#i think I’d kill myself if he wasn’t real

[veggiemist]

Don’t know if I’ll be executed for posting the full versions so the cropped ones will have to do

Wahoo!!

[insanechayne]

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[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 10)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds 📍

Part 10 Good Deeds

Alastor takes you out as promised, but work/hobbies call him away. Not that you mind, you have your own hobbies to pick up.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, references to racial violence, reference to a word that’s now very much a slur, Hate for Aubrey, inaccurate portrayal of how easy it was to drink, oh yeah murder, mentions of a dismembered body, bloody shoes, physics hijinks with a corpse, these idiots in love, gators aaaaaye baby, domestic fluff?? Kind of?? Did I do it?!」

I think about Emmett Till often. Though his heinous murder came after the time this story is set, what happened to him wasn’t an isolated incident. So it is referenced here in a sense, because I can’t stop thinking about him when I think about racial violence in the south both what it looked like before and what it looks like now. I don’t say anything explicit and change the act, but it is still important to warn you. If you don’t know about the tragic death of Emmett, here’s a site with links to articles and essays. Be careful, it is awful and his deceased and battered face will come up on some links, as his mother wanted the world to see what they did to her baby. It’s an image I cannot forget and I rightfully shouldn’t. I know it’s off to have such a heavy topic before this love story but this case is the kind that would motivate such a killer as Alastor, and I don’t want to miss an opportunity to remind us of Emmett’s short life even if it’s done in a silly fanfic surrounded by nonsense. So forgive me for perhaps an odd real life addition, I’d be disappointed in myself for not addressing it when Emmett has been on my mind every time I think about the era someone like Alastor could have lived in. An era that did exist and people did live and suffer in.  An era not far removed from us, my father was alive when this happened.

Part 10 - Good Deeds

minors if you interact I will interpret that as a deep hate for me as a person so MDNI 👌🏼

“I’ve got to speak with the valet, go on ahead and find a table you like.” 

You didn’t want to do that at all, but knew Alastor wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want it. Well, he didn’t really ask, did he? He was certainly in his element, the shining and towering hotel every bit as pristine as his own public image.

It was as if every head in the room spun around to look at you. Everyone’s hair freshly styled, jewelry shiny and heavy, clothes immaculate. Your dress was lovely, no doubt, but no one looks at the elephant in her tutu at the circus and proclaims, “A ballerina!” This was, rather obviously, not your scene.

Alastor had presented the dress to you so sweetly, though. You woke up to find it hanging on the closet door hook, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. He had either waited for you to fall asleep to hang it or woken up before you for just the reason. It was red, his favorite color for you. The latest fashion, loose and straight. No corset. The neckline showcased a large, flat bow. 

“Partly a gift for me,” he had said as his hands slid down your sides when you had gotten dressed, “Such softness shouldn’t be hidden behind rigid boning.”

You settled into a large seashell shaped booth, the back coming up and over like you were the speck of sand yet to form into a pearl. The table was small, a glittering pattern under its shiny veneer. Everything was…glistening. Even the darkness past the windows seemed to be sparkling back at you. A few people turned to look you up and down, smiling and beginning to speak to their group before even turning back to them. 

You could wither, or bloom. So you learned back as if you were bored, legs crossed and feet gently shaking with anxiety or boredom, you hoped no one could sus out which. 

It was so odd. In your usual haunts, newcomers were greeted with curious smiles and maybe the tiniest suspicions. You were being picked apart to the bone by sharp stares and even sharper tongues, no matter how silent their jabs were to you. 

“They’re probably jealous.” Your head snapped up, when had Alastor made it in? “They look at you and know, ‘oh, that’s the kind of woman my husband would rather have a conversation with.’” You laughed, you absolutely could have stolen the attention and more from at least one of these women’s husbands.

“Perhaps they recognize these earrings, gone missing from their jewelry box earlier this year.”  You weren’t above accepting a woman’s stolen jewelry. It was her husband's fault anyway, might as well enjoy it. 

Alastor’s finger came to your chin, lifting your face further into the light, “Give em a good look, darling. I want them to eat their hearts out.” The blush that swept across your features was so fierce, the difference in temperature between your cheeks and your arms caused a chill to run down to your shins. He took a seat beside you, scooting up close and flashing that smile. A smile that had you chasing him into dark alleys and grabbing dead men by the ankles. 

A waiter came by, placing a drink in front of Alastor and asking what you’d like. You were so used to being in such spaces with the kind of men who answered for you that you didn’t reply immediately. When Alastor brought his drink to his lips, you realized it was you who was expected to speak. 

“Oh! A corpse reviver please.”

The man smiled and left with a nod. Alastor choked, hitting his chest with the fleshy part of his palm, “That was intentional, wasn’t it?”

You danced in your seat, “I’ve never been somewhere that has the stock for it that I was…allowed to order what I want.”

Alastor set his drink down and leaned back, shoulder pressing into yours teasingly, “I can’t imagine anyone disallowing you a thing.” With a sigh, you reminded him of the things you did to get your marks drunk and off their guard. You were surprised when he nodded like he remembered. “I saw that! You would sit so quietly on their laps. I remember thinking you were much more boring than you had initially made me believe.” You recoiled, and he shot you a look, “Who stalked who first, hm?” 

With a huff, you let it go. You weren’t actually sure the answer to that anyway. Focus let free from Alastor, you began to notice the looks were back. But no longer cutting into you, but wide and devouring. A few smiled at Alastor, some tipped their heads to him and offered a look of recognition. “Aren’t you popular.”

“I haven’t been out in awhile. They’re probably curious.” He took another sip, “Should be, atleast.”

A prideful smile slid up your face. You uselessly tried to mask it by licking your teeth. 

Something that happened when in public with Alastor that was unlike you was the tendency to become small. Not shrinking to provide him space; it was a turning in of your shoulders and touching of your knees in a subconscious effort to curl into a little ball of joy. Actively fighting the tug, you leaned back and opened your chest. An exercise in mental focus. 

“It’s weird. How you can be friends with my kind of people and….well, whatever is happening here.” Your hand waved at the room before you both. 

“My friendship with these people compared to our friends at the dives is…. A light bulb compared to a fire. One was manufactured to fit a need, one exists somewhat naturally.”

Tall and slim, body flat from collar bones to knees, a slip of a woman entered the room and you felt a shift in the atmosphere. Her hair was short and pitch black, fashionable to say the least. A few heads turned, a few upturned lips shifted into sneers. Side glances, hushed words, intentionally heard huffs. You turned to Alastor to find his face was as confused as your own. 

“Who is that?” You said it low, not knowing if she was friend or foe. 

“That would be Mrs. Aubrey Debreaux. Popular socialite and frequent hostess.” A sip of his drink, speaking about her like a character in a novel. “This icy reception is news to me though. She’s usually the life of the party.”

“She’s a real wet blanket now…Your circles seem really fickle. Always a bit of gossip.” You realized as soon as you said it that, well, that was the point. Alastor needed the gossip, and, well, he clearly enjoyed it.

“That’s what the wealthy do. Gossip and pretend the drama is as stressful as someone looking for their next meal.” Swirling his drink absentmindedly, his eyes followed Aubrey through the hotel bar. When you asked if he knew everyone there, he said it was his job to know people.

“Your job is in radio. You host a show, Alastor.” You laughed through your nose.

“Well, my other job.”

“I’d call that a passionate hobby.” Your hand came to rest half on his and half on the booth bench low and hidden, not wanting to monopolize, but he quickly took it and held it on the table. Another struggle to keep your shoulders from drawing inward.

The room moved on, forgetting you both were there and eventually about Aubrey too. Or so you had thought. When you drink was starting to mellow you, you turned to Alastor to admire the view. You’d come to enjoy that silence, the kind that only existed between people comfortable enough to know they didn’t need to entertain each other to enjoy each other’s company.

He was scanning the bar still, elbow on the table as he rested his chin there. From a distance of space or familiarity it could be seen as boredom. But up close and personal, you could see the wheels spinning behind his eyes.

“Golly, when in Rome!” Alastor hooted and grabbed you by the hand with one of his and carried his drink in the other, “Let’s go gossip. Bring your drink.”

He pulled you into a group of four people in a circle talking. They opened and let you both in, smiles warm. A clamor of excited ‘how long has it been’s, ‘how are you’s, and ‘you look well’s.

You’d expected him to ask for gossip like he’d said, but realized that’d be pretty conspicuous. Instead he waited, and when Aubrey passed by one of them rolled their eyes and he had his opportunity.

“What’s that look for?” He asked. 

Everyone got quiet and passed a glance between them. Finally a woman in a beaded dress and finger wave bob piped up.

“She reported a young boy touched her on the street.” Alastor watched Aubrey cycle through the groups as the friend spoke. “Grazed her hip with his hands, made a comment about white women as he did it.”

Alastor’s head whipped back around. “He got taken away that night.”

You gasped, hand coming to your mouth in sincere horror, “Just for touching her? Is he still in jail?” 

The woman’s lips pursed together, no one looking at you.

“Bless your heart. He didn’t touch her and he didn’t make it to the jailhouse, sugar.”

Suddenly the way everyone was looking everywhere but at each other sunk in. 

Panicked, you looked to Alastor. His expression was still, like the calm waters of a deep and foreboding bay. What horrors lie underneath? His tongue wiped across his teeth, and you reached out to take his drink from his hand. The action snapped him out of his daze for a second, expression softening a tad as he nodded a thank you.

If he shattered that glass now, people would remember. And when Aubrey went missing they may recall Alastor’s dramatic reaction. You knew his smiles intimately, the ones that were true and the ones that were illusions. The expressions of joy and the mask for his rage. The smile painted on his face now was nothing short of shallow.

You spent so many days in a bubble with Alastor, shielded by his grace or by the accepting and illegal circles you ran in that you sometimes forgot the reality of life. A dark privilege you hadn’t seen until you were the one looking naive for once. 

That’s right. The world was a bad place, of cruelty and injustice. Not just for you, or for parts of you, or for sides of you. Not just for women with smart mouths or a love of dance. No matter how safe the comfort of your friends and the dark halls you all commiserate in, no matter the like minds and mixed complexions of your peers, you were all just one cruel voice from being dragged into the night. Just a single accusation from being a whispered story in a glittering hotel bar. A headline no one would write. 

And some of you would be mourned more than others. 

You took a second, blinking rapidly to dry your eyes. 

“Apparently, she did it to get Hubert to leave his mistress’s apartment and come home.” A short man whose name you never got took a drag of his cigarette, “Worked. He’s been yapping all week about the state of New Orleans society and the importance of protecting the fairer among us.”

Alastor was quiet still, lips tight. You’d seen the photos in his home. You’d never discussed it, no need. Things can’t become normal if you’re always pointing them out. Plus, that was his piece to share. 

“Glad to see most of us here aren’t too keen to welcome her. I’d hate to have to find another bar.” Someone said, glancing around the room. “George just started making my martinis right.”

“Care to dance?” Alastor abruptly turned his entire body to you with a slick swivel on his heels.

You nodded, offering small polite goodbyes and setting your drinks back on the table before turning to him.

His open palm was outstretched and offering you a dance. You spread your hand over his and felt him hold you firmly before pulling you into him. 

He held you so close, much closer than anyone else on the dance floor. A scandalous lack of distance between you two. Quiet, Alastor’s eyes were distant. You were in front of him but he wasn’t seeing you. You let the song carry on a little longer for appearances before sighing into a smile.

“Why are we dancing when you have work to do? You have your tools.” Looking up at a man was rarely a view you enjoyed but the way his eyes slid down his nose and landed so sharply on you made it worth it. A look that said he’d devour you if he didn’t adore you so much. Your hand snaked behind his back to touch the hidden outline of this trusty little knife. He briefly wondered if this could be considered foreplay, the way he felt your hand on his lower back and running over his weapon. Much more intimate than he’d ever let anyone else be.

As your bodies swayed, the lights slid across the curve of his eyes and lit that bright honey brown color like a diamond twirling in the sun. The facets of his irises mesmerizing you. 

How terribly did you love him? 

How far would you fall for him?

“This would be a long one. You’d be waiting… could be a couple of hours. I need to be out of sight before she leaves.” A chill. Oh, you’d forgotten for a second, Alastor was a killer. He didn’t do it for ‘justice’ alone, he enjoyed what he did. Immensely. His voice had a note of giddiness and anger that didn’t mix well, but was oddly arousing. 

“Correction, I’d be dancing for hours. Drinking. Letting handsome men waste their money on me.” 

“Oh? Can they buy me a drink, too?”

You brought up your pointer finger, “You remind her of her humanity, and I’ll get a man to buy you a drink.” 

He linked his finger with yours. “I’ll need to give her special attention. She’s earned it.”

You loosely understood this wasn’t attention like you’d be given. This was attention that ran opposite affection. 

“I’m not here to be in your way, Alastor.” A quick kiss to your hand, one you hoped no one else saw. While no one here would be bothered by Brady, you still wanted to keep some semblance of confusion on what you two were to onlookers. 

His laugh was louder than you expected, a few heads turning, “Impossible. I’m always going wherever you are, dear.”

Would you never get up again?

“I’ll stay at the bar. If they close, I’ll just go to Beth’s.” Your fingers lingered in his, “Be careful. The best good deeds are done in the dark.”

A kiss to your nose. So gentle despite the topic. You could imagine it, the violent death of a woman. You could hear the sounds. Hers, his, the knife’s. A pang of guilt set in before you could remind yourself why this woman was going to die. A tiny smile settled on your face, he offered you a gentle command in return, “Understood, honey. Be safe.” 

You let him kiss your hand again and bow out of  the dance. You were doing it, it dawned on you as you watched him walk away. Truly kissing him goodbye at the door as he went off to work. The closest you’d ever gotten, atleast. 

He stopped by a group and said some quick goodbyes, apologies for leaving early, and left the hotel bar. 

You knew he had killed women before, Alastor was all for equality, but a part of you worried. Women tend to scream louder, and be heard more often, than men. A man screams and people just…keep walking. What would he do? Where would he do it?

With a sniffle, you let the jealousy of just what he would need to do to get her alone flutter away. Taking a seat back at your table, you sipped your drink and watched the others dance and chat. How odd, they could sway in such large places with big windows and bright lights with no fear of cops. Your scenes were dark, dusty, never seeing the sky. 

“He left ya?” One of the earlier women came by, someone you vaguely remember him nodding a ‘hello’ to at some point in the evening. 

Thankfully you were still quick on your feet. “Well, we came separately, of course we’d leave separately.”

A laughed, “Of course.” She leaned down, touching at your hair for a second, curiously, “Don’t hold your breath. But, it is nice he got you in here, huh? Must be a treat for you.” 

Your own laugh was just as abrupt as Alastor’s earlier, your hand coming to hide your smile. All you could muster was a nod. Yes, you stood out. Yes, you didn’t fit in with these people for many reasons. But, it wasn’t your first time in nice spaces. First time not pressed into a man who’d been made to believe he was more important the whole time, but still. 

It took two more drinks for Aubrey to leave. But there was a problem. As she was trying to bow out of the room, a man kept hooking his fingers under the loose belt of her boxy drop waist dress.

With practiced skill, you took note of where her eyes lingered on him, how her hand came to his arm but didn’t actually press him away. Not earnestly.

The pushy man saw it too, every little soft ‘no’ was a half ‘yes’. And Aubrey seemed to like that. It was almost ironic, given what she had done, how she egged on the younger man before her now by pretending she didn’t want him. His hand landed on her hip forcefully, her hand on his chest gingerly. He leaned in close, she pulled away barely.

The next act was the most classic to women of your era. The false exit.

Aubrey whispered something, he nodded eagerly and his many hands returned to himself.

She smiled at the back of everyone’s heads, as nearly no one would look her way, and she slipped out the doors.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shimmying as you slid from your booth. Barely a step away, you leaned back and grabbed the last sip in your glass. You swished it around your mouth like listerine, and swallowed it. Before you got too close, you pinched your cheeks until your eyes began to water.

You’d just found a way to make yourself useful.

“Whoopsie Daisy!” You giggled, shoulder colliding with the man’s chest as you stumbled past.

“Watch - ooh, hey,” the free hand that had come to keep you from getting closer quickly softened, curling around your waist. The same hand that’d just been on the socialite. You were sure to look up and sigh into him, your breath soaked in alcohol. “You okay, doll? Had a bit too much?”

With glassy eyes you nodded, closing them and letting your head nod lazily, “I lost my thing!” You laughed, hitting his chest.

“Your what? I happen to be a thing.” 

How quickly he forgot his target when easier to pick fruit appeared.

“No, silly!” A practiced hiccup, “my little…”

“Your little…?”

Your fingers wiggled in the direction of your hip.

“Purse!” A beaming grin. He asked if you needed help finding it. “Well, how else am I gonna get another drink!” The hand on your waist fell to your hip and slunk lower. 

“Oh well, I could help ya with that.” He leaned in, looking around first as if he had a secret, “I have a room upstairs.”

You tutted, “No no, I am a married woman!” He lifted your left hand, turning it over in a dramatic search for a ring. “Well, engaged…” you diverted your gaze. He lifted his hand to his brow then and scanned the room like a sailor to the horizon. “He’s working late.” You whined.

Why did his kind of man always want the taken woman? Did they think the chase was more meaningful then? Did they feel like they’d won some tug-of-war with an invisible, unaware opponent?

Maybe they were hardwired to hoard resources.

You let him seat you at the bar, and when he ordered you a drink you asked to know your savior’s name. William.

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Alastor was none the wiser, smoking a cigarette under the streetlamp just off to the side of the hotel awning. He didn’t smoke often before you, but he found the lure of sitting on the porch passing a pill between you both too hard to fight. And soon enough the habit grew from a drinking pastime to just… something to do with his hands.

As Aubrey appeared, waiting for her driver to retrieve the car, Alastor tossed the butt to the street and walked up on her.

“I’m quite cross with you, Aubrey.” His tone was smiling as his hand slid behind her neck and tugged her away from the safety and lights of the awning.

“Oh! Alastor, I’m actually waiting for my car.” She struggled to keep up with his pace in her heels, weakly pointing back to where the valet had stood earlier. She resisted a little, the palm on the nape of her neck silently shutting her down.

“Nonsense. We have business together.” Alastor let his hand fall to her upper arm as he yanked her into the closest side street. “I hear you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Aubrey huffed, pulling back against him once, then twice, but ultimately acquiesced when she could see his car down the street.

“Fine, you can drive me home then.” A misplaced giggle, her survival skills dulled by ego.

He tossed her roughly against the car, hand gripping her face tightly. She tried to say his name, but his hold was so firm her jaw was locked.

“You’re going to get into my car now.” Alastor’s eyes had lost their pupil, an expanse of a seemingly endless dark brown in the heavy shadows left by the lamp’s light. When he let her face go, she rolled her eyes and pulled open the back seat door.

That wasn’t what he had meant, not there, but he closed the door behind her and got into the driver’s seat. He hadn’t brought the tarp tonight, not expecting to need it, so maybe the backseat was his best option regardless.

When he pulled away, she reminded him he didn’t know her address.

“I’m not taking you home. I told you. I have a bone to pick with you.” Alastor found himself incapable of putting on a ruse for her. His patience was entirely lost in his unraveling anger.

“Oooh? A bone, you say. Well, well.” Aubrey leaned forward onto the front seat, hands snaking down his shoulders and chest so she could nip at his ear, “Finally letting me have a ride.”

He had to set his right hand in the darkness of his lap to hide the tremble, a disgusted rage manifesting in uncommon ways. 

As her fingers found the buttons of his waist coat, Alastor struggled to see the road in front of him. His vision was going white, and then red. His blood pressure was so high he was nearly blind. 

And when two hot fingers broached the small space between buttons of his dress shirt and touched the bare skin of his chest, the car came to an abrupt halt. The force threw her into the backseat. 

Alastor slammed the front seat door shut before opening the back and caging her in. “I can’t stand another second of your existence.” She crawled backward, making room for him. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

Aubrey settled her back against the opposite door, “Oh, the petit mort.”

His head hung low in frustration, a growled  “No, the big one.” as he raked his fingers through his hair to keep from punching his own car seat.

“So I’ve heard.” She pulled up the hem of her dress slowly.

“For fucks sake Aubrey! I’m not using double entendre!” His hands wrapped around her neck. “Must I really remind you of what wrongs you’ve committed?!”

A brief panic finally came, “Wrongs?? Excuse you.”

He could have sworn the snap in his brain had been audible to her as he lost his last bit of patience.

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“Excuse me.” You settled back into the seat, having taken a bathroom break to down some water in secret. You weren’t trying to actually end up blacked out.

“Anyway,  that's how we secured the riverside house.” William leaned into you. You tried to sip your drink and found it empty, having managed to finish it absentmindedly while he rambled on about himself earlier. As you stared at him you let your eyes lose focus and drift into plans for the morning. You’d like biscuits. Alastor had some sausage he’d picked up the other day, maybe a little gravy and some eggs. It’d be like a Sunday meal nice families ate after church. You assumed. Out of the peripheral of your daydream you saw him tap the bar twice and hold up two fingers. “Charge to 1033.” He said. With the clarity of someone who wasn’t pretending to be drunk you quickly held up three.

William shot you a confused look.

“One for my darling.” He made a show of looking around, the bartender pausing. You gave him a confirmation nod, “Three, please.”

“And is he in the room with us now, Helen? I’m beginning to think he’s imaginary.”

It seemed a fine enough name to give him.

“No! But I made a promise. Or…,” you returned the lean, head resting on his shoulder, “are three drinks a little steep for you?“ With a huff, he pulled out a pair of C notes and set them on the bar. The bartender nodded, reaching for the top shelf. You whistled at the sight. Too much money for the total seven drinks he’d ordered, if you weren’t somewhere Alastor frequented you’d have slipped them under the lip of your stockings when the man wasn’t looking. He was charging the room anyway, the large bills were just for show…

“One reviver for the miss, one brandy for the sir, and a rye whiskey neat for the beau.” The bartender set the drinks down on red napkins. The whiskey sat between you both, and after a beat you realized you hadn’t actually told him what to make for Alastor. And come to think of it, your last drink hadn’t been a reviver at all but a brandy ordered by William.

“Ya know I stood up another woman to help you,” he said it into your cheek, stealing your attention by breaking your line of thought. His arm around your shoulder curled to hold you closer, “Don’t I get a reward for that?”

His breath reeked of sickeningly sweet brandy, the taste sticking to the back of your throat. Your head tilted back so you could look at him down your nose, right hand coming to rest on his thigh.

The heat of his body was radiating through the fabric of his pants and made your stomach turn. How many hot and sweaty bodies had you had the pleasure and displeasure of touching?

A smirk painted your face, remembering seeing sweat sticking to Alastor’s forehead the last time he fucked you. What had you done for that reward? Ah right, the somehow shocking act of not withholding praise for how well planned out his greenhouse was. How impressive he was to you in so many ways. You could have lingered on that recollection, on how Alastor set down his coffee and kissed you. And how he didn’t stop until you were both left undone and flustered. But movement stirred away the pleasant memory to bring you back to an unpleasant reality.

His hand roamed down your arm, uncomfortably warm palm on your exposed skin. 

“Oh, I know you did.” You said.

William chuckled, absolutely no idea what you were talking about and not particularly giving a shit. “Did I mention I have a room here?”

“Ten thirty three.” You repeated. 

He looked genuinely shocked, “How’d you know that?” The man was absolutely mystified.

“I— you just…,” your mask slipped in the face of such abject stupidity, “Lucky guess.” William drank his brandy slowly, mentioning you should bet on the ponies together. You nodded. 

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Alastor didn’t care for strangulation. It took so much time and wasn’t particularly satisfying. No pleading, no screaming, no blood and gore. Just…. someone flailing beneath you and turning purple. Boring. 

He brought up the accusations before he began to squeeze, and her panic transformed to relief. “Oh that?” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down, “Are you really miffed at me about that?”

“Yes, Aubrey! You condemned an innocent child to a horrid death!” His hands loosened, all of his neurons firing off to feel pain in his own heart. 

She rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t call them children. You seem so upset, hun. Did you have a mam-?”

The rest of the word was barely squeaked out of her, he couldn’t let her finish it. He wasn’t sure what face he made. But whatever it was, it scared her. The carefree way she’d been handling the interaction finally died, and he could register actual fear in her eyes then. 

