#let alone coordinate with 3+ people

[aratype]

its kind of weird that in uni they still assign u team projects without allowing you to work alone.. like wtf

[tarjapearce]

Strawberry Jam (Pt.2) +18

DadBestfriendAu!Miguel x fem!Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT, Breeding kink, Body Marking, Rough sex, mentions of Exhibitionism, fluff, daily situations.

Pt. 3

Ever since your dad knew about you and Miguel, things at home were tense for a while. You always had to meet up Miguel either at his home or he picked you up.

At first, your dad gave you both the silent treatment, but seeing Miguel trying to be a good man for you, chipped away the anger. He never stayed during the nights and always visited you during the 'appropriate' mingling hours.

He always got you flowers at every chance he got, and always respected your boundaries. And then, you met Gabriela. The child was sweet and polite, yet sharp and quite the observer.

At first, your relationship with her consisted in her making questions, such as "You like my dad alot?" "What do you like the most about him?" and a bold one "Dad knows when someone is for the money. But so far you seem cool enough."

Gabriela was smart, perceptive and of course a daddy's little girl. You were worried that things with her wouldn't work out. Something you had told Miguel, once you reached the three month dating milestone.

Despite the stress, one of the biggest achievements in your life approached, your college graduation. Two more months to go and you'd be free from college.

Miguel had taken you to a new, lovely and expensive looking restaurant to have a private celebration, previous to your graduation. Miguel had asked you about Gabriela, and how the kid secretly admitted to him that, ever since you got into his life, he seemed more at ease, more of a cool dad. Happier even.

Some people around you stared as you both kissed. Of course you were aware of the snide comments done around you whenever you were with Miguel. Mostly accusing you for being a gold digger, or being manipulative enough to make Miguel your personal sugar daddy.

But to Miguel, you were none of that. And he made sure to always remind you what you meant for him.

------

With the graduation around the corner, two days actually, your dad finally just accepted the fact you were dating his best friend. Still he was squeamish about you being alone with Miguel while he was gone out of business, but so far he had kept his promise to not knock you up, despite Miguel's discontent.

"So... whatcha gonna do once you've graduated, cupcake?" He ate his dinner as he sat across you. It was just the two of you.

"Well, my career coordinator landed me a spot in Alchemax."

"Oh really? Where?"

"In the Informatics department, as Dr. Bushman's assistant."

"Does Miguel know?"

"Not yet. I wanna surprise him."

"Hm."

Your dad sighed and looked at you, with an unreadable expression on his face.

"You really like Miguel, sweetie?"

"Of course. I mean... He's the best man I could ever had asked for. He knows what he wants, and so do I."

"I'm just a bit concerned on how you'd manage to... be a mother to Gabriela at such young age"

"I know it's gonna be hard, and that she might get some time to get used to it as well, but, I told her that I wanna be someone she can trust, besides Miguel, someone she can come home to and just tell her how much an amazing kid she is, because it's true." You sighed and looked at him.

"I had none of that growing up, because of mom's doings. And if it wasn't for you, sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would've turned out. But... that's why I've decided to break the cycle and be that figure to Gabriela. She's just... so sweet dad. And Imma do my best. For her, and for Miguel."

"Would you marry Miguel?"

The question sending a bright flush on your cheeks.

"W-We haven't spoken about that. I mean, we've been only dating for five months now."

"Still, would you?"

"I would, yeah. He's too much of a good man to just let someone else that wouldn't treat him the way he deserves, get him, ya know?"

"You love him?"

"Yes. And I don't know if it's wrong to feel such intensity in such little time. Just hope he feels that way too."

"Ah, cupcake. Miguel doesn't let anyone into his life so easily. It took me almost two years for him to get to trust me. And look at you. You're already having play dates with his daughter, and doing great with him, he's really attentive and wants the best for you as well. If that ain't love, I don't know what is it."

-------

Graduation was over, the celebration with your dad, Miguel and Gabriela was a success, and soon, you were back with your dad at home. Your dad went to sleep and soon you changed into more comfortable clothes

The doorbell rang half hour later, you went to pick up, and to surprise you saw Miguel.

"Hey, come in." He kissed you in the process and soon, gave you a bouquet of roses.

"Thank you, they're beautiful"

"Congratulations, princesa. Where's your dad?"

"Sleeping. He was exhausted."

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"Are you tired?"

"A bit. But if you wanna go for a walk, I don't mind. Just let me get my sneakers on."

You went to your room, and grabbed a pair of sneakers. You were lacing them, and the door behind you closed, the lock clicking. Big and strong arms picked you up and made you straddle his hips.

"My dad's sleeping!" You mumbled between gritted teeth

"Even better."

"You're such a perv." You kissed him as his hands removed your shirt and smirked upon finding bare breasts.

"Me? You're not wearing a bra, cariño." his mouth grazing your neck as his hands held you in place.

"Never liked them anyways." Your giggles were replaced by a soft moan as his fangs nipped at your sensitive skin. His fingers hooked in the hem of your shorts and panties to slid them out your legs, leaving you bare before him. The socks and sneakers were the only thing that dressed you up.

In all reality was that despite your dad's initial rejection to your relationship, that didn't stop Miguel to have his fun with you in other places in your home, before cleaning of course.

You had gone from the kitchen, to the porch, the thrill of of your neighbors catching you was borderline maddening.

Miguel had a thing for exhibitionism. And so you had discovered once you were fucking in the attic's window. In his car in the middle of a parking lot? check, your garage? Done. Had to wash the front of your dad's car since your silhouette was engraved on it. Shower? twice already. Stairs? of course.

You wore a dress and that was enough for him to take you in the spot.

"Now that I think about it, your room is the only place where we haven't had fun." He twirled you around and positioned in all your fours on the bed. The smoothness of your skin, displayed before him. Puffed labia waiting for his ministrations.

"Ass up, face down." He commanded as you flattened your chest down on the plush bed, obeying at his words.

His hands took yours as he made them grab your ankles. Spreading your soft flesh for him even further. He groaned at the sight as he licked his lips.

He removed his clothes, and kneeled behind you.

"Where was the last time?" His mouth pressed soft kisses in your inner thighs, and then he moved to your nub of nerves. Your body tensed at the feeling of his wet tongue dribbling up and down your slit.

"T-The living room" you spoke in between tiny, shaky whines, his tongue flickering with speed on your clit, you trembled and bit your lip to drown a shaky moan. The suckling and kissing noises sent chills down your spine.

He hummed and released your flesh with a small pop

"Oh, right. Had your dad sitting where you rode my face..." You groaned as the grip on your ankles faltered, his thumb rubbed in slow motions the already sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Where you rode me" He nearly whimpered as the memory replayed in his mind. He sunk his face once more in between your folds, holding your hips in place, eating his food with such delight it made your toes to curl in.

"Dios, te veías tan preciosa montándome." (You looked so gorgeous riding me)

He growled and slapped your rear, that only jiggled and flushed softly in response.

"Bouncing over and over, tryin'to make me cum inside this tight little pussy..."

Your hips bucked by instinct at his words, Your folds glistened both in arousal and his spit. You were turned around and got your knees bend up to your shoulders, folding you into a mating press position. His wide shoulders flexed as his hands maneuvered yours to hold yourself in place.

"You trying getting knocked up, hmm?"

"Y-Yes" You hissed in between soft pants.

"Oh..." Your heart and pussy throbbed at his expression. Goosebumps making your  skin crawl, you could swear from the light that his eyes glinted red, his breath hitched. As if waiting for so long for you to say such words. And now that you had granted him permission, there was nothing holding him back.

God, What had you done?

A flicker of fear crossed your features as he smirked. His fangs in full display for you. He guided his tip and stroked it against your folds to then sink himself in you. He shuddered at the warmth and tightness welcoming him.

"Fuck" he groaned and looked at your face as he entered you, you choked a sob.

"Let's make a mami out of you" His words slurred an octave lower. He groaned and his hips smacked yours.

You gasped and he covered your mouth with a single hand.

"But you gotta be quiet, princesa. We don't wanna wake up your daddy when we're making a baby here." His hips rammed yours and your eyes went shut, inhaling sharply against his mouth. He remained deep buried, unmoving, relishing the heat your cunt provided.

His weight crushed your body, keeping your legs folded as he hovered over your face. His other hand craddled you, and his hips rolled again, earning a shaky whimper from you. He was going slow on purpose, a pace you weren't used to.

You could feel every inch digging inside you, stretching your flesh and poking at your cervix.

"Te vas a ver tan chula" (You're going to look so beautiful)

He breathed as he nibbled the skin of your neck, grazing his fangs, to then bit. you could only groan and sob into his hand.

"Round and swell with my kid growing inside you" His whole body kept you folded, as he slowly fucked its way into you. He refused to give in as you rocked your hips against his, urging him into a faster pace.

He was low and steady, mumbling how well you were taking him, how he couldn't wait to milk your breast once you got pregnant, and how pretty you'd look in his big shirts, belly popping out all while he kept fucking you in a torturous slow pace.

He kept cooing and mumbling things in spanish that you didn't understand, but his cock kissing your womb over and over, grazing sweetly at your spot, made your toes curled in.

"You cumming mi amor?" You nodded weakly as he pressed tighter on your mouth, your breath hitched and your body went taut.

"Esoo" (That's it) He kissed your temple and removed his hand, you gasped for air, panting and heaving as your insides trapped him.

"P... Please" you whimpered and looked at him as he repositioned himself above you. Both his hands held you now in place, giving him more access into you.

"Please what?" he gave a condescending smirk your way as he hoisted his hips upwards, without leaving you completely

"H-Harder" you croaked and he let his whole weight to fall on the firm and deep thrust. Your jaw clenched as he stretched impossibly deeper inside. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes and he lifted his hips once more, air knocking out of your throat

"Sweet girl wants me to fuck her harder?"

You nodded dumbly, his tip stretching your entrance.

"Please!" you begged with a mewl. Mouth went slack open as he rammed his hips. Your breast bounced in between your hoisted thighs as you shook with every thrust his body mustered. He wasn't holding back. The room was filled with the sounds of his growlings, your mattress creaking under your weight, menacing to cave in the sturdy wooden frame and the constant slapping of flesh.

All you could hear was a

Slap a pause slap slap slap slap

Tears rolled down your cheeks as pleasure screwed up your judgement. Your mouth opened, ready to voice out your pleasure, but a hand on your neck prevented you from doing such nonsense. Fire licked at your skin

Your folds received him with a squelching suck each time he ventured deeper. It felt like you were made specially for him. So ever hot and tight no matter how much his cock stretched you, over and over.

"You're being too noisy, mi amor." He squeezed and you gasped. Air slowly leaving your lungs as he fucked the daylights out of you, just the way you were used to. This time however, you weren't on contraceptives anymore. And that fact alone was dangerously thrilling for him.

You didn't know what made you hotter, the fact you were actually trying in making a baby with Miguel while your dad slept, and he was making everything for you to be loud, or the way he always seemed to ravage you in hopes to get you pregnant.

But dizziness took over and your nails clawed at his squeezing hand as he came first with a deep growl, spurting all his seed deep in you. Hot and flooding your insides. Your muscles spasming only welcomed his cum deeper, your eyes rolled back.

"You'll be such a good mommy for me." He panted and let your neck go, his mouth kissed softly at your marked skin. Red handprint glowed on your flesh as you wheezed and panted for air,

His eyes softened at your blissful blown face, to then pepper you with kisses. You were trying to find your voice as your numb hips finally went back to a natural and laid back position. Legs shaking softly. Breaths coming steady, He stared at you, a warm feeling spreading on your chest.

"I...-"

"Cupcake?" You dad spoke from the other side of the door.

You froze, Miguel chuckled silently

"Uh, yeah?" you rasped, trying for your voice to not sound as hoarse as it was

"I'll go to the store. Want something?"

"Some cherry cola, please."

"Gotcha. Be right back."

His steps faded until you could hear the main door being closed and his car revving. You couldn't help but giggle, he followed and kissed you.

----------

"You ok?" Miguel handed a papercup full with coffee to your dad as he watched you going through some some bridal gowns.

"Yeah... Just... She's getting married."

"Hm."

"To you."

Miguel frowned and your dad smirked with mirth.

"I once asked her if she would, but seeing this turning into a reality is... overwhelming."

The both men watched as you and Gabriela scrunched their noses at a particular dress and then laughed.

"Bad timing then."

"Hm? For what?"

"She's been moody and emotional lately."

"... Shut up..."

"I kept my promise didn't I?"

Your dad only rubbed his face and sipped his coffee.

"Guess you did. Nothing I can do about it I guess."

Miguel's eyes followed you as you took Gabriela's hand and led her to another section of the bridal shop.

Despite your request of being a private and intimate ceremony, Miguel still insisted into wearing a white dress.

"Would it be fucked up to say that I'm glad you're the one marrying my little cupcake?"

"Very. Still.. Glad you understand that I'm serious about it. Does her mom know?"

"Yeah, didn't care. Never did, actually."

"I see."

"As long as you're making her happy, that's all I care about."

"That's a promise."

"Im sure she'll buy waterproof makeup, she's quite the-"

"Crybaby? Yeah. I know. Quite adorable when her nose goes all red."

Your dad chuckled. As messed up the whole thing was, according to some of his most trusted coworkers, he felt a huge weight being lifted out of his shoulders. 

-------

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[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire pt. 3

part 1 and part 2

Summary: Hewn City bs and lots of Eris screen time haha

Pairing: ErisxArcheron!reader

Word Count: 4k

Notes: I am so so excited that people are liking this story so far !!! I love all your comments and am so appreciative of the likes and reblogs ! For this chapter, I did use a big chunk of the direct dialog from ACOWAR for the Hewn City meeting with Eris, because I think its important context and I wasn't about to rewrite SJM's mastery. So disclaimer, I do not own any of SJM's characters or speak for her or them in anyway ! This is just for shits and gigs and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter ! Also please let me know how we feel about the Eris POV :)

Amber eyes and a pale face littered in freckles, framed by fiery red hair,  stared wildly at her. Eyes full of fear and confusion contorted his beautiful features. He was stunning, truly. Rakish, almost lanky, but toned muscles rippled under his well-fitted clothes as he fell to the ground gripping and clawing at his throat, trying to force air back into his lungs. Y/n did that to him. She made another being feel that pain and suffering. But he was hurting her sister. He was hurting Feyre. Y/n didn’t know why she had to remind herself of that fact so often to justify her actions that day on the frozen lake, but she had fallen asleep thinking about the male every night since.

Now that Feyre was home, things started moving pretty quickly. Hybern was making moves in the Spring Court to bring down the wall to the human lands, and thus putting Prythian on the brink of another war. Everyone was hard at work planning, coordinating, and scheming, but Y/n was told to just keep training. She wanted to be useful when the time came, so she was going to need to hone her powers and her physical abilities. She finally got to be a part of the plans when Rhys announced at family dinner that everyone would be taking a trip to Hewn City.

Y/n wasn’t afraid per-say, but she wasn’t sure what to expect. Feyre had told her that Amarantha’s ‘lair’ for lack of a better term, was designed after the city. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see that firsthand after hearing about everything that Feyre and Rhys went through. She was going to put on a brave face though. It’s not about her. It was about helping this court, her new family, and potentially the fate of the world as they knew it.

She studied herself in the mirror after selecting the right dress. Rhys had told her to wear whatever color she wanted, but she knew that this visit to Hewn City was all about appearances and she needed to help show that they were a united front. She had never been fond of black. It always looked so good on her twin, but Y/n preferred softer, neutral tones that helped her blend into the trees and underbrush. Tonight however, she would step out of her comfort zone. Adapt. Her constant mantra. So, she studied herself in the mirror, eyes gliding along her body that was no longer too thin, but now tones and showing real muscle. Her hips were wider, her arms and thighs thicker. A body to fill out such a fine dress. It was a floor length gown, as black as obsidian. It had see-through long sleeves and a modest neckline. Nothing flashy, she didn’t need to draw attention to herself, she just needed to blend in and help silently from the dais. But as she looked at herself, she thought that she looked quite pretty. She always thought she was the most plain of her sister, even now as Fae, but tonight, Y/n would try to wear this dress with confidence and that casual coolness that came so naturally to all the others.

 Eris’ POV

 That beautiful female on the frozen lake haunted him every waking and sleeping hour of Eris’ life. The way she literally took his breath away. If it weren’t for her power actually stealing the air from his lungs, her beauty alone would have stopped him in his tracks. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his many centuries of existence. He could help but laugh when she stormed up to him in the Winter Court wearing little more than pajamas. He shouldn’t have laughed. If the Illyrians thought she was important enough to bring along, he shouldn’t have underestimated her. He saw her face every time he closed his eyes. Her y/e/c orbs staring straight into his soul. It ratted him, which not much did anymore.

Eris hated Hewn City and he hated Keir. He was so tired of playing these court games and scheming behind the scenes. He knew Rhys liked to make an entrance, but he was growing bored and restless. Until he saw her. She was just as beautiful as the first time he saw her, but now, dressed in a night court black gown, she didn’t glow like she did when she was comfortable in her chestnut brown pants and a forest green sweater. Who is she?

Y/n’s POV

Stood atop the dais behind the single throne that Feyre and Rhys shared, Y/n scanned the room. Doing her best to keep her face carefully neutral, she stood there while Rhys addressed the court introduced Feyre as their High Lady, and coolly demanded that they kneel. After a long pause, the whole room on their knees before them, he released them to enjoy the festivities.

A man with blonde hair, that Y/n identified as Keir, Mor’s father only by blood, approached the dais. Then, the last person she expected to see approached as well. The male from the lake, with the glowing amber eyes and hair that reminded her of a maple trees falling red leaves. She swore her heart stopped beating when he made eye contact with her as he bowed. Not to Rhys or Feyre, but to her.

“Keir. Eris. So kind of you to join us. But don’t be so eager to get our meeting over with, go enjoy the evening. Azriel’s shadows will find you when we’re ready.” Rhys slid his bored gaze over each male and waved a hand in dismissal.

Eris. That was his name. Eris Eris Eris. The name clanged around her brain, and she had to choke back the desire to know how it felt on her tongue. She knew his name now and it made falling asleep to picturing his face feel like she was violating him in some way. She knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him in the first place. He tried to kill her sister, or bring her back to his father who was a known tyrant and took brutality to another level. She should definitely not be thinking about him. But there he was. And gods damn he was even more devastating than she remembered. For starters, he wasn’t covered in blood, and she wasn’t choking the daylights out of him. But more than that, he had this air about him. He exuded a confidence that was purely Fae male and came from centuries of a life lived. Then she remembered the way that fire had danced from his fingertips. He could wield flame like an extension of his own body. It was beautiful. Y/n once again had to reprimand herself, because those same beautiful flames coming from his long, calloused fingers, were causing harm and pain to her own sister. That light and radiance that fire had was diminished in the context of it’s use. How dare he make Y/n fear something she loved so dearly? How dare her use fire, which is the root of all life, use it to hurt and destroy?

Y/n was snapped out of her daydreaming by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She realized Eris had not broken eye contact with her and was now starring at her expectantly. With no small amount of embarrassment, she realized she was probably just standing here gazing into his eyes while her whole family stood there and watched. He cheeks heated and Eris’ smirk grew.

“I asked you for a dance, lady…?”

“Y/n, you do not have to dance with him. Honestly, you don’t even have to talk to him.” Rhys said.

“Y/n...” She hated how much she liked her name falling from his lips. “Just once dance, Lady Y/n, and I’ll share what I know of the Spring Court in our meeting this evening.” Still smirking, he held out a hand.

