.

Preparing for the night, making herself look presentable (knowing it wouldn't matter after the first client who will leave her covered in cum and saliva, her hair messed up from being gripped so hard, her rouge and lipstick smeared from being handled so roughly), and she'd wait, kneeling in front of the armchair by the fire, listening for those footsteps, waiting, waiting for the door to open, for the next customer to walk in.

And she can't even imagine how she would wait lying on the bed, waiting to be claimed, trying to fulfill her new role as a real lady of the night now that she's of age and ready, or expected to be ready. Luckily she may never find out what it will be like to have a random stranger take her however he wants, doing absolutely anything with her just because he's left some dollars in the greedy hands of Madam Claire.

She's been so lucky that the first man to barge through her door on the night of her initiation has been Ben.

Exhaling deeply, she feels a shiver rushing down her spine as she thinks of him, the mountain of a man, so much bigger, taller than her, the gentle giant, his large hands holding her safely, everything about him gives her peace, calms her down, except for the little throb between her legs and the rapid beat of her heart whenever he's close to her.

With her mind occupied with his brown eyes, his handsome face, the sound of his beard scraping over her skin, the strong twitch of the muscles in his arms, she steps into one of the wooden tubs, kneeling down in it, and starts pouring warm water over her stiff neck and shoulders, calming under the warmth and smell of it.

She doesn't notice the flap of the tarp being pushed back until it is too late.

⚠️ A large hand presses to her mouth, and she gasps against it, eyes wide as she stares up at the intruder. It is not Ben. Her heart beats so hard it hurts in her chest, panic gripping at every single nerve and muscle. She flails, struggles, writhes in the strong hold, tries to kick and get away, but the tall man (what's his name, one of those three?, she can't remember) grips her, lifting her up effortlessly, dragging her out of the tub.

Her feet scrape over the ground as she sinks her nails into his wrist, blinking rapidly, trying to see who the attacker is, she's usually so good with names, but she can't remember, can't think. Screaming into the hand on her mouth, she keeps kicking, until she gets kicked in the stomach. All air leaves her, all fight gone as she convulses in pain, stars dancing behind her eyelids.

She's thrown into the dirt, chin hitting the hard earth, causing her to groan, not immediately noticing that the hand is gone. A heavy boot presses between her shoulder blades, pushing her flat on her stomach, before a big hand grabs her wrists to hold them behind her back, the grip brutal, unyielding. She can't move, only kick her legs helplessly before she feels a knee pushing them apart.

Panicked wails escape her, and another hand grips her hair, twists it, almost rips it while the braid comes undone, presses her cheek into the ground, keeping her still, but only for a bit, as her attacker realizes he might need a hand to do what he wants to do. She's not stupid, she knows, she feels her hips being lifted, ass up, her knees pressed into the soil beneath her, hands held behind her back, a body pushing between her thighs, something hot and heavy slapping against her sex.

Whimpers, silent cries, hot tears streaming down her face. Not like this, she thinks. Please... not like this... “B-Ben...” she gasps, trying to think of him, imagining how he would take her for the first time. Definitely not like this, pushed into the dirt, held in an iron grip, exposed and helpless. A body to use, and nothing more. He'd treat her right... “Ben...”

“Shut up,” a low hiss comes to her ear, a rough voice, she has no idea who it belongs to, and then suddenly, a sharp pain on her butt cheek as a hand like a branding iron snaps against her soft flesh. She screams into the dirt, squirming helplessly. A grunt fills the steamy air, it's gotten darker around her, not just because she can barely breathe in her position, with the pain of the slap throbbing through her body, but the sun is gone. It's dark and hopeless. Something hard pokes at her entrance.

“Ben!” she cries out through a curtain of tears, with the last bit of strength, courage, she can muster. The person behind her pauses, curses, and suddenly she's being pushed further into the ground, dirt scraping over her bare breasts, then hurried, receding footsteps, the tarp flaps, cold air brushes over her raised ass.

She falls to her side, still in that awkward position, massaging her hurting wrists behind her back, breathless, unable to do anything else. /⚠️

And suddenly he's there, his large hands picking her up carefully, lifting her onto strong arms, pressing her to his warm chest. “What happened?” she hears his deep voice. “Who did this?”

She blinks, feels him scraping dirt off her cheek, wiping at her tears. Her arms wrap around his neck as she holds onto him. “I-I don't kn-know...” she stammers, shivers. He inhales deeply, a rumble through his chest.

He sets her down for a moment, on trembling legs, it's cold, but her skin burns. Wrapping a blanket around her, covering her up, he picks her up again, cradling her in his arms as he carries her out of the bathing area, towards the house. “Are you hurt?” he whispers, his voice strained, as if he's holding back his anger.

A fist in another man's face. She flinches at the memory.

“N-no,” she breathes, leaning against him, cocooned in the blanket, unable to touch him. “They left before –” they could soil my innocence, she thinks in both terror and relief.