But the rage just … withered. How many children had his mother loved and doted on before her last, much kinder position? How many Aubreys had she raised. It was nothing short of an overwhelmingly violent sadness that laced his finger together around her neck and tightened, the full weight of his body coming down to crush her airways. He wanted such sentiments to be smothered out of the world like the air in her lungs. If he killed enough, could he make a dent in their influence? He could try. For her. For his mother. 

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“Ya know, I could take real good care of you. If that’s what’s stopping you from coming upstairs.” 

With a deep breath, you gulped the drink halfway down. “Your fella doesn’t need to know. I could even get you your own place, you could wait for me there when he’s late with work. Have dinner ready. Slip off my shoes like a good girl.”

“Trust me; you’ve got a better chance of her smacking you with your shoes than slipping them off like a maid.” Alastor was resting his elbow on the bar behind you, head leaning on his hand. “Hey doll. That one mine?” He pointed at the glass.

“Oh? Alastor is the fiancé?,” William gave off a snide laugh as he was interrupted, Alastor standing up and walking to come between you two, “This guy?! Everyone knows he’s a frigid bitch. You must be a dive alley-cat if you’re—,” Alastor’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, eliciting a sickening crack. He needed both hands to keep himself from falling down with William as he was knocked back out of his bar stool. Alastor’s feet slipped on the spilt brandy, causing him to seize the stool for momentary support.

Alastor took the glass of whiskey with his non-dominant hand and downed it. He cooed, “Top shelf, Georgie?” The bartender nodded. “Good choice. Picked a worthy sucker, sweetheart. Ready to peel?”

You watched William try to stand, glass stuck to his palm. He did manage to get on his knees, shouting at the staff who stood motionless and unphased behind the counter. They didn’t say anything at all, oddly, until Alastor extended his swelling hand to you.

“Have a good evening, sir.”

Alastor flashed his signature smile and guided you out of the hotel bar. You only got a few steps before quickly running back and snatching one of the 100$ bills from the counter. William would’ve taken it back from the bar anyway. What a waste!

When a waiter offered Alastor a warm and familiar look you had to wonder, did people really not know what he did in the darkness of the New Orlean’s alleys? Did a part of them not feel some kind of debt to him? Or was he just painfully friendly when socializing?

“Just to be clear,” Alastor let the doorman open the lobby door, “It’s not the accusation of sex work that compelled me to sock him. It’s the implication you’d be cheap.” He waved the valet from the car and opened the door for you, “If you chose to sell your companionship at true worth, his daddy’s money couldn’t even buy him a kiss.”

“Aww,” you smiled at him through the thin windowpane, “Would you really be so cavalier about such a job if I did?”

“Would I? Gosh that’d make retirement much quicker for me.” He slid into the driver's seat and the door shut with a sharp ting. As he took hold of the wheel he reclined to let his hand settle behind you on the backrest, and then you three were off. 

“Oh by the way, Aubrey’s in the backseat.”

You turned slowly, first coming into view were her tiny, shining silver shoes. Your eyes kept traveling; stocking covered calves and then the bottom of her dress just past her knees.

Alastor’s coat draped over her torso and shoulders caused you to flit to him, confirming his jacket was gone, and back to her. 

Her face looked like that of a sleeping passenger. 

No blood.

When the car was a few blocks from the hotel, you leaned back and lifted the jacket. Her abdomen was clean, the white of her dress pristine. At first her neck seemed clear of cuts or abrasions until you rode past a streetlamp and a beam of light revealed the slowly forming collar of bruises.

Special attention.

For a hair of a moment you began to gently cover her again, before remembering her crimes and dropping it on her unceremoniously.

“Trunk not good enough for her?”

“Got interrupted. Booked it back to you.” He shook his head and patted the seat in tandem.

What luck that just as he felt sure she was too far gone for revival, he let go over her neck and sat up in time for someone to notice him. Fishing in his jacket draped over the seat, he found his cigarette case just as—

“What exactly are you two doing?” An officer was flashing his light through the passenger side back window.

Alastor froze, Aubrey motionless between his legs and a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips. “You startled me, officer! We were just canoodling. But she’s gone and fallen asleep before the main event.”

The officer’s brass light shone down but couldn’t reach the dead woman’s face past the shadow cast by the car door and glass. “She alright?”

Alastor’s eyes drifted down to the deceased socialite, “Truth be told sir, she’s had a bit too much of the giggle water.” Fishing your lighter from his waistcoat pocket, he lit this cigarette before setting the jacket over Aubrey like a gentleman.

“Alright y'all better get lost. Tell your moll this ain’t ladylike.” The officer tapped the window with his knuckle and when she didn’t stir just left with a huff.

Alastor was quick to leave the backseat and drive off, circling around at the next block to head back to the hotel.

“Is… everything alright?” You asked, very obviously concerned.

“Peachy! I just said we were necking before she passed out drunk.“ he leaned over and kissed your cheek, “Anything exciting on your end?”

Patting his leg you beamed up at him, “Always so quick on your feet! I don’t know why I worry so much.” His face lit up and you wanted nothing more than to launch into a praise filled rant that fueled his smile. But, you moved on to the question at hand. After a moment to think, you remembered ‘the best good deeds are done in the dark’. “Nope! Just got tipsy on William’s dime. An odd woman did touch my hair…,” you recounted every second, leaving out why you chose William, to Alastor. You hadn’t meant to, and he hadn’t actually asked, the evening’s events just seemed to flow out of you. The way he always added little comments and nodded made it feel like a conversation and not just you rambling. 

When the car was pulling into the driveway, you asked Alastor if you could drive it behind the house. Puzzled, he put it in park and let you sit between his legs. You started slowly, but quickly began to accelerate. As you approached the house you turned sharply to the left, right side tires ever so slightly leaving the ground. A sharp correction to the right to straighten out. One of his hands clutched you at the waist, the other gripping the seat.

He tried to form some kind of words but they came out a jumbled and panicked mash of sounds as you barreled toward the greenhouse. 

You slammed your foot on the brakes and Aubrey flew off the back seat and hit the floor with a loud thud.

“Ha!” You slapped the wheel, “I’ve been wanting to hear that sound the whole drive!” 

He used both arms now to squeeze you appreciatively, “You’re just the bee’s knees.” Alastor nuzzled into the back of your neck, truly feeling his heart flutter. You made him skip a beat. So many days and nights not even imagining such a pairing.

The best scenario he could think up was a partner who wouldn’t ask questions, who didn’t care to know, who was maybe a little too naive but otherwise capable. Even in his wildest dreams he hadn’t dared to think someone would exist who could support him.

And not just in the killing, which was a hurdle of course, but the other parts of him. The little sacrifices you made for him without complaint. 

What did he do for you, he worried. Your body was his on the occasions he wanted but never did you ask for him. You shared the housework equally. Yes he drove you around but your skills with the car were still new. Insignificant things, like making your coffee when he awoke first and waiting for you after work. With the detective still looking for connections, he couldn’t even properly introduce you or flaunt you around to his circles.

Like a flash of lightning taking down a tree, insecurity shook him. What on earth was keeping you there? Of all the people in New Orleans, how was he any more worth your time than the next?

If anything, he was nothing short of troublesome. His hold on you twisted from thankful to desperate.

Even the lovely evening out he had promised you, he’d left you alone in a strange place. A stranger had bought you more drinks than he had. 

“Would you like to go to the woods with me tonight? To dispose of Aubrey?” His lips swiped across the fabric of your dress as he said it.

The sudden advancement into his hobby took you by surprise. You hugged his arms against you, “Really? Are you sure?”

“If you don’t want to…”

“Is that what I said?”

“Well, no….”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I absolutely want to go!” Your arms squeezed his.

He chuckled into your shoulder and gave your hip a pat, “Let me get her packaged up. You go rest your feet and I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go.”

You watched from the kitchen, the light he hung from the greenhouse ceiling setting the entire space aglow. When he finally emerged, his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his hair was falling into his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose before he could push it back into place. He waved from the porch, and when you made it out to him he was already pulling out small bundles.

“We’ll bury the pieces in separate places.” He dragged out a small trash tin with the lid already clapped down. “And this goes into the water.”

The packages were like Tommy’s, but smaller. They fit easily into the trunk, and beside them he snuggly fit the metal bucket.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Ford was parked down a dirt road far from sight, taking a parcel at a time and a shovel, you followed him into the woods. 

You had to ask, why not just his land? Wasn’t that safer? Easier?

“Well, a skull found out here is easier to act shocked about than on my property.”

The ground was still soft, but you could imagine it was rock solid in winter. “Isn’t this dangerous? Aren’t you slowed down in the colder months?” You kept your eyes open wide, adjusting to the pitch black of the forest. The trees were too close and too full still to see the stars. But soon they’d brown and die, revealing the sky’s light. Revealing Alastor.

“Eh it’s mostly busy during mating season because the hunters come out in numbers. But in general I avoid being here in the very early morning hours.” He paused and you reached out for the shovel for your turn, “It’s not too bad overall.”

“They mate in fall. It’s almost fall now.” You widened your stance for balance and began to dig. 

“Yeeees but I’m not alone!” He chirped.

“Fine… just, don’t come out when I’m not able to join you. Just wait or, I don’t know, burn them or something.” You tried to dig fast, wanting to spare his injured hand another turn.

“Very ineffective, brings too much attention and the body never burns all the way. It’s still identifiable in many cases.” Alastor said it quickly, as he’d had nearly a lifetime to think of these things and test them. 

You huffed, “Well, fuck. Okay. Still.” You leaned over and offered your index finger, not looking at him as you did. He laughed before wiping his hand clean on his pants and hooking his with yours. 

A small scream erupted from you, startling him. Your short heel sunk into the dirt when you leaned to lock fingers. The sudden loss of balance startled you. “Sorry… flat shoes. I need flat shoes…these are gonna be the death of me.”

Alastor’s hand came to his heart, pounding in his chest, “Of us. My heart nearly stopped.”

You dug many holes, all of them quite small in radius, just wide enough to slip in what you needed to. After each was deep enough by some standard you didn’t know, he would untie the twine around the package and let the contents spill out and down into the little cylinderical pocket of dirt. 

The first package had her hands. Then next was her feet. Her arms in pieces and then later her legs. The hips, the chest and shoulders, and finally, her head. You were grateful for the darkness, not wanting to see her face now that it was no longer attached to her body. 

The brush was so thick and the woods so dense that you found it hard to distinguish the burial spots once they’d been filled in and covered up. He explained most people came out there with a purpose, not really noticing some disturbed dirt here and there. It’s not like they’re people sized.

“You’re just something else, ya know that?” You said it into the shadows and didn’t see him wince. But you somehow, accidentally, knew to clarify, “I’m always so impressed by your way of doing things. You’ve really thought it out well huh? I know I should worry less but it’s hard.”

Because of the shade you didn’t see the way his shoulders relaxed. You never made him regret your inclusion.

Alastor carried the bucket as you slowly made your way through the darkness. You could hear the sounds of bugs, though you couldn’t see any.  The water surprised you, his arm coming to stop you from walking into the bayou.

“In winter they’ll get really still, so I slow down then too. But we still have time, it’s not too cold yet for them.” He took off the lid, the smell of copper blossoming from the tin.

With practiced moves, he tossed the viscera as far as he could into the small inlet marsh of the river. 

Within seconds the water frothed and rolled with the snapping of powerful jaws.

“Gosh they’re so neat.” You said, reaching out into the darkness for his hand. You couldn’t see him looking at you as you watched the prehistoric animals dispose of his crimes.

He wanted to kiss you. To confess every little happiness you filled his formerly hollow chest with. But he held back. He knew better. He’d tried before, once. When he thought settling was better than nothing. It ended terribly. It was better to just exist beside you for as long as you’d entertain his company. If you knew, he thought, of all the futures he imagined with you, you’d just feel tied down by his hopes. You weren’t a small bird he could hold in his home. 

You promised to not get in his way. The least he could do was not cage you with his love. He wouldn’t hold you back.

“Alastor.”

“Yeah?” He said dreamily.

“I think… ” You fought the urge to scream at the sensation between your toes, “Aubrey dripped into my shoes.”

Alastor yanked the bucket away from you, the angle he haphazardly held at it with a single finger to hold your hand having caused the liquid remains to leak out.

“Ankle boots. Ankle boots, no heel.” You muttered, the shoe rinsed off in the water with a paranoid speed now squishing under your sole. The action was enough to draw attention to your shore, long and round snouts moving toward you in the night as you got rid of Aubrey. It was time to go. 

The drive home was dark and silent. The bucket and tarps rinsed with the gas can full of water he always kept in the oversized, custom built trunk. It had taken longer than you had realized, which just brought up renewed worry for his sleep schedule.

When you finally made it home and into the bedroom, he mumbled it was too late to shower. A coordinated grumble between you that you’d both just wash the sheets in the morning. Alastor sat on the end of the bed and bent down, your hand coming to his shoulder to stop him. 

Exhausted, aching, and quite confident you smelled of sweat coated dirt with the tiniest hint of dead Aubrey mixed with alive William (blood and brandy, respectively), you lowered yourself to your knees. You untied the waxed laces of the right shoe, made of a shiny brown leather, and slipped it off. 

Alastor felt his throat tighten as he had to blink to keep tears away. You always seemed to listen when he spoke. Really listened, even when he was just being playful. Another tiny sweetness piled onto the mountain you were currently burying him under. Another ounce of inadequacy tipped on his self measured scales.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Hush, I don’t have to do anything.” You said it and he laughed breathlessly knowing he’d heard it before and praying he’d hear it forever. “I want to.”

You set the left shoe beside the right. When you didn’t stand but instead stared at him patiently, Alastor undid his pants and lifted his hips to push them down. You folded them neatly beside his shoes. Feeling up his legs as if you couldn’t see them there in front of you, you found his sock garters. 

“Keep the socks, please. It’s getting chilly.” He undid his shirt and folded it on his lap. 

When he was in just his underwear and socks, you looked up at him and wondered if he knew. That this was the closest to expressing “I love you” you had ever been. The act itself perhaps far louder than any words could be.

Sitting back, he patted between his legs like he had in the car. As you sat, he undid the buttons down the back of your dress. Why were so many women’s clothing items made in a way that required two people?

In the mirror above the dresser you took in the sight. When the dress fell to your waist he kissed your shoulder and met you in the reflection.

“Quite a pretty couple, if I do say so myself.” He rested his chin where he had just kissed and smiled at you. “What did I do to deserve your attention?”

“Affection,” you corrected. “Aubrey got attention.” He nodded slightly. “I think it’s karma.” You watched his brow arch. “You’ve earned me. Whatever that means, or looks like. We were put together for a reason.”

It was the sappiest thing you’d ever said and a year ago you’d have laughed in someone’s face for saying it. If a character in a novel spewed it out in a confession you’d have closed the book. But you meant it. Every single word was part of the fact this was supposed to happen. The idea that any timeline existed where your paths never crossed gave you the shivers.

Alastor closed his eyes, exhaustion catching up quickly as comfort opened the door for it. That didn’t make any sense to him at all. Why would anyone, god or the devil, give him something good just for the sake of being a good thing. He was very plainly bad. There must be a catch. That fear he felt before, the fear of wanting something too much, reappeared. Turning its ugly head to him as if called by name. 

Why? He could feel something, someone, setting their sights on him. 

When he opened his eyes, you were there still, looking at him. A smile too sweet. He felt the compulsion to tell you to run. That if this was his karma, it would end the way he deserved. And he didn’t deserve happiness. He didn’t deserve you.

But instead he leaned down, lifted your dress, and unclamped your garters. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to cling to what good he had now. Even knowing he couldn’t possibly get to keep it. His fingertips delighted in rolling down the delicate nylon. He watched the red stained end loosen around your toes, a mental note to burn them before he continued his undressing.

“Lift your hips, my love. I’ll get you all ready for bed.” As he pressed forward and bent into you so he could slip off the stockings he turned to look at the you in front of him, “And I’ll keep you warm.”

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

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[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Three

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Just fluff, y’all deserve it lol

Notes: I’ve had this chapter written for a long time already and this week I’ve just kept adding to it lol I also tore my thumbnail off at work so I’ve been typing on my phone with my index finger and it’s pissing me off, I apologize if I fuck up some spelling bc of it. Enjoy our boy being back and not holding anything in anymore🥰

Word Count: 3500

Series Masterlist

•March 18th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

I don’t know what’s worse. Watching Jasper leave, or standing in front of him months later completely unprepared to see his face ever again.

Jasper Hale is here, he’s real, he’s home.

I can’t breathe all over again. I just-

My body collides with his before I even realize I’m moving. Wrapping my arms around his neck feels like a puzzle piece clicking into place. He’s solid against me, slightly chilly but real. I can’t believe it, I inhale for the first time since opening the door and it really is him-the scent of pine and everything Jasper slides right into my lungs and clicks against my heart. My breathing is noticeably choppy and I can barely contain the sob lodged in my throat. One hand wrinkles his shirt in a fist at his shoulder while the other grips his beautiful blonde hair at the base of his head, my eyes squeeze shut to hold in the tears from the overwhelming feeling of having him this close again.

“You-you’re home.” I choke out, the lump in my throat almost impossible to slip words past.

His arms close around me delicately picking me up off my feet, like I’m made of porcelain. He hasn’t moved an inch otherwise, almost as if he’s thinking that I might be a dream too. I feel his chest expand and his arms cinch down a little tighter, bands of steel that aren’t releasing me anytime soon.

“I’m here darlin’, I’m home.” Jasper whispers into my neck.

“You can’t-don’t leave-“ I stutter, words failing me, hands starting to shake.

“Shhh sweetheart, I’m here.” He smooths a hand down the back of my head and cradles it against his shoulder.

Tears start to fall in a steady flow at the reassurance in his voice, words I’ve needed to hear for a long time now clanging through my soul. He’s here and I don’t know for how long, but he’s here.

Jasper steps forward into my house with me still enveloped in his arms, nudging the door to slam shut with the toe of his boot, he stops.

“Couch?” He asks, as if he’s unsure what to do next.

I nod into his neck, I could probably let go and walk myself, but I can’t release him just yet. He moves us over to the couch and as he sits, I pick my legs up to lay across his lap, a hand drifting down my thigh to guide me into a comfortable position. It’s like time picked up right where we left off, a shudder running through me at the familiarity of him.

“Darlin’, I need to see that gorgeous face of yours.” He says in that southern accent that’s like a spear to my heart. I want to shake my head, I’d prefer to stay in this bubble locked around him. Instead I do the reasonable thing, my arms relax the death grip I have on his neck as I lean back to look into his eyes.

“There you are, sweet girl.” He whispers with a grin, dark brown eyes tracking the tear stains running down my cheeks. His thumbs reach up to swipe away the wetness as he places a kiss to my forehead before taking a deep breath.

“Why on earth would you try to-to kill-” He struggles with the words in a way that clenches my heart.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. It was recreational diving.” I pick at the edge of my sweatshirt and I feel him shift.

“Alice couldn’t see you come out of the water, I was so scared, you… You can’t do that.” Jasper pushes some fallen strands of hair behind my ear, staring at where his cold finger meets my warm skin.

“Can’t do what?” I challenge, meeting his eyes as defiance flairs in me.

“Scare me. Put yourself in a situation where I might lose you.” His answer is warming and bold, but it delivers a blow to my chest.

“Like when I lost you six months ago?” Fuck, the lashing is out of my mouth before I could think, but I stand by it nonetheless.

He takes a deep breath, glancing around the living room before nodding.

“I’m sorry…” my voice is small as I whisper the apology, I truly didn’t mean to snap.

“Sweet girl…” he drifts off and closes his eyes, missing the pink on my cheeks from the nickname. “You have no idea, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The most scared I’ve ever been - that night in September and today.”

“You have no idea, Jasper. It’s not so easy to live without you either. To wonder if you’re alive. If you’ve moved on without me.”

He opens his almost pitch-black eyes and gapes at me like a fish out of water. How could this man think so low of himself that he can’t see how much I care for him?

“Have you been feeding?” I ask him, worry lacing my tone as I take his cheeks in my hands.

“When I need to, it turns out that not a lot matters besides you. You also scaring me to death kind of does that to a man.” He responds with a pointed look and a smirk tugging on his lips, his hands tightening their hold on my waist.

I blush again, not used to him being so open with his thoughts and feelings. “Oh hush.” I flash a sad grin back, the dark circles under my eyes an obvious sign I know exactly how he feels.

“You look tired sweetheart, maybe-“ he begins.

“No.” I interrupt him, there’s no way I’m taking my eyes off him any time soon, not even for a nap.

Realization dawns on him as I stare a hole into his chest, the grip I have on his shirt unyielding like it’s the only thing tethering me to earth. “Y/n, let’s go upstairs and you can take a nap, I’ll stay with you the entire time. You need some sleep, doll.”

“You-you’ll stay with me? You won’t leave?” I ask as he picks me up bridal style in his arms and begins walking to my room.

“I won’t leave, not until you ask me to.” He reassures my fears, no doubt catching the distress pouring off me in droves at just the thought of letting him go even for a simple nap.

“You’ll be okay laying with me?” I ask, concerned about making his hunger uncomfortable.

“Sweetheart,” he starts while ascending the stairs, “I’ve gone too long without you, I can wait a little longer to take care of myself.”

I sink into his arms a little further, my eyelids beginning to feel the weight of all the sleep I haven’t been getting since he’s been gone.

“Sleep, I’ve got you.” He murmurs into my hair, placing a kiss as he turns the corner to my room.

He sets me down on one side of the bed, the sheets unmaid making it easy to pull up and cover me. He speeds to the opposite side of my bed, toeing his shoes off before sliding under the sheets with me. He keeps his distance, facing me on his side with an arm propping up his head so that he could study me.

I turn my body to mirror his, “You’re not staying all the way over there, are you?” I ask mildly offended.

He lets out a chuckle, “Guess not.” He opens his arms to let me wiggle in closer, I press my nose to his chest and pause. “What is it?” He asks, immediately sensing my hesitation.

“Can I?” I lift my leg a little as if in question, too scared to ask something so intimate out loud.

He slides a chilly hand down my leg to grasp the back of my knee to hike over his thigh, leaving goosebumps in his wake and not just because he’s cold from the lack of sustenance in his system.

I sigh as I settle in, body finally able to relax for the first time in a very long time. I feel myself drift off as he rubs my back and whispers, “Sweet dreams darlin’, I’ll be here when you wake.”

Blissful all-encompassing darkness finally drags me under peacefully for the first time in months.

Jasper

I’m in Y/n’s bed, actually holding her and breathing her in. It’s like a soothing balm spreading over the exposed live wires of my sanity that have been buzzing uncomfortably since the day I ran from her. Gazing down at her sleeping face, I can tell the last few months have taken their toll on her too. Her forehead has more crinkles from stress, the dark circles under her eyes standing out against her delicate skin. Her lips aren’t quite as full as I remember, no doubt related to the volume missing in her cheeks from lack of nourishment. She’s still gorgeous, devastatingly so, but I know her well enough to notice the small changes.

I take a deep breath to let her scent flow in me, to heal the piece I’ve been missing for months, her hand tightens it’s hold on my shirt. I had no idea my absence would have such a prominent effect. I figured she could live without me simply the way she had before me.

As I gaze around her room to take in the disorganization, I hear her breathing pick up. Glancing back down I spot her nose scrunching up and a scrunch in her brow, in addition her heartbeat begins a steady increase. A nightmare, I can sense the fear and loneliness in her emotions.

“Darlin’,” I murmur softly into the soft skin of her temple as I run a hand down her back, “Wake up darlin’, it’s just a dream.”

She snaps awake with a sharp inhale, “Jasper?” Y/n asks, “You’re still here?”

“I’m here, do you want to talk about your dream?” I ask while I hook some loose strands of hair that escaped her bun behind her ear.

“Doesn’t matter now, you’re here.” She replies, her hands roaming my chest like she’s trying to convince herself of her own words.

God I’m so stupid for leaving this girl.

“Let me… Let me go take a shower so I can feel like myself again. You…?” Her question drifts off like she’s afraid to ask me to stay, like it isn’t her right to make demands like that.

“I’ll be here when you get out sweetheart, take as long as you need.” I end my reassurance with a kiss to her forehead, I can’t get enough of touching her again.