“Fine.” Y/n unceremoniously slapped her hand into his. Just because she was practically vibrating with anticipation of being so close to the male, didn’t mean he needed to know that. And neither did her family. For all anyone else knew, she hated Eris as much as they all did. She certainly should if she knew what was good for her. Gods, what was wrong with her!?

That smirk turned into a cocky grin as Eris led Y/n to the dance floor. He tugged on her hand still held in his and pulled her close to his body. Not pressing against her, but close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. He was unnaturally hot being a fire wielder, but Y/n never minded the heat. Even found herself having to hold back from pressing every inch of her against the warmth. He stood close to a foot taller than her, and she had to tilt her head up to lock eyes with him. She was met with amber eyes dancing with amusement, and he was met with a cold hard glare.

Eris blew out a soft laugh and asked, “why, little dove, do you hate me so much? We don’t even know each other yet.”

Y/n tried not to linger on the ‘yet’ as she leveled him an incredulous glare. “You mean aside from the fact that you chased my sister across a frozen lake, blasting fire at her and then restrained her with said fire?”

He had the audacity to laugh again. “Yes, Y/n, aside from that. I would very much like to know you. You hating me makes that slightly difficult.”

Gods that smirk. Y/n was trying to think straight as he floated her around the dance floor like it was nothing. She hoped he didn’t realize she was using her magic to keep herself from tripping over her own feet or stepping on his. He was such a beautiful dancer. And the truth was, she wanted to know him too. But instead she said, “you use your gift of fire to hurt others. You use that delicate flame to inflict pain and fear.” She desperately hoped her voice was staying steady, but then he scoffed at her and the leash she had on her temper slipped from her fingers. She feels her voice raising and her cheeks heating as she goes on. “Fire is not meant to cause pain, Eris!”

He halts their movement. That was enough to make her blink and remember where they were. Her eyes and her voice soften as she tries to look straight into his soul and speak directly to it. Her hands drift to hold both of his in her much smaller ones. “Fire is beautiful and lovely and soft and warm. Fire is nurturing and breathes life into everything. Fire is a gentle protector and a kind companion. I am so sorry someone told you otherwise and that you’ve been told to use it as a weapon.” He just blinked at her for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly the music stops, and the room erupts into applause for the musicians. “Eris…?” Y/n sys his name as gently as she can, but he pulled away from her so fast and muttered an ‘excuse me’ before he turned on his heels and practically ran out of the ball room.

Y/n stands there until someone accidently bumps into her and jolts her out of her head and back into her body. Slowly, she makes her way back to the dais staring at her feet, still not totally present. She looks up when she reaches her family only to see them all with a hand over their mouth to choke back a laugh. “What?” Y/n’s brow scrunches and she tilts her head in confusion.

Cassian is the first to break, laughing so loud a few partygoers jump and glasses shatter. The next is Mor, and finally, Feyre asks through tears in her eyes and a barely concealed giggle, “What the hell did you say to him!?”

Y/n just took her spot on the dais next to Feyre and Rhys as they laughed and laughed together and resumed staring at the floor trying not to be eager to see Eris at the meeting later this evening.

Eris’ POV

He had to get out of there. Had to get out of that room that felt too similar to under the mountain and away from that female who was far too gentle and kind to be anywhere near him. ‘The Mother must really hate me’ he thinks as he reaches the city’s edge and can finally breathe again. He knew the shadowsinger would find him soon and call for the meeting, but before then he needed to regain his composure. Y/n didn’t need to use her power to stop his breathing and make his heart race.

He took a few deep breaths and the shaking in his hands and the ache in his chest eased slightly. His mind drifted to the feeling of her in his arms, how well they danced across the floor together and how lovely her hands felt pressed to his chest. ‘Fire is not meant to cause pain’ Y/n had said. The words had come from her mouth with such passion and determination that he almost believed her. He wanted to. Gods did he want to believe her and her kind words and her cold calloused hands that soothed his burning skin. There was no way for Y/n to have known his father had struck him across the chest just this morning. A show of power after his father bested him during sparring. The punishment for winning would have been far more gruesome. Y/n’s cold unassuming hand placed directly over where his father’s had left the flesh raw and painful. Her lovely hand placed there while she looked him in the eyes and told him that fire wasn’t meant to cause pain and that she was sorry. He couldn’t believe she was real, and his need to know her just grew tenfold. But he wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good. He should keep his distance and save her the misery of his company again.

Eris was dreading the mask he would dawn in this meeting and the monster she would think of him as afterward. A shadow wrapped around his wrist and tugged. It was time. Eris schooled his features into the calm, bored, arrogant heir, winnowed back into the halls of the palace, and sauntered his way into the meeting.

Y/n’s POV

The meeting was nothing of what Y/n expected. Eris came in, and straight up avoided eye contact with her. She couldn’t lie, that stung a bit.

He sat across from Rhys, but looked to Mor with a knowing glint in his eye and said, “you look well, Mor.”

“You don’t speak to her,” Azriel said softly.

Eris gave a bitter smile. “I see you’re still holding a grudge.”

Y/n was so confused.

“This arrangement, Eris,” Rhys spoke, “relies solely upon you keeping your mouth shut.”

Eris huffed a laugh. “And haven’t I done an excellent job? Not even my father suspected when I left tonight.”

Feyre glanced between her mate and Eris. “How did this come about?”

Apparently, Feyre was just as lost as you were.

Eris explains that he caught Azriel’s shadows snooping around the Autumn court after they returned from the frozen lake, and that his brothers ‘mysteriously’ forgot about Feyre’s powers. He said that he had taught himself a few things about daemati powers and how to block them out. He says that he didn’t tell his father because he knew that Baron would want to hunt Feyre down and kill her for his belief that she stole part of his power. He doesn’t believe that Baron knows just how much of a threat Hybern is, but that he wont join forces with them if he finds out about Feyre’s powers.

“So what’s the asking price for you silence then, Eris?” Mor demanded. “Another little bride for you to torture?”

All the blood drained from Y/n’s face as her eyes darted between Mor and Eris. Her head hurt from trying to put this puzzle together without having all the pieces. She knew that Mor’s father had tried to marry her off and Mor took control of her own fate by sleeping with Cassian, but she hadn’t known the male she was sold off to was supposed to be Eris. The pounding in her head did not cease.

Something flickered in Eris’ eyes. “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan,” he said with vicious calm. “Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.”

A sneer from Azriel. And a sharp intake of breath from Y/n. If he had looked at her she would have seen the brief flash of guilt in his eyes.

Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.”

“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”

“You hunted me like an animal,” Feyre cut in. “I think we will choose to believe the worst.”

Y/n didn’t know how to feel. Couldn’t think of anything to say or do, so she just dropped her gaze to the floor. She shouldn’t come to Eris’ defense. She just met the male and apparently her gut feeling about him was wrong. Her family hated him and he hurt Mor. Something didn’t feel right, but what would she even say? There were literal centuries of bad blood between her found family and this male who for some gods forsaken reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about. This arrogant, spiteful, male who attacked her sister! Not just Feyre it seems, but Mor as well. Even if he didn’t have direct hand in harming her, he didn’t help her. Why didn’t he help her? Her head was still spinning trying to sort through all these conflicting feelings. She felt like she needed to come to Eris’ defense, but why? Maybe because she felt deep down in her soul that no one ever had. She could feel that he was good, so why were his actions such the opposite? The pounding in her head wouldn’t stop and she felt as if she might faint. The conversation starting to sound like they were underwater.

“I was given and order. And sent to do it with two of my…brothers.”

“And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?” Feyre accused.

Eris slammed a hand on the table, which did nothing to help Y/n headache. No one seemed to notice her flinch and start to sway. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.”

“Indulge me,” was all Feyre said in response.

“How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” Eris’ voice had returned to its normal low and sharp nature. “I wasn’t there- when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the firs and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free… They were going to kill him too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word- anonymously- to get the hell over to his own border.” Eris picked at a stray thread on his jacket, “not all of us were as lucky in our friends and family as you, Rhysand.”

Sharp, stabbing, shooting pain ran through Y/n’s head and it was so surprising that she let out a yelp as she dropped to the floor, and everything went black. The last thing she remembered hearing was the voice of Eris’ panicked voice crying her name.

Taglist: @abysshaven @myromanempiree @lilah-asteria @96jnie @ivy-34 @minaethrym

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. ��okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. and here you are doing an amazing job! but... you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[macabr3-barbi3]

Dream a Little Dream (of Me)- Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Even more fun new abilities, like making Alastor have a real conversation!

I'm sorry, I know it's been forever- I have a terrible habit of getting caught up at chapter 5 on all of my fics for some reason 🤣 the new banner was created by my beloved @fraugwinska who is this fic's #1 hype woman (ily 💕)

I've hit a point in this story where I think I'm going to start implementing a few more plot elements- I love writing the smut but I have some fun ideas for actual story; they can only do so much before something else is needed to keep it going, so going forward there will be a bit less of a focus on the sexual aspects of the reader's relationship with Alastor and more on some emotional parts and world-building. I hope that's not too disappointing, and that you all will stick along for the ride with us <3

For weeks following your fleeing of his bedroom, Alastor is in an absolutely foul mood.

The night after your argument, your silent lounging on your bed- in your own bedroom once again, sleep deprived and irritated, unwilling again to interact with anyone else’s dreams- is disturbed by a shuddering of the hotel and loud, clattering thumps coming from down the hall. You stumble bleary-eyed into the hallway with everyone else, Charlie identifying the disturbance as coming from Alastor’s room and knocking gently on the door.

When he opens it he looks distraught, eyes wide, smile strained, his hair looking like he’s been running his hands through it constantly, tugging at it. “What is it,” he asks the Princess, and to Charlie’s credit she doesn’t shrink back from him when she asks if he’s okay, tells him that he’s disturbing everyone’s sleep.

He locks eyes with you where you stand a few feet away, still hovering halfway into your own room. “Perfectly fine,” he tells Charlie, but his eyes don’t leave your face. “Merely a… nightmare, I suppose. More of a disappointing dream than anything else, really.”

You duck back into your room with a slam of the door, chest heaving with your anger and frustration and not listening to whatever else he had to say to Charlie. What right did he have to say that you were a disappointment? You didn’t even know what he wanted from you, let alone what you had done wrong- what, not wanting to kill people? You were no saint, having ended up in Hell in the first place, but you had morals still, lines you wouldn’t cross. Regardless of anything that had happened between you thus far, any yearning or feelings that might have resulted from it, you wouldn’t change who you were as a person for him. You came to the hotel seeking redemption, for fuck’s sake- how could he think that he could ask that of you?

You start booking other hotel rooms with the money you’re earning as the Resident Events Coordinator- honestly, Charlie probably pays you way too much, but it's helping you in the meantime so you aren’t going to complain- and you’ll camp out for a few days at a time and practice your abilities in the dreams of others. It’s fun for a while, to innocently mess with people by creating clones and turning things upside down. You find that once you’ve been inside someone’s dreams you can almost tune into their thoughts like a radio broadcast now- a little concentration and you get fleeting snippets of consciousness from them; grocery lists, work tasks, gossip. It’s nothing like it had been with Alastor, like you were deep-diving into his brain, seeing his memories through his eyes. He might have been right about your connection to him being what allowed such a thinking to happen, since you showed no signs of being able to do such a thing with anyone else.

Charlie notices how often you’re away from the Hotel, because she’s doing everything in her power to keep you there aside from having Vaggie physically restrain you. She keeps proposing new activities for you to coordinate, from a night at the club to an outing at LuLu World, and most recently she had you planning a trip to her father’s mansion for some fancy dinner and tour- Lucifer himself wouldn’t be interacting with them beyond the actual meal, he was just opening the space to them so they could all see where Charlie had grown up, another lesson in ‘empathy’ that Charlie hoped would help them make progress.

So you spent the evening making sure that everyone was corralled into the correct locations and not slipping off where they shouldn’t be. Angel had already tried to convince Husk to raid the wine cellar with him, Niffty was lamenting that she wasn’t allowed into the King’s personal quarters to clean, and Charlie was growing more and more frustrated that rooms she wanted to show the group had been filled with rubber ducks. Alastor keeps his distance from you, occasionally fading into the shadows to go do his own thing- you hope Charlie and Lucifer don’t hold it against you that you have no ability to control that man. 

Dinner calms everyone down, wine and delicious food putting everyone in a better mood while Lucifer dazzled them with magic and stories about Charlie as a child. You laugh along with everyone but you can feel Alastor’s eyes on you the entire meal, and when you finally steal a glance at him he’s looking away.

Typical.

You help Vaggie herd everyone into their rooms- their own rooms, to Angel’s disappointment at not being able to share with Husk- and leave Alastor to Charlie so she can berate him about not making an effort to get along with her dad, snippy barbs flying across the table at each other between stories. You tell the girls that you’ll stay up a bit later to make sure no one does any ill-advised exploring in the night, and bid them a goodnight as you head off to clean up from dinner. Lucifer seemed to have used his magic to take care of most of the food mess, but he’s nowhere to be seen when you return to the dining room so you take your time in stacking plates and organizing the dishes so that whatever staff he might have has an easier time of taking care of it all.

Just after midnight finds you seated on the couch in Lucifer’s library, your eyes surprisingly not bleary with a need for sleep despite not having truly rested in days. Everyone else is asleep- you focus your powers for a moment and can’t pinpoint anything coming from the others, other than an unpleasant staticky noise that comes from Alastor’s room. The fireplace crackles pleasantly a few feet away from you, the comforting smell of old books surrounding you and making things feel… calmer than they have as of late, with Alastor stomping around the hotel like some angry beast and refusing to interact with you at all. He was always making this expression towards you, like he wants to say something, or wants you to say something, and it was wearing away at your resolve.

You didn’t want to have this distance between you. Even beyond the more intimate moments that you had shared, Alastor had always been good company; he was helping you learn more about your powers, even if it was only to sate his curiosity; outside of his bedroom he was friendly and fun, and would probably rather die again than admit that he enjoyed the company of the others as well. Throughout of the course of this… thing between you, something had changed on your side. You think about the night he tore his stitches, the words you had whispered before realizing he had passed out above you.

“I would be yours. Forever. For as long as you want.”

The words still sit uncomfortably true in your ribcage, make the rift between the two of you feel even wider. Maybe it would be easier if he knew- if you could take his avoidance of you as an answer. You wanted to find him, try to have a proper conversation about boundaries when it came to your power- have a proper conversation about your feelings, and-

A throat clears in the doorway of the library, and when you turn Alastor himself stands in the doorway. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he says stiffly without stepping into the room, and you wave a hand at him to indicate that he can join you. He stands at the other end of the room still, closer to the fire, and won’t meet your eyes. “I heard you telling Charlotte that you would keep an eye on everyone tonight- but I know you haven’t slept. I’m happy to take up the watch if you would like me to place a temporary pocket dimension in your room, or transport you back to the hotel for the night.”

You want to drop it- ignore the fight that still hovers frustratingly between the two of you when Alastor is offering an out. His way of apologizing, perhaps, but your thoughts from earlier are still there. You needed to actually talk about it, or the pair of you would just keep coming back to the same issue.

“It depends. Does accepting your offer mean that we wouldn’t be talking about how you casually mentioned having me kill people for you? Because in that case, no thank you.” You watch the fire instead of him, how the flames twist and dance with one another as he stiffens at your words.

“I… regret how that evening transpired,” he says at last, ignoring your sigh as he comes closer to the couch. “I’ve thought on the matter and I recognize how such a request-”

“A request that you made seem like a command,” you remind him, “with that shit you pulled with the leash.”

He takes a deep breath, the flames flickering green behind him as he tried to keep his composure. “Yes, I can see now how that would have upset you. Regardless- I recognize how such a request was inappropriate, even if we did have a tentative agreement in regards to my limits with your powers. I understand that it is a boundary for you, and I will do my best not to test that again.”

You finally turn to look at him, and he looks… properly abashed. But there was no way he would have come up with that on his own, not with the glee that had been evident in his features when he brought up the idea. “Did Charlie help you with that?” You ask, and he scowls- which is less scary than he probably hopes it is, and is more a confirmation than anything else.

“I may have sought her expertise in handling interpersonal conflict,” he says, his stiff posture finally loosening up as he joins you on the couch. “Apologies do not come easily to me- not sincere ones, anyway. I don’t-” He clenches his fist and turns away from you, dark shadows crawling across the floor in arcs away from him. “I don’t know how to have something in my grasp without possessing it entirely. We have a deal but it’s not one that grants me the liberties that I would prefer in regards to your powers and your actions.” 

You take a deep breath and scoot closer to him. “I appreciate you being honest with me,” you offer, and he grimaces like the idea is distasteful. “Listen, I’m sure you think having feelings makes you weaker or something but really, it’s important to talk about these things. And to apologize… which I accept. But if we want to keep, you know, experimenting with my powers and whatever else, I think we need to have specific guidelines of what we expect of each other that isn’t crossing any boundaries for either of us. What, exactly, do you want?”

Alastor seems to struggle with himself for a moment, clenching his hands and refusing to meet your eyes. “I… I’m not quite sure what I want,” he says, like the words of ignorance pain him. “I’ve despised having to keep my distance from you since our disagreement. To see you laughing with the others and turning away from me with that look on your face was unpleasant to say the least. I don’t want that space between us again- if you’re amenable to the idea I think I would like to have you back in my bedroom, once I have repaired the bayou dimension.”

“You want to be closer then- physically.” You hop cushions, sitting right beside him and placing a hand on his knee. “That’s fine, we can do that- you’ll have to tell me what happened to the bayou sometime, though.” He nods stiffly, hesitating a moment before he places his hand over yours on his knee. “Anything else?”

“In regards to your powers, I would still like to experiment if you will allow me.” Alastor lifts your hand from his knee and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “I understand that hurting others is a limit you will not cross-”

“I won’t hurt you either, if that was your idea of trying to get around that.”

He frowns. “Too clever for your own good- I suppose that is part of the reason that I tolerate you. Very well- I will not ask you to cause physical harm to anybody, period. I also still would like to ask that I am the only one who knows of your abilities for the time being.”

“Done. I do have a condition of my own.” You turn to face him fully, and pull his hand to your heart. “I don’t want this to be a proper deal- no soul binding or anything like that. I would want the rope from our wager removed.” He stiffens at that, but he doesn’t jerk away from you like you expected so you continue. “We have to be able to trust each other if we want any sort of relationship to work, whether it be for experimentation or something more. We should be able to follow each other’s requests and boundaries without needing it sealed with a chain- that doesn’t give us any room to adapt or change as my powers grow and situations shift.”  

His jaw clenches, and he doesn’t look at you for a long moment, instead keeping his eyes trained on the flames before he finally nods- you bite your lip to keep from grinning or doing something stupid, like shouting in excitement. “I hope you realize what you are asking of me,” he says finally. “I don’t generally keep people close to me that I cannot control or own in some way or another. It keeps me detached from needing people, or caring about their approval. But I do believe I want those things from you, which is why I am agreeing to these terms. Please understand that this is… new territory for me.”

You lace your fingers through his. “It is for me, too. But that’s where the trust comes in- I have to trust that you’ll respect my boundaries without the compulsion of a deal, and you trust that I’m here with you because I want to be- whether you just want to continue experimenting with my powers or… anything else.”