Her eyes wander up to him. Even in the dark she can see the muscle moving beneath his skin as he clenches his jaw tightly. He brings her to his room, not saying anything, sets her down on his bed, covers her in even more blankets. She tries to free her hands, and when she manages to slip one out of her cocoon, she grabs his wrist, holding him back, looking up in desperation. “Don't leave,” she murmurs under her breath.

He stares at her, his face hard, like the one on his Wanted posters. Murder. The word echoes in her head, and she can see this man looming over her doing just that. But she isn't afraid of him, she's... glad. In a twisted sort of way. Knowing what he is capable of. The strength in his arms, his body.

But when he closes his long fingers around her hand and sits down on the edge of the bed, she's relieved he doesn't follow the urge to repeat the crime she has yet to learn more about.

Struggling out of her blankets, she breaks free and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, presses into him, desperate to feel his warmth, his strong hands on her, comfort, ease, reprieve. He slowly curls his arms around her, one hand holding onto her waist, the other cups around her shoulder, as he embraces her tightly, leaving no room for sorrows.

A tiny voice in her mind complains already. Nothing happened. Stop whining about this. You're fine.

But she doesn't feel fine, because something did happen. She was attacked, inside the camp that was supposed to be her new home. In the rare moments where she was alone, without Ben. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since she left the safety of the house to live in the real world...

A new wave of hot tears spills from her lashes, soaking into the collar of his shirt, her tiny sobs swallowed by how she presses her face into his neck. She feels him inhaling deeply, his grip on her tightening, trying to squeeze every bad thing out of her.

“Shh, it's okay,” he hums against her, his rough chin pressed to the top of her head. His voice and words sink into her cold skin, heating her up from within. “I've got you, baby girl.”

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

END NOTES: Oh the trauma (and all of it just so I could make Ben call her baby girl)!

I gotta say, I love me some dependency and hurt/comfort, even though I'm sorry for what I make happen to poor Nebbia. But it's needed to have these lovely bear hugs...

By the way, I was debating back and forth about the reward sum (again something that comes up once and doesn't matter but I still fixate on it every fucking time): When I played RDR2, all those bounties only ever gave $100 tops, and when looking at the Wanted posters of Dutch and Co. they had much larger sums, but they've been at it a long time, and ooh the stuff they did. But Ben? I didn't want him to be as cold-blooded as the people in the game, but still a criminal worth something, so in the end I settled on $1000. Might make sense, might not, does it matter? Not really. Just sharing my thought process here again, forgive me.

Anyway, back to the growing relationship between Ben and Nebbia. The plot is finally thickening and more things will happen! Stay tuned!

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[systlin]

how does one get a job telling people they can't come into a building? is there something i need to put on my resume (very contrary, good at sitting, etc) to make hiring managers find me more appealing for the role?

So my actual day job is as a security officer; I'm the supervisor for my shift.

Telling people to go away has been an integral career skill for me. Telling angry people who are screaming to leave and not come back is a job skill. The best part of my job is that it is an express part of my job to NOT BE NICE TO RUDE ASSHOLES.

Now, tbh being a contrary asshole won't make you automatically good at the job. You still have to get along with your co workers, the clients at the site you work, ect. And for access control, a good deal of it is perfectly innocuous service providers or deliveries who have all the proper permissions and training and you just make polite small talk with them as you contact their site contact and direct them back to wherever they're going.

When I applied for the job....fuck, was it 8 years ago? No, fuck, 9...when I applied for the job nine years back, the things I put on my application that caught the hiring manager's eyes were

Customer Service skills

Willing to work nights and weekends (we don't get weekends or holidays off; sites are usually manned 24/7/365. Schedules vary, but I work 12 hour shifts and that works out to 3 days on/3 off, 4 days on/4 off. I do often work holidays. Holiday pay is higher.

Multitasking skills

Can keep calm in chaotic situations

Not easily intimidated

Basic computer skills. This last one is huge. You would be amazed how many people I've had to coach step by step through saving a word document during training.

MOST of the time, I am perfectly nice and pleasant. I've received regular commendations and bonuses from the security companies I've worked for because so many people comment on how nice and helpful the security lady was. Most people who show up at sites have a job to do there and want to do it and get paid, same as me.

HOWEVER, despite that at least weekly I deal with an asshole. My shift lets me. My boss jokes that it's like rolling a pumpkin full of ground beef into a lion enclosure. Best part of my job. I once worked retail, and telling asshole dudes to get off company property before I have them removed and/or banned from every other location of the huge multinational company I am stationed at is SO excellent.

Now. The important thing to remember as well about security is that yes, a lot of it is sitting for hours watching cameras or doing rounds through the same place over and over. It can be monotonous and boring.

HOWEVER, then sometimes you get a call like "PLEASE SEND HELP THE ENGINE IS ON FIRE" from a driver getting loaded in the plant. The plant which is filled with explody shit and human lives. This happened last Thursday. That, friend, is where I earn my pay.

I did my job. Sounded alarm, notified fire team, locked down the plant to keep anyone else out, ran accountability to make sure everyone in the plant had checked into shelter areas, all that stuff. Fire was out in 5 minutes. But you have to be able to not panic in that moment when you get that call, because otherwise everything can go to shit VERY fast.

So. Hope this helps!