“Okay.” She whispers as she peels herself from where her body is intertwined with mine. I’m not used to the intimacy, but I’m more than happy to oblige my girl.

My girl.

That would require me to make her my girl. Require me to talk about my feelings for her, to make up for my horrible actions, for leaving her alone when she needed me.

I watch her shuffle around her room gathering clean clothes to wear for the night as I scoot back on her bed to lean against the headboard, hands folding in my lap content to just observe. The organization of her room only known to her as she picks up and discards articles of clothing that don’t satisfy her.

I lean forward from my resting place against her headboard and reach a hand back to grab the collar of my hoodie to remove it. As I’m yanking it off, my cotton T rides up flashing her a view of my stomach and I know she catches it based on the change of her scent.

A smirk graces my lips as I extend my hoodie towards her, “Here, sweetheart.”

Stunned eyes blink back up to my face as nervous hands grasp my jacket, “Thank you.” Whispered quickly from her lips.

Once she has what she needs, she pauses in the doorway to the hall, turning back to look at me.

“Go, before I’m tempted to undress you myself.” I smirk at the blush that dusts her cheeks, having reached my goal of bringing color back to her beautiful face. Effectively flustered, she rushes down the hall to her bathroom.

Reader

Wiping the condensation from the mirror, I grimace at the reflection. When did I start to permanently look tired? I let out a huff and check the time on my phone, I slept less than an hour in his arms. Not bothering to blow dry my hair, I ditch my dirty clothes in the hamper and walk back to my room.

Jasper’s eyes immediately find mine, “What’s wrong doll?” He asks, definitely having heard me fuss over my reflection in the bathroom.

“I’m just… still tired.” I offer as I turn to hang up the towel I used for my hair on the back of my door.

“C’mere.” He slides back down the bed from his position at the headboard and opens the blankets for me

I climb back into bed and scoot close to him, my forehead inches from his as I gaze into his dark eyes. I half expected him to be a figment of my imagination when I returned from my shower. We don’t say anything to each other, but it’s like he can’t keep his hands to himself and it’s new, but also not at the same time. Don’t get me wrong I absolutely love it and I can’t stop touching him either, but it’s different now-I’ve gone so long without him.

“Jasper?” I whisper into the quiet of my room.

“Yes sweetheart?” He responds, halting the hand drawing circles on my arm.

“What are we doing?” I wonder out loud, unable to continue this limbo with him, my nerves shot to hell.

“Well,” he leans in, one hand moving to cup the back of my head, “I’d like to…” his nose bumps mine and I can’t breathe. He’s going to kiss me, Jasper Hale is going to-

Right when I feel his lips ghost mine, his phone rings, ruining the peaceful moment. With a groan and a clench of his jaw, he turns to grab his phone from my nightstand, Alice’s name flashing on the screen.

“This better be important.” He says by the way of a greeting to his adopted sister, as he’s staring at me with those pitch-black eyes. There’s hunger there and I’m not entirely sure it’s for blood this time, I shiver and he catches the movement immediately.

“Mary Alice-“ he manages to force her full name from a clenched jaw.

“Yes-yes I know, I’m sorry, but it’s Edward.” She proceeds to launch into an explanation as he sits up, concern taking over his features as I overhear Alice explain their situation in Volterre.

Wait-Volterre as in Europe? Are Alice and Bella in Europe? What’s wrong with Edward?

Jasper turns to give me a reassuring half-smile, sensing the turn in my emotions.

Shortly the call with Alice ends and he turns to me fully, “What’s going on?” I question before he can manage an explanation.

“I chose to come home the same time Alice came to check on Isabella, after you two decided to do some… recreational cliff diving at the reservation and Alice couldn’t see the outcome. I decided to come with her because I had to see you with my own eyes, the opportunity to see you again was something I couldn’t pass up anymore.” He began, looking down at his hands nervously. “Edward… He called Bella’s home phone requesting to speak to her father and Jacob answered. Informed him that Charlie was planning a funeral, but didn’t mention that it was for Harry Clearwater. So now… now he’s in Volterre asking for death from The Voltouri.”

“Who are the Voltouri?” I asked, worry creeping in for Edward. “Why would he ask them for such a thing?”

His eyes meet mine, soft even though his hunger shines clear. “Darlin’, he thinks Bella is dead. The Voltouri are the governing body to our vampire race. They’re judge, jury, and executioner rolled into one, full of very powerful beings.”

“Okay, but clearly she’s alive! And on her way to meet him, why would he want to die?” I press him harder, worried for my friends.

“He isn't answering his phone, his mind has been made up, which is why Alice is racing the clock to get to him. Isabella is his singer, honey-“ his hands reach for mine as I interrupt him.

“Singer? What in the world is that?” I demand, my patience thinning at the anxiety of the situation.

“A blood singer is a vampire’s greatest temptation,” he begins, now unable to meet my questioning gaze, looking at our intertwined fingers instead. “They’re blood sings, or in other words, is irresistible perfection for their vampire. In some cases they are the potential mate for the vampire. A singer isn’t like that for all vampires, usually just for the one. A life without them is extremely dull in comparison once you’ve found them.” He concludes.

“Sounds like you’re familiar with the feeling,” I mumble self-consciously. “Have you had a singer?”

The sharp exhale he forces out snaps my eyes to his. “Yes.” He answers truthfully.

“Oh…” My heart sinking, I try to pull my hands from his but he holds tight. “That’s-“

“You, darlin’.” He states matter of factly, one of his fingers lifting my chin, so that he could find my eyes. “You are that for me.”

“I-I’m your singer?” Disbelief and awe seep into my tone.

Jasper’s fingers drift down my neck following the path of my pulse, his dark gaze following their trail. “Yes Y/n, you’re mine.”

I shiver at the pure possession in his voice and the dangerous glint in his eyes. I wonder if he knows how that sounded, like there was no room for negotiation - like it’s more than my blood he wants.

“Honey, you keep those thoughts up and we’re in trouble.” He grinds out, a war raging behind his eyes.

“Jasper…” I trail off as I climb over the remaining space separating us and into his lap, like a magnet drawn to its counterpart.

“Does this mean we’re… Mates?” I ask, not really sure of what that implies.

“Yes,” Jasper takes a moment to seemingly gather his thoughts, “you need to tread very lightly, little one.” His voice a deep vibration in the quiet room, his hands flexing on the comforter of my bed.

“Oh my god, you haven’t eaten and I-“ I stutter out as I rise from my position in his lap. I’m his fucking singer and I’m pushing his limits while he’s hungry!

“Now that you know everything… I need to hunt. I think I’ve tested all the patience and luck I’m going to get today.” He states with his black eyes still locked on mine.

I leaned against my dresser a few feet in front of him and fold my arms over my chest, a little insecure under his intense gaze now that his proximity isn’t overriding my rational thoughts.

“Go, go hunt. But please, come back to me?” I ask him.

He rises from the edge of my bed, slowly closing the gap and resting a hand on my cheek softly. I lean into it, closing my eyes and turning to press a kiss to it before meeting his eyes again. His lips part as if he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction, “I’m yours now - have always been, but now I know I don’t have the strength to do that again, to abandon you.” He reassures my fears quickly. “It’ll be a few days, to properly prepare myself, but I promise you’re my first stop when I’m back.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Hale.” Feeling better about him leaving now that I have his word. Jasper leans down to place a lingering kiss to my forehead, his cool lips feeling like heaven on my heated skin.

“Be safe while I’m gone, please.” He whispers into my hair, his thumb sweeping my cheek back and forth adoringly. I nod since my throat feels like I’ve swallowed cotton, sad that I’m forced to be without him for a few days after just getting him back.

He steps away from me toward my open window, where the cool spring air drifts in. Glancing back for one last look before making his exit, I catch his eyes scanning every inch of my body.

He’s out of the window in the next fraction of a second, not even a whisper of footsteps in his wake. I wrap myself a little tighter in his hoodie, his intoxicating scent soothing the ache that’s beginning to return, reminding me he’s here.

He’s home, Jasper Hale came home to me.

Next

Taglist Part 1:

@aoi-targaryen @Min-jianhyung @pbbsl @timelordhunterandmysterysolver @sheerangermany @clearwater-hoe @Blackbluerose666 @ivy-plays @random-human02 @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gaymazinglula @l3ejm @angelfuzzy2 @losa12308 @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @flyawayprincess @ropickle @catbusloki @deviat3dsn0wf0x @lovesanimals0000 @unrevived @h-naec @cutesnakemum @zudooms @itsmytimetoodream @stinkii-boii @acoolnight @anothercoffeeblogx @irishblend10 @from-now-on-im-switzerland @kyraslife2 @naolvshan @kiiwiigii @rosedpetal @kiaraandrea @foolsgoldxo @heartfilia01 @azuredgalaxies @geekysimmerthings @graciereads @ramen-girl-2424 @0hmydekiru @creeqvealley @cherriebat @whichwitchisthebitch @dragon-rider-with-a-book @secretfairytailpetscookie @psychobitchsthings

[annwrites]

— homelander quotes ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*: | read

❝Did mommy and daddy not teach their little girl respect?❞

❝I could always just make you get on your knees. To either suck me off or lick my boots. Maybe both.❞

❝Do you not like me? I’m a fucking hero! I am the face of this country. Yet you treat me like any other insignificant schmuck on the street. I deserve some goddamn respect!❞

❝Y’know what? That does seem like a good start at fixing things between the two of us. You can have the honor of making me dinner. Maybe we play house for the evening.❞

❝Well, it’s either that, or, once I’m done with my dinner, I carry you over to your bed and have my way with you. Whether you want to or not.❞

❝Oh, honey, I can do whatever the fuck I want.❞ (...) ❝And I think you’re going to like it.❞

❝I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in.❞

❝What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.❞

❝You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.❞

❝I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.❞

❝They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile.❞

❝Maybe I should gift you a Homelander pack of panties.❞ (...) ❝I could be with you all day long that way. Right between your legs.❞

❝I’m not going to rape you. If I wanted you on your back with your legs spread, you would be.❞

❝You’re mine,❞ he whispers. ❝You belong to me now. Do you understand?❞

❝You understand me,❞ he continues. ❝Like no one else has ever bothered to. We’re together now. Got it?❞

❝It wasn’t a question. I wasn’t asking. You’re mine.❞

❝If I find out you’re seeing anyone else, you won’t like what happens to him. So, I suggest staying loyal. Not that anyone else could ever compare to me, anyway. I mean, you should be happy about this—that you’re the young woman I’ve chosen for myself. It makes you special. Being mine, that is. A rich superhero. The supe.❞

❝The greatest man in all of America—the world—and I’m all yours.❞

❝We'll, I’d just fucking kill him. I’d kill any man that looked at, or touched you, y'know?❞

❝Because we belong together. I mean, you belong to me. You're my property.❞

❝That's my good girl. Besides, once I got done taking care of business, you'd have nowhere else to go.❞

❝I’d make sure that I’d be the only thing you had left to run to,❞ he says—his tone slightly threatening. ❝In all the fuckin' world.❞ (...) ❝Because I am your world.❞

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-sixteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Please listen to Eyelids by PVRIS during this chapter. Thank you very much.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken @emzandthevoid

READER

With the notebook in my lap, as I sat cross-legged on my bed with Salem curled up next to me, purring away, I watched intently my laptop screen. My heart pounded so hard in my chest it made it hard to breathe. Noah and Jolly were currently performing a live stream on Veeps and from the moment I clicked on the video, I couldn’t stop staring; with his long hair cascading down his face in perfect waves. His face stone with concentration but yet soft with the features I loved.

“Do you think he’ll mess up like the last stream he did?” I asked Salem while scratching his belly.

Noah’s voice was something extremely distinctive, not just anyone could hold a tune or lit a candle to how he sounded. The way he effortlessly went through every emotion in his body. I looked at Noah as he was pretty still, with thick hair and soft eyes, and he swayed so gracefully that it almost seemed as though he was gliding. I’ve seen beautiful men before; men who caught my eye, but to my mind, they usually lacked the traits I found most desirable. Traits like intelligence, confidence, strength of spirit, passion, traits that inspired others to greatness, traits I aspired to myself, all the traits he had.

I hung off the cliff for Noah for a long time until recently, when I fell to the depths below.

It sparked something in me as I watched Jolly and Noah’s performance. I wanted to do something like this too; to showcase my real voice. I was better without Trey; the band was better. Trey wasn’t the end-all, and I wanted to prove it further. I understood the fans; I knew their positions; I understood their inner turmoil and their panic. Change is actually horrific under some circumstances, not all, but surely a few. This one was big.

Hollow Souls was never supposed to be a 3 piece. Hell, we didn’t even have a guitar player and our tech had to fill in when we recorded My House. Which is why I was learning how to play guitar so I could take Trey’s place. A lot of change within a few months and while it was scary, it was also exciting. But that didn’t stop me from questioning once again if we needed another person. What if I wasn’t strong enough to do this alone? Just the three of us? 

What the hell were you worried about, angel?

I was thinking so heavily about what Noah texted me. He was proud of me. Of me! And my friends. That woke me up, he always could. I wanted to grab my phone to call him, and ask him for more reassurance. Our 2:30 conversations were slim and in between and I was struggling with that. I didn’t want to push my luck; he had Bailey.

Bailey.

Bailey.

I rolled my eyes, at the memories of the party. Ridiculous. I was tiptoeing around Noah; I knew if I called him I’d so desperately try to stay on the line. But what if she showed? It was killing me.

Therefore, I was hesitant to perform Eyelids; I was worried Noah’s reaction would warrant further frustration, considering he was in the arms of someone else. I couldn’t handle it because it fucking hurt seeing him with her. I wanted Noah to myself, as selfish as that sounded. I could only hope that in the discovery of my lyrics, he’ll at least know I meant everything we did and said that whole tour, meeting him changed my life for the better; before I hurt him.

I miss him and I only wished I was in his arms.

As the livestream ended, I smiled warmly as Noah and Jolly waved goodbye at the camera and then tried to focus my attention on the paper in my lap.

Amongst the idea of our own live stream, I couldn’t help but want more out of me. It was small; it was something just dying to purge out. However, the more I looked at the lyrics on paper, the more it didn’t fit; it wasn’t me. It was as if these lyrics were meant for someone else.

Letting out a deep breath, I sang a harmony I thought would fit with the lyrics. “Evened the scores, then I let it all go fall apart. And every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. Looking sideways when I say I’m okay with the past but I’m afraid of what I might say if you ask.”

The more I read it, over and over. It was good; I’ll say that. But, surely it didn’t belong to me. I could feel that. But I didn’t give up yet. I wrote another verse, hoping this one would speak more of me.

“I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. I let it tear me down, and I'll never be the same. I did it to myself and tried to be someone else. And you didn't notice 'til I finally got, finally got away.”

Fuck, even singing these lyrics didn’t feel right. My heart knew that this didn’t belong to me, it was meant for someone else.

Making a rash decision, I pulled out my phone and clicked on the name I needed help from.

“Hello?”

I perked up at the accent immediately. “Jolly! Hey, it's me. Y/N.”

A light chuckle echoed in my ear. “I know who it is, doll, I have caller ID.”

“Ok don’t be smart,” I teased.

“Sorry,” he laughs, “What do I owe the pleasure?”

I bit my lip, wondering how he would take my idea. It sounded rash in my head but if anyone were to listen to my idea; it was Jolly.

“I have something to run by you. Well, actually a few things.”

NOAH

My knee bounced as I sat in my chair, phone gripped tightly in my hand, as I glanced at the clock on my computer.

2:28.

It has been almost a week now since our last 2:30 call and the last one was short as she was running around Japan with her dad. Things were awkward to say the least at the party the other night and I wanted to make sure that things between us were still good.

Good? What’s considered good anymore? You’re dating someone else, dumbass.

Ignoring the voice in my mind, I let out a deep breath before clicking on Y/N’s name; the ringing echoing loudly in my quiet room. It rang and rang and rang. It went on like this for a few more times until, eventually; I hung up the call with a groan. But I wasn’t ready to give up yet and I typed out a quick message to Malcolm.

ME: Is Y/N around? I tried calling her.

Malcolm: Yeah, she’s been in the shower. Has been in there for a while- too long, maybe shaving or some shit. I’ll have her call you.

An audible, deep groan, fell from my lips as I leaned my head back against the headrest of my chair when the thought of Y/N in the shower.

Naked, water, and soap ran down every inch of her unholy skin.

“Shit,” I cursed when my dick twitched in my sweats.

“Noah.”

Y/N’s voice rang in my ear as my eyes fluttered shut, hands in fists on my thighs. My vision was so vivid as if I was in the shower with her, our wet skin ablaze as I wrapped my arms around her from behind to bury my face into the crook of her neck.

“Angel,” I breathed while my palm pressed against my hard cock in my sweats.

My hips raised from the chair as a moan crawled out of my throat, my hand now all but ripping out my dripping cock from my pants. It was red and thick with the mere thought of Y/N in the shower. Gripping it between my fingers, I slowly pumped up and down, thumb grazing over the pre-cum that leaked out from the slit and circled it around the head of my cock.

“Noah, I need you.”

Her name fell from my lips as a prayer while I leaned farther back into my chair as my hand worked faster, the grip around myself tightened as the orgasm buzzed in my lower stomach. The burn felt so good but it wasn’t enough; I needed something else to help me over the edge.

I pulled the extra skin down tight, cock standing straight up in my hand, as I let out a strangled breath. My orgasm was right there, but I wanted to edge myself longer; I didn’t want this vision to end.

Y/N rubbed the soap over every inch of her skin, her fingers teasing over her nipples as he head fell back, water spraying into her mouth.

But after that vision, another one came to mind which made my hand work in faster strokes. Y/N on top of me with her hands gripping my braids as her mouth fell slack with ecstasy. I consistently became a time traveler of that night, the night she rode me into oblivion. A night I’ll surely never forget. Even in these moments, my mind goes there.

“Fuck. Shit.” I cursed as a shock shot from the base of my spine to the top when my body went stiff, orgasm so close to destroying me.

I jerked when my phone buzzed against the computer desk so I stopped my actions but kept my grip tight on my aching cock to realize Bailey was calling me.

Ignore.

With my phone still in my hand, I quickly went to my photos and clicked on one of my favorite pictures of Y/N; from the day we spent on the beach. She was staring straight out into the water, a small smile playing on her sweet, plump lips.

Fuck, I wished those lips were strangled around my cock.

Once the phone was set up directly in front of me, I leaned back into my chair again and worked my hand in fast short strokes, the orgasm once again burning low in my belly.

“Noah.” Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind again.

“Shit, angel. I’m gonna-fuck,” I groaned low, the noise barely audible as it crawled out of my throat when my release finally washed over me.

Cum shot all over my hand and onto my pants but none of that mattered; my dark eyes were stuck on the picture on the screen. Until a different picture appeared which had me cursing and wiping my cum covered hand on my pants before tucking myself back into my pants. Just a simple phone call from her had my dick aching again.

With a few steady breaths, I ran my clean hand through my hair before answering the FaceTime call; Y/N’s bright smile warming my heart.

“Hi Mochi! I didn’t mean to miss your call. I was in the shower.”

She was sitting on her bed, water still dripping from her wet hair, and internally I groaned when the same thoughts as earlier came creeping back into my mind.

“Oh yeah? You-uh-feeling clean?” I flushed while shifting in my chair.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckled. “That’s what a shower is. Water, soap.”

Naked, I know the drill.

I cleared my throat. “Right. Anyway, can you talk or is this a bad time?”

“Actually, I was going to send this in the group chat but since I have you on the phone, I figured now would be the best time.”

I raised a brow as my heart pounded widely in my chest, wondering what she was going to say.

“Veeps offered Hollow Souls to do a stream as well! So I wanted to make sure you were free to watch it, maybe? Totally fine if you can’t, I know you might be busy with-.”

“I’ll watch it,” I rushed out, not missing a beat. “What time?”

“Oh, in about 2 hours?” She bit her lip, hopeful I’d say yes.

My dick throbbed as memories of moments before her phone call replayed in my mind. “I’ll have the tv on standby downstairs, angel. We wouldn’t miss that shit for anything.”

Y/N smiled brightly as she brought Salem into view of her phone, his green eyes staring directly into my soul. “Salem thanks you for the support.”

“I miss him, we really bonded while you were gone,” I smiled a bit.

“Well, you can come by anytime to hang out with him; or me,” Y/N added the last bit slyly.

“Count me in, angel.”

READER

Once dressed, almost ready for the live stream, I was rummaging through my sock drawer to find a pair of socks when my fingers brushed against something soft. My brow raised as I pulled out two small velvet boxes, my mind immediately going back to my birthday.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I opened the box, and a gasp left my lips as the silver necklace and matching bracelet shined under the light of the room. It wasn't anything over the top and there were no diamonds but that didn't matter to me. I wasn't one for over-the-top jewelry, this simple chain and bracelet were enough.

With wet eyes, I gazed up at Noah, who had a nervous look on his face as he fiddled with his wooden rosary. "Do you like it?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into my embrace, burying my face into his neck. "I love it, Noah. Thank you so much."

With the haste of break up, the end of the tour, the move, and everything that happened between Noah and me, I almost forgot about the jewelry. I've stared at this bracelet and this fucking necklace for a while now. To think I had almost forgotten it, I shook my head at the thought. I couldn’t, things that were meant for us to find their way back. Well; at least that’s what I told myself. I yearned for him, his comfort, his gaze. I didn’t plan on falling in love with him. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. I gasped when I realized what that burning feeling in my heart took over my entire existence each time I thought of him or saw him.

I love Noah.

I nearly stumbled on my feet as a breath fell from my lips again. “It’s too late now.”

With shaky hands, I opened the box, my heart skipping a beat. It still took my breath away as I opened the box, clasping on the necklace first then the bracelet.

“I have to admit, Salem” I turned towards the mirror in my room so I could stare at my reflection while the cat sat on my vanity. “Noah did pretty well.”

There was a knock on my open door, and I gave a small smile towards Jolly. “Hey.”

“Almost ready?” He asked.

“Yep.”

He then taped a finger to his neckline twice. “That’s a nice necklace. Who gave you that?”

“It was a birthday gift,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

The corner of Jolly’s mouth turned up in a grin. “That’s not what I asked.”

Ignoring his comment, I slid into my slippers and led him out of my room down to the dining room where we set up earlier.

Jolly first arrived a few hours ago for our daily lessons before helping me set up the stream. After I watched theirs almost a week ago, I asked Jolly if he could come over to help me with my stream. I couldn’t play guitar but we could practice the two songs I wanted to perform.

Chase and Malcolm asked if I needed them for this but I could tell they already had plans. Even though this was a Hollow Souls set, it was more of an acoustic version so Chase on drums and Malcolm on bass wasn’t needed; hence why I asked Jolly to help. First off, who else was better to teach me how to play guitar than him? I knew the basics, but he was helping me hone in on my skills. Second, I needed to talk to him about something important.

As I finished making things were in order, Jolly sat on his chair to strum the first few notes of If I’m There on his guitar.

“Feel comfortable enough?” He wondered.

I nodded while looking at the laptop to make sure the stream was ready; all I had to do was hit the live button.

“Yep. We’ve been practicing every day. It helps I have a great teacher,” I beamed at him. “Thanks for this, Jolly. I didn’t know who else to ask and I know you’re Noah’s friend first.”

Jolly shrugged. “You’re my friend as well, doll. I help my friends and that’s something Noah knows and understands.”

Silence fell between us for a long moment until he hesitated.

“How did you feel about our new single, honestly?”

My shoulders went rigid for a second before I shrugged. “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Y/N don’t take this the wrong way, but you can’t be that dense. You know it was about you, right?” Jolly asked.

“I-,” The words died in my throat.

Jolly raised a brow. “Yeah, so tell me. How do you feel about it?”

“Are you my shrink now?” I crossed my arms over my chest, one last ditch effort at shielding myself from admitting the truth.

“No, a friend,” he sighed while setting down the guitar.

Defeated, I fell into the chair with a groan. “I-I feel sad. Noah must fucking hate me.”

“I assure you, he doesn’t,” Jolly said.

“How can you be so sure, Jolly? He went and found someone else. He’s clearly writing how he feels too. I hate feeling like this.” I sat with my hands folded in my lap as I chipped away at the nail polish.