Alastor’s red eyes glance at you from his peripheral. “Anything else, you say? I take it to mean that you also wish for things to return as they were between us in an intimate manner?” Your face flushes but you nod, and to your relief he smiles softly and reaches across the scant distance between you to touch your shoulder. “I would like that as well,” he says, and cups your cheek in one hand, leaning in so your foreheads rest against one another. His breath ghosts across your lips, and you realize with startling clarity that this would be the first time you’ve kissed him outside of dreams; the first one in reality, a milestone to mark the resolvement of your disagreement. You embrace it, leaning in and letting your lips meet, a gentle pressure before your mouth opens with a gasp when he trails his free hand up your thigh to caress the skin under your shorts with his thumb. “So soft,” he murmurs into the kiss, almost absently, and then he’s pulling you to him, maneuvering so you sit sideways in his lap. He lets his fingers creep a bit further under the hem of your shorts. “May I?”

“Please,” you whine, and he grants you mercy by snapping your clothing out of existence so he can make unhindered contact with your skin. His fingers move slowly, tracing through the wetness along the folds of your entrance before he parts them and slips a digit inside. The short weeks that have passed since the last time you were with him feel like a lifetime, but he still knows the intricacies of your body like a well loved instrument; a second finger follows, and pressure against the spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Fuck, Alastor…”

He steals the rest of your words with his mouth, his tongue snaking in to tangle with yours, drinking down the sounds you make like ambrosia. Another finger, and you twist in Alastor’s hold to grind yourself down against them, to angle your hips to guide him more effectively where you want him to go. “Someone is eager, hm?” He pulls back to whisper in your ear, hand finally leaving your face to come around your back, pulling you as close as he can to his body while still working his fingers inside you. His thumb comes into play, brushing with perfect pressure on your clit, dipping into the wetness that coats his fingers so the slide of it is slick and perfect. Tension builds inside you, muscles shaking as you ride Alastor’s hand towards a sloppy orgasm. He brings his mouth to your chest, sharp teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there before sucking gently, still making eye contact when you glance down at him through the haze of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. “Go on, darling,” he says softly, laving his tongue over the marks he’s sucked into your skin, fingers thrusting more insistently as everything in you coils tighter than a spring. “Cum for me, go on-”

You cry out his name as it takes you over, the electric flash of ecstasy that consumes you from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers as Alastor works you through it. You can feel your heartbeat in your eyes from the force of it, a soft throbbing that you know Alastor is experiencing where his digits are still inside the grip of your internal walls. Everything is tingly and fuzzy afterward, as your pulse returns to normal and your breathing slows, aware now of the soft kisses that Alastor is pressing into your collarbone.

He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his mouth to drag his tongue up and down the length of them while you blush. And despite the pleasure he’s already given you, you want more- you grind your hips down to convey the sentiment, the mess of your orgasm still evident and soaking through the front of his trousers where you can feel the hard ridge of his cock. He hisses at the friction, twisting a hand up into your hair while the other grips your hip and pulls you down harder. “You tempt me, my dear,” he says, “but someone is coming.”

“I don’t hear anything,” you mutter, continuing to rock your hips in little circles. Even with how sensitive you are, the pressure against your clit feels damningly good, too good to stop or heed his warning. “And if someone comes in, I’ll handle it.”

Alastor laughs out loud. “Oh, you’ll handle it, will you? By all means then, have at it.” He gestures vaguely towards his pelvis, unaware of the trick that you’ve been holding up your sleeve in your recent solo experimentations. You would never get a better opportunity to surprise him, you think, as you rip the belt from his pants and help him shimmy them off, his thick erection beading with fluid at the tip when it’s freed.

You lean back against the couch cushions, pulling him down with you and using a gentle hand to guide him to your entrance. You let out a soft whimper as he pushes into you, breath punching out of you with a gasp when he sinks to the hilt in one swift thrust. You tangle a hand into his hair, gripping the base of one of his antlers and grinning when his hips jerk against you at the action. His eyes are half-lidded and soft as he stares down at you, seeming to have to focus on slowing down when he pulls out and slowly presses back in. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, and your pulse leaps into your throat when he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind is flooded with images when he makes contact, emotions that ride through your veins along with the physical pleasure you’re feeling- evidently he’s been watching you the last few weeks, following you when you left the hotel to make sure you weren’t in any danger, sending his shadow to watch you sleep. You can feel the bitterness in your pulse as he watches you interact with the others, only to turn away when you notice him. The vague sadness that night that he had destroyed his room, his bayou, because how could he remain there when there were traces of you everywhere? 

You break the connection with a gasp, using your grip on his antler to pull him back to your mouth as he continues to fuck into you at a steady pace. He groans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, marks that you can come back to when the need was to great, more tangible proof that this was real, that he wanted you outside your abilities. “Alastor, please,” you beg, letting the fingers not currently brushing the base of his horns to trail down his spine, tracing the vertebrae beneath your touch as he shivers. He shifts his legs, brings himself closer to you, the angle changing and pushing the tip of his cock exactly where you need it. 

The door to the library creaks open, and you both freeze.

“Hello?” There’s a hint of pain as Lucifer’s voice echoes in the room, where Alastor has tightened his grip enough to break skin with his claws. His other hand untangles itself from your hair to press against your mouth, silencing your heavy breathing. “Who’s in here?”

The couch you were seated on was high-backed- he wouldn’t be able to see you from the door, but if he entered the room, came around the front, you would be fucked in a far less pleasurable way than you currently were. Alastor’s nostrils flare above you as he hears the soft clacking of the King’s boots as he takes a couple steps in, apparently not able to help himself from bucking his hips forward, his teeth bared in a snarl when he feels your muffled groan against his palm.

More light blooms in the room from the wall sconces- you had been sitting in here with just the fire, and the glare of more lighting makes you squint your eyes, Alastor silhouetted beautifully above you. “I know someone is in here,” Lucifer demands, and you take a deep breath against Alastor’s hand and snap your fingers. “You were all told to-”

“Why, good evening, your Majesty!” 

You almost wish you had manifested in Hell like the CEO of that tech company, with some sort of electronics built into your head so you could record the look on Alastor’s face at hearing his own voice respond to Lucifer. Your eyebrows are creased, trying to focus on the figment you’ve conjured to keep the King’s attention away from the couch. 

“Oh, it’s just you,” Lucifer says, and you can hear the hint of disdain in his voice- you wonder, not for the first time, what the issue was between these two- some conflict that had started before you were at the Hotel that no one felt necessary to fill you in on. “I thought you were told to keep to your own quarters past eleven.”

You make the thing twirl it’s cane, snapping it back to the ground and inspecting it’s fingernails. “Yes, well, I had some business to attend to. And might I add, sire, you are also out past your imposed bedtime.” 

Maybe it was something about using your powers to sass the king of Hell with some false puppet, but Alastor seemed to react well to it- his eyes dark, teeth bared, he plants a foot on the floor to brace himself so the couch doesn’t shift and thrusts into you hard, his hand pressing harder against your mouth when you whine at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. There’s wonder in his expression, something akin to adoration; this was what he wanted from you, you realized, displays of power, shows of your abilities that he could see and benefit from, that showed that he could trust you. 

Lucifer scoffs across the room. “This is my house, if you’ve forgotten,” he retorts. “I can go where I please. And I heard you talking to someone!” Rapid footsteps, like he’s coming further into the room, and even as it makes Alastor buck his hips wildly against you, you don’t think he really wants to be caught in such a compromising situation.

You make the figure step forward- if you really concentrate you can almost see through its eyes, a vague image behind your eyelids of Lucifer standing before it with his arms crossed where you’ve blocked him, his gaze frustrated. “I was talking to myself,” you make it say. “I must have intelligent conversation on occasion, you know, and with everyone else in bed and only you left awake, I had to make do.”

Alastor grins above you, pleased with the tone and the words of this replica you’ve created of him; refusing to use his likeness to submit or offer pleasantries to get him out of the room; you were doubling down like Alastor himself would. You can hear the inaccuracies- you’re sure Alastor can, too- but Lucifer appears none the wiser as Alastor begins to fuck you in earnest, the couch thankfully staying still and not squeaking or moving as he holds his hand over your mouth harder and leans down to nibble at your collar.

“Of all the disrespectful-”

“Careful now, your Majesty,” it says, and you make shadows appear to crawl across the floor towards him, tendrils approaching the couch as well. When Alastor notices them he groans into your skin, and through the copy’s eyes you see Lucifer snap his head in the direction of the sound. “You wouldn’t want Charlie to catch us in a disagreement, would you?” And thank whatever beings heard prayers down here, Lucifer deflates- you had made a gamble with that, assuming that Charlie had spoken with her father about getting along with her hotelier, but knowing the princess the way that you did you figured there was no way that she would allow them to be at each other’s throats like they were. You let the false shadows sink back, and have your illusion give him a cheeky little wave. “There’s a good King. Now, may I get back to my business?” With the last word, Alastor stills, waiting for a confirmation or denial, possibly preparing to phase the two of you out of the room if Lucifer came further into the room-

“Do whatever you want,” Lucifer grumbles, “Charlie and that little coordinator need to keep a closer fucking eye on you, but I can’t be bothered.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that to our event planner,” you make it say, and Alastor makes another soft noise into your throat against where your pulse beats steadily, replicated in the rhythmic clenching of your walls around his still hard length. The interruption doesn’t seem to have doused your arousal, nor Alastor’s- the possibility of being caught like this makes your blood boil in the most pleasant way, Alastor’s cock still filling you perfectly even as he’s stopped actually fucking you for the time being. “I’ll bid you a good night, sire; I still have matters that need tending to, free of distractions.” You see Lucifer cast a middle finger back at the image of Alastor as it speaks, and then mercifully he’s storming out, a swirling golden portal opening for him to step through and then closing with a loud crack.

In time with the noise of the portal slamming closed, Alastor pulls his hips back and snaps them forward again- his hand is removed from your mouth with your gasp, and he moves it to your hip to pull you more forcefully into his thrusts. “You,” he growls against your jawline, “are perfect.” He kisses you, licking into your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs as it’s punched from you with every rock of his pelvis. “The audacity to pull such a stunt- the control you maintained over the illusion was breathtaking, I don’t- fuck,” he concludes eloquently, fingers coming between your bodies to rub at your clit again as he races towards completion. It reignites the fire in your abdomen, heat flashing through your body like a strike of lightning that burns across your skin, making you cling to him tighter. He looks down at you with dark, unfathomable eyes while he fucks you, his pace growing uneven and broken as he approaches his end. “Please, darling,” he whispers against your lips, “cum for me, I need-”

The plea is what breaks you, every muscle in your body tensing and releasing as the orgasm slams into you like a car into a brick wall- messy, sudden, destructive. You don’t leave your own mind this time, your consciousness firmly rooted in reality as you watch Alastor lose his composure, his eyes fluttering closed with a gasp of your name while he spills into the slick heat of your cunt, his hips still rocking as if he means to fuck his release as far into you as he can. You shiver with the aftershocks, Alastor still maintaining a gentle swiping across your clit, and you can feel the way your walls twitch around the length of his cock while he stays buried in you to the hilt.

“No mind traveling today, I see,” he asks quietly, another kiss pressed softly to your forehead, and while no mental images come forth you can feel what he’s feeling now; the lingering ache of pleasure, the pride he still feels at your show of your new ability, an overall sense of happiness that you wouldn’t expect to be able to bring Alastor. He had put aside his discomfort to have an honest, responsible conversation with you to fix what you had both thought might be irreparably broken, and you were thankful.

You hum against his throat. “I’m content where I am,” you tell him, and the vibration of his laughter on your lips is perfection.

From the previous tags list: @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @minamilinaqueen

if any of you would like to be removed for any reason, please let me know! <3

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Searching

Are you guys ready?! We are going continue where we left up last drabble :3 I hope you all are up to date on the story :D @spotaus

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We good? We good :3

*--------------------------*

Dream checks his inventory. He has medicine and a first aid kid. He has the reports from the last few meetings and the news he spread about his mess up.

Just in case that Nightmare doesn’t want to listen he can at least leave the proof he had been working on fixing the mess he made.

Dream rubs his arm as he checks his bag again. Is it enough? He messed up so many things and left his brother alone to deal with all of it for so long-

“Dream?” the voice and a hand on his shoulder shake him out of his thoughts.

Dream looks back and sees Blue looking at him worried “If you aren’t ready I can go by myself first and look around.”

Dream shakes his skull “no no! I want to go! I need to go!”

Blue frowns and speaks softly “Dream. I am not even sure if they are actually there. It is just a lead… I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed if he isn’t there or if you don’t see him.”

Dream blinks but smiles at Blue “I know that. I know there is only a small chance… but I just want to be prepared… What if we do see him and I don’t have any of it with me? And I never find him again? It is just in case.” Of course Dream really hopes he finally gets to meet Nightmare again. It has been a year and  a half and he is going crazy.

Dream hadn’t realised how much comfort he had gotten out of seeing Nightmare each time they fought.

Blue sighs but smiles “Okay. If you are sure.”

Dream feels like a terrible friend and he grabs Blue’s shoulders “Hey. When this is over. You are going to tell me something I can help you with okay?”

Blue blinks and laughs “No need Dream. We are friends.”

Dream nods “Exactly. So I am going to help you with something after all of this! I promise!”

Blue blinks and laughs as he looks to the side with a blush- wait a minute! Blue keeps chuckling nervously “No need! There is nothing that would require help or assistance or anything! Lets focus on your whole thing! Come I have the universe coordinates!” and he manages to duck under Dream’s arms as he messes with his phone. Trying to hide his blush.

Oh. Oh!! Oh Dream is so going to help Blue with his crush! Dream wonders who it could be… Well Dream doubts it will be hard. Blue is one of the best people in the whole multiverse. Anyone would be lucky with his attention.

Dream joins his side and grins knowingly at him. Blue just glares back at him, a blue blush still on his face. Dream giggles and wiggles his eyebrows. Blue gets bluer and looks away “Knock it off Dream.”

Dream giggles and nods “Okay… but just so you know. I don’t think you have to be nervous or worry. Whoever you like will be lucky that you like them.” Blue mutters as he looks away nervously.

Dream nudges their shoulders together before checking the coordinates Blue has pulled up. He grabs his staff and concentrates. The universe ripples and a portal opens.

Dream freezes as he stares at the portal. Feeling nervous all over again.

Blue nudges their shoulders together and grins “Ready? Let’s go.”

Dream smiles and nods “Let’s.”

They step through.

The thing with dimension hopping that most people don’t realise. Dimensions move around.

They rarely move around enough to need completely new coordinates. But unless you know the place well you will not cross-dimension teleport to the same place twice.

Dream and Blue step out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. They look around but only see fields upon fields of growing crops.

Dream hums “Well… that was to be expected with a Farmtale.”

Blue nods “I am already happy we didn’t show up in the middle of a town or city. That is always a mess. Especially if it isn’t a universe in the know.”

Dream agrees full heartly. He looks around and pulls on his magic.

Blue keeps an eye out as Dream feels the universe out. One of the nice things about being a god. It is rather easy to get a feel for if a universe has been tampered with in anyway.

Normally Dream could also feel when his brother is near but ever since losing his domain Dream doubts he still can.

The edits to this universe are… very limited. It almost seems like the only thing that has been changed is some kind of shielding or camouflaging all around the universe. Dream frowns as he knows this type of work.

Dream puts his hands down as he glares ahead “Error.”

Blue looks up shocked “What?”

Dream glares at the ground as his hands form fists “Error. Error put up a shield.” Technically both Error and Ink call it firewalls but it is the same.

Blue frowns as he joins him “Why would he put one around a Farmtale?”

Dream knows Blue knows as well “Error doesn’t like me.” Which is putting it mildly “And he is close to Nightmare.” Maybe closer than Dream thought. Dream had thought they just worked together and after how Error defended Nightmare and backed up how their jobs worked Dream figured they were at least on friendly terms.

Blue glances around “Well.. that is good right?”

Dream frowns as he looks at his friend.

Blue grins “It means there is something here. Something important that Error is trying to hide. Maybe it is another lead? Or… well… maybe you finally have the right universe?”

Dream feels any irritation and annoyance melt away. Oh stars…

Blue grins and nudges their shoulders together “Best we keep being sneaky about it. Get a feel for the land and how things work. Maybe find the Sans of this place? See if he saw anything noteworthy?”

Dream feels himself relax at the familiar routine “Some good old scouting.”

Blue smiles “indeed. Come! I see a city in the distance! Lets get a feel for everything there and then get searching!” and he starts walking.

Dream smiles and follows his best friend.

They have done this song and dance quite a few times. They walk around. Make some small talk with people. Get a general feel for how things work in the universe to fit in better.

Only once they have established these things they start to search for a way to find this universe ‘main cast’ with the hope that at least one person is in the known about multiverse things.

It is always a gamble if the people in the universe know or don’t know about the bigger multiverse and Dream and Blue generally try not to let this information slip. If they don’t know it can cause trouble.

They had multiple people try and attack other universes when the more aggressive people found out about the option. They were… dealt with. As many others are much better prepared for these possibilities.

Blue returns to his side “I don’t think they know here.”

Dream nods “Which means even more careful information gathering…” At least that would explain why Nightmare picked this spot. Why hide in a place that hates you because of the multiverse? Best start over new and fresh somewhere.

Now with the knowledge of how to act the two quickly decided that they are looking for old friends. Sans and Papyrus. Them being the safest bet for multiple reasons. One, because they are both most likely to know about multiverse stuff. Two, because they are all skeletons people will ask less questions about them searching for each other.

Yes. Dream thinks it is a stupid reason but it is what it is.

The two of them split up and get to work with asking around if anyone knows their friends by any chance. When asked why they don’t know where they are Dream just says that he can’t quite remember the address but knew it was somewhere around here!

It takes a while until they speak to some humans. The humans look thoughtful and mention that they are not sure if the skeletons were named Papyrus and Sans precisely they are very sure they saw skeletons at the farmers market a bit further to the east. A few cities further by a very small farmers town.

Blue happily notes down the address and they waves goodbye before starting their journey.

Blue grins at him “Want to get an actually vehicle or shall we keep walking?”

Dream feels nervous and answers “Walking.” He needs to figure out what he is going to say. Blue nods and the two make their way into the right direction.

It takes about two days of steady walking in which Dream tries to think of what to say and how to say it.

What if he actually sees Nightmare? What does he say to him? How does he make Nightmare hear him out? What if Nightmare is actually willing to hear him out?! How can Dream tell him everything? Without making it sound like he is trying to excuse himself?

What if the gang are actually the ones who meet him first? How does he convince them to let him see his brother?

Or worse.

What if the gang only lives here? What if this is just the place that Cross and Dust settled with their child? What if they don’t know where Nightmare is?

What if there really is no way for Dream to find Nightmare?

Blue shakes him out of his thinking by saying they are there.

The town is small. Very small. Only like one main street with a few shops and a few side streets.

Blue and Dream share a look as they look around. Some people are walking around. Blue and Dream share another look before Blue nods towards the large tavern reading Grillby’s. Blue grins “Probably the best place to start.”

Dream smiles and nods.

They walk together but Dream can’t help but feel… watched. He sneaks a few glances around and can’t help but notice that everyone is watching them with clear suspicion on their faces. They have been met with nerves and curious looks before. But rarely with suspicion. That usually only happened in a fell verse.

Dream shoots Blue a look and mutters “Blue?”

Blue just keeps smiling as he walks straight towards the target “I noticed the same. But I am sure this isn’t a Fell verse… Lets focus on out plan for now.” then he opens the door.

A few people are moving around and talking but as soon as Dream and Blue step in they grow quiet.