“So talk to him, because I can tell you right now, Noah’s not head over heels for this girl. I think you know deep down what he’s trying to do.”

I refused to meet his gaze as I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. I can’t-he seems happy.”

“Y/N,” Jolly sighed. “He’s not happy unless he’s with you.”

“Then he needs to tell me that,” my eyes snapped up towards him. “I was going to express some things I’ve discovered but-.”

Jolly raised his brows. “Discovered what?”

For a split second, I thought about telling him but decided against it. “It doesn’t matter, I can’t mess anything up for him. I need Noah to need me. It works both ways, Jolly.”

“Y/N you’re not understanding you’ve got it all wrong-.”

“Can we move on, please? It hurts enough to think about him with someone else the last fucking thing I want to do is talk about them,” I let out a shaky breath as my bottom lip wobbled.

Jolly gave me a weak smile. “Sure thing, doll. Did you want to go live?”

“Actually,” I bit my lip before reaching over to the table to grab a piece of paper. “There’s something I want to run by you.”

When he nodded, I handed Jolly the paper. “I wrote it about Trey but the thought of recording it scares me. It’s deeper than what I typically write and it's not me. I thought about selling it but that didn’t feel right.”

I watched intently as Jolly read the lyrics, his eyes taking in every inch of the page, the smile on his lips growing with each pass.

“Doll, this is,” he shook his head. “Amazing. Are you sure?”

Our eyes locked as I nodded. “It’s not a Hollow Souls song. But Bad Omens on the other hand, I know you guys can give it the justice it deserves.”

NOAH

“SHUT UP!” I bellowed while tossing a pillow towards Jesse, who was talking extensively to Orie about some shit that didn’t matter. “The live stream is about to start.”

Jesse caught the pillow mid-throw and smirked. “Excited, are we?”

Flipping him off, I sat on the couch with a beer in one hand and my phone in the other, sending another text to Jolly. He’d been M.I. A all day, and we were wondering if he was going to join.

“Has anyone heard from Jolly?” I asked.

Orie shrugged. “I thought he was in his room.”

“We went to lunch earlier,” Michael said while walking into the living room, bowl full of random snacks in his hands before he set them on the coffee table. “But he said he had some things to take care of afterward.”

Just then the stream began and Y/N’s soft voice echoed through the speakers.

“Shit, are we live? Wait, I probably shouldn’t swear on this.”

We all shared a laugh until we saw who was sitting next to her.

“Hi everyone! It’s Y/N from Hollow Souls. You might have noticed that I have a friend here with me today,” Y/N adjusted the headphones before she motioned to Jolly who sat on her left. “Jolly from Bad Omens.”

Jolly waved to the camera. “Hi.”

“I guess that’s what his errand was,” Jesse said while throwing some popcorn in his mouth.

Ignoring him, I wondered why Jolly was with Y/N right now. I wasn’t jealous he was with her. I was jealous that I wasn’t there instead. She looked breathtaking with her long hair pulled back in a tight bun to showcase the sharp features of her face, her plump lips glistening with the lip gloss she must have applied before the stream started. Her bright eyes shined with the excitement of what she was about to perform which in turn made me sit up straighter in my spot on the couch, a proud smile on my face.

“So, the reason Malcolm and Chase aren’t here is because this set is more of an acoustic one. I recently saw some friends of mine do something like this and wanted to try it,” she smiled over to Jolly.

“I’m here for moral support,” Jolly said.

“He’s actually been teaching me guitar the last week because I wanted to do more for this band since we kicked Trey out,” Y/N revealed.

At the mention of his name, I felt my face twitch but kept it as stone as I could, not wanting to give anything away to the rest of the guys. They were the only three of the entire group that didn’t know the truth about Y/N’s relationship with Trey.

“Did you know Jolly was teaching her guitar?” Jesse asked me.

I shook my head while running a hand through my hair. “I had no idea she wanted to learn. I mean, I knew they had to figure out a guitarist moving forward but didn’t know she wanted to play.”

“She didn’t ask you?” Orie wondered.

I shrugged, wondering the same but did my best not to dwell on it as I went back to watching the feed.

“So, I’m going to sing two songs for you guys today. The first one is a cover, and the second is something new. It’s nowhere near ready for release but it’s been weighing heavy on my heart the last few weeks since I wrote it.”

Y/N adjusted her headphones before glancing over to her laptop. “Woah, the chat is going crazy you’re here, Jolly.”

He hummed in amusement while tuning the guitar. “What are they saying?”

“Where’s Noah? When is the collab with Bad Omens coming?”

Y/N snickered before looking back at the camera, giving a wink. “I don’t know. Noah has my number.”

Quickly pulling out my phone, I pulled up the stream to add something to the chat.

“Oh, look who joined the chat. Jolly, Noah is wondering if you could bring pizza home,” Y/N laughed as she read my comment.

I chuckled to myself as we saw Jolly roll his eyes. Then Y/N read my next comment, her cheeks flushing red; something others might not have noticed. But I did. I watched and analyzed everything she did with a careful eye.

The comment I sent in the chat was something simple; something only a few of us would understand.

We can talk about the collab during our next phone call.

She shifted in her chair, a hint of a smile on her face. “Well, my first song might sound familiar to a lot of you. It’s my first time performing it but unlike Noah did last week, I won’t mess up the words.”

Jolly broke out in laughter before playing the opening notes of the song; one I recognized immediately even though I knew which one she meant before Jolly played the first few notes of the song. There was only one song I messed up on a livestream recently. If I’m There.

Her beautiful voice stung deep into my veins as I fell back on the couch.

“Oh. Shit,” Orie spoke. “No offense, man, but Y/N kills your lyrics.”

I nodded, numbly as I agreed with him. It was as if my lyrics were made for her voice, the sultry tone of it sending chills all over my body. She gripped the microphone with a soft touch and my cock twitched as I remembered earlier up in my bedroom.

As she got to the verse I messed up on my own livestream, Y/N’s eyes opened to throw a quick wink and smirk toward the camera when she sang it perfectly; almost annoyingly perfect.

I felt a pair of eyes burning into the side of my head and briefly tearing my gaze away from the television; I shot Jesse a look.

“What?”

He pursed his lips while shaking his head. “You haven’t stopped smiling since she came on the screen. You look like a kid that was given free rein in a candy store.”

Rolling my eyes, I focused back to Y/N just in time as she sang the last two lines of the song.

“And if you're there to catch me when I fall then maybe Hell ain't so bad after all,” she breathed before pushing away the microphone from her a tad.

Shit.

This was different than Hollow Souls. The softness of the song was fucking made for Y/N and something she needed to do more of.

“Fuck yes,” she beamed but then smacked a hand over her face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to swear. I’ll add it to the jar Malcolm has on top of the fridge.”

“He doesn’t?” Michael chucked.

I nodded while taking a long drink of my beer. “He does. I saw it when I was there taking care of Salem. Thing is empty but fuck is in their everyday vocabulary so you know they’re not adding to that shit.”

Noticing she was reading the comments once again, I quickly typed out one.

Great job, Y/N! Feel free to cover any of our songs. I’d always watch it with a proud smile.

Even though she didn’t say she read it, I knew she did with the way the corner of her lip raised and the way her eyes crinkled at the sides.

“Alright, the last song is a new one. We do plan on having it on the next record but it will sound different from what you’ll hear right now. My friends, thank you for watching. This one is called Eyelids.”

This had me sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, as excitement filled me.

“I'll face my fear of the evening once I get used to this feeling. I can't sleep. That's when you're torn away from me. While I'm dreaming I feel you leaving.”

My jaw fell slack, hearing the rawness in her voice with the pure emotion being poured out of her soul.

"I'll face my fear of the sunrise when I wake up with your hand inside mine. It's hard to say good morning when it's followed with goodbye. Just wanted to say good night.”

Something glinted on the screen, which immediately took my gaze away from her face down to her neck, my heart and breath catching in my throat. I remained silent as my body leaned closer to the television.

“What are you doing, man? Did you forget your glasses?” Michael joked.

His voice was a white noise as I moved from my spot on the couch to the coffee table, now sitting directly in front of the screen.

What the fuck?

Is that?

I inched closer and closer to that television, I couldn’t hear what was being said to me as I scrunched my face up and began squinting.

No, it can’t be.

“Our eyes fighting the light but I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

It hung almost a little well above her cleavage, that beautiful silky neck- my eyes moved quickly to her wrists.

“Let me see,” I muttered under my breath.

I made an inaudible sound from my throat, mouth peering a little open.

She was wearing them; both of them. My heart raced even further, longer, more rapidly.

I was feeling a lot of things at once; I didn’t quite know how to place them. I needed a beer. I needed to talk to my shrink. That’s what I should do, because the panic was setting in, this ache was almost unbearable.

Why, why would she want to wear them after everything? Even now?

I’m hurting her right back, aren’t I?

Everything has become a puddle of mud, a mess of my volition now. I did this. All I could think while seeing the jewelry I gifted her, all I could hear while listening to her voice was “Maybe, just maybe I’ll come back to you.”

She was occupied by her own complicated thoughts - you could tell from the way she was squinting and moving her mouth.

Maybe I was imagining things. Maybe until-.

“I'll face my fear of the cold nights when you leave me behind. I felt your hands in my hair. I felt your breath on my neck. Yeah, I need to feel you again. Just wanted to say good night.”

My body went still, all the air taken from my lungs, as I watched her lips move. Her own personal conflict was clear in the way the muscles in her jaw tightened and her eyes screwed shut.

No, it couldn’t be.

She didn’t.

Did she?

Was this about us?

No, I’m overthinking this.

“Our eyes fighting the light but I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Orie smack Jesse on the shoulder and motioned to the stillness of me; still unmoving.

“Our eyes fighting the light. But I'm not ready to say good night, ooh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. Say good night.”

I could see Jolly vibing along to the lyrics next to Y/N but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered more than this moment right here as I watched her pour every feeling about that night into this one song. My heart fell deep into the pits of my stomach when I saw her grip the necklace, playing with it between two fingers.

These eyes are closed again for yet another night I wake up and I can feel you by my side. But I can't find you in the dark when you're so far. Yeah, that's the hardest part. Here comes the hardest part.

My eyes dropped slightly in tangent with my shoulders.

Our eyes fight the light. But I'm not ready to say good night oh. I try and hold on tight 'cause it's just not time to say good night. To say good night.

As the last lyric faded into the air, there was a hushed recording playing some words in the background; another small thing I picked up on.

“I mean in what world do I go to sleep after you and wake up before you? I don't even know how it happens. Well, I hope you're having sweet dreams. And you call me when you wake up.”

Fuck.

My bottom lip trembled when I recognized that voice. It was Y/N’s, and it wasn’t just any kind of recording. No, it was a voicemail she left me while she was in Japan. It was right after I missed one of our 2:30 calls. I was asleep but once I noticed she called me less than an hour later; I listened to the voicemail before quickly calling her back.

“Okay, that deserves a curse,” Jolly said. “You fucking killed that, Y/N.”

She was beaming with pride. “Holy shit, guys. You don’t understand how long I’ve had this festering inside of me. It feels so good to get out.”

Y/N clicked on the laptop to read through some of the comments, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“Oh my god. Are you and Trey getting back together?! You were so perfect. No, we’re not getting back together. I grew up since the breakup; I became a savage. But not everything is about fucking Trey. This is just a song about a really awesome guy. That’s it.”

I was still, like a statue, unmoving and unnerving as Joly and Y/N said their goodbyes before the stream ended; a black screen mirror back to me.

Jesse leaned forward in his chair. “Noah-.”

Hearing my name broke me out of the trance and without saying another word, I jumped up from my spot on the coffee table and took the stairs two at a time, my footsteps thundering throughout the house before I slammed myself into my bedroom.

Tears threatened to spill, burning at the corners of my eyes, but I held them in with a choked sob as I ran a shaky hand over my face.

I didn’t know what to make of anything anymore. Maybe just romantics would call this a twisted, toxic beginning to a love story while the cynics would call it a tragedy. In my mind, it’s a little bit of both, and no matter how you choose to view it in the end, it doesn’t change the fact that it involves a great deal of my life and the path I’ve chosen to follow and that I- I love her.

Ripping the drawer of my desk open, I rummaged through the useless crap, already knowing what I was looking for. I tossed the velvet boxes to the side and cradled the jewelry, my large hands encased them. I pressed them on my forehead and let the tears finally spill to the floor as I fell to my knees, resting my back up against my bed.

I cried; actually fucking cried.

The necklace and bracelet shook in my hands as the sobs wrecked through me. I haven’t cried like this in a long time mostly because I hated being this open and vulnerable. It made me sick, knowing that I wasn’t able to protect myself from these feelings right now. I spent my entire life protecting myself from these feelings only for Y/N to sink her claws into me in the best way possible.

“I love her,” I choked out through sobs, realizing what I felt earlier. “I fucking love her.”

NOAH

I wasn’t sure how long I kneeled on the floor, jewelry grasped deep in my palms as it dug into my skin. But it wasn’t until there was a soft knock on the door that pulled me from the despair. Red, puffy, bloodshot eyes glanced up at Jolly, whose shoulders fell as he took in my state; tears dried to my face and hair a mess from running my hands through it.

“Noah,” he muttered.

“Please leave me alone right now.” I whimpered lowly, refusing to meet his gaze again.

“No. Jesse said watching her perform Eyelids fucked you up. What’s going on?” Jolly kneeled in front of me.

“I can’t-,” I choked on a sob. “I don’t want to deal with this.”

Jolly rubbed his jaw. “Was it the song or the jewelry?”

My eyes snapped up to him. “How did you know about the jewelry?”

“You used the band card to charge it, goof. I see everything,” Jolly gave me a small smile.

“Fuck. Sorry,” I sighed.

“It’s okay man, it’s okay,” he reassured me with a strong grip on my shoulder.

“No, no, it’s not. I’m tired of feeling. I want to disappear, just disappear.”

Jolly now gripped both of my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. "No, you don’t. Don’t say that shit.” 

“I just mean I wish it wasn’t this. Y/N’s been giving me mixed signals.” I mumbled.

“Have you thought you’re doing the same? You’re literally hanging out with another woman out of spite,” He raised a questioning brow.

I leaned my head against the side of my mattress. “She won’t tell me how she feels, I’m trying to show her. I’ve always tried to show her.”

“There’s a saying.” Jolly paused, trying to think of the right words to say. “We are defined by what we do, not just nice words. However, I think you’ve shown enough, Noah. It’s time you use your words.” 

“I don’t know how,” I admitted with a shaky breath after a long beat of silence.

“If you’re not comfortable talking about it with us, Noah. Talk to your therapist about it- but this has to stop. It’s draining you.”

I saw the way Jolly’s mouth twitched, his own emotions close to slipping through his own mask, but he held it stronger than me.

“Once you’re in a better place, come to the studio. I have something to show you.”

I nodded. “Sure, yeah. Might be good for me to write something.”

Jolly gave one last squeeze to my shoulder. “Love you, man.”

“You too. Thank you.” I smiled.

NOAH

An hour and a long shower later, I walked down the hallway toward our studio with a new tune in my head. The lyrics were loud in my mind as I played with the new bracelet on my wrist, twisting it between two fingers.

“There’s not another way don’t let me go, don’t dig another grave today,” I sang under my breath as I walked through the door.

Jolly was sitting on the couch in the room, guitar on his lap and notebook on the floor at his feet. He looked up as I walked in and had a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey, you better?”

I gave a small nod. “Yeah. What’s this?”

As I sat on the couch next to him, I went to reach for the notepad before he placed a foot over it, blocking me from retrieving it.

“Y/N gave me something earlier. I really like it but wanted to run it by you, if you were comfortable,” Jolly said hesitantly.

I tensed, not knowing how to feel. I wasn’t comfortable with whatever Jolly needed to show me but knowing it was from Y/N eventually made me agree.

He removed his foot so I could grab the notebook, eyes immediately scanning over the lyrics on the page.

Evened the scores, then I let it all go fall apart. And every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. Looking sideways when I say I’m okay with the past but I’m afraid of what I might say if you ask. I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. I let it tear me down, and I'll never be the same. I did it to myself, tried to be someone else. And you didn't notice 'til I finally got, finally got away.

My heart stuttered in my chest as I licked my lips. “Wow, that’s impressive. When did you find the time to write this? Usually, that's my wheelhouse.”

“Noah cut the shit. You know this isn’t my work. I just told you, it’s Y/N’s,” Jolly sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m just being a dick.” I snorted a laugh while bumping his shoulder with mine.

“Yeah, you are. Now what do you think? We can use this, no? As inspiration, maybe?”

Suddenly the lyrics I sang a moment before walking into the room played in my mind again; I hummed them under my breath, adding it to the lyrics Y/N wrote.

“One second,” I muttered while pulling out my phone.

ME: You sure you want us to have your lyrics?

Y/N’s response was immediate.

Angel 🪽: Nobody could do it better than you guys. You’ll give those lyrics the justice it deserve.

Leaving the message on read, Jolly and I worked tirelessly to rework the lyrics together and when I felt we were in a good position with them, I reached for my phone again. There was still a lingering feeling festering deep inside of me, that I wanted to make sure Y/N was fine with.

ME: I’m taking creative liberty for this, are you good with that?

Angel 🪽: What's mine is yours, Noah. 

Yeah, not everything.

[drewharrisonwriter]

A Better Man

Status: One Shot, Complete

Summary: Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: IDK, I'm way into Dieter again these days, and thought of writing this fic that's full of yearning lol

P.S. My laptop, which served me well for 5 years, just gave out. With grad school, the recent loss of my stepdad, and ongoing medical bills, finances are tight. I’m currently managing writing commissions and my dissertation from my phone, which is okay but really challenging. If you can help with a donation or by commissioning some of my writing, it would mean the world to me. Just send me a message 💜 Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any support you can offer. 💜🙏🏻

I pull up to the house slowly, like I’m sneaking up on it. The engine hums under my grip, vibrating through the steering wheel, and I kill it with a sharp twist of the key. The quiet settles in around me, and I just sit there, staring at the place I used to know so well.

It’s funny. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m not the sentimental type—at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for years—but somehow, I always end up right back here. Your house. The one you made a home, way back when everything felt so damn simple.

It’s been a while. The shutters are a different color now, a soft blue. You used to complain about how you never had time to take care of the garden, but it looks… alive now. Somebody’s been looking after it, after you. It’s like the house moved on, but me? I’m still stuck.

I lean back in the seat, staring through the windshield. I remember this place, and I remember you—us. Those days when I’d crash on your couch, no questions asked. The nights we’d laugh too loud, talk too much, and I’d forget, just for a second, about the chaos waiting outside your door. This used to be the one place that felt like it could be something real.

I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m back there, in those moments that play like an old movie I can’t turn off.

–

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, my shoulder brushing against yours as we sat on the steps of your porch. The air was thick with the scent of your jasmine plant—always too sweet, but you loved it, so I never complained. I looked over at you, trying to hide my nerves behind a grin. “Just you, me, and this crappy little neighborhood.”

You laughed, and God, that laugh—it’s like a shot of adrenaline, better than any drug I’ve ever touched. “You say that now, but you’ll get bored. You always do.”

I wanted to argue, but I just shrugged, picking at the loose thread on my jeans. “Not with you,” I said softly. “You’re the only thing I never get tired of.”

You gave me this look—like you knew something I didn’t. “We’re not like that, Dieter. We’re... something else.”

I tried to smile, but it felt wrong. “Yeah, sure. Something else.” But I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not when everything was changing so fast. I could feel it slipping away, and I didn’t know how to hold on.

–

I showed up at your door, way past midnight. I was drunk, pissed off, and lost, but you still opened up, just like you always did. No questions, no judgment—just you in your pajamas, hair a mess, eyes sleepy but warm.

“Dieter, it’s late,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I just... I needed to be here,” I said, brushing past you into the living room like I belonged there. And for a while, I think I did. I slumped onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “Everything’s fucked. I fucked up.”

You sat down next to me, close but not too close. You always knew how to give me just enough space to breathe. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I looked at you, and for a second, I forgot about the headlines, the shitty reviews, the people tearing me apart for the mess I’d made of my own career. “You ever think... maybe we should’ve done this differently?”

You raised an eyebrow, half amused, half sad. “Done what differently?”

I shrugged, feeling stupid for even bringing it up. “Us. This. Everything.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We are what we are, Dieter…”

I wanted to say something, anything, but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. So, I did what I always do—I let the moment pass, hoping it wouldn’t be the last.

–

“I’m done, Dieter. I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hung in the air, and I could feel my chest tighten. You stood there, calm but determined, like you’d been preparing for this moment for a long time. I tried to read your face, but it was like staring at a wall—no cracks, no second thoughts.

“What do you mean, you’re done?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “We’ve been together for years! We fight, we figure it out. That’s what we do.”

You exhaled, shaking your head slowly. “We’re not together, Dieter. Not really. Not in the way that matters.” You paused, searching for the right words, and I hated how composed you were while I felt like everything was falling apart. “I want a real relationship, Dieter. I want to feel like I’m more than just the person you run to when your life is spiraling. I want something that’s going somewhere.”

I stared at you, thrown by how final you sounded. “We are going somewhere. It’s just… complicated. But we can figure it out.”

“Complicated?” You scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Dieter, I’ve been with you through your worst. Through the scandals, the press, and the stretch of weeks you didn’t even call me because you were too drunk or too high to even remember who you were with. And I stood by you, I waited for you… waiting for things to get better, but they never did. And you know why? Because you never wanted them to.”

“That’s not true,” I argued, frustration bubbling over. “I love you, you know I do.”

“But what is that worth?” you said, your voice finally breaking, the tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “Love isn’t enough when I’m stuck living half a life with someone who can’t even be bothered to call me just because... You can’t even take me out to a decent meal. The best I get is my couch, or sitting in a Five Guys parking lot, eating drive-thru in your car with the windows tinted so dark that no one sees us. That’s not a relationship, Dieter. It’s barely even anything.”

I tried to speak, but every excuse felt thin and worn out. You were tired of the same old lines, the same old promises that things would change. And deep down, I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how.

“It’s not that easy,” I said, frustration lacing my voice. “I can’t just—”

“That’s the point!” you interrupted, your voice rising as you lost that calm veneer. “I don’t want it to be this way. And I can’t ask you to change your life for me, I won't even want to do that… to put me in your world when I know that no one would believe it if I even tried to scream it out loud that you love me. Who would believe some girl like me? Living this mundane life, far away from the adventures you’re off having when you’re not here, when you’re not hiding away with me.”

You softened for a moment, a flicker of the love we once had shining through the hurt. “I love you too, Dieter. But love isn’t enough. Not when I can’t even call you my boyfriend, not when I’m just the girl you go to hide away when it’s convenient.”

You looked at me, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve. “I need more than this. I need more than stolen moments and secret meetups. I need someone who isn’t afraid to be with me, who wants to be with me. And you’re not that person, Dieter. You never have been.”

The finality of your words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I wanted to fight, to tell you that I could change, that we could make it work, but deep down, I knew you were right. I’d always been too afraid to give you what you deserved, and now I was paying the price.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words feeling hollow and inadequate. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You nodded, tears spilling over despite your best efforts to hold them back. “So am I,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s not.”

You turned to open the door, and I watched you go, my heart breaking as the door closed behind you. You didn’t even stop to hesitate or even look back… I wanted to run after you, to pull you back and promise that I’d be better, that I’d be the man you needed. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. And that was the moment I lost you—for good this time.

–

I don’t even know why I’m here, but I can’t seem to stay away. I park a little down the street, close enough to see but far enough to not be seen, and I watch through the large windows of your house. It’s early evening, the lights are on, and I can see you moving around the kitchen, your silhouette framed against the glow.

You’re different now. Softer. Happier. And as my eyes drift lower, I see the subtle curve of your stomach, round and unmistakable. You’re pregnant. Again.

It hits me like a punch, the memory of the first time I saw you like this. I remember the way your body changed, how your skin seemed to glow, how you moved with this new grace that had me staring at you like I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You were carrying someone else’s child, but all I could think about was how much I wanted you, how much I wanted to be the one to fill you up, to make you mine in every way possible.

You shift, one hand resting on your growing belly, and I feel it all over again—the longing, the jealousy, the regret. I’d lie awake at night, thinking about you, about what it would feel like to be the one who got to hold you when you were swollen with life, about the softness of your body pressed up against mine. And now, it’s like I’m being forced to watch the life I could have had unfold right in front of me.

You laugh at something, one hand absentmindedly smoothing down your shirt, and there’s this guy—your husband, I guess—walking in from another room. He leans in, kisses you on the cheek, and it’s so damn domestic that it makes me sick. I don’t even know him, but I hate him. I hate how he gets to have you in ways I never could.

I watch as he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles that make you smile. It’s intimate, tender, and I can’t tear my eyes away. You look so content, so fucking perfect, and all I can think is that I’m the idiot who let this slip through my fingers.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles white as I fight the urge to storm up to that door and tell you everything I’ve been too scared to say. I want to tell you that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, that I miss you in ways I can’t even describe. I want to tell you that I wish it was me. That I wish I’d been enough.

But it’s too late. It’s always been too late.

I start the engine, but I don’t drive away right away. I just sit there, staring at the life that’s no longer mine, and I feel this hollow ache in my chest that I can’t ever seem to fill. I think about you, about the way you looked at me that night when you said you loved me but that it wasn’t enough. And maybe it never was.

As I pull away, I catch one last glimpse of you through the window, your hand resting on top of your oldest child's head while you spoke to your husband, and I feel like I’m leaving something behind all over again. Maybe one day, I’ll stop coming back here. Maybe one day, I’ll let go of this ghost that’s been haunting me.

But for now, all I can do is drive. Away from you. Away from the life I’ll never have. And I wonder, for the hundredth time, what might have been if I’d just been a better man.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| Apologies III | An Ode to Nipples

Warnings: 18+ explicitly written accounts of sex acts and male masturbation, John Egan going on too long about nipples to make up for Julie doubting he liked hers, a joke about their censor wanting to harm himself.

Previous Letter 💌

Full co-authored with my baby @stylespresleyhearted …in fact, majorly authored by her with me only tinkering, she has these two down to a science and let’s all make her take a bow

My dearest,

In trying to be a gentleman it seems I have offended you and for that I must once again apologize. I never meant to make you doubt yourself or that lovely photograph

-I swear to you I sleep with it in my fist, clutched to my chest every night. So no, you see, you can’t have it back. I've already warned everyone else I'll kill them if they ever even try to peek. Balls are on the line for even coming within a yard of my foot locker. I am your virtue’s most valiant defender. Lucky for us, my bunkmate Lt. John Brady is a good man. No threats needed from me to ensure he keeps a wide berth from my new possessions. He’s a good kid - looks up to me according to Buck and that’s a scary thought in itself.

Oh Jean this just all feels like a dream and I’d be heartbroken upon waking up. Buck convinced me to try to be better, that a woman of your status and money and loveliness deserved someone who wouldn’t ramble about giving you babies and A.C.O.R.N but be assured I’ve smacked Buck around the head since because his advice made me hurt you.

It was gut instinct to first write you, and it wasn’t pretty when I did, but if it matched yours, then maybe our guts belong together, no sprucing up needed. I’ll try to keep it that way, I’ll try to keep spilling my guts to you, if that's what you want.

Since receiving your photograph I find myself unable to be satisfied by my doing or anyone else’s. It may interest you to know I went to the bar last Thursday and strenuously chatted up a girl there who had the largest breasts around, but still they and she did not compare to you.

I found myself thinking yours would bounce and hit your chin, and I’d be a gentleman and hold them for you.

Don’t take me wrong, the dame was a good time and she took real good care of me. Let me slip in between her beautiful pair and let me call her by your name.

But she was not you, Acorn, and so I was still left hard as rod and needing more. Needing you. My hand does nothing for me either anymore and all my thoughts are only of you and your magnificent pair that you deemed me worthy enough to look at. And oh Julie, how I look at you! I wonder if you’d blush or just be pleased.

I wrap my hand around myself and I squeeze and I tug and I pull and it takes about three rounds before the little major goes down. Buck tells me I’m going to start chafing soon enough if I keep it up. I’m telling you this in pure honesty and because thinking of you believing for a second that you aren’t the epitome of the dream girl for me kills me. It hurts, Julie Jean and I’ve never hurt for a girl before. Maybe for girls back during my school days but nothing like this and it’s been so long now I can barely remember it.

Women now, as beautiful and charming and smart as they are, they do just to pass the time but you are different. And I promise here and now Miss Turner, that I vow to never try to impress you or be any more of a gentleman than I am. I will be honest with my desires regarding you like telling you I had a dream you took me in that pouty mouth of yours and you were making the most obscene sounds but I knew you were only asking for more. You don’t remember meeting me at the canteen but I remember how tiny you are compared to me and it’d be a struggle to fit all of me in you but we would make it work. Neither of us are ones to give up.

This dream was the first night since my first mission that I haven’t had a nightmare without having to drink.

You’re a goddamn tonic, baby cakes.

I dream of those large nipples of yours and of being able to take them in my mouth. Of tugging on them until they become tiny and angry and pointy. I could entertain myself with them for hours. Since receiving your letter and reading your insecurities on paper that I left you with, I've hated myself every day and I fear I will hate myself until I hear from you again. I hope to hear from you again, Julie. I really do. In this lifestyle it’s frightening for me to think about getting to have a future but you are the light at the end of all this fucked up tragedy I’m surrounded by. Don’t give up on me, Julie Jean, my heart couldn’t bear it. It’s become unalterably attached to you, I swear it. The only gal whose arms I want to come home to are yours. It’d be an immeasurable dream come true; the sweetest reward after the war.

Until I hear from you again my loveliest, favorite lady.

Your fool only,

John

P.S. attached is a photo of me and another one of me and Buck taken by one of our fellow men. I’ve never been one to shy away from anything in life so I’m not afraid to embarrass myself for you and let you know that big, doofus smile on my face (one that usually only a call from my mother or a snarky remark from Buck can illicit) is because the boys were ribbing me about you, Jean. It’s what thinking of you does to me; it brings me happiness during these trying times. Don’t mind Buck. He’s blushing because I’m reminding him he also took great interest in the photograph you gifted me. I’m sorry for that acorn, it fell out of the envelope and he picked it up but it isn’t something I'm sharing with anyone as I’ve assured you. Goodbye for now, sweetest, prettiest, favoritest of ladies -because it is just for now, you’ll hear from me again if I don’t hear from ya first, and with that I fear we’ve just committed our poor censor to the noose.

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[sugurusluts]

Zuko x mercenary!reader -part one

Do people still read Zuko x reader fics?

Mostly for my own amusement bc Zukos adorable- longer than my usual stuff! ♡︎

Warnings: none

————————————————————————

They had followed our little gang around the world, so it wasn’t hard to imagine they’d track Aang here, but they didn’t seem in any mood to strike.

I couldn’t help but feel defensive of the kingdom, even if the two were doing nothing but serving tea. I worked as a mercenary for whatever town seemed to need assistance. Despite not knowing any form of bending, I had connections, and that made me an asset.

Having worked around this place more times than I could count, I knew almost everyone. Most of everyone around town were good people, the type to invite you over for dinner just for giving them a hand in the fields.

Knowing someone like Zuko was around them made me uneasy, that was until Iroh approached me.

“Ah, a mercenary! What mercenary wouldn’t want to help a poor frail old man?” He whined dramatically, from behind me.

“Iroh” my hand tightened on my sword, I assumed there was an unspoken rule that neither group would bother eachother if they truly wanted to live in peace. Maybe I misread this dynamic?

“Good to see you too Y/N, you can losen your grip, im not here to fight you. I couldn’t care less about the Avatar, you know that”

I tilted my head in confusion, what else would he be here for? I couldn’t bring myself to believe he was now a hard working humble business man.

“Would you mind talking to me for just a minute, I’ll make it worth your while” he grinned, holding out a few gold coins he scrounged out of his pockets.

I caved from curiosity, following him as he walked me through a crowd, far away from his new little shop, leading me to a small alley.

“So..why did we have to go to an alleyway for this? Are you gonna mug me?”

“No such thing, I actually have a job for you”

I scoffed, the fuck made him think I’d want to take work from him? I turned on my heel, disappointed at the lack of information he gave me.

“Zuko’s lonely!”

I stopped in my tracks, turning back to Iroh, dumbfounded.

“Zuko’s lonely?”

“Painfully so, you know how hard it is to watch my nephew be such an introvert at his age?”

I rolled my eyes, “what does any of this have to do with me exactly?”

“Well, you could possibly help the poor boy out, couldn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking you to ask him on a date”

“…”

“…”

Jesus fucking Christ he can’t be serious right now.

“You want me to ask the guy who’s tried to kill my friend more times than I can count on a date?”

“Precisely!”

“…Iroh, I’m not a prostitute, I’m not asking Zuko out for cash. He wouldn’t even agree to it either, he’d recognize me.”

The man sighed, pulling out a fabric bag filled to the brim with gold coins. God Zuko was a lost cause.

“Lay on the charm, and maybe he will!”

He dropped the bag in my hand, holy shit was it heavy..

“…fine”

I never thought I’d end up asking Zuko, the fire lords son out on a date, but here we are.

I sauntered into the tea shop, greeting locals as I made my way to where Zuko was pouring.

Carefully filling the cup, he didn’t notice as I leaned against the counter he was behind. I rested my chin in my hands, looking him up and down.

It has been quite a while since I saw him last, longer hair suited him.

When he finally noticed me, he took a double take, stumbling while trying to hold the cup steady.

“…Y/N..?” He asked almost timidly, as if he didn’t want to believe I was standing infront of him.

“Hey, you remember my name, aren’t you sweet?”

He went quiet, still staring at me as if he was seeing a ghost. He pushed past me, going to deliver tea to a table. What a good little worker.

He returned to where I was standing, starting to wash dishes, ignoring my presence.

“What’s your name?”

“..what?”

“Your name, you’re not still going by Zuko here are you?”

He flinched as I used his real name, his eyes flicking between mine and his dishes.

“..Lee. Why are you here?”

“Can’t I visit my favorite prince?”

He stiffened at the praise. “…are you planning on fighting me?”

“No, the opposite actually”

He furrowed his eyebrows in a surprisingly cute fashion.

“Going from Avatar hunter to waiter must be a real boring change of pace for you, huh?”

He didn’t answer, still washing dishes.

“How about you let me make it more interesting for you?”

“..what?”

“I’m asking you out Lee”

He didn’t say anything to that. He simply blinked comedically, his eyes wide.

I gave him time, I wasn’t going to rush him. Iroh did not have the same curtsy.

“Ah welcome to our Shop miss, what tea do you fancy?”

“..I’m not the biggest fan of tea, I’m here because I fancy something else”

Zukos face turned an impossible shade of red, I thought steam may come out of ears if I kept this up.

“Oh? And what are you referring to?” Iroh couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“Your nephew of course”

“Oh! Well a night out couldn’t hurt, right Lee?”

He whipped his head back and forth between his uncle and I in disbelief.

“Uncle, you know who this is don’t you?!”

Iroh studied me up and down.

“A humble mercenary looking for a date?”

“You’re exactly right” I smiled knowingly at Iroh, despite him technically being my enemy this exchange was a little fun.

“I don’t see why not Lee! Aren’t they cute?” Iroh gestured to me as if this was completely normal.

“Yeah Lee, aren’t I cute?” *i lean over the counter, invading his personal space.

Poor thing was absolutely floored as he whipped his head between me and Iroh trying to figure out if he was the weird one for being suspicious.

“If this is some sort of ploy to-“ he glares me, but it’s hard to take him seriously with such a red face.

“-I’ll pay for dinner, alright? All you have to do is have fun and look pretty. How about I come back at 7?” I didn’t know I had this much game until now. Why wasn’t I using this power for good before?

“The Shop will be closed by then, no reason to decline” Iroh looks up at his flustered nephew. How long would it take for the poor boy to crack?

“..fine..if you’re not here by exactly seven, I’m not going”

What a brat.. this was going to be an interesting date.

“I’ll be on time, don’t worry your pretty little head. I have business to attend to, I’ll be seeing you Lee” I wink at him, amused at how..affection starved he seemed.

He spun back around, his back facing me, but I could see the blush on his face starting to reach his neck..

Iroh was going to owe me much more than a bag of coins for this.

[wandering-winchesters]

If this is how I go, it’s worth it.

Dean x injured reader

Word count: 1,926

Trigger Warnings: injury, blood, mention of a firearm.

Summary: reader gets hurt protecting Dean.

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know! Masterlist

I’ve always had a hard time letting people into my life. Introducing them to the real me, the darker side of me that I hide behind a bubbly facade. The childhood that shaped me, something that very few people know about. When I was little there was no one to protect me from the things that I had to live through, the nightmarish situations that I still relive too often in my sleep. In adulthood, I’ve changed the narrative. I’ve become the protector, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help someone else. Save someone else. Especially those that I love and hold close to my heart.

Sam and Dean have always held a special place in my life. Ever since I met them, on a hunt many years ago. They’d taken me under their wing, Sam willingly, Dean reluctantly. I knew nothing of the supernatural until I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and become the next helpless victim of a nest of vampires. That was until Sam and Dean showed up, just in time.

They knew I didn’t have a great childhood, I’d clued them into that much. However, I would never let them in entirely. It was too much, I didn’t want them to think of me any differently. I’ve seen the way Dean already looks at me after hunts, the annoyance that comes over him when things don’t go the way he wanted. I see the concern that washes over Sam, when I come close to being injured, or when I walk away with cuts and bruises. I don’t need their pity, they don’t need that burden.

Through everything over the years, I began to love them more than I thought possible. Sam like a brother. Dean like an annoying asshole, but also my best friend that I loved with all of my heart, not that I would ever tell him. I couldn’t, he would never feel the same way I was sure of it.

So when I saw that demon smirk and point a gun directly towards Dean’s head, I never hesitated to throw myself onto him and shove him to the ground. My body blocking the path of the bullet, giving Sam enough time to finish the exorcism, the black cloud erupting from the helpless man and fleeing the room.

“What the hell, Y/N. You shouldn’t have done that!” Dean yells, anger etching its way across his face, the concern only evident from the tone of his voice. His eyes searching mine for any sign of pain.

“He was going to kill You Dean.” I grovel, pushing myself off of him, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Dean scowls, his hand coming up to his face to wipe some sweat from his brow.

“So what? You were going to sacrifice yourself for me? How much of an idiot are you?”

I roll my eyes at him, pushing off my thighs to stand from the squatting position I had moved into. It wasn’t until I stood fully upright and began to stretch my limbs that the searing pain caught up to me. I press my hand to my abdomen instinctively, trying to dull the pain.

“I’m not an idiot De-“ I stop mid sentence as I bring my hand up to eye level. Red. Dripping , red blood, covers the entirety of my fingers. My eyes dart up from my hand, locking with Sam’s from across the room. He’s staring back at me, shock etched across his face, but beginning to walk towards me.

“That’s debatable- oh my god Y/N, fuck.” Dean starts, his tone changing halfway through his lecture. He takes the two steps necessary to get to me, taking his flannel off in the process. I feel his hands grip my body, one going to my back, the other balling his flannel up and pressing it tightly against the wound in my abdomen.

“Sam, you’ve gotta help me.” Dean pleads, his eyes never leaving my face.

My body starts to feel numb, the adrenaline wearing off and searing pain roaring through every nerve ending in my body. I feel my legs collapse beneath me, Dean quickly compensating for my lack of lower body strength, by pulling me into his embrace.

I laugh bitterly, coughing and choking on what I assume is blood making its way through my lungs and out of my throat.

“If this is how I go De, it’s worth it. I promise you.” I whisper, my eyes locking with his vivid green ones. His eyes. I’d never allowed myself to stare into his eyes for this long, the deep green is enchanting. Pulling me in, the longer I look. I barely even notice my tears beginning to fall, I’m too focused on the way his eyes are beginning to water as he stares back at me.

I can see his lips moving, feel the way he’s shaking me gently, his hand cupping my face. Sam is right next to me too, I feel the floor pressing into my body as they lower me to the ground, in an attempt to slow the bleeding and apply more pressure. None of that matters now. Nothing matters now, my vision is blurring. My eyelids are heavy, so heavy.

“Hey!” Dean’s firm voice breaks through my haze, his hand lightly slapping my face, “don’t do that, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes. You don’t get to die on me, you hear me sweetheart?” I blink rapidly, trying to clear my field of vision. I momentarily succeed, my eyes locking with his again. I can see the absolute panic engraved into every ounce of this man’s face, he’s moving me now. My head falls forward as he places an arm under my shoulders, the other under my knees. He tucks my head against his chest with his chin, pressing a kiss to my sweat soaked hairline. I continue to fight the wave of exhaustion sweeping over me, blinking my eyes trying to keep them open. The last thing I see is Dean, looking down at me pleading for me to stay with him. But slowly, ever so slowly, my eyes fall closed and the world around me goes black

-

Agony.

This must be hell, the amount of pain that I’m in, the only explanation is hell.

A low groan escapes my lips, every inch of my skin is on fire. Muscles and nerves that I didn’t know I had are screaming out in protest as I try to take a full breath. I manage to inhale, immediately turning into a coughing fit as I choke on the air entering my lungs.

“Easy. Slow breaths, sweetheart.” A hand comes to rest on the crown of my head, stroking my hair gently. The touch startling me, causing me to panic and try to brush away the touch.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” His voice rushes over my senses, calming me, reassuring me.

I force myself to open my eyes, unsure what to expect.

“Dean?” I whisper, finally realizing that he’s here in-front of me. “Am I dead?” My voice barely functioning, my throat dry and hoarse.

“It’s me sweetheart. You’re not dead. I told you I wasn’t going to let you go.” He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He holds a cup up to my lips, letting me take small sips, his fingers never leaving my skin.

“I must be dead, the Dean I know is never this nice to me.” I whisper, a small laugh escaping me, which I immediately regret. Relief floods over deans face, the crease in his brow lessens, a small smile reaches his eyes this time.

“That’s not true, idiot.” He says, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“That’s more like it, bitch.” I say, squeezing his hand back.

-

The next few weeks pass slowly, I’m never alone for more than five minutes. The boys take turns, keeping me company, changing my bandages, helping me shower, and just all around waiting on me hand and foot. Dean spends every night on the couch, that he had dragged into my room in the bunker. I don’t object, too weak and tired to even dare. I spend a lot of time sleeping, nightmares plaguing my every attempt at resting.

Tonight is one of those nights, I’ve already awoken from a nightmare. Now I lay on my side, gazing at Dean sitting on the couch. His fingers hovering over the keyboard on his laptop, researching some creature that he has refused to tell me about. Any time I have asked, it starts an argument about how the only thing I need to think about right now is recovering.

“I can feel you staring.” He smirks, bringing his eyes to meet my own, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. He seems older, worry is etched deeper into his face, his eyes not nearly as bright as they used to be. The dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by the terrible late night lighting of my room.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so annoying I can’t not stare.” I mumble, gently pushing myself up on my elbow. Trying to conceal the wince that follows this slight movement.

Dean chuckles, closing his laptop and turning his body to face me.

“Y/N, we need to talk about what happened back there.” He stares, his brow furrowing again. So many emotions sweep across his face at once, I cant read him.

“You can’t do that again. You cant throw yourself into harms way to save me. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. What am I saying? Something did happen to you. I already have a hard time looking at you, knowing you almost died to save me. I love you too much, to let you die for me.” He wrings his hands as he speaks, his eyes moving away from mine and focusing on the wooden floor boards beneath his feet.

A silence falls between us for a few moments, his words hanging heavy in the air. My head spinning at his words, I love you too much. Dean Winchester loves me.

“Dean, I don’t think you understand me nearly as well as you think you do. There is nothing you can say or do that would stop me from taking a bullet for you again. I will always do everything in my power to protect you. Protect you in the way that I never had. You would do it for me De, you gotta let me do it for you too.” His eyes are trained on me again, red rimmed and watery. He swipes at them with his fingers, clearing his throat and maintaining eye contact with me once more.

I slide my feet towards the edge of the bed, intent upon going to sit near to him. He stops me with a look and a few mumbled words about how I better not move my ass from my spot or else.

I huff, patting the bed next to me.

“C’mere then, Winchester.” I say, watching his every move as he crosses the distance of the bedroom to sit by my side.

“De-“I rest my head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves. He reaches over and intertwines our fingers, his thumb tracing a pattern into the back of my hand. “I love you too, more than I thought possible. I’ll always do anything I can to save you. On this side of hell and the next.”

[writing-n-memes]

A list of things I don’t like about the Percy Jackson show in no particular order because I’m a hater

- Sally talks back to Gabe. She’s supposed to be a silent rebel and book Sally would never jeopardize Percy’s safety because she’s angry with Gabe. Because I think the writers forgot, the WHOLE reason Gabe is there is because she is protecting Percy with his presence

- Annabeth is too stoic. Obviously, tv Annabeth has emotions and expresses them but it’s very limited in my opinion. Book Annabeth is emotional about everything. She is quick to anger, pride, sadness and to not show it because she’s ‘too smart for that’ is dumb. She’s 12 and emotions are normal

- Instead of Percy seeing the fates cut Luke’s string, it’s annabeth. Annabeth may be closer with Luke, but it should not be her to be aware of Luke’s fate. She’s too close to Luke to be analytical. Percy seeing it made him realize the prophecy is about Luke. Percy is the main character and should give Luke the knife. Also, Annabeth giving Luke the knife wouldn’t be nearly as meaningful because she’s always had faith he would turn around; even after he trapped her under the sky in titans curse. Percy trusted Luke to do the right thing at the exact right time

- Grover is a whole different character. The only example you need to know he’s not book Grover is tv Grover straight up lying/manipulating the god of war to his face. Book Grover is brave but not like that. He has too much respect and fear for the gods. Don’t get me wrong, I like tv Grover, he’s just not accurate to the book

- Misdirect of Clarisse being the lightning thief. What was even the point? Just seemed very random

-Fight scenes were lacking. I can’t entirely explain it, but I was bored for every one of them. Hate to bring the movies into this, but at least the movies had interesting fight scenes that had me on the edge of my seat

- Poseidon was basically a saint in the show, which is a big no no. I’m not saying he can’t be likeable, but Poseidon was NOT that nice. First of all, he wouldn’t go against Zeus like that. Not for Sally, and certainly not for Percy. He would do some minor rebelling, but he would not directly fight or disobey Zeus for either of them.

- Despite the last point, they showed too much of the Olympian’s bad sides. They absolutely would do all of this stuff in the show and more, but Percy shouldn’t be made aware of this yet. Percy knows the gods aren’t great in book 1, but he doesn’t quite know the extent until he finds out about the story of the oracle in book 5. This is why he’s more bitter in heroes of Olympus. He knows more about the god’s bad sides. If book 1 Percy knew/saw all the stuff about the tv show gods, then he probably would’ve led his own rebellion against the gods and Kronos.

- Gabe’s death? Come on. What happened to ‘If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself’ (don’t know if that’s the exact quote). Sally deserved to kill Gabe. Percy could’ve done it, but Sally made the choice for it to be her. Ignoring the fact that Gabe wasn’t abusive, just a general jerk so he didn’t deserve to die, but also, the death being an accident felt easy. Sally killed her husband and she had zero remorse for it. She used his dead statue body to sell and use the money to go back to college and follow her dream of writing a book, while also meeting the real love of her life, Paul Blofis

- Kind of made this point already, but I’d like to specifically point out Athena being too cruel. Not to say she isn’t cruel, because she is. However, the show made it clear too early on. Annabeth is the favorite child up until mark of Athena, that’s why she’s so distraught over her hat losing its invisibility power. Annabeth always had Athena’s respect up until that point. Athena wants to protect Annabeth from Percy in the original series. She would not just try and kill her. At least, not in book 1

- Changing Medusa’s story. I understand to a degree why they did it. There’s been a lot of talk the past few years on social media about what Medusa’s story means to them. They did show Medusa as a victim, but immediately disregarded it because she uses it as an excuse to… kill children for no reason. Might as well have kept the original story in at that point. Not to mention Poseidon sucks, but only in this story, and he’s a saint for the rest of the show. Feels like that makes it worse

- Deadline didn’t matter. They miss it, but it doesn’t matter for no reason. Every book has a deadline, including in every spinoff so what’s going to happen with future seasons? Is the timeline going to be ignored because it was fine the first time? Or are they going to backtrack and say, ‘Ok, THIS time limit matters. Ignore the fact there was an exception the first time’

- Luke is too tamed. Too apologetic. He’s supposed to be angry. So sure he is right that nothing will stand in his way. Not any friend or family could talk him down at this point. We’re not supposed to sympathize with him. Not yet. He is the main villain at this point and there should be no sign of redemption yet. May’s story (his mom) happened way too soon. It was told in the last book for a reason. So Luke could gain sympathy and make Percy question his side; he does question it but doesn’t “trust” Luke until he gives him the knife 100-200 pages later.