An icy silence as Blue just smiles and walks towards Grillby. The fire elemental is preparing some things behind the bar. Another fire elemental looks nervous as they glance between them and Grillby just nudges them towards the back where they disappear into.

Blue gets to the bar and Dream just stays by his side. Blue smiles “Hello! I was hoping you could maybe help us!” and he smiles.

Grillby watches them and shrugs “Don’t know until I know what you want strangers.”

Blue laughs and rubs the back of his neck “I am sorry. I am Blue and this is my friend Dream! We are looking for friends of ours.”

Dream wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been already on edge. The soft mumbles around them stop as soon as Dream’s name is said. Grillby shoots him a considering look and seems to look both of them up and down.

Grillby hums and turns back to his glass “Never heard anyone looking for either of you.”

Blue blinks and smiles “We are old friends of them. Fellow skeletons like us.”

Dream frowns as he feels more and more tension in the air. Fuck he wishes he could still feel emotions. Get an idea for what everyone is feeling and leaning towards.

Grillby hums as he keeps cleaning “Seems rude to just assume any skeletons I may or may not have seen would be the ones you are looking for. Even if they are rare. At least that is what people say.” And he puts some glasses away.

It is like a wall.

Blue nods thoughtfully before smiling “Well,” Blue pauses for a moment as he shoots him a look. Dream isn’t sure if it is smart to mention the others. Mostly because their names are not the friendliest and they don’t want to make it seem like they did something wrong. Dream catches Blue’s eyes and shakes his skull a tiny bit. Blue catches it and smiles back at Grillby “If you happen to see either Sans or Papyrus can you tell them we wish to see them? It has been so long and we would love to catch up.”

Grillby just gives a short nod “If I see anyone named that I will mention it.” and he turns back to his work.

Dream and Blue both quickly leave the building.

They exit the building and share a look.

Blue speaks first “Okay that wasn’t just me right? They all don’t like us at all.”

Dream nods as he glances around “They are very on edge… I wonder why…”

Blue frowns as he glances around “We can check out the stalls and shops?”

Dream thinks before nodding “Let’s. We can then just take a break and try again tomorrow if we need to.”

They walk into the decided direction and check stores and make small talk. Or try to make small talk. People are not willing to reply to them at all. And questions even hinting at a different topic aside from their wares is met with annoyance and dismissal.

Dream smiles at the dog monster before him. She just looks uninterested at them while her friend is outright glaring at them.

Dream frowns “You sure you don’t know any skeletons?”

The dog monster shrugs “Seen a few. But not anyone specific coming to mind.” she looks outright bored.

The other woman, a bunny, huffs “Well are you going to buy anything or waste time we could be spending on other customers!?”

Blue looks around and behind him but no other customers are in line. Dream laughs softly as he rubs his neck “I mean… It seems to be a quiet day at least?”

The dog monster, neither of the ladies had given them their names, shrugs “Can change at any moment.”

Suddenly the bunny sits up straight and nudges her friend “Wait I just spotted my friend! I need to check if he has my dvd still. That okay?”

The dog monster frowns at her but nods “Sure. Just be back before the rush.”

The bunny smiles and rushes off to the side. Dream follows her with his sight but the other monster disappears around a corner.

Blue tilts his skull before grinning at the dog monster “Well… If you by any chance see anyone who fits the description we gave you. Please let us know?”

The dog monster shrugs “Maybe.”

… right. That is about as far as they had gotten with these people.

Dream sighs and nudges Blue “Come Blue. Let’s go. We can check some other people.”

They spend more hours just like that. Talking with people and getting nowhere except unhappy faces and dismissive hand waving.

Dream sighs as he sits on a bench “Are we in the right place?”

Blue nods “According to the people we spoke this is the right town.” He sighs and gives him a half grin “Maybe people are just nervous about strangers? I know back in Snowdin we were always a bit cautious when people suddenly showed up… unless someone we knew vouched for them of course.” Blue looks around the place “This place reminds me of Snowdin…”

Dream frowns as he looks around. Maybe that is it? They are just being cautious. That is it. Dream needs to stop being paranoid. Stop thinking people know or suspect what happened. This is a locked universe and seems to have no contact with others-

Blue suddenly jumps up and rushes off “Hey Sans! Papyrus! Wait up!”

Dream looks up and spots who Blue has spotted. Two skeletons. This was the place! Dream smiles and rushes to follow Blue. Oh things are finally looking up!

*--------------------------*

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[itacats]

Operation 141: The Family Business

FT: TF141 x gn!reader - Mafia AU

Warnings: mafia themes, kidnapping/abduction, obsessive behaviors, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: The 141 team’s fear hardens into fierce determination. The team splits up, scouring the city with relentless focus, driven by a shared promise to bring you back. The hunt is on, and this time, they’re not leaving without you.

Read Part 1 Read Part 2 Read Part 3 Read Part 4 Read Part 6 Read Part 7 Read Part 8

Part 5: The Rescue Mission

The atmosphere in the 141’s HQ had shifted—what had started as worry had now solidified into something colder, sharper. Determination hummed in the air, electrifying the space where minutes earlier, dread had pooled in the silence. Ghost stood at the center of it, his masked face tilted down toward the sketches spread out on the table in front of him. The faint glow of the overhead light caught the edges of the rough lines, casting shadows across the grainy paper.

The sketches were crude, but they didn’t need to be perfect. They were enough. Enough to set Ghost’s mind racing back to the bar, to that night—those fleeting glimpses of a figure slipping in and out of the crowd like a phantom. He remembered the man now. The way he lurked on the fringes, his eyes always flickering in your direction, as if waiting for the right moment to strike. And Ghost had dismissed it, chalking it up to the usual riffraff that crowded the place. But now, seeing those sketches, the face twisted in his memory like a knife.

“This is him,” Ghost said, his voice low, gravelly with the weight of what they’d discovered. He jabbed a finger down at the sketch, his eyes narrowing. “I remember seeing him at the bar. He was always there when they were. Watching.”

The room tensed further as the others leaned in. Soap, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped, eyes flicking from the sketch to Ghost. “That bastard’s got to be on the streets somewhere. We can’t sit here, letting him slip through our fingers.”

Ghost nodded. The urgency was palpable. You were out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of a man whose face had been nothing more than a shadow in the background until now. He wouldn’t let that mistake happen again. “We need to hit the streets. We can’t ignore this. Not anymore.”

Soap didn’t need to be told twice. “Right then, let’s move.” His usual humor was absent, replaced by a hardened focus. This wasn’t just a mission—it was personal now. You were one of their own, civilian or not, and every second wasted was a second too long.

Gaz was already slipping on his jacket, his movements quick, efficient. His eyes met Ghost’s with an unspoken agreement: they weren’t coming back empty-handed. Price, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave a small nod, already coordinating their moves in his head. He wasn’t the type to rush into action blindly, but there was a steel in his gaze that said he was ready to burn the city down if it meant getting you back.

“Soap, you and Gaz take the east side. I’ll cover the west,” Price said, pushing off the wall. “We’ll meet back here in four hours with whatever we’ve got. Ghost, you keep your eyes on the comms. Anything pops up, we need to know immediately.”

Ghost didn’t argue. Someone needed to keep the operation under control, and there was no one better suited than him. His eyes scanned the maps pinned to the walls, marking potential hotspots where the abductor might hide, places where people went unnoticed. “I’ll stay in touch with the local contacts. We’re not leaving any stone unturned.”

As the team filed out, the weight of the mission pressed down on them. The night outside was heavy with fog, the city lights blurring in the distance. Soap and Gaz moved swiftly, their boots barely making a sound as they hit the streets. Every corner, every alley, every face in the crowd became a potential lead. Gaz’s sharp eyes swept the surroundings, taking in the smallest details, while Soap’s mind churned with thoughts of you, alone and in danger.

Their world, once filled with drinks and shared laughs, now felt eerily quiet. The streets that had once been familiar now felt hostile, as if the city itself was conspiring to keep you hidden. Soap's knuckles tightened around the grip of his weapon, his jaw clenched. “We’ll find ‘em,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “We’ve got to.”

Meanwhile, Price moved with calculated precision through his section of the city. His years of experience sharpened his instincts as he navigated the urban sprawl. He kept his focus on the task, but in the back of his mind, reality gnawed at him: time was running out. You could be anywhere, and the man who took you—this Devon—wasn’t going to make it easy.

Back at HQ, Ghost sat alone, the hum of the comms the only sound in the room. His fingers drummed rhythmically against the table as he monitored the team's progress, his eyes never straying from the maps or the live updates from local informants. Every piece of intel mattered now, no matter how small. He couldn’t shake the image of your captor’s face from his mind, couldn’t shake the guilt that he’d seen him before and done nothing.

But guilt wouldn’t help now. Only action would.

The search was relentless. Soap and Gaz questioned everyone they came across—bartenders, street vendors, anyone who might’ve seen something. Their descriptions were vague, but the sketch of the man with sunken eyes and a dark coat was enough to turn heads. People remembered a guy like that, especially the way he moved in and out of the crowd like a predator.

Hours passed in a blur of frustration and dead ends, but none of them wavered. The team was driven by something far deeper than duty now—an unspoken promise that they wouldn’t leave you behind. Not this time.

And as Ghost sat in the dimly lit HQ, staring down at the map in front of him, a message flickered across the screen. A contact from a nearby neighborhood. A sighting. A lead. His hand moved fast, fingers tapping out commands to alert the team.

The hunt was on. And this time, they were getting you back.

Read Part 6

Coming soon in Part 6, the team stalks through the shadows, closing in on a man whose twisted obsession had gone too far. This was no ordinary rescue. The hunter would become the hunted, and justice would be delivered, swift and unforgiving.

We're halfway through the adventure! Will the team find you in time?

Tag List:

@strawberryrnilk

@rafaelacallinybbay

Let me know if you would like to be added to the list lovely!

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 8

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: You’ve arrived in Paris and have successfully infiltrated the catacombs. However, things take an unexpected turn for the best and worst.

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

The train approached the station right on time, the brakes smoothing out right onto the platform. By now, the train station was busy with people. It wouldn’t be hard to lose someone within the crowd. That was why it was so important to tag the targets instead of relying on eyesight alone. 

From a suitable distance, the 141 tailed Makarov’s men, making sure to blend in when necessary. It wasn’t hard to look like one of the many groups of tourists in Paris. An odd group, but a group nonetheless. Soon enough, you halted the chase, allowing the targets to head to their destination. If you followed them all the way to their secret entrance, you all would be spotted immediately. For now, it was wise to head to a hotel spot nearby and track the targets by computer. The men weren’t used to hotel hopping so much. According to you, it was much less conspicuous to stay in a hotel rather than a guarded building on behalf of the United States government. 

Not that they were complaining. They were grateful to have comfortable beds while on a mission. There were many, many missions that required them to sleep on the ground. Sometimes they didn’t have sleeping bags or cots with them. The actual beds have led to most of them getting better rest than normal.

This hotel looked just about the same as the last one. Pretty generic, clean, and only local art on the walls that looked similar to the many artists on the streets. The room pairing was the same as well. Soap and Ghost in a room, Price and Gaz in the other, and one all to yourself. You didn’t mind bunking with any of them if it was necessary. Right now, it just wasn’t.

Ghost was a little disappointed that you didn’t invite him to stay with you, but he wasn’t surprised. Admittedly, a part of him did love the chase. He also had a new motivation when it came to you. Complete the mission and convince you to stay. He knew that you were wavering when it came to the possibility of going back off the grid after everything was over. While he wasn’t sure what you would end up doing if you decided to stick with him, he didn’t care. He just wanted you by his side.

Perhaps if you could see how capable he was during the final stages of the mission, you would.

You all sat in a bedroom, carefully tracking the targets and their luggage. On a large map, Gaz began to trace the trail for Paris on the surface. Price was going through local cameras as well to determine their secret entrance. Soap was looking at a laptop that kept track of them with red dots. All of it took coordination and relying on each other. When it came down to it, the 141 was like a well-oiled machine.

As soon as Gaz noticed that the tracking route didn’t match the Paris roads and Price lost sight, Ghost and you began tracking the targets on a different map. A massive map of the catacombs. When men went one way while the luggage went the other, you both picked out a focus and traced them on the map. The targets went deeper into the catacombs each minute, amplifying just how dangerous this mission was going to be.

The targets were far from where tourists were allowed to be. It seemed like they were venturing into parts that haven’t even been discovered yet. If the 141 wasn’t careful, they could get lost or die. Whichever came last.  

The team spent hours mapping it all out. By the time you all had a better grip on the labyrinth layout, it was nightfall. 

You’ve skipped lunch with the team in order to memorize the route. Worst case scenarios, you lose light or lose the map. Memorizing the routes could save you if the worst happened. It took you a long time, though. By the time you did, you were starving for dinner.

Thankfully, Simon saved a room service plate for you. He didn’t like the fact that you skipped lunch, but he decided it wasn’t worth the fight. All that mattered was that you had something in your stomach for dinner. Not that you were completely engrossed in your meal to really enjoy it, though.

During dinner, you went over the plan with the team. It was proving to be much too dangerous to have all of you enter the maze of bones. There needed to be backup on the surface. It was finally decided that you, Ghost, and Gaz would go into the labyrinth while Price and Soap tracked you from above. Before leaving, you would plant trackers on yourselves. Then, after entering the maze, Ghost and Gaz would separate from you to head to a different part of the catacombs for standby. You would follow the target route, refine the map with new discoveries, and find Makarov to assassinate him. 

If Makarov wasn’t there, you would call him there. However, that meant spending a night underground. 

As everyone geared up in their rooms, you sat alone in yours. You’ve never been nervous about a mission before. You have always kept your cool, confident that you would be able to finish the job no matter what happened. In and out. Undetected. The fear of death never even had you anxious. Now? Now it was different. There were actually many things on the line for you. Too much at stake to make any mistakes.

There was a soft knock on your door before it opened up. Simon stood in his full gear. Bulletproof vest, helmet, boots. Everything that told the world that he was a soldier. As much as you wanted to admire it, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, your gaze focused on your twiddling thumbs.

“Hey, you alright?” He came closer, kneeling in front of you to see your face better. Having you be nervous was making him nervous. What could possibly have you, the greatest assassin in the world, rattled?

In response, you shook your head. “I never feared death because I never had a life. It’s different now.”

“Oh. . . Hex. . .” He called out, his gloved hand caressing your cheek. For the first time, you leaned into his gentle touch. It nearly had his heart explode for you.

“Sorry. This won’t be a problem once I’m down there and I find my groove. I’ll be okay.” You reassured him and yourself. Giving yourself a pep-talk was new too. 

Just for a moment, Simon wanted to share this short time with you. To be the one to calm your nerves. He lifted his mark partially up, kissing you deeply to break your anxious thoughts. When his kiss finally registered in your brain, you couldn’t help but kiss him back like it was the last kiss you would ever share with him. If things went wrong, it may very well be. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were sharp. Confident. “You’ll be perfect. I know you will.”

Your chest stung painfully at his words of encouragement. Focusing on what could go wrong wasn’t helping you believe in yourself. All you needed to believe in was Ghost. With a resolute nod, you accept his support. “Yeah. I’ll be perfect. Thank you.”

His heart swelled at your quick recovery. If he could, he would follow you all the way through the catacombs and back. 

Simon gave you one last kiss before pulling down his mask again, already missing the feeling of your lips pressed against his. You felt that absence as well, hating and loving that you could now never imagine a life without his kisses. That just made you more determined to finish the job with grace just how you’ve always done. 

~

In the dead of night, Ghost quietly peeled back a manhole cover, revealing nothing but sewer at the bottom. Gaz raised a brow at the reveal, expecting to see bones on bones already. You double checked the map to make sure this was the correct entry point. Unfortunately, it was.

One by one, you climbed down to the sewers, careful not to land in the waters. Ghost spoke into his earpiece. “Entry successful. Can you read us?”

“Crystal clear, Lt. Be careful down there. Who knows just how many of Makarov’s men are there.” Price stressed, carefully watching the monitor from the safety of the hotel bedroom. Soap was tasked with coordinating a mass arrest and seize of weapons once Makarov was confirmed dead. He was on the phone coordinating the plan while Price focused on his team under Paris. 

Carefully, you made your way through the sewers, following the same path as the targets from earlier. The walk already felt long as it was dark, cold, and quiet save the sound of water dripping every so often. No chit chat. No small talk. All focus.

Eventually, you all came across a dead end. Gaz and Ghost began to feel the wall, trying to determine if there was a secret they were missing. You checked the map to confirm your positions. Just as Gaz swiped his hands over the left side of the wall, he felt something out of place. A piece of brick that jutted out just slightly compared to the others. When he pressed down on it, the wall popped open, waiting to be opened like a door. Gaz relayed the information to his captain while you marked it on the map. On Price’s end, he marked a similar map, wanting to match yours with each new discovery. 

Beyond the wall was nothing but pitch black darkness. There was no light for what seemed like miles. When you all turned on your flashlights, you were met with the remains of people from floor to ceiling. Bones dating back hundreds of years surround you. It was eerie. It was somehow a little worse than being surrounded by freshly dead bodies. Perhaps it was the more profound sense of death that made the endless halls feel grim. 

Ghost couldn’t help but feel a bit creeped out as well. Skulls were his signature icon, wearing one right on his face. Yet here, it didn’t feel right to wear his mask so blatantly. It was like all of his kills were haunting him now through the bones of thousands. 

Gaz let out a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control. It wasn’t a pretty sight, being down there. He wondered how the hell tourists felt so excited to visit this place voluntarily. 

For you, it all just felt like a bad omen. 

“Let’s go. We don’t want to linger for too long.” You announced, trying to shake the heebie jeebies off your shoulders. The others followed closely, listening for human life when their flashlights didn’t reach far enough into the depths. 

After walking for a few miles, you finally approached the anticipated fork in the path. It was time to go your separate ways for now. As you stared down your path, you took off your jacket along with your tracker. Ghost’s eyes narrowed, a fire already erupting in his chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The stagnant air was cold, already giving you goosebumps beneath your long-sleeved shirt. “They may search me if we need to go with Plan B. As soon as they find the tracking device, radio, and earpiece, they’ll kill me. Or capture me for interrogation. Either way, that’s not ideal.”

“How are we supposed to know where you are then? How are we supposed to communicate?” Gaz question, growing worried about your sudden decision as well. 

You threw your jacket to Kyle, him catching it with his fast reflexes. Ghost clenched his jaw tight, almost cracking teeth. He didn’t like this one bit. But, if this is how you perfected your craft, he had no choice but to accept it.

From your pocket, you took out a small bobby pin that matched the color of your hair. You pressed the button on the end, causing it to start connecting to the 141’s earpieces. A new dot popped up on the monitor that Price still watched as well. Through the bobby pin, you spoke softly, your voice coming through their ears. “This is a new piece me and Kate have been working on for a while. It’s more discreet. This will be hidden in my hair and less likely to get spotted even with a search. Any complaints?”

“Hear you loud and clear, Hex. Good thinking, bringing a discreet backup. I’ll have to ask Kate to get me one of those.” Price praised, lightening the mood. Ghost still had complaints, but he kept them to himself for now. There was something heavier weighing him down.

Simon didn’t want to split up. He thought that he would have no problem with it back in the hotel room when he was comforting you. Right at the moment, however, he didn’t want you to go. Especially without your jacket. 