- Annabeth was there for Luke’s betrayal. She should not be there because Annabeth is supposed to be a Luke defender for the whole series basically. ‘Luke was wrong, but he can change’ basically. I don’t know how she’s supposed to defend him when she experiences his betrayal firsthand instead of just hearing he betrayed everything she believes in. This is important because it’s the main conflict between Percy and annabeth through the series; Annabeth’s loyalty to Luke. Also, little side note: This is an example of tv Annabeth being too stoic. Book Annabeth would do what she’d have to in this situation, but she’d be a crying mess. Which is fine! Having emotions is normal!

- Dialogue is stiff. I don’t know why it is, but some things just don’t flow. Even direct quotes from the books doesn’t feel right sometimes. Maybe it’s because they rushed filming and should’ve done more takes to get it right? I don’t know. I don’t doubt the actors talents so I’m not blaming them. Walker Scobell did great in the Adam’s Project and he was only 12 I believe! He didn’t have a single line that felt stiff in that movie but his lines along with the other mains seemed a little off at times.

- Kind of goes along with last point; some dialogue is accurate to the characters, but not in the context it’s used in the show. Here’s an example that someone else pointed out and I agree with them completely. Percy’s line about Thalia having a pine cone’s fate is so out of character. Would Percy say that to Thalia in Titan’s curse? Probably. But would book 1 Percy insult and dishonor Thalia’s death after finding out she sacrificed herself for her friends? Absolutely not. Percy thought her story was brave and tragic. Percy would say that line in other cases, but he would not say it under those circumstance.

- Kind of the opposite of previous points, but why is Hades so nice?? They made him into a silly guy and play it off for laughs. It’s supposed to be a serious scene. There’s humor everywhere else in the series so use that humor somewhere else. Hades is angry because Percy ‘stole’ his helm and hates him for the rest of the series. How are they going to make this guy lock Percy up in the last Olympian and fight him? This is the guy Nico is scared of, which is why it was brave he stood up to him. This is the guy who told his son that he wished he died instead of his sister. Just doesn’t seem right

- They figure everything out too fast. They figured out who Medusa and Procrustes is right away. This series is kind of like an introduction to Greek mythology to kids who don’t know anything about it. It’s about learning, but also building up the tension. Knowing something is wrong, but not knowing what. I don’t care that they were all told Greek myths growing up and that 2 of them have been training for years. Learning something in the classroom doesn’t mean they will automatically know what to do in a real life scenario. Monsters are supposed to TRICK. That’s what happens in almost every book.

- Why were there four pearls only for them to lose one? When I first read the book, I didn’t think about them needing more than three so it felt super unnecessary

- I know I’m pointing out too much about each god that appears but I don’t care. Ares admitting he loves his family is soooo weird. Pretty sure he would take over and destroy most of them

- tv show watchers don’t know how close Luke and Annabeth are. Those two barely interact and they tell us a couple times they’re close from lines like ‘She’s like a sister’ and whatnot, but it doesn’t accurately portray the care they have for one another. It doesn’t help that Annabeth barely reacted to his betrayal in the show

[qin-qin16]

cw.: Bad guys x Qin (me), can be viewed as the reader too, comedy, crack fic (?), ooc (because they would kill me on the spot), I swear like, a lot, this is just for fun and giggles!

note: It's really weird to write in first person and I think I revealed a bit of myself here? Anyway, I had fun writing this, thanks for the prompt @unamzi maybe I'll do a part two with the other guys? Who knows...

What the hell is happening? What the hell is happening? What the hell is happening?

Before me stretched a long, dark corridor, dimly lit by a few lamps scattered along the way  —some were on, most were off. It looked like something straight out of an '80s movie set in a medieval mansion.

If there's a god, please let this be just a space trip and not a time trip. I can’t be burned at the stake in these clothes! As much as I thought that, it felt like I had fallen here rather than just being teleported. Soon, a thought crossed my mind.

“No way I am in the fucking Backrooms…” It wasn’t like me to voice such a thought, but if this is a lucid dream, I might as well take the chance to say whatever I want.

Mentally, I crossed my fingers. Physically, I started walking toward one of the corridor’s exits, searching for any clue about my location or someone who could explain to me where I am.

At least my glasses hadn’t fallen off during the fall. If the darkness wasn’t challenging enough, I’d still need to feel my way along the walls to avoid getting lost — though given my terrible sense of direction, that might not help much.

“I knew I shouldn’t have watched so many horror movies. Look at this place — I’m clearly going to get killed here.” I whispered, realizing it wasn’t wise to speak too loudly.

Speaking of awareness, I glanced down at my clothes: an old shirt, faded sweatpants, and a pair of thick socks that masked the floor’s temperature. Incredible, I managed to wear the worst possible outfit for a place like this. Just incredible.

Creaaaaak.

In the distance, a door slowly creaked open, and I couldn’t suppress a hiss at the dragging, unsettling sound of it opening by itself. By. Itself.

What does this place take me for? An idiot? There’s no way I’m going near that door — no way! Nuh-uh! 

I spun around and tried to walk in the other direction. Or, at least, I would have if I hadn’t bumped into something mid-turn. I managed to catch my balance and avoid falling backward, but whatever was in front of me didn’t have the same lucky.

“Ouch, what...?” Oh my God, I ran into a person!

“I’m so sorry—” My words falter when I finally take in what’s in front of me, or rather, who.

It’s a cartoonish skeleton dressed in white-black clothes, with a cross-sash across its chest. I blink a few times, trying to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

“What the hell is this?” I mutter, nervously biting my lip as I slowly back away from the strangely familiar skeleton.

“Who—” The little lights inside those black eye sockets finally seem to notice me, scanning me up and down.

Before I can take another step back, Cross quickly regains his composure, standing up and summoning one of his swords, pointing it directly at me. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

I'd almost rather be burned at the stake right now actually.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! You don’t need to point that at me!” I raise my hands in surrender, my eyes locked on the sword as it menacingly moves closer to my neck.

“You’d better start answering me then: who are you?” His voice is oddly higher-pitched than I expected, but it’s no less intimidating — especially since he practically growled at me! Growled!

I’m beginning to feel more anger than fear.

“Well, my name is…” Don’t say your real name, don’t say your real name. “Qin.” But don’t use your ridiculous Tumblr name either! Dumb bitch!

Cross huffs at my answer but keeps his sword aimed at me. “Qin? What a strange name.”

It’s a lot better than “Cross,” if you ask me. What a ridiculous name.

“I wasn’t aware we had visitors. How rude of Cross to treat guests like this.” No fucking way, there’s another one? “So, Qin, what brings you here, huh?”

For a brief moment, I diverted my gaze from the sword, glancing out of the corner of my eye at the other figure who joined the conversation. Dark blue coat, white shorts, and a red target floating in front of his chest. Yep, I’m officially screwed.

"You won’t believe me if I tell you the truth," I say with an awkward laugh, turning my attention back to Cross, who hasn’t stopped glaring at me.

Has he always looked this furious? Jeez, it seems like he might start foaming at the mouth.

“Hm? Really?” Killer chuckles, strolling over to Cross and gently lowering the sword with his fingertips. “There’s no need for that. Just look at her. Does she look like she’s about to attack you?”

With the immediate threat lessening, I finally noticed something that had been bothering me since Cross stood up: the clear height difference between us. Both of them are significantly shorter than I expected, reaching about mid-chest on me (maybe this was their canonic height?).

I can’t help but snort, finding the scene at least a bit comical now: two skeletons half my size who could easily slice me into pieces. Amazing.

Why couldn’t I have ended up in the Doodle Sphere? Why did I have to be in this hellish chaos?

“What? Are you going to call her a harmless kitten?” I snap out of my daydream when Cross finally sheaths his sword, crossing his arms and talking to Killer, completely ignoring me.

“Nah…” Killer turns to me, and — oh my God, he’s terrifying.

He’s definitely weirder in person than any fanart or fanfic I’ve ever seen of him. Those empty eye sockets are unsettling to look at, and the black tears streaming from them don’t help. The static smile gives him an uncanny valley vibe - in the most deep sense of the term.

“She looks more like a deer — just look at her shaking with us here.” He laughs, clearly enjoying my reactions.

Only then do I notice that my hands and knees are trembling like branches in a strong wind.

“I don’t even feel anything, and even I can sense the fear coming from her.” Killer continues, approaching me nonchalantly. He casually places a hand on my back, as if he's sure I won't lash out at his approach. “Nightmare will like this one; it's quite a meal for him.”

What have I gotten myself into?

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Twelve I Haunted

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 3K

Warning: Gross ex,West Ham

A/N: Lets learn a little more about readers past eh? Next chapter rlly gets things going I promise!

Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

West Ham was a big game. A really big game. A game I think each of us were dreading the game. But for me… it was another one of my secrets.  Matthew Kristal was a forward on West Ham. Had been for years. And he’d been my boyfriend throughout uni. He was much much older than me but he approached me after a game and told me all the things I wanted to hear. I was special, something he’d never seen before, so mature for my age. All the normal bullshit you hear from guys twice your age.

We dated for years. Actually, until very recently. When I told him I was looking at taking a job at Richmond, he changed. He told me not to, that I should just let him take care of me. Obviously, I’d told him that he was bullshit. I left him after that, and I hadn’t seen him since. He’d texted me several times offering advice or telling me how sorry he was. But thanks to the family I’d found at Richmond, specifically Keeley Jones, I didn’t feel the need to text him back.

But now I’d be face to face with him again. And that’s ignoring the feud with Nate and Rupert that was hanging over everyone’s head. I listened to Roy and Beard squabble over what strategy to do against West Ham. I knew it didn’t matter either way. We’d end up doing whatever Zava wanted, probably a 4-4-2 or 4-5-1. Anything to get him in position to score.

As I watched them uninterested, my phone buzzed on the table. I flipped my phone over and saw a text from an unknown number.

            Hey, hope you’re doing well. Looking forward to seeing you this weekend.

I scrolled up but didn’t see any past messages from this person. Luckily the person followed up quickly.

            It’s Matt, btw, got a new phone.

God fucking damnnit. Of course, he was texting me now. I looked around, making sure I wasn’t needed before grabbing my phone and rushing out of the room. I sent Keeley a text to see if she’d be coming by the club later, which she was.

            “Fuck me,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.

A commotion from the locker room caught my attention. I shoved my phone in my pocket and decided that whatever was going on in there was the perfect distraction.

            “Oi, what’s going on in here?” I demanded as I walked into the room.

            “Isaac’s tried to kill me is what’s going on,” Jamie exclaimed, backing away from his captain.

            “Guys I think someone ripped this in half,” Bumbercatch’s comment caused me to look over at the wall. In his hand was half of the believe sign, the other half still up on the wall. My eyes widened as I walked over to his side.

            “What the hell…” I murmured, taking the piece of the sign from him. It was just a sign, I tried to tell myself. It’s just a sign it doesn’t mean anything. I looked at the boys who started to crowd around us. “Well, just fix it, alright?”

I shoved the sign back into Bumbercatch’s chest before leaving the room. Suddenly it as very hard to breath. But what if was a real sign. Like an actual sign. I mean what are the chances that Matthew texts me and then just a few minutes later the Believe sign falls.

…

I recount the events to Keeley as she arrived at the club. I told her about the sign and Zava and the intensity about the game but hadn’t had the chance to bring up Matt quite yet when we arrived at the locker room.

            “But the sign fell, Keeley,” I whined, following her. “Wait, why are we going in here?”

            “Oh! I’m visiting Shandy, she’s filming a promo for Bantr!” Keeley told me.

I racked my head trying to remember who Shandy was. “She’s the one who threaten to run around the pitch with her top off, yeah?”

            “Well, it was more of a suggestion than a threat.”

            “It was definitely a threat.”

We entered the room just as Dani was finishing up his segment. Keeley greeted Shandy as my eyes flited around the room. It was weird seeing it all done up for filming. The boys were excited to do this filming but.I think they had a secret bet going to see who could say the most ridiculous pick up line.

            “You don’t know who I am, but I’m looking for someone who likes short walks on the beach so we can spend more time, you know…”

God that was terrible, I chuckled as they called cut. As Van Damme walked out, Jamie was up next. Fuck, I forgot he had to do this. It was the club’s single guys and Jamie was, to the masses, single.

            “He’s so fucking hot,” Shandy’s compliment sent a ping of jealousy through me. “What’s his story.”

            “Jamie?” Keeley replied. “Oh, he’s so cocky.”

All three of us stared at the monitor as Jamie had hair and make-up work on him. He was smiling kindly and making chat with the makeup artist. 

            “But I guess you have to be at this level,” Keeley continued, finding herself smiling at him. “But he only thinks about himself.”

I shook my head absentmindedly as I watched him. No, he didn’t. Jamie was kind and funny, and always checking in on me when we were together.

            “At least, he used to. But he’s not accountable for his actions and what they do to others.”

Again, I shook my head silently. It was crazy. The different side of Jamie that I’d seen as his girlfriend. A side that no one else got to see. It was all mine.

            “Except he is getting better at making apologies. Still… he only thinks with his dick.”

Finally, Jamie looked over at us and I could tell he saw me. I refused to look up over the monitor as a cheeky smile came over his lips. I bit my lip, trying to hard not to have any kind of reaction.

            “And yet, I don’t think he’s seen anyone in ages.”

I couldn’t help it anymore; I looked up over the monitor and saw Jamie staring right at me. I chewed on my cheek, trying to stave off the blush. He sent me a wink before turning back to the make-up artist.

            “I just wanna know if I can bang him, babe.”

Fuck, I forgot Shandy was even there. I frowned and looked over at her, a heat in my eyes I wasn’t used to. So this was jealousy was like. I was really willing to risk it all if she made any moves towards Jamie.

            “Oh. I don’t know,” Keeley answered. I still hadn’t taken my eyes of Shandy, watching as she stared hungrily at Jamie. “You should probably as him, it’s his dick.”

I ran  my tongue along the space between my teeth and bottom lip, trying desperately not to say anything.

            “Alright, I should probably be getting going,” I announced, deciding that this was too much for me.

            “Wait, didn’t you have something you wanted to-“

            “Nope, I’ll see you later Keels.”

I turn around before she can say anything else, not really wanting to stay in that room any longer than I had to. I realized that there was only one person I wanted to talk to about this Matt situation, and he was currently sitting in the locker room getting his make-up done for a dating app commercial.

…

Jamie and I sat in is backyard. He had these lounging chairs set up in his backyard where we could sit together while I caught up on work or read. He had a hand running up and down my leg as he read The Beautiful and Damned.

I looked over at him as he read peacefully. I was hesitant to talk to him, worried about what he would say or how he would react or what it would do to us to bring up Matt. I’d managed to make it two whole years without even thinking about him but with one little text his control over my life was back.

            “Remember how you asked why I stopped playing football?”

Jamie glanced up from his book over at me. “What?”

            “Do you know Matt Kristal?”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows and put down his book, shrugging. “He’s on West Ham, yeah? One of their defenders?”

I nodded, looking down at my chair, picking at a piece of plastic that was sticking out. “He and I dated for a while when I was in uni.”

Jamie’s face should be in a museum. It was a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and was that… jealousy? He turned to look at my fully, his eyes looking far too serious.

            “What? Really?” He asked. “Isn’t he like… nearly 40?”

            “Yup.” I nodded, still not able to really face Jamie. “He came to watch me play in uni. Told me all those nice things like… you’re talented and mature and whatever.” I shook my head remember the first time I met him. “Anyways, we dated for about… 3 years?”

            “Fuck off,” Jamie scoffed, putting the book to the side.

            “I wish I were joking but he… he was quite the charismatic person,” I told him solemnly.  “Anyways, when it came time for me to graduate… I told him I wanted to play professionally and he… he told me I shouldn’t. That there was no glory in women’s football.” I scrunched my nose. “So, he lined up a job as West Ham’s kitman and I worked there until… until I saw the job at Richmond.” I moved my head side to side, considering all my words. “And he told me not to take it.” I laughed humorlessly. “Told me I’d be making a mistake. Well, he broke up with me after that. Told me I would crash and burn along with all of Richmond. Then I’d come running back to him.”

I stared at that piece of plastic I was picking, chewing the skin off my lip. I hadn’t talked about Matt with anyone since I came to Richmond. That time in my life was filed away, along with my father. But the people at Richmond had a way of opening me up like no one else.

            “What a cocksleeve.” Jamie’s response drew a laugh from me. “I mean really. What a mingin’ asstawt. Got a right cop on, don’t he.” With every ridiculous insult I found myself laughing harder and harder. Despite the tension leaving my chest slowly, I still found myself unable to look at me. That is until Jamie’s hand slide down to mind, preventing me from tearing up the chair. “Hey, look at me.”

I pursed my lips and forced my head to turn to face him. He had an eyebrow raised at me as he smirked. “Your better for it without him. He was holding you back ‘cause he knew you were better than him. Kristal… I mean he’s been on West Ham for a decade now… barely made a mark on the league.”

            “Well, he’s no Jamie Tartt, that’s for sure,” I commented, smiling.

            “Hey, I’m serious,” Jamie sat up and pulled me, so our legs were slotted with each other. I was caught off guard by his serious demeanor. “You’re better than him. I promise.”

It wasn’t like Jamie to ignore a compliment. My mouth opened slightly as a breath of disbelief came out of my mouth. Both of his hands rested on my knees, rubbing soft comforting circles into them. I blinked repeatedly, shaking my head. I was getting off topic.

            “I just… I wanted to let you know that he texted me about seeing me this weekend.”

            “HA! Like that’s gonna happen,” Jamie laughed, shaking his head.

            “Yeah, no it won’t but… I just wanted to let you know,” I shrugged. “And I know there’s a lot riding on this game so I don’t mean to add to that but I-“

            “No, thank you for telling me. Now I know who to score on the most.” He reached over and grabbed my waist, hoisting me up before laying down with me on top of him. “You wanna have sex?”

I would never get used to that. But I merely answered his question by leaning down to kiss Jamie into the chair. I felt lighter. Knowing I had gotten it off my chest. Even if it did nothing, I had Jamie’s support and that was enough for me.

…

The game was a mess. The first half was bad enough but after the half… it was like an entirely new team. They were angry, something about Beard and Roy showing them a video, I wasn’t paying attention. I was too busy avoiding Matt like the plague. But luckily for me, he seemed to get the hint and didn’t approach me at all. That was, until after the game.

I was leaving the locker room to head towards the bus when he finally caught up to me.

            “(Y/N)!”

I heard his voice before I saw him. But when I did, I wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t changed at all. He looked the exact same as he had those years ago when I’d walked out of his house with him screaming at me that I would be nothing without him. I let him catch up to me.

            “Some match, eh?” Matt chuckled, a cruel smirk on his face. I didn’t respond, not wanting to say something I regret. “Hey, why don’t we get a drink or something? Catch up, for old times’ sake?”

            “I’m good.” I shut him down quickly. I knew what that meant. It meant that he would take me out, get me tipsy then convince me to have sex with him and there was no way that was happening.

He frowned at me. That same disappointed frown I’d gotten all too used to when we were together. “Look (Y/N), I don’t want to try anything I just want to-“

            “Is there something you wanted to say, or can I get back to my team?” Again, I really don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t really want to hear his sorry apology or whatever manipulation tactic he could draw up.

            “I just wanted to say sorry, okay?” He pulled his most genuine face that he could, but I just shook my head. Nonetheless, he persisted. “I was a dick, and you were right. You’ve done great at Richmond but listen… you could do better. I bet I could get Rupert to hire you here… at West Ham.”

Jamie emerged from the locker room, walking towards the bus with his head low. He was pissed. Pissed at the game, pissed at Zava, pissed at Nate. The whole game had gone wrong so fast. If only he’d made that goal in the first half but, of course, he whiffed it, leaving room for Zava to take some glory.

When he walked down the hall, he immediately spied (Y/N) talking with Matt. Now he was pissed at that. He could tell she was uncomfortable. Body science. The way she griped her bag and frowned at him as he chatted at her. He needed to get her out of there and fast but without drawing suspicion. He glanced around to see who else was there. Colin was exiting the locker room just at that moment, busy on his phone.

            “Oi, Colin.” He nodded over to where (Y/N) and Matt were talking.  “Why’s (Y/N) talking to Matt Kristal?”

Colin looked over where he was pointing, and his eyes darkened. Just as he thought, (Y/N) probably told Colin about her past.

            “Fuck if I know, give me a second.” And Colin was off going to interrupt them.

Jamie tried to walk off slowly, watching as Colin approached her. He put an arm around her, taking Matt’s attention off of her. (Y/N)’s face immediately flooded with relief with Colin arrived. Jamie felt better knowing that Colin was there to support her. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about but all he wanted was to get home and be with (Y/N) somewhere they could be together.

…

When Jamie arrived home (Y/N) was already there. She was standing, seemingly stuck in her own brain staring at the wall. Jamie frowned and walked up to her, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing her cheek. She gasped and jumped, finally broken from her trance.

            “Fuck me!” She shouted, relaxing back into Jamie. “You scared me.”

            “Sorry, love,” He mused against her cheek. “Just finally glad to be able to hold you.” She smiled though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “What was he talking to you about?”

            “Who?”

            “Kritsal?”

            “You saw that?”

            “Course! Who do you think sent Colin over?” Jamie snickered, pulling away from her and walking over to the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

            “Wait, wait, wait,” she followed Jamie as he began taking out the kettle. “You saw Max talking to me and didn’t come over to intervene?”

Jamie shrugged, taking out two mugs. “I’m making you tea. And yeah, I figured Colin knew more about the situation and he did so, crisis avoided.” The look she gave Jamie was almost heartbreakingly beautiful. There was so much love and passion in her eyes that is shocked Jamie a little bit. “What… did I do something wrong?”

            “Oh, Jamie.” She pulled him down by his neck and kissed him. Jamie let out a noise of shock before quickly setting down the mugs so he could wrap his arms around her. He held her close. While he was strong enough not to intervene earlier, he wanted her to know that he had her back and that she was his.

Just as much as he was hers.

Tag List: Taglist:@heletsmelovehim @higherthanheroes @ajax-petropolus-wife @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @kno-way-home @sleepy-time @wigglegiggle @skewedcherries @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @snubug @rana030 @ems-alexandra @jaymum

[ysmtttty]

Red Ferrari

Chapter 8

Summary: Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car

AO3 link Chapter 7 Chapter 9

a/n: this chapter has dual POV, both Eris's and Azriel's perspectives start at +- same time, so I hope I won't confuse you with the chronology of this chapter

“You fucked up,” Lucien told him bluntly when Eris recounted what had happened the morning after the incident. “You really fucked up.”

Eris rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “As if I didn’t realize it myself,” while continuing to listen to his younger brother criticize his decisions. Perhaps hiding his marriage from Azriel wasn’t the best decision. He acknowledged that. But looking back, Eris couldn’t imagine a context where he suddenly announced that he was still married and asked Azriel to believe that it wasn’t such a big problem. Because he was forced into marriage. Because he was already getting a divorce. If it weren’t for Morrigan being such a bitch about the division of property, they would have divorced long ago, and he wouldn’t be here. But the fact that he didn’t tell Azriel about the marriage, much to his regret, was his fault. Not Mor’s.

“I don’t think he would’ve been that upset if you had told him right away,” Lucien continued, pacing around his living room. Eris’s head was starting to ache from his circling. “It would have saved you a lot of problems, you know.”

“I get it,” Eris repeated once again.

“You’re an idiot,” his younger brother told him once again.

“I got that too. I asked for advice on how to fix it.”

“Well, I think you were born that way…” Lucien started before a cushion hit him in the head. “Alright! I don’t know how to help you.”

“Then what’s the point of you?”

“Moral support? But seriously, I have no idea what to do in these situations. The only time Elain was seriously mad at me was when I came to take care of her flowers while she was out of town, mixed up the pots, and for a week watered her plants incorrectly, killing one of them.”

“How did you apologize?” Eris asked, not believing that he was getting involved in a conflict about a dead plant. For a moment, he thought that no flower would have survived with him.

“With all due respect but killing an unfortunate orchid and hiding the existence of a wife are slightly different levels, Eris,” Lucien told him, but continued when his older brother glared at him. “I bought a new orchid, learned how to take care of every plant in her room, and recited it to her from memory. And a date at a pottery workshop where we made and painted new pots for her flowers together.”

“I doubt clay pots will help me,” Eris sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Maybe he's a fan of such things,” Lucien shrugged.

“He's more likely to want to throw it at me.”

“That’s useful too.”

Eris rolled his eyes, understanding that he wouldn’t get more out of this conversation. And it’s not like he expected to get any real advice from his younger brother, who had a perfect personal life. But Lucien was the only option he had to talk to about this.

“Apologize,” was all Lucien said.

“I’d love to if he picked up the phone and agreed to talk,” Eris replied bitterly.

“When has it ever stopped you that someone didn’t pick up the phone?” his younger brother snorted.

Eris went to the workshop right after that conversation, hoping to see Azriel there and talk. He didn’t know yet what exactly he should say because, in his experience, there was never a moment when he needed to apologize in a relationship. He generally wasn’t in relationships, at least not serious ones. The marriage didn’t count since more than half the time he and Mor were at each other’s throats and wanted to kill each other after conflicts, not apologize.

So, Eris was hoping for his speech skills, honed over years in court sessions. And he hoped that his mistake wasn’t fatal in his relationship with Azriel because… well, he didn’t want to lose Azriel.

Parking and getting out of the car, Eris frowned immediately upon seeing his Porsche in an open garage, being worked on by some mechanic. A mechanic who wasn’t Azriel. He made a mental note to kill Lucien and never lend him a car again.

Approaching the Porsche, Eris politely cleared his throat, causing the mechanic to notice him. The mechanic turned around and looked him over, obviously recognizing him, as Eris had seen him a couple of times before when he had visited this place.

“Is Azriel here?” Eris asked directly. The mechanic frowned.

“No,” he shook his head. “Do you need something?”

“Not from you. When is his shift?”

“Today,” he answered simply. “Don’t you guys talk? Why don’t you ask him directly?”

Eris frowned, not wanting to explain the details of his personal life to some random guy at the service station. He mentally understood that he was in the wrong now and snapping at the poor guy was completely wrong. However, in the last twelve hours, his stress levels had risen to record levels, and Eris wasn’t sure he wouldn’t snap at any moment.

Exhaling loudly, he forced himself to calm down. “If I could ask him directly, I would have done it. Don’t you think? Just tell me when he’s on his next shift.”

“Alright, I’ll call you when I find out myself,” the mechanic shrugged. “By the way, isn’t that your car?” he nodded towards the Porsche. Eris glanced at the license plate, although he already knew without it that the car was his.

“It’s mine,” he nodded, handing his business card to the mechanic. “Call me when you’re done.”

After that, Eris turned and walked back to his car, thinking about what to do next. He remembered Azriel’s address and could, in theory, go there, but before that, he called him several times, hoping that Azriel would still pick up the phone. However, after the third call went to voicemail, Eris finally decided to give it a try.

He arrived at Azriel’s address closer to the evening, hoping they could talk. However, the problems began at the stage of finding his apartment since Eris knew the building but not the floor or apartment number. Well, he had to rely on luck. Unfortunately, luck hadn’t been on his side lately, but Eris had no other ideas.

Looking around and studying the building, he finally managed to spot Azriel, who was watching him through a window. But as soon as their eyes met, he closed the curtains. Well, now he at least knew the right floor.

Eris dialed his number, not really hoping for anything, and as he expected, Azriel didn’t answer. And instead of leaving him alone like any normal person would and giving him time to think, Eris couldn’t think of anything better than to stay there and hope that Azriel would change his mind.

He had to wait a long time for that. Good thing he had iron patience and the ability to postpone work indefinitely to hang around here all day.

Alright, maybe it hadn’t been his best idea, as it clearly wasn’t working. Azriel refused to talk to him, and Eris honestly had no idea what he needed to do to even get a chance to apologize. Not to fix everything, but just to say, "I'm sorry, I was wrong."

He spent almost the entire weekend outside Azriel’s house, feeling like a damn stalker.

By Monday evening, he had to leave because Mor had called him to talk properly. Eris told her straight that he would only speak to her lawyer because right now, he hated her twice as much. How the hell was he supposed to guess that she had been seeing Azriel when she herself told him that men didn’t attract her?

Well, if that was her plan to make him open up and trust her more, it worked. Because Eris was still in a vulnerable position due to her blackmail and his own stubbornness, which prevented him from blackmailing her back. He wasn’t going to stoop to her level. But the folder with the information in his bottom desk drawer was still there, waiting for a worst-case scenario.

And yet, here he was, talking to her lawyer and her cousin, who was trying to burn him with his gaze. Well, good luck with that because Eris couldn’t give less of a damn about this jerk. If he wanted to blame him for the fact that Azriel wasn’t talking to either of them now—and judging by the look on that jerk’s face, he did—Eris didn’t feel guilty about it. His problems. Eris had screwed up on his side too and was now dealing with all this shit, but he wasn’t trying to blame anyone.

"It would be easier for me to just go to court and split the property fifty-fifty," Eris grumbled, glancing at what this pseudo-lawyer was shoving in front of him. Even his toilet paper looked better than this document.

"My client insists on exactly this arrangement," the bastard said. Mor’s cousin also nodded, about to say something, but Eris cut him off.

"Well, to hell with that client," he snapped. "If she wants to take this to court again and waste more of her money on lawyers, more power to her. I’m not signing this."

With those words, he grabbed his briefcase and left the building. He didn’t have the patience to deal with these idiots. This divorce was slowly draining all his energy, and honestly? He was fed up. Fed up with being cautious around Mor, fearing she’d carry out her threat. Fed up with participating in these negotiations that led nowhere. Fed up with thinking about what to do with both his father and Mor’s father, who were both trying to threaten him.

Eris thought about how much he would have liked to spend time with Azriel right now. But that was impossible because Azriel was ignoring him. A few days ago, he made another stupid decision, thinking that since Azriel wasn’t responding to his calls or messages, he could try a different approach. So Eris simply transferred a small amount of money, just within a hundred dollars, with the note, "Ready to talk?"

Was it worth it? Maybe. Did Azriel block transfers from him afterward? Yes.

So now all he could do was sit in his car under Azriel’s window and pray that they could have a proper conversation. Which was basically what Eris had been doing all week.

He postponed their second hearing with Mor. Or rather, he forced Mor to postpone the hearing because the poor thing’s lawyer had quit. Eris thought about how useful it was to have so many connections. A few hints, one veiled threat to ruin the client base and career, and this jerk was already running with his tail between his legs.

Eris wondered why he hadn’t thought of this sooner. Just out of spite, he could drive all of Mor’s lawyers to quit so she’d have to spend more money and time finding new ones. He could definitely make that his hobby.

On Wednesday, someone almost stole his wheels.

Eris had only stepped away for a few minutes to go to the store, to buy water and stretch his legs—sitting in the car for several hours wasn’t exactly comfortable—and when he returned, he saw a bunch of guys in hoodies with tools running away from his car. He looked around and saw Azriel watching him through the window. He clearly either shouted at those bastards or threw something at them.

"I warned you," Azriel shouted from the window, and it was the first thing he’d said in days. The last time they’d spoken was when Eris had asked him to talk on the third day of waiting in the parking lot. Azriel had told him to shut up and leave.

"Thanks," Eris replied.

Azriel stared down at him for a few seconds and then closed the curtains. Classic.

He didn’t make any progress throughout the entire week.

Eris thought about alternative options while sitting in his apartment with the curtains tightly closed—there was something uncomfortable about panoramic windows lately. Maybe it was just his paranoia reaching new heights because the feeling that someone was following him kept getting stronger. At some point, he started memorizing the license plates of nearby parked or passing cars, just to make sure they weren’t the same cars every time. In general, he had one more reason to visit a therapist.

Late in the evening, when he was sitting with a glass of whiskey and his laptop, trying to sort out a client’s case that he had foolishly put off until the last minute, a message came to his phone. Some might call it an obsession; Eris would call it rationality, but Azriel’s number had its own ringtones—it saved him from unnecessary anticipation every time notifications or calls came to his phone. And this time, it really was Azriel.

Surprised, Eris reached for his phone and opened their chat, seeing a very long voice message. Realizing what time it was, he understood that it was probably recorded in a less-than-sober state, and he could have been respectful and not listened to it, so as not to put Azriel in an awkward position later. But honestly, Eris couldn’t contain his curiosity. And he had to admit, he missed hearing his voice.

In the voice message, Azriel talked several times about what an idiot Eris was, how it was such a bastard move to hide his marriage to Mor, how he hated Mor, how he hated Eris for not getting out of his head, and a lot more along those lines. And there were a few phrases that Eris couldn’t make out, no matter how hard he tried, because of the background noise.

However, he was at least grateful to Azriel for mentioning the name of the bar where he and some girl, judging by the sounds in the background and her supportive comments, were sitting.

Eris spent a few minutes debating whether it was worth going there himself, considering that Azriel had said in the voice message that he didn’t want to see him, and the fact that Eris had already had a fair amount to drink himself, which meant he couldn’t drive—technically couldn’t, not that it would necessarily stop him.

In the end, he dialed the number of the mechanic who had repaired his Porsche, knowing that he was a friend of Azriel’s and was likely to either help himself or know other people who could help.

The next day, he spent in court, defending a client and winning another case. Eris wanted to go to Azriel today, but something held him back. Maybe it was Azriel's harsh words yesterday about still not wanting to see Eris. Or perhaps he was just tired after a day spent in a seven-hour hearing, and it was already late in the evening.

In any case, after court, Eris went home. Parking and getting out of the car, he was walking toward the elevator when he noticed a familiar car. License plates he had already seen. Fuck.

Just as he was about to turn around and go back to his car, someone punched him right in the spleen, causing him to choke on his breath and double over.

"Eris, Eris…" a familiar voice said his name mockingly.

"Is that how you greet your beloved son-in-law?" Eris rasped with a laugh as he was grabbed by the elbows from both sides. He didn’t resist – even if he wanted to, his chances in a fight against several people were somewhere between zero and negative. Knowing Keir's people, he would have preferred not to end up in this situation at all. "What happened to simpler methods of greeting?"

"You wouldn’t be here if you’d meet me halfway," Keir said coldly.

Good news? His paranoia wasn’t just paranoia. Bad news? He was still here and very much at risk of being beaten.

And it would be good if it were just a beating because Eris froze as soon as Keir pulled out a gun, striking him hard with the butt of it. He hissed at the blow, tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth from a split lip.

"I’ve known you since you were a child," Keir told him, and Eris looked up at him with pure hatred. "And in my mind, you’re still the boy running in your father’s shadow."

At these words, Eris jerked hard in the grip, but the hands holding him only tightened their hold. Keir hummed quietly, apparently not surprised but amused.

"Maybe that’s why I never thought you’d pull such a stupid stunt," he continued, spinning the gun in his hand. Eris wondered if the bullets were rubber and whether the gun was loaded at all. If Keir was against the divorce, obviously, he needed him alive.

"The intimidation worked," Eris told him, unable to tear his eyes away from the gun in his hand. "I’m trembling with fear; please forgive me, I solemnly swear not to offend your bitch of a daughter and live with her happily ever after, although I doubt you care more about her happiness than the number of zeros in my father’s bank."

Well, if he got killed, at least he would know he deserved it. Keir laughed coldly before punching him again, this time with a fist to the cheekbone. Groaning quietly, Eris breathed deeply, trying to ignore the throbbing pain and the sharp wave of childhood memories with a similar outcome.

He managed to smirk when Keir lifted his head by his hair, forcing him to look at him. Because, fortunately, or unfortunately, Keir wasn’t his father and didn’t instill the same fear, even if he had a group of men with machine guns here.

"I don’t care whether you stay married to Morrigan or not," Keir said, surprising him. "All I need is for your father to keep his part of our deal."

"And what deal is worth your daughter’s life?" Eris asked.

"Your father knows, and that’s enough."

"Great, so disabling the parking cameras—because I know you’re not a complete idiot and did that—involving people to hack the building’s security system, stalking me for the past few weeks, and the other organizational aspects of this intimidation were for what?" Eris looked him in the eye, understanding that it was better not to anger a man with a gun, but he had just finished a damn tough shift, and they literally beat him up in his own home’s parking lot. The adrenaline of the last few minutes fully allowed him not to fear for his life. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

"To say, ‘tell your father this…’, although you could’ve just contacted Beron directly, who’s also not thrilled about the divorce and who will likely agree to keep whatever deal you made without involving me and Mor."

The safety clicked. Double fuck.

"If I ask you to do something, be so kind as not to ask questions," Keir hissed, grabbing Eris tightly by the jaw. "Your father may be against the divorce, but I want to ensure that he fulfills his part of the deal. And if I need all these ‘organizational aspects’ for that, so be it."

"Irrational waste of resources, now I at least know that Mor takes after her father," Eris scoffed, and that seemed to be the last straw because Keir pressed the barrel of the gun to his cheek, making him involuntarily swallow nervously.

"Go on," Keir said with a sick grin. "No, really, I’m curious how much more you want to tell me."

"I doubt my father will keep his part of the deal if you shoot me."

"Didn’t know Beron was famous as father of the year."

"We both know it’s a matter of honor, not love for children. He probably won’t like you maiming his heir."

For a few seconds, Keir stared into his eyes before lowering the trigger. Click. Eris exhaled quietly, realizing the gun wasn’t loaded. Keir's men released him, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

"You have a week, after which I expect a call from your father saying he intends to keep his promises," Keir said sternly, beginning to walk toward his car. "And, Eris, next time the gun will be loaded," he threw back as a final warning.

Eris watched him go, spending a few minutes, maybe hours, maybe seconds, in a trance until one of the other residents asked if he was okay. Lying about a boxing club, Eris waved off the concerned neighbor, who was worried by the "technical issues" that had apparently kept him from entering the parking lot for the last thirty minutes.

As he rode the elevator to his apartment, Eris realized his hands were trembling uncontrollably. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, trying not to think about the possibility that his whole body was shaking. He became acutely aware of it when he tried to insert the key and unlock the door.

He wasn’t sure he could close the door when he walked inside. He did close it. At least he thought he did. Feeling his strength leave him entirely, Eris slid down the wall, closing his eyes and urging himself to calm down. In vain. His chest throbbed irregularly, blood pounded in his temples, and breathing came in gasps. Panic. Damn panic.

He didn’t remember how he pulled out his phone. Didn’t remember how he dialed the number and put the phone to his ear, didn’t remember how many rings he listened to before someone answered, hundreds, thousands, or maybe just two.

"Fuck, if you think you can just…" came the irritated but so familiar and needed voice.

"Azriel," Eris forced himself to say hoarsely. On the other end, there was silence, the unspoken grievances halted.

"Eris?" this time he asked with concern.

"Azriel," Eris swallowed and knocked his head against the wall. "I need you."

***

When the emotions cooled down, all that remained was a huge exhaustion.

Azriel stood by the road, trying to catch any car, but after five minutes, his patience ran out, and he started walking home on foot. Walking through the night streets felt therapeutic, much calmer than he thought he should be. Because Azriel was not calm, but with each step, the anger gradually faded, leaving only a dull ache in his chest.

His thoughts were spinning wildly in his head until he reached home about an hour later. And there, Azriel was too tired to think about anything other than how badly he needed to sleep.

The next day, he wasn't at the workshop, just as he had told Rhysand. Ignoring numerous missed calls from people he currently wanted nothing to do with, Azriel texted Amren, asking her to arrange some time off for him—paid or unpaid, he didn’t care. Any leave would do.

He could have not texted at all, because what could Rhysand do? Fire him? Azriel just scoffed at the thought and opened a chat with Cassian, asking him to finish the repairs on the Porsche and a few other cars that were in Azriel’s garage, so they could be completed today. Cassian asked why he wasn’t at work, but Azriel didn’t reply, having no desire to explain.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he was here, feeling like a complete idiot, when all he wanted was just a bit of honesty from the people around him. It wasn’t such a difficult or impossible task—not to hide things from him. Azriel found himself feeling exactly as he had four years ago when he learned about Mor’s betrayal.

But back then, despite the pain and anger, he had felt a certain relief that the confusing nightmare he somehow considered a relationship was over. Now, he didn’t feel that relief. Instead, there was an unpleasant ache somewhere inside, refusing to go away. There was also an unpleasant ache at the thought that he wasn’t going to let Eris back into his life. Yet Azriel thought it was the right decision.

He spent the rest of the day on the couch, not knowing how else to occupy himself other than mindlessly flipping through TV channels and eating reheated frozen pizza, which only God knows how long had been in his freezer. Somewhere between a melodrama about a farm girl and a rich businessman from the city and a documentary about sharks, Azriel got up from his place and went back to the kitchen for a third bottle of beer.

Something made him look out the window, and he noticed the familiar red Ferrari parked outside his house. Oh, for fuck's sake.

He watched through the window as Eris got out of the car, looking around, then scanning the building, not knowing which floor Azriel lived on. And when Eris finally saw him, Azriel closed the curtains. His phone immediately started ringing from the next room, and he didn’t need to be a psychic to understand who exactly was on the other end. However, he had no desire to talk to him.

Azriel couldn’t say exactly how long Eris stayed under his window after that because he kept telling himself that he didn’t care at all how Eris spent his time. If he wanted to continue waiting in the parking lot, hoping Azriel would change his mind and come out to talk to him, then let him do so. But hours later, when Azriel glanced out the window out of curiosity, Eris's car was still there.

It was still there in the morning when Azriel woke up and made coffee. It was there in the afternoon when he cooked lunch from the remaining groceries in the fridge, hoping he wouldn’t have to leave the apartment to go to the store. In the evening, when Azriel checked the stock of frozen pizza, the car was still there. Each time he looked out the window, Eris's car was in the parking lot.

It was the same the next day. Azriel continued to ignore calls, responding only to Cassian and warning him that if he was currently with Rhysand or planned to pass on his messages, he would also be added to the list of people Azriel was currently cutting out of his life. Cassian didn’t ask questions about what had happened, only asked if he was okay and if he needed him to come over. Azriel said he’d answer that later, to both questions. Because for now, he had no idea.

And yet, his fridge was slowly running out of food, and he wasn’t in a financial position to rely solely on delivery services, the fees for which were absurdly and unfairly high, so with a heavy sigh, Azriel decided to step outside to the nearest store.

When he stepped out of his building, the red Ferrari was still parked almost at the entrance. Its owner was sitting inside and quickly noticed Azriel, getting out of the car.

“Don’t,” Azriel said strictly, extending his hand forward. Eris stopped, swallowing whatever he was about to say, waiting for further instructions. “Just shut up. And be careful with the car, in this neighborhood, the wheels can be stolen,” Azriel remarked with a cold smirk before continuing on his way to the nearest supermarket. Despite his warning, Eris followed him. Well, it’s not like he would be worried about the wheels.

Azriel successfully ignored his presence, and Eris remained strangely silent as he followed him. Well, technically, he had told him to shut up, and it’s not like he was complaining now that Eris was just doing what he asked. However, the fact that Eris was following him closely was getting on his nerves. Really getting on his nerves.

Nevertheless, being the stubborn idiot that he was, Azriel continued to pay no attention to him, throwing the necessary groceries into the basket. He also ignored him when the cashier gave Eris a strange look and then whispered, asking if everything was okay with Azriel. He just shrugged, muttering that it was doubtful, and took the bags of groceries.

They walked back to the apartment in the same manner, and Azriel didn’t look back, already about to open the door when Eris finally broke the silence.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “Please?”

Azriel turned around, looking at him with indifference. “Later.” And left.

Back in the apartment, he wanted to hit himself harder just for the thought that crossed his mind about actually talking to Eris. Calmly and like an adult. But the more petty and wounded part of him kept repeating that Eris lied to him. And didn’t even intend to tell the truth, which made it all much worse.

In the evening, the Ferrari wasn’t there, and Azriel didn’t understand if he felt relieved or disappointed because of this fact.

The next day, however, the Ferrari returned. It stood in its rightful place while local boys ran around with admiring eyes, approaching closer to take photos. Azriel just snorted, watching this. He stood on the porch of the house, waiting for Cassian with his car, which had been sitting in the workshop all this time.

Eris stood by his car, paying no attention to the kids and teenagers gawking at the Ferrari. Azriel just frowned every time he couldn’t help but look in his direction, meeting his gaze.

When Cassian arrived, parking the car, he glanced oddly at Eris and Azriel, still not knowing what had happened but sensing nothing good. He handed Azriel the keys, asking if he wanted to have a drink together. Azriel just replied that not today, but he was seriously considering the offer.

And then he watched in surprise as Nesta's familiar car drove into the parking lot, toward which Cassian headed. It seemed he had missed a lot.

Giving Eris one last look, Azriel went back home.

“How long are you going to ignore him?” Cassian asked, lying on the couch and eating his chips. Azriel threw a pillow at him, but the bastard dodged it. “What? Poor guy comes here every day, you could’ve talked by now.”

It was true. Eris had been coming here every day for the past week, but Azriel refused to talk to him. Not because he liked making him drive across the city and torturing him with waiting. Because… Azriel didn’t know why. He just didn’t feel ready to talk about all of this.

Just like he refused to go to work at the workshop, blocking Rhysand and asking Cassian to tell him not to even think about showing up at his house. Azriel would definitely get a headache if Rhysand joined Eris under his windows.

“He sits in his car, in a luxurious car, I must note,” Azriel shrugged, grabbing a handful of Cassian’s chips. “It’s not that much of a torture.”

“And you’re sitting here like a hermit, growing a beard,” Cassian replied, and Azriel ran a hand over his grown stubble. Now that he had reduced his outings to a minimum, exploiting Cassian as a grocery deliverer, shaving every two days seemed pointless. “Soon you’ll run off into the forest and chase after dwarves.”

“Or hunt witches, if I’m lucky,” Azriel grumbled.

“There are no cars to fix in the forest,” Cassian noted.

“And far fewer idiots.”

“There’s no me in the forest.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” after these words, the pillow he had thrown at Cassian earlier hit his head. Azriel didn’t have time to dodge.

“You’re being ungrateful to the only person talking to you right now,” Cassian shook his head. Azriel didn’t remind him that he was choosing not to talk to the two idiots who were still leaving messages and calls on his phone.

Cassian stayed with him until the evening, trying to entertain and keep Azriel from feeling like he was going through a depressive episode. Why the hell was he even letting this whole situation affect him so much? But the truth was, he felt terrible. And in the loneliness of the apartment, his thoughts consumed him with double the force. But with Cassian, they quieted down, at least for a while.

The next evening, tired of loneliness, Azriel spent at a bar with Gwyn, finally having time to meet her after a long period.

“So, what happened?” she asked right after the first shots.

“Why do you think something happened?” Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, how many times have you invited me out for a drink just because you missed me?” she chuckled, shaking her head.

“I missed you,” Azriel said. “I’m fine. I can have a drink with my friend once a month without any reason.”

“And without your new red-haired friend,” Gwyn noted. Damn perceptive people.

Azriel ordered another round of shots, Gwyn still looking at him expectantly. And despite the fact that Azriel knew she would figure it out eventually, he wasn’t too eager to go into details. However, those very details came out on their own as he got more intoxicated.

“What an asshole,” Gwyn muttered, wrinkling her nose. “Did he apologize?”

“I’ve been ignoring him for more than a week now,” Azriel said, and Gwyn frowned even more. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” she said bluntly.

“I’m an idiot?”

“You’re an idiot,” Gwyn nodded, repeating it again. “You always do this when you’re upset. You ignore people, not giving them a chance to speak.”

“We’re here because someone didn’t speak up in time,” Azriel noted. “It’s not my fault I don’t want to deal with Eris now.”

“Well… you’re drinking, you’re talking about him with me, and you’re obviously upset. I think you want to deal with him, it’s just your stupid head that’s not letting you realize it.”