Before you could go off on your own, he pulled you in for a tight hug, not caring if Garrick saw. Kyle, being pretty intelligent about these things, pretended that he didn’t see anything and turned around. Simon would have to treat him to a drink later. 

“Be careful, kitten.” He squeezed you tight, the hug almost crushing your lungs. In response, you wrapped your arms around him too. Well, as much as you could with all that gear on him.

Reluctantly, he let you go, allowing you to look up at him once more before turning to disappear into the darkness. When Simon turned to go on their designated path, he heard a familiar voice snicker in his ear.

Soap was having a little laugh. “Kitten?”

“Can it before I decide to add a new set of bones down here.” He threatened, something that even you heard from down your skull-decorated corridor. 

In the cover of darkness and a faint flashlight, you made your way down the catacombs. At this point, you were completely relying on your map and instincts. The halls never seemed to end. It was so difficult to determine how much further you needed to go as well. Taking a deep breath every step, you moved forward. 

Suddenly, there was a yellow light in the distance. One that casted haunting shadows on the walls. There were voices too. Voices engaged in casual conversation like it was a regular Tuesday night at work. This was it. You were finally close to finding the main center of this operation. 

Hiding in the shadows, you waited for the men to pass before going down the path behind them. More light illuminated the way, ensuring that even Makarov’s men could come back safely. The confidence Makarov had in this secret was amazing. Few guards, a few too many lights, and footsteps standing out on the dirt floor. It didn’t take long for you to figure out the guards’ path pattern either.

You lowered your voice to a whisper, the bobby pin coming in clutch. “Found their hub. Preparing to infiltrate now.”

“Copy that. Ghost and Gaz are in position as well. Keep us updated, Hex.” Price answered back, carefully watching your new dot enter the heart of the operation. Hopefully, if things went well, he was planning on trying to convince to stay with the team as well. You’ve been a good influence on the group. You’ve challenged them to think outside the box, take the time to think about unexpected possibilities, and to rely on the psychological aspects. 

John couldn’t remember the last time they were so close to catching Makarov since his escape from prison. It felt like they’ve been chasing after him for forever. The fact that you were able to get a step ahead of him, something the 141 has failed to do until now, meant a lot. The fact that you were willing to put yourself so close to danger spoke volumes about your character too. 

The team could really use someone like you.

For now, Price would table that conversation for later. He needed you to come back safe first. 

Sneaking around the operation was quite easy for you. The guards were pretty lax in terms of security. With how narrow the catacombs were and how many boxes of weapons they had, you were able to get pretty perfect cover. On your map, you marked down where you were as well as the amount of weapons were down with you. You relayed the information to Price and Soap, them also take note of it on their side.

Everything was going smoothly. Except, there was no sign of Makarov anywhere. Not even a mention of his name from his men. You had a bit more area to explore, but that seemed like a waste of time. There was no evidence in knowing if Makarov would come personally within the next hour or the next week. You were genuinly hoping that it wouldn’t have to come down to this. “No sign of Makarov. No evidence of future arrival. Plan B.”

From Ghost’s position, he and Gaz looked to each other. It looked like they were going to be down there longer than planned. They did have the option to leave and come back later when Makarov does finally arrive, but they would never do that to you. Not after all that you’ve done for them. They were going to stay down here with you for as long as it will take. Ghost confidently spoke into his earpiece. “We’ll be here.”

“Plan B is a go.” Price confirmed, his muscles tensing up more than they were before. Everyone was feeling more tense. They were nervous for you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was going to happen. Then, you emerged from the shadows, hands up in surrender. It took a whistle to get someone to notice you. Once someone did, everyone was pointing their guns at you. Questions were yelled out to you in different languages you couldn’t understand. It wasn’t until someone big and burly came over and spoke to you in English that things could get a move on.

“You! Who are you?! How did you come down here?” He growled, his finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol. 

Calmly, you explained yourself, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I’m an assassin. I wish to speak to Makarov for employment.”

“And you infultrate our operation to do so? How do I even know that you aren’t lying to me? Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now and save everyone the trouble.” He argued, his muscles aching to fill you with bullets. Something about you didn’t seem right to him. However, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t impressed that you had found their operation.

“I consent to a search if it will make you feel better. All I have is a knife in my boot and a twin pistols on my hips in terms of weapons. Take them. I figured that sneaking in like this would catch attention. I’m pretty good at my job. I can be a very valuable asset.” You promised, hands still in the air, not even flinching to defend yourself. 

The men looked between each other, silently trying to decide what to do with you. Their boss gestured to your body, prompting a few men to take your weapons off your person. Paranoia of more was quelled thanks to you wearing tight clothes. “She’s clear.”

“Anyone follow you down?” The boss asked, his tone becoming more relaxed. 

You shook your head and chuckled a little. “I wouldn’t be a very good assassin if there was. Search me for communication tools.”

They were buying your performance, not even realizing that they were taking orders from you like dogs. The 141 listened carefully through your bobby pin, fists clenched as they tried to keep it together. They couldn’t help it. They were protective of you now. 

Ghost heard the shuffle of clothing, imagining how those men have their dirty fucking hands on you for a thorough search. He wanted to storm right through the catacombs to you like a demon from hell to cut their hands off. Doing so would compromise the mission, but it would probably feel worth it. He had to bite his cheek when he heard you hiss.

Someone got a little too handsy with their search, your tone biting as if you really will bite. “Hey! Watch your fucking hands!”

“Just being thorough, girl. Follow me.” The leader finally said, his men ushering you along right behind him. Price and Soap carefully tracked your position, making sure that their map would be able to lead them right to you when the time came as you were unable to update yours. 

You were led to a more open corridor that was divided into sections almost like rooms. In one of them was a small table, two chairs, and a small battery lantern, much like a makeshift interrogation room. You were guided to have a seat, to which you complied. Across from you sat the one in charge around here while a couple of men with rifles manned the exit. The rest dispersed, business as usual. 

“So, you’re telling me that you want to help Makarov. Why?” He questioned carefully, his eyes scanning you for any kind of slip up. Any indication that you weren’t who you said you were. 

You leaned back in your chair casually, arms across your chest. “I’m only interested in going through an interview with Makarov himself.”

He have a mocking laugh, not knowing that he was eating right out of your palm already. “What makes you think he’s gonna come all the way here just to interview you? What do you think this is? A cooperate job? Why do you think you are so special?”

Smirking, you shrugged your shoulders. “I found and broke into this operation, didn’t I? You may have the rest of the world fooled, but if I can waltz right through your skeleton entrance, it won’t be long until your enemies do. You guys need help. I can provide that.”

He raised a brown and stroked his chin in thought, his brain mulling your words over. You had a point. By the time they noticed you, you were already right in the middle of their big secret. There was obviously a loose end somewhere. Makarov wouldn’t be happy with that. Perhaps they could use the support of a skilled assassin.

“What’s your name, girl?” He asked, interest piqued. 

“Don’t have one. Wouldn’t be a good assassin if I did.” You lied effortlessly like it really was the truth. 

A few seconds passed before he finally took the bait. If anything, Makarov would kill you instantly the moment he suspects something wrong. The ghost weapon parts were going to need a final approval too before being shipped out. 

With a heavy sigh, he caved. “Alright, girlie. I’ll leave this business you have with Makarov. You have to stay here, though. Unless told otherwise, you will not leave this room.”

You were left alone in the open room, obeying the order for the sake of the mission. You could hear some sighs of relief from the bobby pin close to your ear hidden within your hair. First part was over. However, that didn’t mean that the hardest part was done with. Things were only going to get more tense from here on out.

You spend hours sitting and doing nothing. You couldn’t even engage in any conversation with the 141. If you weren’t going to die from a bullet, you were going to die from boredom. When the boss of the catacombs operation came back, you nearly sighed in relief. “Makarov will be here within the next twenty-four hours or so. Until then, you are confined here. Good luck, girl.”

After that brief interaction, he left once again, leaving you to wait out even more. No food. No water. Little light. Nothing to do but wait.

The same went for the 141. At least they had each other in closer proximity, though. You, on the other hand, had no one by your immediate side. Hopefully, this would be the last time you would have to be alone like this. 

~

There was no telling if it was still night or day. There was no telling as to how much time has actually passed. Ghost and Gaz had been quite on their end, cutting of communication briefly to avoid you or them being discovered. Soap and Price were silent too, trying to work out final steps on their end. After a certain period of time, you truly felt isolated. This wasn’t like being alone in your cabin. There, you had the sounds of nature surrounding you, books to read, things to do. You could see sunlight and moonlight from your windows. 

Here, there was nothing but bones, dirt, and the tiny light of the lantern. Even the men guarding you decided to turn in for some rest, situating themselves further away from you, but still in close enough range to notice an escape attempt.

A chill ran through you, making you rub your arms with your hands. You were beginning to get tired and hungry. Just as you tried to slip into a cat nap to pass the time, a low voice woke you back up. Hearing it felt like you were being brought back to the land of the living. “Hey, kitten. How are you holding up?”

You didn’t say anything back for a moment, listening for eavesdroppers. Your voice dropped to a whisper so faint that it was like a spirit speaking. “Fine. You sure you want to keep using that nickname right now?”

“I had Price patch us for a private line for a moment. Gaz is sweeping the areas around us. It’s just you and me.” Ghost reassured, grateful to hear your voice like this. He didn’t like you being isolated the way you were. At the very least, he hoped that his voice would provide you with enough company to tie you over for several more hours. 

Your heart felt lighter already just hearing his voice through the pin. Quietly, you go up from the chair to lay on the floor, not caring if you were getting dirt all over yourself. You just needed to stretch your back and legs out. Try to relax as best as you could. “What time is it out there?”

“Nearly noon. It doesn’t feel like it.” He groaned, hardly believing that there was sunlight somewhere himself. It was way too damn dark under Paris.

“Tell me about it. I can’t tell if only a couple minutes have passed or a couple hours. Time seems to stand still down here. The skeletons aren’t helping.” You half-joked, causing Ghost to actually chuckle. The dark sense of humor that you were demonstrating now made him miss you more than he already did. 

A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two of you, both of you feeling more secure in the dark now that you have heard each other’s voices. Yet, an unsettling feeling began to take over your stomach, tying it in knots. “Ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“If anything goes wrong, you’re prepared to say goodbye to me, right?” You shakily breathed out.

The nature of your whisper still nearly knocked the wind right out of him. The way you said it, like it was an absolute, an unavoidable inevitable, scared him. Genuinely. “I won’t let something like that happen. I’m not gonna lose you.”

Suddenly, you bolted up from the floor, ears trained on a sound you heard further down the catacombs. You almost thought that it was just the illusion of darkness getting to you until you heard it again. Faint chatter from afar. A familiar voice that you have only heard through tv speakers. 

“Y/n.” You confessed your real name to him with a heavy heart. 

Simon almost didn’t register it. His heart nearly stopped beating. “What?”

“Y/n. My name is Y/n.” 

Before he could say anything, let alone find the words to say, he heard the chattering too from your end. The voice was undeniable. Quickly, he radioed Price to reestablish the communication lines again. “Captain. It’s Makarov. He’s arrived early.”

You returned to your chair, dusting yourself off just before the man of the hour entered your line of sight. With a sinister smile, he entered your room and took a seat across from you. “It’s not every day that I have someone demand to go through an interview with me. In fact, I never held a formal interview before. Nor took demands from anyone. This better be worth my time.”

“Trust me, Makarov. The information and help I have for you is gonna be worth both of our time. I would be lying if I said that their was something out of this for me too.” You faked a gracious smile, something you weren’t sure was selling it enough.

Thankfully, you had Makarov’s attention. For now. 

“I’m listening.”

-

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[constesplanetarium]

Watch the show.

☼⚠︎ Male! Yandere Circus Ringleader/Magician x GN! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Getting a little shocking now.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

this is inspired off what im dressing up as for halloween, literally a circus ringleader :)

i hope u guys like him <3

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TW! General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), light sexual activity, violence, blood, murder, choking, dacryphilia, implied kidnapping.

Word count: Around 4k.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The acrobats swing too and fro above you, lighting up the crowd's eyes with excitement and anticipation for what's next. Will one of them fall? Will they pull off the trick? You gasp as the acrobat flings himself across the stage, almost covering your eyes in case he misses and falls…

But as always, he lands the trick, the acrobat clinging onto the other one's arms as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. Your nerves ease as you smile softly at the acrobats on the stage, still swinging as they revel in the excitement.

This is your… What, fifteenth show by now? But you never get sick of any of the tricks they do. The circus always comes over for the fall, and a friend of yours won tickets from a raffle for the first show when this whole festival started, about a week ago. The show ended up being so good, that you went to the next one on your own accord. And then the next one. And the next one after that. And the next one…

They have shows pretty often, huh? It’s surprising how they never run out of energy.

You had never been interested in the circus before this, but the jaw-dropping tricks, alongside the good-looking members of the cast, made you stay and come back for every single show. It looks like many shared your sentiment, since it seemed that the crowd grew more and more ever since the first show of the season.

Ah, those acrobats are really cute. Maybe you can get lucky and get to meet both of them after the show. Maybe you’ll even get to meet the ringleader, he’s so handsome…

You don’t rip your eyes away from the rest of the show, cheering alongside the crowd at every little trick and flip the cast does; you cheer the loudest in your row once the ringleader bows in the center of the stage with his members, concluding the show.

“Make sure to come see us for our next show in two hours! You won’t want to miss it.” The ringleader does a simple wink, sending every fan of his into a frenzy. You still aren’t sure why people like him so much. People don’t even know his last name, let alone his first one. He’s just referred to as ‘the ringleader’ or ‘the mysterious master of the circus’ by eccentric journalists who are trying so desperately to keep the reader’s attention. A bunch of celebrities, along with reported billionaires and people from big spots in large companies have come here to watch his tricks, and maybe even strike business, but reportedly he’s always turned down these people, no matter how much money they offer him.

Strange. If they offered him a billion dollars to buy out his circus, would he take the offer? Ah, you know you would. Maybe he already has a private sponsor?

Once you gather your things, you step back out into the festive atmosphere of today's holiday; halloween. Jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows line the pathway back to the main center of the festival, and you can hear the screams of fear coming from the haunted house they all set up. The orange and red lights from the ferris wheel look so pretty from here…

You find yourself wandering around the festival for around 10 minutes, noticing every little detail the festival coordinators setup. There’s even cute little artwork for the signs pointing you in the events you might want to check out later. Looking at everyones costumes and the decorations makes you feel all giddy.

Oh wow, look at that huge skeleton! Your hand digs into your pocket quickly to-

Wait.

Your phone?

Where’s your phone?

You pat down your pockets, and the moment you realize it’s not with you, you run back over to the building, swinging open the door and bound for your seat. Holy shit, lady luck must be on your side today. Thank god no one had closed the entrance yet.

You bend down, trying to dig around for your phone on the floor. It’s so hard to see, since they already shut most of the lights off, damn it…

Where the hell is it?!

“Hello.”

Oh my gosh!

You jump up, almost stumbling right back down, yet a hand grabs your arm before you can fall, and you see who it is instantly once you look up.

“Looking for this?” The ringleader smiles cheekily, waving your phone around as the screen lights up your surroundings a bit. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited by the door to see if the owner would pop up.” The shock of seeing him this up close is so bad, you don’t even reach for your phone. He takes your hand in his and sets your phone down, right in your palm.

You slowly hold your phone close to your chest, and thank him for returning it.

“It’s not a problem.” Should you ask him for a picture? Maybe an autograph? “I’m glad you came back for it, instead of giving up, and assuming that someone already stole it.” You don’t even have paper for him to sign. Maybe he’ll sign your clothes or something?

Oh my gosh, he’s so much better up close…

“Are you alright?” He chuckles, brushing his hand across your cheek, and your body flinches in response. “You were zoning out there. Oh! I see,” He chuckles. “You’re surprised to see me up close.”

Right on the money.

Warmth spreads all the way up to your face, and all you can do is giggle nervously. God, it’s like you’re a schoolgirl asking out her crush.

“It’s alright. I find it flattering.” He glances between you and your phone for a moment. What’s up? “Would you like a picture?”

On my god.

He brushes up next to you, pressing your hips together as you open up your camera app quickly, setting it in selfie mode. “Is this okay?”

Yes.

“Good. Smile.” You would find it amusing how he’s holding up a peace sign for the picture, but you're more nervous about the hand he’s set on your hip, digging into your body.

“Oh, you aren’t going to take the picture?” Oh my god, the picture. “Or are you distracted by something else?” You glance up, seeing his guilty smile as his gloved hand rubs your hip slowly.

These pictures need to be taken before something else happens right here, right now.

You signal him to look over and smile, snapping a couple random pictures. You don't even know if they turned out good or not. Is it hot in here? You should probably get out.

You thank him quickly, and turn your heel-

“Leaving so soon?” You turn back to see a clear frown on his face, the dimmed lighting shining right on him. “You can stay a bit longer, if you’d like. I’m not in a hurry.”

But what about his next show? Doesn’t he have to prepare?

“The break is more for my members than for me.” He sits down in an empty seat, patting the spot next to him. “Come, sit. I would love to have your company for longer.”

You walk back up and sit down next to him, shuffling in your seat as he takes his hat off, setting it down in the empty seat adjacent from him.

“Thank you for staying with me.” He clears his throat and starts to take his gloves off, flexing his fingers in and out as he tosses the gloves in his empty seat too. “Meeting all types of people when they come to my shows is wonderful, but not being able to talk to them personally makes me a bit sad.”

You smile empathically, and he returns your smile.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers, his smile widening at the thought of his sudden new idea. “How about I save you a seat for my next show? Please, tell me where you’d like to sit!” Woah, really? “I mean, you are coming to my next show, right?”

Uh. You were planning to go to the ferris wheel with a friend of yours, actually…

His mood shifts from happy, to immediate disappointment. “Well, you can just visit the ferris wheel after my show, can’t you?” Well, you COULD, but-

“Oh please, I would really like you to be at my next show…” He takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Please?”

Urgh.

“Oh, just amazing!” He laughs and stands up, pointing to a seat around the front row. “How about there? Perhaps I can even perform a trick for you once I’m on stage! How does that sound?”

Wow, this man’s pulling out all the stops, huh? You can’t help but thank him again, from saving your phone to getting you a free seat. This ringleader’s so nice…

“Oh? ‘Thank you, Mr. Ringleader?’” He laughs and grabs your shoulder, rubbing it affectionately like you two are good old friends sharing a joke. “You don’t have to call me that! Loosen up a little, will you?” Even with his encouragement, your whole body is still tense with nervousness. “Please, call me Mr. Vidales.” So that’s his last name! Ah, how pretty…

“Now, now, don’t be all fidgety with me.” Mr. Vidales grins, clasping your hands with his again. Oh my god, what if your hands are clammy now? But the way his thumb is caressing your hand is strangely putting you at ease. “You’ve been looking all over the place.” He tilts his head while peeking at you, seemingly lost in thought, until his face lights up. “Ah, how about this? Watch me.” He pulls out a small deck of cards from a coat pocket around his right thigh, pouring the cards out into his hand. It doesn’t take long to see he’s performing a small card trick for you, yet you don’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Pick a card, any card.” He murmurs, the enthusiasm still there behind his voice, but it also sounds like he’s sweet talking to you, enticing you further. You pick a card on the far left, looking at it discreetly.

The 2 of hearts.

“Back in the deck now.” He shuts his eyes as you slip the card back in, and he shuffles it all with his eyes still closed. “Now,” he starts, picking a card from the deck. “Is this what you chose?”

NAH.