“Gwyn, he’s literally married!”

“Azriel, he’s literally getting a divorce! How often do rich lawyers ready to apologize to you for days on end fall into your lap? Probably not that often,” she snorted. “I’m not saying you should forgive him or anything like that. No, I wouldn’t be thrilled either if I found out something like that about someone I date. But I would at least give him a chance to apologize and explain before cutting all ties.”

Azriel remained silent, downing another shot instead of answering. Gwyn didn’t lag behind, downing her glass as well. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should have listened to Eris before deciding that it was over. Because at the end of the day, Azriel might have missed him. Just a little. And maybe, just maybe, he was hoping that Eris would keep coming back.

About an hour later, this all escalated to the stage of recording voice messages he would regret the next morning. Unfortunately, Gwyn didn’t stop him. Instead, she actually encouraged the idea.

Another half hour later, they apparently accidentally called someone else, because Cassian and Nesta showed up at the bar, grabbing them by the elbows and leading them to the car. Gwyn protested that there were still uneaten fruits in her cocktail, which forced Nesta to promise to buy her pineapple in the morning—a promise she clearly had no intention of keeping. And Azriel grumbled that Cassian was whipped, earning an icy glare from Nesta, but he was too drunk to care.

Despite his intoxication, Nesta's threat to kill him and dump his body in the woods if he dared to puke in her car felt very real and registered in his mind quite clearly.

Azriel didn't remember exactly how he got to his apartment. Regardless, he woke up with a hangover, completely alone.

He didn't have the courage to listen to the voice message he sent Eris last night, but the message has been read and listened to, so he was definitely fucked.

Knowing that Eris most likely listened to a voice message full of drunken rambling, careless confessions, and rude insults—Azriel knew himself well enough to be almost certain that this disastrous trio was in that damn message—he felt a serious wave of shame.

He wasn't sure yet whether he needed to clarify that everything said in the message was just drunken nonsense, following way too many shots of whatever cocktails Gwyn had chosen for them. Considering that back in college, the two of them could down a bottle of tequila and still stay conscious, Gwyn's taste in drinks should have been approached with caution. But last night, Azriel was too upset to care about what he was drinking. And now he was dealing with the consequences.

On the other hand, Eris wasn't an idiot and probably realized that a voice message with slurred words and the sounds of a bar in the background wasn't exactly recorded sober. Maybe he didn't listen to it all the way through. Azriel desperately hoped that was the case.

Azriel found himself staring out the window, hoping against hope to see Eris's car parked outside again. This time, he was ready to go out and talk, despite the headache and the feeling that he'd been run over by a bus multiple times. He couldn't pinpoint when the sight of Eris's car and the man himself on the street had become such a familiar occurrence. But today, the usual parking spot was empty, and the silence in his apartment felt suffocating.

His phone rang, and Azriel genuinely thought it might be Eris, but it turned out to be Cassian. Well, he should probably apologize for dragging Cassian and Nesta out to pick them up last night.

"Still alive?" Cassian asked, his voice laced with a teasing tone.

"Just barely," Azriel grumbled, still feeling the throbbing in his temples. "Sorry for bothering you last night. I don't even remember calling you."

"You didn’t," Cassian replied simply. Azriel frowned, not understanding.

"Did Gwyn call Nesta?" he asked, trying to clarify.

"As far as I know, no. Eris called me. He still had my number from when I fixed his Porsche. Said you even gave him your address and asked me to pick you up because you told him you didn't want to see him."

Azriel didn't know whether he wanted to die from embarrassment or the hangover. The preferred scenario was for the ground to open up and swallow him whole because he hadn't expected this turn of events.

"And what the hell?" Azriel asked, not even sure what exactly he was questioning. What the hell was Eris thinking, calling Cassian? What the hell was Cassian thinking, giving him his number? What the hell was Cassian thinking, not mentioning this earlier? Or maybe he had, but Azriel was too drunk to understand it last night. And seriously, what the hell was going on with his life?

"Well, it was late, and Eris sounded really convincing," Cassian explained. "I don't envy you, though."

"Just kill me, seriously," Azriel groaned.

"Take some painkillers, get some sleep, and when you wake up, finally talk to him," Cassian advised. "Call if you need anything. Nesta is making some recovery soup for Gwyn. I can bring some over if you're completely unable to function today."

Azriel didn't ask whose apartment they were all in together and since when Nesta and Cassian were even staying in the same place. Instead, he thanked him for the offer and ended the call.

He really should sort out the hangover first and then, with a clear head, deal with the consequences of his questionable decisions. That's why, like a responsible adult with many problems to solve, he went back to bed, praying that either a meteorite would strike the Earth, rendering everyone's problems irrelevant, or that the gods would take pity on him and magically resolve all his issues.

Unfortunately, upon waking, neither of those things had happened, but he did feel ready to finally talk like a grown-up. Azriel looked around, trying to find his phone while also trying to figure out whether the clock showing six meant it was morning or evening, given that it was hard to tell from the darkness outside.

He found his phone and pondered whether to text or call or wait for Eris to call next so that the apology initiative would still seem to come from Eris. As he mulled this over, he looked for something edible in the fridge.

But in the end, he called, dialing Eris's number, only to reach voicemail. Either this was a sick relay race of "ignore each other", which they had been passing back and forth for the past two weeks, or something else was going on because what the actual hell? Azriel frowned and called again, getting the same result. Not that anything could have changed in those few minutes, but he still hoped.

Deciding to screw it, pride be damned, Azriel texted him, briefly saying they could talk. But over the next three hours, the message remained unread and unanswered, sitting there lonely in the chat, right after that idiotic voice message.

Logically, Azriel knew that Eris had a life—he still had work and, as much as it pained Azriel to admit, some semblance of a family with Mor. But the irrational part of him was angry that just when he wanted to patch things up and give Eris a chance to apologize, Eris suddenly stopped responding.

Or maybe Azriel had made it all too clear that he didn't want to continue anything. After all, even he wouldn't chase after someone for this long, so maybe Eris had grown tired of chasing him, realizing Azriel wouldn't give him a chance.

As Azriel resigned himself to just going back to bed and dealing with things with a fresh mind in the morning, he finally got a call from Eris. It brought both relief and irritation in equal measure.

“Fuck, if you think you can just…” he started, not giving Eris time for a greeting.

“Azriel,” Eris’s voice came through, surprisingly hoarse and quiet. Azriel immediately stopped, frowning—something in Eris's voice made him instantly alert.

“Eris?” Azriel asked, his concern growing as he listened to the uneven breathing on the other end, already preparing to ask what had happened.

“Azriel. I need you,” Eris said—softly, hoarsely, and brokenly, and those words clenched something tight in Azriel’s chest, a lump rising in his throat.

“What happened? Are you home?” he asked, standing up and frantically looking for his jacket and car keys. The silence on the other end only made him more anxious with each passing second. “Eris?”

“Yeah. Home.”

“I’m coming, okay? Just wait for me.”

Eris mumbled something unintelligible and hung up, leaving Azriel in even greater panic and even more frustrated that Eris was making him worry.

Grabbing his keys and unable to find his jacket, Azriel rushed out into the cold night in just a T-shirt. He quickly drove off, using all his knowledge of the back roads to get to Eris's place as fast as possible. Something was unsettling in Eris’s voice that made him rush.

Despite the distance, Azriel made it to Eris’s place in a record fifteen minutes, probably breaking more than a few traffic laws. The security guard at the entrance gave him a long look, but Azriel flashed him a smile and a look that said if he wasn’t let through, he’d either punch the guard or drive straight through the barrier.

Luckily, neither option was necessary. He was allowed through. Azriel quickly parked his car next to the familiar red Ferrari, briefly noting a strange red stain on the asphalt.

He was lucky that some man was also entering the elevator, using his keys, and Azriel shamelessly followed him, ignoring the skeptical glance. Fuck it, right now his thoughts were occupied with only one person.

As soon as the elevator doors opened on the right floor, Azriel shot out and immediately headed for the door, tensing up at the fact that it was not just unlocked but slightly ajar.

“Your door’s practically wide open,” Azriel grumbled, closing it behind him.

Entering, he immediately spotted Eris. And holy shit, he looked awful.

“Hey,” Eris said, still not opening his eyes when Azriel crouched down in front of him.

“What happened?” Azriel didn’t hold back, gently touching Eris’s jaw and lifting his head to get a better look at the bruises and split lip. “Who did this?”

“I’m afraid life did,” Eris chuckled hoarsely, but Azriel didn’t find anything funny about it.

“Who did this, Eris?” he repeated, even more seriously.

“Powerful people,” Eris smiled bitterly. “The kind who always get away with it.”

“Point them out to me, and they won’t get away with anything ever again,” Azriel growled.

Eris was silent, opening his eyes and looking at him as if he couldn’t believe Azriel was really there.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Because you called?” Azriel replied, not understanding the question. “If you say right now that I didn’t have to come, I’m going to kill you.”

Eris huffed quietly, leaning more into his touch, reaching out for the contact. Azriel noticed his trembling hands and grabbed them with his free hand, squeezing lightly.

"Experience shows that I can't be killed," Eris snorted. "So, I'll still say, you didn't have to come."

Azriel squeezed his hands tighter as if grounding him. "I doubt you could kick me out right now."

"I can't do much of anything right now, Azriel."

Azriel’s heart clenched at Eris’s words. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing someone so strong and self-assured looking so broken. He’d seen Eris being an arrogant prick or indifferent bastard — but this was something else entirely. This was raw, unfiltered vulnerability, and it terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

"You are so dramatic, and I'm the one who should be dramatic right now," Azriel grumbled, trying to sound casual as he helped Eris to his feet. "Let's go wash your wounds."

Eris silently followed him to the bathroom, obediently sitting on the edge of the tub. Azriel grabbed a clean towel, wetting it with warm water before carefully dabbing at the dried blood on Eris's face. The silence between them was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension of everything that had led to this moment.

Eris flinched slightly as the towel brushed against a particularly tender spot, and Azriel paused. "Sorry," he murmured.

Eris shook his head. "It's fine."

Azriel's jaw tightened, but he nodded, focusing on his task. As he cleaned the wounds, he couldn't help but notice the bruises on Eris's arms, the marks of a struggle. Whoever had done this hadn't held back. And damn it, this brought a huge wave of anger.

"I am sorry," Eris said quietly while Azriel rummaged through his first aid kit. "For... well, everything."

"For now, shut the fuck up. We'll talk about it later," Azriel snapped, realizing that right now, talking about Mor, marriage, divorce, all of that was the last thing he wanted to do. His thoughts were more occupied with where the hell the hydrogen peroxide was. "First, I'll wash and treat your wounds, make you some tea, you'll tell me what the hell happened to you, and then I'll give you a good yelling for everything you've done wrong. And after that, maybe, just maybe, I'll let you apologize and admit what an idiot you are."

"Good plan," Eris smirked, leaning against the tile. He hissed softly when Azriel began treating his wounds with antiseptic.

"You need ice," Azriel said grimly, examining the bruises. "And let me examine you completely."

"It's not that bad. Just admit you missed me and want to see me shirtless," Eris laughed weakly while Azriel rolled his eyes. He would have slapped him, but Eris's beaten appearance was enough to dismiss the idea.

"You were jumped and beaten, and judging by your untouched knuckles, the fight wasn't damn fair, and you didn't exactly fight back, and you're telling me it's not that bad?" Azriel looked at him in disbelief, getting riled up by those words.

"Family quarrels happen to everyone," Eris said, shrugging. His hands were no longer trembling, which was possibly a good sign.

"I'm going to kill you one day. But for now, I'm adding this to the mental list of things I'll yell at you about later."

Azriel helped him up and led him to the living room. Eris collapsed onto the couch, grimacing in pain. After going to the kitchen for some ice and wrapping it in a towel, Azriel applied it to Eris's cheek.

"Idiot," Azriel grumbled, not even knowing why he grabbed his hand again and didn't loosen his grip. Eris didn't resist.

"Why did you come, then?" Eris asked.

Azriel's grip on Eris's hand tightened slightly, his eyes darting away as if avoiding the weight of the question. He didn't have a good answer, not one that made sense, at least. His chest felt tight, a mix of frustration, anger, and something else he didn't want to name.

"Because I'm an idiot too."

tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos @lilah-asteria

[justice4canyonmoon]

harry being all shaky and scared after having a bad dream 🥺 but you wake up because you hear him crying and you comfort him with kisses and stuff

wow, this is the first thing I've written in a long time! Couldn't get myself into the headspace I need to write smut, but I really liked this prompt, so here we are :) It's a bit on the short side, but I think it's quite cute! Hope you enjoy :)

warnings: nightmares, car accident

WC: 641

“Gemma!”

He woke up with a gasp of his sister’s name, hands trembling with shaky breaths. The dream was awful: you, his mother, and his sister were all driving to one of his shows when a drunk driver hit you head on, killing you and Anne on the spot. Gemma had been taken to a hospital, and the near scream of her name that happened when he woke up was when the heart monitor stopped beating. His heart thumped in his chest, and he turned to the bed beside him to look at you, focusing on the way your chest moved with every breath, assuring him that you were alive. 

Harry turned so he was facing away from you, trying to regulate his breathing without waking you. But every time he took a breath in, it was harder and harder to take the next. It wasn’t long until he found his face wet with tears, thinking about the way he was forced to watch the three people he loved most leave the world. He kept his sniffles and sobs as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake you for something as silly as a nightmare. But it felt so real. 

“Harry?”

He felt his body tense, hearing your voice, still thick with sleep, calling his name.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not wanting to speak in fear of you hearing his shaky voice.

“Are you crying, honey? Is everything okay?”

Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“‘M fine, love. Go back to sleep, didn’t mean t’ w-wake yeh.”

He heard the tremble in his voice and knew you would do the same.

“Oh, honey,” was all you said before you wrapped your arms around his waist, “what’s wrong?”

“Just a dream. Nothing too important, that’s why I didn’t want t’ wake yeh,” he mumbled.

You got him to turn over so he was facing you, and now you could see the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. You reached up, gently wiping them away with your thumbs.

“H, I never want you to feel like you can’t wake me up if you need me. Whether it’s an emergency or you just can’t sleep, I’ll be here. Maybe sometimes I’ll be grumpier than others,” that got a chuckle out of him, which you were proud of, “but I am always happy to help you.”

He smiled, leaning into your touch, “Thank yeh, my love. Best partner I could ask for.”

You smiled back, kissing the spots you had been rubbing with your thumbs, “Of course, honey. What kind of dream got you this worked up, hm?”

He sighed, dropping his eye contact with you as he struggled not to cry again, “Saw you, Mom, and Gem die in a car accident as yeh were drivin t’ one of my shows.”

Your lips turned into a deep frown, “That sound so scary, H, I’m sorry you had a dream like that. But I’m right here, very much alive, and if you want, we can call Anne and Gemma in the morning. Promise I won’t leave you like that. None of us will.”

“I’d really like to call them tomorrow. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken, anyway.”

You nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

You pulled his body closer to yours, wrapping one arm around his waist and rubbing his back, while the other moved up to smooth his hair back. You leaned forward and pressed loving kisses to the top of his head, trying simultaneously to provide him comfort and lull him back to sleep. 

Just as you thought you heard his breathing evening out, you hear him murmur, “I love yeh.”

You smiled against his hair, “Love you too, honey.”

He relaxed into your arms, finally falling back asleep, and now that he was feeling better, you could do the same.

[goodnightmemes]

YELLOWJACKETS SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ The only thing you should ever say to the police is, "I want my lawyer." That's why I put it on the cookie. ❜

❛ Before you go, you should take some Hawaii 5-0 punch. It's just regular Hawaiian punch, but I gave it a snazzier name. ❜

❛ I might have to break up with him. Unless I get lucky and he just disappears. ❜

❛ I don't want to talk about the future, anyways. I'm all about living in the moment. ❜

❛ You're, like, holding on to me or whatever. That's, like, haunting 101. ❜

❛ I had to cut back the rations again. There's not much left. ❜

❛ The thought of you with someone else always scared me. But it also turned me on. ❜

❛ I'll make a solid kidnapper out of you yet. ❜

❛ There's no such thing as false hope. There's just hope. ❜

❛ I'm not scared of you. I'm never gonna be scared of you. ❜

❛ This is how you're choosing to say "I love you," for the first time? ❜

❛ You weren't the only smart one. You just liked to think you were. ❜

❛ What if my only way of dealing is to numb myself into oblivion? ❜

❛ They're too focused on their own shit to even notice that I'm gone. ❜

❛ Well...you're not a picture of normalcy yourself. ❜

❛ I can feel your heart beating. ❜

❛ Everyone has their role. ❜

❛ Stop reliving this! You're in the vise grip of your trauma. ❜

❛ Every time that you try to save someone, a lot of bad shit happens. ❜

❛ Serial killers love puzzles. It's a documented fact. ❜

❛ For fuck's sake, shut up! Don't you see how much damage you are doing? ❜

❛ I don't even know where you end and I begin. ❜

❛ Believe me, if I could relax about anything ever, I promise you, I would. ❜

❛ As I'm sure you can imagine, emotions can run high in a place like this. ❜

❛ You never know when you might need to leave the country sans passport. ❜

❛ It made me feel like...I didn't know what was going to happen. And I liked that. ❜

❛ You can't blame yourself. We all did it together. ❜

❛ Dude, I don't even remember what socks I put on today. ❜

❛ I guess I'd kind of do anything to see him again, you know? ❜

❛ Moving in with you means everything in my life changes. ❜

❛ I think shit is gonna get a lot worse out here. ❜

❛ Thing is...it's one thing to point a gun at a person. It's another thing to use it. ❜

❛ There's a look people get when they realize they're going to die. It's that one. ❜

❛ My hand wasn't shaking because I was afraid. It was shaking because of how badly I wanted to do this. ❜

❛ I'm gonna live how I want to. How I know I'm meant to. And I'm gonna be the person that I know I am. ❜

❛ They're all lucky to have you. It's pretty rare to have a friend who's relentlessly got your back. ❜

❛ In small towns, everyone knows who and where the weirdos are. ❜

❛ I don't normally hitchhike and...look like this. ❜

❛ I know that you're depressed. I know that you can't see it, but I can always tell. ❜

❛ Yes, I am still depressed because it's kind of a forever thing, but I'm doing real work. ❜

❛ And I swear to God, if you lie to me again…I am so fucking over secrets. Like, I can't. ❜

❛ Oh, my fucking God. So, you… you killed a person? ❜

❛ Maybe one day I can talk to you about it, but for now, can that just be enough? ❜

❛ I don't understand why you won't see what's right in front of you. ❜

❛ I'm sorry I disappointed you. I love you even when you try to control me. But I'm okay now! ❜

❛ I think we need to get you out of here. ❜

❛ But I just got here. I don't - I don't want to leave you. ❜

❛ As parents, it's part of our job. We have to protect her, we have to shield her from making the same shitty mistakes we made. To throw our fucking bodies in front of her if that's what we have to do. ❜

❛ No, you can't deny this anymore. There is something deep inside of you that is connected to all of this. ❜

❛ So, you gonna tell me why you're here, or are we just gonna pretend this isn't super weird? ❜

❛ I'm doing a fucking thing here. I don't need you getting in my way. ❜

❛ If I happen to mention sacrificing anything on an altar, well, just ignore that part, okay? Thanks. ❜

❛ Do you get how lucky we are? Some people never find someone they trust enough to share their deepest secrets. ❜

❛ You think I'm capable of murder? ❜

❛ You're charming and impulsive, which are traits of most serial killers. Only, you pull it off. ❜

❛ Look, all I'm trying to say is, I like you regardless of your extracurricular activities. ❜

❛ That's medication for me to mind my own business. You should take two. ❜

❛ Maybe you don't have to be dying to have regrets. ❜

❛ I'm mixing my pop culture metaphors 'cause I'm fucking upset! ❜

❛ I can't ask you for your help 'cause I don't want to hurt any more of the people I love. ❜

❛ You should know better than anyone we can't define a person based on their past. ❜

❛ I don't need your fucking prayers, I need you to have my back. ❜

❛ We weren't alone out there. ❜

❛ You should get the hell away from me. I'm poison. I ruin people. ❜

❛ We did so much fucked up shit out there. And, yeah, maybe it was to survive. Maybe. But I don't think we deserved to. ❜

❛ Women have been having babies for millions of years. You're gonna be fine. ❜

❛ The wilderness recognizes your sacrifice. And so do I. ❜

❛ The power of that place. The god of that place. We did terrible things in Its name. ❜

❛ It's all your fault. There's just something wrong with you. You always do this. ❜

❛ Aren't you probably the last person who should be giving me legal advice right now? ❜

❛ I know I have no right to ask you this, but truly, what is going on with you? ❜

❛ I just want to know you haven't given up on love. ❜

❛ Maybe I have given up on love. But don't flatter yourself. It's not because of you. ❜

❛ You know I don't deserve your friendship, right? I just hurt people. ❜

❛ Suffering is inevitable. And only by meeting it with compassion can we truly begin to grow. ❜

❛ I never even wanted to be a mom. ❜

❛ I did not start out a bad person. But in case you haven't noticed, life doesn't tend to turn out the way you think it will. ❜

❛ Oh, no. What happened? Fuck, are we going to jail? ❜

❛ It's you and me against the whole world. ❜

❛ You lost a lot of blood and you were unconscious. We thought we lost you. ❜

❛ I kept surviving all this shit that should've killed me, and I just...I figured it meant something. You know, like maybe it meant that I had some kind of purpose in all of this, but, uh...Yeah. I'm not fucking seeing it. ❜

❛ I need to know why the fuck I'm still here. ❜

❛ Shouldn't you be in therapy? ❜

❛ I'm not like you, okay? I don't think of killing as a joke. ❜

❛ I really am very grateful that your hobby seems to be figuring out how to be the perfect serial killer. ❜

❛ I've always kept my daughter at arm's length. I think just out of fear that she would...die, I guess. Or maybe that she was never even real to begin with. ❜

❛ I can't have another death on my hands. ❜

❛ I can't wait for you. I don't have that kind of time. ❜

❛ Tell me, is there anything of value in this life that doesn't come with risk? ❜

❛ Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone? ❜

❛ What, do you want to casually reminisce about our time in fucking oblivion? ❜

❛ Well, if I'm repressing things I don't know about, I am very okay with never figuring it out. ❜

❛ I know there's a lot of pain. You need to let it out. ❜

❛ I don't understand. You measured the grave to the standard six feet? ❜

❛ You're lying to me. And I want to know why. ❜

❛ Maybe [name] dying wouldn't be the worst thing. ❜

❛ When they get a whiff of how much of a liar your mom is, they'll realize that the ❜ psychopath apple doesn't fall far from the fucked-up, man-eating tree. ❜

❛ So, this is what you've all been doing with your lives? Chasing blackmailers and murdering lovers? ❜

❛ I think we can agree that it's in everyone's best interest that [name] is gone. ❜

❛ If I die, don't waste my body. Promise me. ❜

❛ I thought you loved all of me, like I love all of you. ❜

❛ We put ourselves in danger for you. You've been using us! ❜

❛ I've been trying to fix...No. I have been telling myself that I've been trying to fix things and make the problems go away, but the truth is, I've just been doing stuff that makes it worse. ❜

❛ We're all pretty messed up. It's time we finally fucking talk about it. ❜

❛ This isn't something that therapies can fix. ❜

❛ I think that you might be taking this whole, like, cult leader persona thing... a tad far. ❜

❛ I never meant... I didn't want this. ❜

❛ You started this. It's done. And it's going to save all of our lives. ❜

❛ I appreciate you trying to teach me...forgiveness. It's a nice idea. ❜

❛ I let him die in my place. It was supposed to be me. ❜

❛ You're a good person. You really don't belong in this place. ❜

❛ I'm not ashamed. I'm glad I'm alive. And I don't think that any of us who are still here should feel ashamed of that. Ever. ❜

❛ That was a beautiful false confession. I could see it came out of real love. ❜

❛ You want to help me move this body? ❜

❛ It's up to you. You can submit. Or you can run. ❜

❛ You know there's no "it," right? It was just us. ❜

❛ I never wanted to be in charge. ❜

❛ No. I'm not supposed to be here. ❜

❛ This is exactly where we belong. We've been here for years. ❜

❛ It's not evil. Just hungry. Like us. ❜