Hah! He failed the trick! You grin and shake your head, the king of hearts in his hand instead as his smile drops to a frown. “Oh.” He stuffs the deck into his left hand, placing the card face up on top. But strangely enough, he starts to smile, and reaches behind your head, leaning closer to you. “Now let’s see.”

Oh. He smells really, really nice…

Why is your heart racing?

You peek up at the ringleader’s face, your body warming up as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and something else in his eyes. “Ah, now what do we have here…” He whispers, and his hand drags down your back slowly as he shows the king of spades in the deck on his left hand. Is he still trying to prove he’s not cheating? You sigh at the shivers flowing up your spine, pressing your thighs together once you feel the heat between your thighs get more intense. Lord, he’s good at this. Does he do this often or something?

“How cute.” He says adoringly, like he’s talking to a small puppy. “Look at you, how cute.” He repeats, his hand pressing itself against your waist, tugging you closer to him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be showing you a trick…” He can show you something else in just a few seconds if he keeps this up. Mr. Vidales groans loudly once you palm his bulge, followed by a small laugh once you tease him for reaction. “Please, let me finish my trick. Unless you want to do something else right now…?” He begs quietly, and you sigh with a smile as you move your hand.

A bit disappointing, but you do want to see the end of this trick.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat, clearly still a bit riled up, but fine. “Now, watch me.” His warmth vanishes from your waist, and you see his hand come back into view with…

The 2 of hearts in his right!?

You stare at his right hand in awe, as he waggles the card around a bit, grinning sheepishly at your dumbfounded expression. “Good, huh?” Even after all of that, you never saw the deck vanish from view! How did he…?

“I’m not just a ringleader,” he says. “I dabble in some magic here and there too.” He shuffles the cards again, stuffing them back into the box, then back into his coat pocket. A light clap of your hands at his trick and his mood shifts from proud to flustered, fidgeting with the buttons on his outfit as you praise him for the trick.

“Thank you, thank you.” Mr. Vidales bows a bit and laughs quietly. “Your praise is very appreciated.”

… He looks scared. Ah, no.

Shy?

“There must be something on my face, with the way you’re looking at me, it’s…” Mr. Vidales stops talking, staring into your eyes for a moment. “Oh…”

Is he okay? You frown, tugging on his sleeve in concern for his well being. He seems to snap out of his trance, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh! Erm, yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m fine.” A smile spreads in his face quickly, but you can’t help but think that it’s all insincere.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He sighs. “It’s just some fatigue.” There’s a voice in the back of your head, telling you repeat that he’s lying, but you ignore it in favor of his charming voice and attitude.

Maybe he just needs some time alone?

And, to be completely honest, the hunger’s kind of getting to you too; maybe you can grab a bite to eat and bring something back for him?

“Oh, please.” He nods quickly. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Perhaps you can get me those cinnamon bites with the glaze? They’re delicious.”

You fidget with your wallet as you run out the tent, waving him goodbye as you run for the food stalls.

Hopefully the lines aren’t too long…

The line was pretty damn long. You glance down at your phone to check the time, and decide to jog back over to the tent once you notice it’s already been 25 minutes. And it’ll probably take you another 5 minutes to get there, ugh, the ringleader probably thinks you left to go on a couple rides or something, and forgot about the food entirely.

You slow down once you notice the door’s closed, and look around for a sign of him, but there’s nothing around. Maybe there’s another entrance in the back?

Clutching a drink in one hand and a bag, witn a box of sweets at the bottom in your other, you make your way to the back of the building to find the door slightly ajar, and you use your foot to kick it open the rest of the way, walking through.

There are several doors on both side of you, and by just reading the names on the doors, you can tell these are the member’s dressing rooms! Ah, no way…

It’s so tempting to go up and knock on one of their doors, but you have to shake your head a little to get those thoughts out. Mr. Vidales. That’s who you’re looking for.

You wander around for a bit until you come up to his dressing room, about to bang on the door, but as soon as you try to, the door slowly opens up, and you-

You…

What.

What?

The smell of iron and the sight of crimson fill your vision as you stare at the ringleader, tugging and shoving a man's body into a small closet. It looks like the man was stabbed repeatedly in the chest, along with the broken teeth in the pool of blood in front of you, and a spot of blood on his head.

Isn’t that… Isn’t that one of the employees here? He literally gave you free shit, what the hell…

Mr. Vidales’s face is splattered with blood, alongside his chest, and his outfit has puke on the lower side of his coat. A fallen, bloody knife lies on the ground, surrounded by his victims blood.

“Bastard. Must’ve wanted to give me a goodbye gift before his passing…” He scoffs, staring at the stain with disgust.

The police.

You need to call the police.

Mr. Vidales looks up at the sudden stream of light, and a couple beats pass as neither of you move from the sheer shock.

“Oh.”

Run.

You turn your heel, but trip once someone grabs onto your arm and pushes you down, spilling your drink all over the floor. You try to scream, but a hand covers your mouth instantly, and you feel the tears start to flow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He frantically whispers and he climbs on top of you, his hands shaking and bloodied as he struggles to keep you quiet. There’s blood all over him, and he’s spreading it onto you. All over your mouth. Your body.

It’s sickening. You have to fight back the urge to throw up once he turns you over and you see his face. Why does he look so excited to see you?

“Stay quiet. Quiet.” He hushes you, keeping your mouth covered as he helps you up. "It's okay darling, see?" As soon as you get up, you’re going to run. That’s what-

“Quiet, or I’ll kill you.” A sharp knife is suddenly pointed at your throat, and you let out a choked-up sob. “Oh, I’m so sorry darling…” He whispers, as he slowly lets the hand from your mouth go.

You don’t dare scream.

“Come on, come.” He pushes his arm against your waist, slowly pushing you back as he steps into the room, shutting the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, or kill you. I promise.”

You shut your eyes as soon as you step in, shaking as you hear the door lock. The bag you’re holding is slowly taken from your grasp, and set down with a thud on his desk, along with the knife. All you can do is listen to what he says.

“Oh, you did get my favorite! Thank you.” Mr. Vidales cooes, pushing you closer as you wince at the gesture. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes. “Shame about the drink. I’m sorry for grabbing you so tight.” He sighs. “Now, let me just…”

He slips his coat off, revealing that the blood stain on him went deeper than expected, staining his grey undershirt with a dark crimson. You stare at the blood on your own body and almost feel like puking yourself.

“There’s no point in running,” his face is full of pity, yet he smiles at you all the same. “My acrobats are already outside, waiting to catch you if you try to run. Not that I’d let you get that far anyway.” He wipes the blood on his hands away with a loose rag, the white of said rag being stained with that sickening red. “Weren’t their tricks just wonderful? I worked hard to teach them, you know.” You immediately catch that he’s stepping closer to you, and you back away in response, glancing around the room for another exit point. “I know a thing or two about flipping around myself. Maybe I can perform some tricks for you?”

There isn’t any. Not even a window.

“Why do you keep looking around? Why can’t you be happy with me?” Mr. Vidales whines, throwing the rag aside in frustration, with a small splat. “I did all of this for you! You like me, don’t you?” But… Why?

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid that someone else will hear him. “When I first saw you in the crowd, I saw your excited face and couldn't stop thinking about how adorable it was. But then,” He takes a step. “You came back. Again.” And he takes another few steps closer, suddenly feeling yourself bump into a wall behind you, frantically glancing around for a way out. “And again,” His breathing becomes shaky as he lunges forward, grabbing your arm as you try to escape from his right side, your left. You cry out in fear as he pins you up against the wall, grasping your neck tightly. “And again. And again, you came back every time. You must’ve loved seeing me so much…” The grip on your neck tightens. “Next performance, I’ll be up on stage with all of them. Performing just for you.” Your breathing becomes ragged and hazy from the lack of oxygen, but he acts as though nothing is wrong, kissing your cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything.” It’s getting hard to see. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and run down your cheeks as he kisses them away, licking them up before they drip down to your shirt.

“You’re adorable, even when you cry…” His soft lips press against your cheeks repeatedly, his chuckles making you feel sick to your stomach. “You’ll be all mine, ah,” Mr. Vidales lets go of your neck, and as you take those much-needed gasps of air, he hugs your body close to his, and you wince once you feel his hard cock press against your thigh. “There’s nothing better than that…” His hand wraps around the back of your neck, applying some pressure, but jot enough to cut off your oxygen

What the fuck…

You try to turn your head, trying to get a glimpse of the corpse so you can identify who it is, yet he’s already shut the door to the closet, so you can’t.

“Are you trying to peek?” He frowns. “You don’t need to look at him. He isn’t your concern.” It looks like he’s trying to avoid the topic of the dead body altogether. He reaches over and pinches your cheeks, chuckling at your displeased expression. “Ah, I hope you understand how angry I get when you get so starry-eyed by looking at my member’s performances.” Mr. Vidales sighs, pushing you over to his desk by your waist. “I wish it were only me that you show that adorable expression to.” Why the hell is he acting so casual? He just killed someone. Your eyes keep on glancing towards the door, since you don’t see any other escape route.

Oh, when will you get your chance?

“But, I guess we all can’t have what we want.” He stops. “Well, maybe I can.” He shoves you up against the desk, patting his hand on top. “Sit.”

Oh.

You shakily hop up to sit on his desk, and he slides himself in between your legs, both of your faces mere centimeters apart. You have to hold your breath with the way you can see every drop of blood slide down his face,

“Now you’re with me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He presses a small kiss on your lips, grinning. “You’ll get to be with me everyday!” What? He tugs you closer, pressing your back against his chest once he pulls you into a big bear hug.

“Yes! With me.” he says plainly. “Forever.” No way. You glare at him in horror, but his smile never falters for even a moment. The blood splattered all over himself and his clothing, along with his declarations of love towards you…

It’s so sickening.

“What a dream come true.”

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

happy halloween! ik i said i was gonna do the ghost boys for halloween, but i couldnt help myself </3

plus im gonna just extend the ghost boys into november bc i got hit w/ a mean writers block halfway thru….

hopefully this little fic can get me thru it

BUT IM WORKING ON OLIVERS DAY AGAIN SO YAY!!!!

yall gonna see the fnaf movie??? i am <3

[deceptive-daydreams]

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

Smoke Signals

Chapter Four - Boiling Point

W/C: 7.4K

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

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting, slight SA (groping), drinking (if I missed anything please let me know)

A messy night and several unfortunate events.

A/N: This one got a little long but it was so fun to write, chaos is really fun to coordinate but my poor babies are taking the brunt of it all woops

Masterlist

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Working nights had flipped your entire sleeping schedule upside down.  Two weeks had passed since that first evening where you worked an entire shit show and you still weren’t accustomed to resting in the afternoon in preparation for the night shift.  It didn’t seem like such a big deal seeing as the bar thrived around three nights a week and remained quiet to steady the rest of the time but with a staff of only four, the workload piles up.  Tossing and turning on the couch, you groan, longing for a peaceful sleep that would energize you.  The bed wasn’t doing you any justice which is why the couch sounded that much more appealing but as it turns out they both had the same effect.  

Keeping you awake.

Now, there wasn’t anything remotely wrong with either one however, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable enough to find that blissful sleep you were yearning for.  

You were restless.

What didn’t help was the incessant shredding of an electric guitar next door.  The high pitch clawed at your ears and echoed throughout the canyon your house was settled in.  You could either suck it up and muffle the sound as best as you could with a pillow, or you could confront your noisy neighbor and politely let him know you were trying to sleep in order to fuel yourself to run his bar.  Confrontation was not your specialty and you would avoid it by any means necessary.  But it couldn’t hurt to just ask him to stop.  The worst he could do is laugh in your face and slam the door.

And that would be enough to turn your blood hot, not in rage, but in shame and embarrassment.  Maybe it was best to tuck your sweaty and fidgety body back into the couch for long enough that the imprints of the rough fabric would show up as indentations on your skin.  Hopefully the shrieking of the guitar would eventually fade away and become background noise in your dreams.  

It never did stop.

–

“Jett, could you please toss me that rag?  Major spill at table four.”

It was 6:00 PM, Friday night.  Just about every table and every stool was occupied, a competitive game of pool provoking many men to yell at the top of their lungs, causing your ear drums even more grief than the endless guitar solos you had to endure earlier.  On top of it all, drunk people on a Friday night were not easy to clean up after, several spills inevitably happening on your watch, with more than enough evidence to back your claim up.

“I’ll get it, you go on your break.”  Jett advises.

The Bourbon was nearly at capacity, a majority of the town’s regulars seated along the bar and even more of its residents engaging in their pre-weekend activities.  The people of Knife’s Edge were rambunctious or at least, that’s the only side of them you’d seen so far.  Most likely because they were all getting hammered.  Maybe you should get out more?  Then you could see their personalities sober and not glazed over with the confidence of alcohol.

“You sure?”  You ask sincerely.

Jett didn’t even have a second to glance up at you from the beers he was collecting, a whole round of them for a table of five men roaring with laughter.

“Yeah, if you don’t take it now it’s only going to get busier and you never will.”  He yells over the booming music.

“Okay.”

You’re reluctant to leave him alone but you trust his judgment, seeing as he has no issue making that call.  And customers seemed to love him, joking back and forth until he practically dragged himself back behind the bar.  They hadn’t seemed to take that kind of liking toward you quite yet and the only compliments you received were gross comments from older men that slurred their words, you respectfully dismissing yourself to tend to other customers just to escape.

Quickly, you make your way toward the back through the narrow hallway that leads out to the alley.  The bar had become stuffy, too many humans populating the small space, prompting a much needed break for a breath of fresh air.  Almost reaching the door, a haven that would relieve your sweat coated skin with a crisp breeze, you collide into something firm, a deep grunt coming from the source.

“Watch it, Bambi.”  Eddie barks, glaring down at you.  He holds an unopened bottle of tequila, knuckles white as he tightens his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry.”  You stutter, taken back by his stern voice.  It was for the most part, always stern but this time it was especially disapproving.

“Where are you going?”  He asks, brows furrowed.

“My break.  Jett just–”

“Your break?  Now?  I need all hands on deck right now, take your break in like thirty when it calms down.”  

A vein in his neck looks as if it’s about to pop, stress evident in his entire demeanor.  Even his lips are bitten and red from what seemed to be constant tugging from his teeth.  Maybe he needed a toothpick to chew on instead?  Maybe that’s why he chewed on them in the first place?

“Well I–Jett just sent me on break.”  You reason.

“Jett?”

“Yeah.”

He breathes in deep, head tilting toward the ceiling as he exhales through his mouth, clearly trying to maintain his calmness.  Although it always seemed like he was going to blow up and cause a scene when he got like this, he never did.  

“Jesus Christ, kid’s gonna give me an aneurysm.”

Walking down the hall toward the commotion of the bar, he shakes his head, curls bouncing and that famous frizz framing his head like a halo.  You keep your movements halted, feet glued to the floor in confusion as to whether you’re meant to follow him or actually go on your break.

“So do I–do you want me to take my break or–”

“Just go.”  He calls back, this time a calmer tone detected in his voice.

If you were meant to do the opposite in some sort of reverse psychology moment, you didn’t.  The cool air called to you and you were going to use all ten minutes to bathe in it, and reset your nervous system.  Eddie could sweat in your place for the time being.  

Things had been easier since that first shift; the cook, Randy, had returned and said that he left in the heat of the moment, explaining the following day that he lost his cool and was so certain he was going to quit.  Then he came back to his senses and realized how unrealistic that was and that he was in no position to be searching for a new job right now.  He was on the verge of begging for his job back but what you’d heard from the back office was Eddie telling him not to ‘pull that shit again’ and to ‘get back to work’.  No further discussions or arguments on the topic ensued since that day.

The chilly Autumn air brushed against your cheeks upon stepping out the door, not too much of a bite to it yet but enough to warrant a slight shiver.  The sun had already set just over an hour ago, darkness already enclosing the surrounding world.  It felt empty and devoid of life, but not in an apocalyptic way, but rather in a serene kind of way.  It was quiet except for the whisper of leaves of the birch trees in the wind.

This place still felt so far from home and your loneliness was still as prominent as ever.  You worked, went home, slept, woke up at around 10:00 AM, fixed breakfast, attempted to go back to sleep, failed and sometimes visited Donnie at the supermarket, and repeated.  The routine was sad and you might as well have been a grouchy old woman that no one spoke to or went near, not a twenty something year old who should be making the most out of her life.  The locals weren’t unfriendly, you just couldn’t seem to fit in.  Jett was the closest thing you had to a ‘friend’, although he was your coworker and some may see it as mandatory that he remains friendly with you.  Outside of work you had little to no interaction with others, usually opting to stay in and clean or watch reruns of some shows you had pre-recorded on a collection of VHS tapes.  It’s not to say you didn’t enjoy your nights in, you just wished you had the option to call someone up to hang out or make plans every now and then.

Ten minutes flew by like it was seconds, the door leading inside swinging open unexpectedly and smacking against the concrete wall, Eddie’s head poking out in search of you.  

“Excuse me, do you work here?”  He asks sarcastically.

You control the urge to roll your eyes, having a better sense of his antics in the past two weeks and knowing that no real consequences would apply to you under these circumstances.  You still maintain the need to react to his dramatics and remind him that you were helping him out just as much as he was helping you.  But you push it down and straighten your posture.

“Yes.”  You reply, eyes staring up at him with a hint of resistance.

“Could’ve had me fooled.”  He snaps, ducking back inside.

Following him, you finally give into the urge to roll your eyes behind his back.

“I timed my break just right.”  You notify him, glancing at your watch.  “I was about to come back.”

“You’re a minute late.”

Instead of allowing you a chance to argue with him, he jumps right back into action and starts clearing off a vacant table.  The rush hadn’t stopped all night, table after table being cleared only to immediately seat a new party.

After he strides off with a pile of glasses and a few plates, you get to work on wiping everything clean.  It was a newfound system, a plan that hadn’t been agreed on by either of you but was understood regardless.  With how understaffed the bar was, it worked like a charm.  

Jett’s main role was behind the bar but every now and then he would catch onto whenever you and Eddie were running behind and he would swoop in to take care of a table or two.  Recently, you learned that the other bartender, Pete, had quit and skipped town about a week before your arrival, making it that much harder to keep up with the demand of the customers who regularly chose The Bourbon to decompress at.  So now it was only you, Eddie, Jett, and Randy running the whole place.  It turned out not to be too bad of a gig, weeknights were slow enough and Sundays the bar was closed, leaving Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays as the busiest nights of the week.  The tips were decent enough as well.

Especially from those creepy old men which was an unfortunate situation you could do without but hey, it helped pay the bills.  If you ignored their advances and didn’t completely reject them, they’d leave behind a nice tip.  It felt icky, pocketing the money but the more you thought about it, the more compelled you felt to take their money.  If they were going to waste your time, you might as well be compensated for it.

One man in particular had been lurking at one of the corner tables, purposely opting out of the bar seating to instead have a higher chance of you waiting on him.  He must have been in his sixties and had an unnerving stare that just made you want to hide back in the kitchen.  You failed to inform Eddie, simply because he didn’t need further reason to see you as dainty or incapable of holding your own.  

So you gulped down your fear and put the blinders on as best you could.  

Just take his order and get it over with.  Then you can move on with your night and hopefully he’ll be out of here soon.

And right off the bat, his disgusting mouth started running.  Something about ‘can a pretty little thing like you get me a drink?’.  Then a few more unsolicited nicknames with a smirk and some remark about how good your body looked.  Something you didn’t care to hold onto in your mind, you only felt the need to take a shower.

As you rounded the corner of the bar and got to work making the pervert’s drink, you found yourself lost in thought.  Thoughts about if he found out where you lived, you may be done for.  It was a small town after all and it wouldn’t be difficult.  

“Hey, you good?”  Jett asks, shaker in hand, concern obvious in his knit eyebrows.

“What?”  You’re pulled out of your mind, shaking your head as if to lure yourself back to reality.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”  You assure him.

He nods but his expression shows that he’s not very convinced.  You finish off the drink you’d been absentmindedly making, a scotch on the rocks while offering Jett one more reassuring smile before making your way out from behind the bar.

Like you were throwing yourself back into the lion’s den, you approach the man’s table, hoping to quickly drop off his drink and be on your way.  If only life were ever so kind to you.    

“Thank you, sweetheart.”  A disgusting grin paints his face and just before you can mumble an ‘mhm’ and rush off, an unwelcome hand gropes your ass, sliding down, down, down.  You can’t see his face but you know he displays the most revolting smirk following his actions.

With a yelp followed by a gasp, you freeze.  Paralyzed, you aren’t sure how to move forward, how do you recover from being reduced to a piece of meat?  Flesh to be gawked at and held onto without permission.  An object to be handled.

“I-I’m sorry but—“  You begin to stumble over your words but never get the chance to say much more when the sound of a chair screeching against the wood floors, arguably worse than nails on a chalkboard, is heard behind you.

Upon turning around, you’re met with the sight of your boss shoving the repulsive man toward the door by the collar of his mustard stained shirt.  Eddie's strength shows despite his lean figure, appearing to have no trouble in maneuvering the man where he wants him against the door.

“What the fuck was that?”  Eddie bites, nostrils flaring as his cheeks seem to heat with a hue of red.

“Listen—“

The man’s hands are thrown up in surrender but it’s apparent that wasn’t the true intent behind his actions.  An excuse was on the tip of his tongue before Eddie cut him off, not an ounce of patience left.

“What.  The.  Fuck.  Was that?”  He repeats, grip tightening on the shirt collar, face inching closer to the man as a means of intimidation.

“Just a little flirting, she was into it.”

You can’t help but grimace at the pathetic attempt to cover up what had actually happened.  And it seemed that Eddie didn’t take too well to that answer either, further pushing the man into the door if even possible.  The scene had drawn the attention of almost the whole bar, a sea of eyeballs glued to the altercation about to happen, your very being flushed from embarrassment from the mere idea of being the source of all of it.  Had you walked away quicker, it would’ve gone unnoticed and you could’ve gone on with your night, leaving everyone else undisturbed.

“Yeah?”  Eddie cocks his head to the side, his chest heaving.  “Didn’t seem like she was into it to me.”  

“She was—“

“I wasn’t fuckin’ asking.  She wasn’t into it.”  

If looks could kill, the guy would be erased from existence with no trace of life left behind on Eddie’s account.  His big brown eyes showcased pure rage, a distinct difference from the annoyance and the fiery glare he’d cast on you every so often, especially when you would forget to pile up the dishes his way.  No, this was far more devastating and should you one day be the recipient of his aggressive stare, you’d be reduced to tears on the spot.

“Now you’re gonna get the hell out of my bar.  I never wanna see you again—“

“Listen man, I’m not—“

“I’m fucking talking.”  Eddie growls.  “You get the hell out of here and never come back, you hear me?  And you better fucking hope I don’t catch you pulling some shit like that again, I will kick your goddamn teeth in.”  He promises.

Confrontations like this were not something you were familiar with, always running off before things got too far.  You suppose that’s why people feel it was okay to use you as a doormat.  It always feels easier to drop it and walk away, ‘be the bigger person’ or whatever they say.  Even if it actually meant making you feel like the smallest person on earth.

All the back and forth and frequent swears with intention of aggravation had labored your breathing, your chest struggling to allow movement, feeling like a straw was delivering air to your lungs.  Just when you’d attempt to swallow a big enough breath of air, it would all go to waste and only provide just enough oxygen to get by.  A cold sweat threatened to spill from your hairline, your palms clammy to match.  The murmurs and whispers of witnesses had your eyes darting from person to person, suddenly all too aware of the life you were living.

Too human.  

You don’t remember another word exchanged between the two men and you certainly don’t remember how you managed to claw your way to the bathroom amidst the turmoil.  But here you were, staring into the dingy mirror with no purpose other than to escape.  And it wasn’t working.  Suddenly the lights were too bright and the room was too small, but it was secluded and that's what mattered.  Having some kind of an episode in front of the entire bar would be far worse, having an episode alone where prying eyes cannot dissect your every movement and reason for being is the better option.  It wasn’t often that your mind went to this extent when being faced with a challenging situation but when it did, you didn’t find it easy to come out of.

You heard your name floating somewhere in the bleach scented air but couldn’t quite bring yourself back enough to recognize who required your attention.  There was a head peeking in at the door after some frequent knocking and though you kept insisting you were okay and just to give you a few minutes, the individual seemed to have reason not to believe you.  

“Hey, Ed!”  He called behind him.  It was Jett.  A sweet and scared out of his mind Jett from what you could decipher through squinted eyes and blurred vision.  He was obviously being faced with unfamiliar territory, I mean who is ever prepared to talk someone down from an anxiety attack in the middle of a shift?  Panic was evident in his voice just as much as it was evident in your whole body.

“Eddie, I need some help!”  He yells again.  “Hey, you okay?  What happened?  Do you need–”

“Move over.”  You hear Eddie mumble before the door swings open, the hinges squeaking painfully.  “You’re asking too many questions.”  

With a swift shut of the door, Jett hurries back to attend to the several customers awaiting service.

“Listen to me, Bambi.  You gotta breathe.”  His voice is smooth, a huge contrast to what you’d just heard moments ago. 

When your legs begin to feel wobbly, as if you were a calf taking its first steps, you slowly lower yourself to the ground, a sturdy hand wrapping around your upper arm to support you.  

“In.”  Eddie inhales, though you can only hear him since your eyes are shut so tightly, your eyelids might rip.  “Out.”  He exhales.  “C’mon, breathe in–”

“Is she oka—”

“Jett, fuck off for a minute.  Please.”  Eddie begs, clearly fed up before returning to his newfound gentle tone.  “Can you look at me?”  He diverts his attention back to you, Jett taking the hint and shutting the door, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eyes squeezed shut, you shake your head.  Your body shakes involuntarily, the anxiety becoming even worse when you try to contain it, like it wants to jump out and strangle you.

“Okay, okay.”  He attempts to soothe.  “You wanna get some air?”  He asks just above a whisper.

“I-I dunno.  ‘M sorry.”  You manage to choke out, sniffling.

“Okay, no big deal.”  He sighs, running a hand down his face, not out of irritation but more so exhaustion.  “Let’s get you outside, it’s too hot in here.”  

Before you can protest, he’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting the majority of your weight against him, walking you out of the bathroom and out the door into the alley.  The chilly air bites at your skin and thankfully, reality slowly starts to return again.  

“Try breathing again, in and out.”  Eddie encourages.  

You nod, jaw locked tightly both from the cold and from the paralyzing anxiety coursing through your veins.  Your teeth feel as if they could crack at any second, the pressure from you biting down too immense but you can’t bring yourself to unhinge your jaw.

“In.”  Eddie coaches, exaggerating a large breath, his chest rising with the motion.  “Out.”  He exhales through his mouth, his breath visible in the air.

He continues the breathing exercise a few more times, you following carefully as things become clear again.  And from all that had just happened, all you could gather was that you were a huge baby who couldn’t handle a rogue customer.  You weren’t capable of holding things down when it got rough.  

Pathetic.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know–I don’t know what happened–”  You try to make sense of it all, failing miserably.

“What happened was some pervert copped a feel and we don’t play around with that shit here.”  

Anger is obvious within his expression, even more so when he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one hastily.

“Did you…”  

The question is on the tip of your tongue however, you won’t let yourself say it at the risk of sounding even more like an injured bird.  

“What?”  He asks, kicking around a few pebbles, the cigarette hanging from his lip before he brings his fingers up to grab it and inhale.  His brows are knit together, still beyond bothered by the dispute that just occurred.  

“Nevermind.”  You mumble.

His gaze meets yours, lashes casting perfect shadows just over his cheek bones in the warm lighting of the street lamp and once again, among all the darkness that pools in those chocolatey irises, there is a twinkle.  Barely noticeable but still there.  

“What?”  He urges again, voice monotone.

“Did you…did he…?”

“Did I fuck him up?”  He asks, brows raised.

You nod bashfully, a hint of fear flashing in your eyes.

“No.”  Eddie scoffs.  “I should’ve though.”  He flicks the ash from his cigarette toward the ground.  “Motherfucker.”  He mumbles.  

“Why didn’t you then?”

It was too forward and you had no business asking.  Really, it just tumbled out, off of your tongue, barely a thought behind it before it was too late.  Now you were just asking for a reaction, not a good one at that.

“It was either that or let Bambi suffocate in the bathroom.  Gotta pick your battles.”  He gestures toward you, shrugging.  

It wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, you were bracing for a bigger explosion.  Waiting for him to tell you to get back to work and to stop asking questions.  But he didn’t.  He just continued to kick little pebbles around on the pavement, his boot scuffing along the surface as he smoked.  He looked relaxed for once.

“Oh.”  You reply, staring down at your own shoes.  “I-I’m sorry.” 

“Is apologizing like…your hobby?”  He questions, shoving his other hand into his pocket.

“Well–uh no, no–”

“I love that you’re out here having bonding time but I’m a one man show in there and I need some supporting acts.”  Jett interrupts, the door creating a gust of wind and then flooding you with temporary warmth from the air inside.  “I at least need Eddie.”  He pleads.

Nodding frantically, you begin to make your way back inside, Jett already speeding off to resume his duties.

“Hey, you okay to go back in there?”  Eddie asks, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out.  “You can take another minute–”

“I’m fine.”  You insist.  He didn’t need further evidence that you were frail and incapable.  Whether it was intentional or not, he had bruised your sliver of self-confidence.

–

The rush was finally over, the last of it being a party of ten which left a table full of dishes to be delivered to the kitchen for washing.  Each plate was stacked in your palms, piled high as you worked one hand out from underneath to add on a few cups, cutting down on the amount of trips you would need to make.  You’d blocked out the vile events that occurred earlier in the night, at least until you had time to cry about it to yourself which when working at The Bourbon, there was never time for that.  So it would have to wait until the drive home.  Maybe you’d even save it for the shower where you could truly release all of your emotions in peace, no judging eyes or risk of a car accident.

Successfully stacking a few cups among the tower of plates, you spin on your heel, making your way toward the kitchen as the others cleaned up, Jett wiping down the bar and kicking out the lingering drunks, and Eddie cleaning up the mess that the pool table had become.  It was 1:00 AM and if everyone did their part, you’d be out of here by at least 1:30.  Tensions had been high all night, one inconvenience after another occurring, only adding onto everyone’s stress and only giving more incentive to clean quicker and go home.  A broken glass here, a messed up order there.

The kitchen door is just in reach and when you push into it with your shoulder, all of your calculations fail, the pile of plates collapsing as they hit the door frame rather than dodging it like you intended.  Each plate crashes against the floor, shattering into pieces, a few of the cups also breaking on impact.  It was the icing on the cake of a bad night, the final straw and your reason to burst into tears and yet you don’t.  

Not yet.

Not here.

A total of four eyeballs watch in shock, two more joining in as Randy, the cook peeks out from the kitchen door.  Though the tears didn’t burst from your eyes quite yet, they did sting, they stung horribly.  You could feel them brimming at your waterline, just a centimeter away from trickling down your cheek and exposing you as the biggest crybaby in the world.  If it wasn’t already apparent.

Do not cry.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, Eddie seemed to completely reverse his gentle attitude you’d become suddenly accustomed to earlier.

“What the hell.”  He glares, slowly approaching as he sets a few glasses back down on the pool table.  “Do you watch where you’re going?  Do you have eyes?”  He asks.

You don’t dare answer, frozen in place as your nerves tingle in panic once again.  You don’t feel real.  You feel as if your spirit has risen from your body and is watching over the conversation playing out.

“Now I’m out what–ten or so plates?  Do you know what it costs–”

“Eddie.”  Jett tries to take control of the situation, taking notice of your watering eyes.  And unfortunately so does Eddie.

“What–oh, you’re gonna cry?  What did I tell you?  I told you this job wasn’t for someone like you.”  Eddie snaps.

He was bitter, unpleasantly bitter like a shitty cup of coffee.

“Eddie, stop it.”  Jett tries to defend you, though you wish you could defend yourself so you didn’t seem so pathetic.

“I told you I can’t babysit you–”

“I know.”  You manage to quietly sob, bending down to start collecting the broken pieces.  There’s an awkward moment of silence, the air thick with tension and anticipation of more insults.  All you can do is wait.

“Just leave it, just–leave it.”  Eddie sighs, running a hand through his bangs.  “Just go home.”

The demand isn’t necessarily an insult like you’d imagined but it still feels backhanded.  Like he was telling you ‘I told you so’ and rubbing it in your face.  As if he gave you a chance with the means of preparing for this moment, the moment you fucked up even slightly.

“I’m gonna get the broom.”  Jett says, eyes wide as he scampers to the back.

Staring up at Eddie, large pieces of plate collected in your hand, all you can make out in his eyes is outrage.  Downplayed outrage that hadn’t fully escaped yet and you didn’t want to hang around long enough to witness it.  He was capable of much more than he was letting on.

“If you can’t handle–”

“You know Eddie, you’re just mean.  You’re being mean.”  You declare through a frown, internally screaming at yourself to keep it together, to not let a tear spill over.  He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of watching you cry.

“Did you know you never even asked for my name?”  You swipe underneath your eyes, catching any tears that longed to trail down your cheeks, displaying your distress, instead wiping them on your apron.

His unkind stare lets up, eyes softening ever so slightly.  

Too late.

“I’m not a person to you.”  You drop the shards from your hands, standing up to head toward the back for your things.

“Wait–”

If he kept talking, you didn’t stick around to hear it.  You scooped up your bag from the rusting lockers toward the back of the kitchen, tucked away in a corner before striding to the front, toward the bar.  If he thought you were some kind of an entitled brat that needed babysitting then you were going to give him more than he bargained for.  Granted, you weren’t thinking straight either, the stress of the night only adding up and creating an outburst you would otherwise bottle up.

Grabbing a shot glass from under the bar, you reach for one of the nicer tequilas, something smoother that wouldn’t burn as much.  Tequila always put you in a good mood and never gave you a hangover.  Filling the shot glass, you don’t even bother looking over at Eddie or Jett, who was now sweeping broken plates into a dustpan.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  Eddie hurries over, staring you down.  All you offer him in response is a shrug before tossing the liquor back.

Refilling the glass, you sneak a glance over at him from across the counter, his jaw dropped in shock and his face red and flushed with anger.  Steam was nearly shooting out of his ears.  The second shot is thrown back and your muscles begin to relax, anxieties melting away even at the basis of creating more problems.

If that wasn’t enough for him, you finished it off with a third shot, hoping it wouldn’t be too much all at once.  You were brave enough to look right into his eyes, daring him to say the wrong thing.  

“What are you doing?”  He asks again, calmer but still heated.

“I’m just acting how you think I should.”  You answer, a fake smile painted across your lips.

“I’m not comping those.”

His focus burns into you, lips in a tight line as he watches.  If looks could kill.  For the second time that night.  Except this time, you were on the receiving end and had you not been three shots in, it would’ve terrified you and had you apologizing profusely.

“Well, I’m not paying for them.”  You say, pouring yourself one more for good measure, swallowing it like it was water.

As you go to make your big exit, you’re faced with a harsh reality.  You’re definitely drunk, or at least very close to being drunk as the alcohol consumes your body, and you’re definitely not driving home like this.  You did not think this through.  But you kept walking anyway through the kitchen and out to the back just to lean against the concrete wall pathetically.  You were starting to wish that you’d gulped down some water before leaving to aid in sobering up.

If the sight of you leaning against the wall behind a bar at 1:12 AM wasn’t sad enough, tack on the fact that you had finally let the waterworks flow, your drunk self especially susceptible to your muddled emotions.  

“Bambi, what the fuck.  You gonna drive?”  Eddie emerges from the kitchen door leading outside, seemingly cooled down but you still don’t trust it.

“Don’t call ‘m Bambi.”  You slur. 

“What are you doing out here?”  He ignores your protest.

“‘Jus gimme a few minutes.”  You whine, eyes shut as if it would make him disappear.

“No, not a few minutes.  You’re not driving.”

You never intended on driving but you were finding it difficult to fight him off in your discombobulated state, willing to say anything to get him to leave.  Obviously he had the upper hand at this moment, clearly able to outsmart you.

“I know.”  You wail, tears on full display for him.

“I’ll drive you, let me get my keys.”  

“Nooo, wha ‘bout Jett?”  You ask, wiping away your tears, mascara coating your fingertips.

“Jett doesn't live right next door to you, you’d just be making him go out of his way for no reason.”

Snot dripping from your nose, you glare up at him, earning an expectant stare from him.  All you can do is roll your eyes, too drunk to care anymore.  You still preferred having Jett go out of his way, at least he respected you as a person.  But the argument was lost among gargled thoughts and a short term memory.

“Still mean.”  You insult, finger poking at his chest harshly.  It doesn’t do much.

It feels like hours that you two are staring at each other, likely due to the alcohol running through your system.  He hesitates in running back inside, even if just for a few seconds to grab his keys, his eyes looking you over in concern.  A muttered ‘be right back’ is heard and then he’s gone.

The stars catch your attention, drastically brighter than they would be back home, many more of them too.  A few stand out, gleaming in the sky and making them that much more admirable.  Your mind drifts off to thoughts of the Milky Way, swirling around the universe and ultimately making you feel infinitely smaller and more insignificant.  

What was your place?

Eddie steps back out, keys twirling around his fingers, straight-faced, not an ounce of amusement in his handsome features.  Glancing at him briefly, you then tilt your head back up toward the sky, dazed and almost in a trance.  If you weren’t careful, you could’ve been staring at him like that.  But you weren’t that drunk.  

Or so you thought.

Thinking about it, you must have been the spitting image of insane; mascara smeared across your face, tears glimmering in the moonlight, and your bottom lip set in a perfect pout like a child waiting to get their way.  Your bag was twisted around your body in the most uncomfortable way but you couldn’t find it in you to untwist it and realistically, you should be wearing your jacket but instead its clutched in your fist, the cold pricking at your skin and eliciting goosebumps up and down your arms.  The chattering of your teeth interrupted the silence and played as the soundtrack of your hazy daydreaming.  

It also let Eddie know that he needed to either force you to put your jacket on, or get you in the car.  And he knew he wouldn’t win that first battle so ushering you to the passenger seat it was.  

“C’mon.”  Is all he says, huffing out a breath.

You vaguely recall being helped into the passenger’s side but you don’t remember walking a few yards to actually reach the car or if you were even able to do so on your own.  From what you could tell in your state, his car was a beaten up thing, kinda old but it smelled like those little pine tree air fresheners.  

Once the scenery outside started to move, all thoughts subsided, the only one left was solely to keep yourself from vomiting all over your boss’s car.  You would stoop as low as to drink his most expensive tequila but vomiting all over his carpeted floor was another low you wouldn’t dream of wishing upon anybody.  

Trees zoomed by and you were sure you were going cross eyed from trying to keep up with each and every one.  Some metal song plays through the speakers but in your own little world, you hardly hear it, still subconsciously bobbing your head to the fading beat.

One minute you were sitting content in your dream land, the next Eddie was shoving something into your hands while urgently pulling over.  Your mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening yet however, you could vaguely make out Eddie yelling at you to aim for the bag while you stared directly into said bag.  When you glanced over at him, everything felt as if it were in slow motion and again, he was panicking while yelling at you to ‘puke in the bag!’.

The perfect cocktail of a situation for an individual so reserved and so inexperienced with this much attention.  At least most of it would be a blur by morning.

–

“There you go, just grab my–shoulder!  Ow!”  Eddie complains, your fingers a bit too comfortable with digging into his skin through his cotton shirt as you attempt to hoist yourself up into a standing position from the passenger seat.  

Home was only steps away and then you could collapse wherever you pleased.  Forget about this stupid night.  At least until you awakened as your regularly anxious self.  You’d have a few hours of drunken bliss to forget about life but that’s all you were allowed.  Then you would need to face your consequences, whatever they may be.  Come the morning, you most likely wouldn’t have a job anymore, Eddie would probably come knocking at your door and let you know that you blew it.  And he’d probably laugh in your face at the fact that you proved yourself to be too weak, too dainty, as he so adamantly proclaimed before.

“Oh no.”  You mumble, feeling yourself wobbling, knees giving out underneath you.

“Whoa, whoa, okay!  You’re fine, you’re fine.”  Eddie stabilizes you, arms around your waist.

Your limbs might as well be Jello at this point, rendering you a useless human unable to even stumble to your destination.  It dawns on you that you can’t remember if you even actually puked in the car or not.  Was it coating his interior or had you shoved your head in the bag just in time to spew your guts?  Or did you bravely swallow it down?  Whatever the case, Eddie doesn’t seem to currently have any grievances or any trouble touching you so you must have been somewhat responsible about it.

Your weight depends on him, leaning into his chest as he practically carries you toward the house.  Your eyes flutter repeatedly and—your question of whether you had already puked or not is quickly answered as the contents of your stomach spill out and onto his shirt before you’re able to aim for the ground.  Humiliation was starting to look like your middle name.

As you dry heave and allow a long string of saliva to drip from your mouth while hunched over in the dirt, you hear Eddie muttering several curses.  You think for sure he’s going to ditch you for creating such a stir up throughout the night until his boots come into view in front of you, his hand pulling the hair away from your face as you finish emptying your stomach.

“Okay.”  He sighs.  “Puke it out.”  A hesitant hand smoothes over your back, the lightest touch.

The smell of putrid vomit invades his nose, nausea threatening to take over him as well if he didn’t hold his breath.  Try as he may to ignore the chunks of god knows what on his shirt, it was still all that was on his mind.  He didn’t even want to chance looking down if there was the slightest possibility that it had also gotten in his hair.  Even being covered in your sick, he knows he should be fuming.  But he’s not and it's all so puzzling.  

You marched your ass behind his bar and consumed more tequila than you could handle which in turn forced him to drive you home and then you vomited all over him.  If that’s not enough reason to be pissed beyond belief then he doesn’t know what is.  Yet he remains calm and collected, running his hand between your shoulder blades as he soothes you throughout your dry heaving and gagging.

“It won’t–oh god–it won’t stop.”  You sob, looking up at him, a mixture of snot, tears, and saliva coating the lower half of your face.

You look repulsive and yet he can’t tear his eyes away from you.  The prettiest definition of repulsive he’d ever seen.

“Don’t hold it back, let it all out.  You’re only gonna feel like shit if you hold any of it in.”  He instructs, kneeling down to meet your eye level.

With a few sniffles and hiccups, you nod.  Only now you’re hyper aware of being watched.  It was a sobering experience, puking right in front of your house, not able to even make it to the nearest toilet while your boss spectates and–oh.  

It hits you that the front of his shirt is caked in your puke, bile soaking the fabric while remnants of your late lunch displays itself on his perfect black shirt.  You would never live this down and you would certainly never work another shift at The Bourbon again.  Even if he did scream at you for no good reason, you took it a few levels too far.

“Y-your shirt, oh no–”

“Relax, okay, Bambi?  I can handle a little puke, now where’s your key?”  He asks.  

It’s not that he could handle a little puke, he had to.  Because what good would it do if the two of you were both throwing up in your front yard?

Attempting to answer him, the rest of your stomach interrupts and unexpectedly spews all over his combat boots.  As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

“Shit.”  He mutters under his breath.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.”  You whimper, glassy eyes staring up at him with regret.  “I din’t mean it, I swear, m’ just–”

“I know.”  Eddie exhales.  “You done puking, is there anything else left in there?”

Shaking your head in sorrow, a few more hiccups escape your lungs but there are no further signs that you’re going to be sick again.  Even if you were, it didn’t matter anymore, Eddie was already well acquainted with your vomit, what harm would a little more do at this point?

As you start shuffling through your bag and patting at your pockets, panic settles in and you can only recall that the last place you’d seen your keys was at the bar, where you set them down to spitefully gulp down as much tequila as you could.  Now it was biting you in the ass, hard.

“Left my keys at the bar.”  You pout pitifully. 

Eddie glares at you, rightfully so.  The man was covered in foul smelling vomit, kneeling on the ground, taking care of you.

“Fucking christ.”  He mumbles.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean@micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heyyy! I wanted to say i rlly luv your fanfic and it would be great if you wrote a nanami kento one with prompt 6 🩵✨

There you go! Sorry this took me quite some, guess I'm too much of a hurt writer. But since 3 people requested prompt 6 with Nanami, I just couldn't let this one slide. Hope you like it though <3 I also added Promp 64 to this! 6. "I'm not crying. It's not worth crying." 64. "Don't be stupid, I'm not leaving you."

Beautiful mistake

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: You are in a secret but healthy relationship with none other than Nanami Kento despite being the sunshine to his rain. Until one day, you accidentaly spoil your secret to Gojo Satoru.

Warning: None, slight language like always

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage. The sun has just set, which means he’ll be here any second. You nervously fumble on the hem of your sundress. Do you look good? Hopefully he likes your new dress.

It’s always weird to meet outside of Jujutsu High in everyday clothes. Of course you should be used to it by now, considering that it’s been like this for two years now. Nanami and you decided it is best to keep your relationship private, far away from work. Therefore no one knows about your meetings late at night or the fact that you basically live at Nanami’s place. And this is just fine, perfect the way it is.

“There you are, sweetheart. Is this dress new? It suits you very well.”

The sound of his voice alone sends shivers down your spine, you greet your boyfriend with a wide grin and a tight hug. As usual, he smells absolutely breathtaking good. You need to finally ask him about his perfume.

“Glad you came”, you reply, face buried in his suit.

You love the fact that he’s always wearing suits, it definitely does something to you.

“You know I would never miss spending an evening with you. Here, I just couldn’t show up empty-handed.”

He hands you a gorgeous bouquet of purple, white and rose flowers, perfectly arranged and coordinated. You smile to yourself, taking in the delicious scent of lavender that now hangs in the air. Words can’t express how much you love the man standing in front of you. Even if he acts aloof and uninterested, he has a heart of gold. Suddenly you feel overwhelmed by your feelings, tears water your eyes. Unlike Nanami, you are terrible at hiding your feelings.

“I’m not going to cry”, you whisper to yourself, fanning air into your face to stop the tears from running.

“It’s not worth crying, I bring you flowers almost every time. But I’m glad you like them.”

Strange how your frequent bursts of emotion don’t bother him at all while everyone else is getting on is nerves. You truly are something special for him, the sunshine that scared away his rain, the joy that helps him to overcome his numbness. You are a gift, a true sweetheart, loved by everyone who knows you. Maybe this is the reasons why no one seems to even notice the chemistry between you two when working together as jujutsu-sorcerers. You are an absolutely poor liar, bad at hiding your feelings and the blush that creeps up your cheeks whenever you look at him. Even an untrained eye would be able to see your affection towards him – everyone expect members of Jujutsu High, as it seems.

“How was your day? Did your mission go well?”

“Oh, not at all. I’m glad you weren’t assigned to accompany me”, he signs and takes off his glasses.

Your hand gently brushes through his thick blonde hair. You can tell by one look at his tired gaze that this day was rough.

“Maybe I would have been able to help you.”

He gifts you a small but gentle smile, hands wrapped around your waist.

“Sure, but I just can’t risk you getting hurt because of helping me.”

“You know that’s also my job, right?”, you tease him.

“And you know that your job sucks, right?”

You can’t help but giggle at his response, the warm feeling in your chest keeps growing and growing. How is it that one man can make your life feel so much better just by his sheer existence? You simply cannot imagine carrying on without Nanami anymore.

“And you know that I love you, right?”

Your hands gently cup his face while your body aches to close the minimal distance between your bodies. Oh, how much you’d love to stay in this position forever, for the sun to never go down this evening. But you know all too well that tomorrow will be an exhausting day with a meeting of all higher up jujutsu-sorcerers that you and Nanami have to attend. It would be foolish to stay here any longer. But still you want to let these delicious seconds of togetherness melt on your tongue.

“Well, considering you already told me 13 times today alone, I sure hope so”, he replies before pressing his soft lips against yours.

You simply can’t believe it. The man that is holding you is the love of your life, the one you want to marry someday, the only one who has the key to your heart. Even though you are the complete opposite of him, even though no one seems to even be aware of the fact that you are in a relationship, you are absolutely mesmerized and obsessed with him.

“I hate to say it, but I think it’s better to get home. After all, we have to be up early in the morning for that stupid meeting”, he growls against your lips, face twisted in annoyance.

“How much I hate it when you’re right”, you sign while taking in his delicious scent.

“But that happens quite often. Come on, I’ll cook us dinner tonight.”

-Next day-

“There you are, golden girl!”, Gojo cries out in excitement as soon as you enter the room.

You gift him a breathtaking smile. In some way, you and Satoru are pretty similar to each other. Almost always in a good mood while wearing a bright smile on your faces along with loving a good joke and the company of other people. But unlike him, you tend to be quiet in your own way, only opening up around people you know and love.

“Nice to see you again. How have you been Gojo?”

The sincerity that glitters in your striking eyes is always a blessing for everyone around. You are so real, tender and kind in this cruel world that it’s sometimes hard to believe that you are able to survive in it.

“I’m doing better since you came here, (y/n).”

You giggle at his light-hearted comment, very aware of the fact that he’s just trying to tease you. Although you know that Gojo is very easy on women, you never felt more than sympathy for him. After all, you laid your eyes on someone else this whole time…

Oh, where’s Kento?

He told you this morning that there’s something he has to take care of, but it’s very untypically for him to show up late. Worry lines appear on your effortless features. Did you miss something? Did he maybe tell you about a meeting?

“Why do you look so worried, (y/n)?”, Gojo questions.

“I’m just wondering about Nanami-san…Normally, he’s never late”, you mumble while racking your brain.

To be honest, you’re pretty forgetful, without your boyfriend you wouldn’t even be here right now. But something important like a reason for being late wouldn’t escape you, right?

“Who knows? He never tells anyone about his private life anyway.”

Lost in thoughts, you slowly but surely fall into panic mode. Something has to be wrong. This behavior doesn’t suit him at all.

“Hey, I’m sure he’s fine, (y/n). Nanami is a tough guy”, Gojo tries to calm your tingling nerves down.

But it doesn’t work. Frantically, you swipe over your phone, desperately trying to find an excuse in one of his text messages – nothing. You try to call him multiple times only to be greeted by his mailbox.

Oh no, this is bad. This is very very bad. Something must have happened, you just know it.

“I should now if he has something to do, I mean, I’m his girlfriend after all. It’s kinda my job to know these things-“

Gojo stares at you wide eyed, mind trying to process the information that just came out of your mouth. Did you really just call Nanami your boyfriend? This can’t be true…right?

“(y/n)”, he interrupts your babbling, your innocent eyes darting at him immediately.

“Did you just call Nanami your boyfriend?”

Your heart sinks to the floor, mind going completely blank. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so lost in thoughts that you accidentally spoiled your secret relationship of two years to none other than Gojo Satoru.

“Gojo, please don’t freak out”, you beg.

“So it’s true? Oh god, I can’t believe it. That are some pretty fucked up new. How long?”

“How long what?”

Kento is going to hate you for this. From all the people you could have told about your secret, why on earth did it have to be Gojo Satoru? Your face goes pale just thinking about your boyfriend’s reaction.

What if…What if he doesn’t want to be with you anymore? Your thoughts are raising, eyes getting wetter and wetter the more you think about what you just did. This was your little secret, the only thing you had to do was keeping it to yourself. And you? You ruined everything by mindlessly telling Gojo about it.

“Sorry I’m late, the traffic-“

“Nanami, when did you plan on telling me about your relationship with (y/n)? You have to be kidding, right? How the hell did you pull her?”, Gojo blurts out immediately.

You are on the brink of tears, Kento's eyes darting towards you without emotion.

“None of this is of your business. Let me talk to (y/n) alone for a second, we’ll be with you soon”, he instructs the white-haired man with firm voice.

“Only if you promise that you’ll tell me every little dirty detail about this.”

“Leave. Now.”

“Urgh, what a bummer…”

You swallow hardly, your gaze glued to the floor while you try to blink away your hot tears.

“How did this happen?”, he questions, his well-polished shoes standing right in front of you.

“I-I…I was so w-worried about y-you that I panicked and…and then it j-just slipped out…”, you stutter.

“Huh, I understand.”

Your eyes dart up at him.

“Are you going to leave me now?”, you cry out, tears now running down your cheeks uncontrollably.

Kento tilts his head and steps forward, hand gently cupping your face.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you. Sooner or later, he would have found out anyway”, he responses.

You wrap your still trembling arms around him tightly, tears soaking into his fine suit.

“I’m really sorry”, you mutter into his chest.

It’s like a massive weight falls from your heart. For the split of a second, you really thought he’ll end things with you right here and now. You simply can’t afford to lose him, Kento is your ray of sunshine on rainy days, you love him with all of your heart and more.

“Please, don’t be. I should be sorry for you worrying about me. Be prepared for Gojo’s constant teasing though. These will be hard times.”

He brushes a soft kiss against your lips, a tender smile on his face. God, how much you feel for this man. More than any words could ever express.

“We’ll get through this together”, you reply.

“Yes. Like always.”

[venusbby]

hi!! hope you are doing well <3

congratulations for 200 followers, you deserve even more🙏🏻 for this event can i have no.6 with sae, but the reader says the line? it will be amazing imo , and thank you for your hard work!!! take care of yourself, xoxo (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

midnight

🍁 character & prompt : ITOSHI SAE // #6. "i've never seen you smile like that before."

note: thank you so much for your love ! <3 have a great day and i hope u like this !!! # drabble game prompts here

summary: your boyfriend hates the idea of letting you go out alone at night. even if it's a one minute walk. and even if it's for ice cream.

the warmth of his hand radiated throughout your whole body as you walked side by side on the empty street, in contrast to the chilled air of the clear night.

"you seriously didn't have to come with me," you mumbled, gesturing to the small bag in your other hand when sae hummed in question. your footsteps coordinated with each other's. left and then right. you felt silly when you realised how it made you smile to yourself.

"i wanted to. i needed a breather anyway." he replied, voice raspy. neither of you had talked much on the short walk to the supermarket, with your stomach yearning for the taste of your favourite ice cream and sae following after you with his hands buried in his hoodie and his head kept low in an effort to be hidden.

your midnight cravings were maybe a little ridiculous. but sae wasn't one to complain. especially when you were so insistent on not letting him tag along, saying 'sae, it's just a minute away. i'm gonna be fine.'

no way in hell would he ever let you go somewhere alone at this time. so he told you to shut up and wait for him as he threw on a hoodie and slipped on the shoes that were easiest to wear. he felt relieved that he was spending the night at your place. if he wasn't there, you'd still go alone for your beloved ice cream and he just can't stand the thought of not being with you.

he had also realised that he never knew your favourite ice cream flavour.

not that he was supposed to know from the very beginning.

because your relationship hasn't even reached its five month anniversary. not until next month.

not that he remembers the date.

he does. he's waiting for it. he's thinking of what he should do for you. he almost considered asking his brother for help until he became annoyed. how dare his brother get into a relationship before him?

but now he knows your favourite flavour.

and he knows how loud your laugh is, because you just laughed out of nowhere and it's booming through his ears because the neighbourhood is so quiet.

"sorry. the cashier's face when he saw you— it was so funny," you cackled, not bothering to think about the people who were probably sleeping in the houses that you passed by.

"he definitely thought he was seeing shit. the guy's probably been working all day." sae said with a hint of a chuckle.

the thought made you laugh harder for some reason. you grabbed his hand tighter and stopped in the middle of the street, right under the streetlight, hunching over and laughing your heart out. sae looked at you and saw your slightly guilty expression as you couldn't stop.

he smiled.

it was not his fault that your laugh was so contagious and your cheeks looked so cute when you smiled wide.

you started to quiet down from the sudden laughing fit when you noticed his smile.

"i've never seen you smile like that before."

sae blinked. was he smiling?

"noooo, why'd you stop smiling now?" you whined, getting cut off by sae when he gently but swiftly placed his finger on your lips.

"shhh. people are sleeping." he played it off, looking below at the bag in your hand. "and your ice cream will melt."

you smiled and kissed his finger. he retreated with instant regret. still, he liked that.

"sorry," you sheepishly replied. "your smile is just.. something."

"whatever. let's go home."

you hummed, continuing the walk. this time, you both walked faster.

but you couldn't stop yourself from saying it. your face felt warm when you stared at your partner. he avoided your gaze and looked forward with a twitch in his lips.

"i'm gonna bring that pretty smile on your face again. just watch."

he exhaled. you grinned.

it's not going to take a long time for you to make him smile once again— he knows that deep down. and he's happy that you're the reason for it.

🍄 taglist: @hyomagiri @yoimyas @beanxiv <333

[jenlrossman]

Darts as a metaphor for gay sex between Miles O'Brien and Julian Bashir

Yes, I'm serious. Bear with me.

Miles and Julian first play darts in season three, episode 16, "Prophet Margin."

They are playing darts because Julian was getting tired of racquetball—since Miles's wife has been away, they have played 106 games of racquetball. ("Rivals," the episode where we first see them play racquetball, make a strong case for that being a sexual metaphor as well. So basically Keiko is gone and Miles has been… "Playing with Julian" a lot 👀)

There's some good natured mockery/flirting, and Julian ends up throwing off Miles's concentration by mentioning his wife.

In the next episode, season three episode 17, "Visionary," Miles convinces Quark to put a dartboard in his bar. Quark argues that no one has ever come in asking for a dartboard, but Miles assures him people will.

To me, this reads like trying to convince someone that marketing specifically to queer people is important even if no queer people have ever complained about not being marketed to.

Miles and Julian play darts twice during this episode as well, but nothing particularly gay happens (outside of them being gay for each other in general).

Season three, episode 24, "Shakaar," has Miles playing darts with various guys on the station until he ruins his shoulder and needs to have Julian perform surgery to repair it.

Well that's what you get for playing with people who aren't your boyfriend. It's called karma.

In the fourth season premiere, "The Way Of The Warrior," Miles and Julian invite our old buddy Worf to play with them.

He throws a dart, and it goes extremely deep into the board.

The boys look intimidated. And rightfully so. As Jadzia will later (happily) learn, sex with a Klingon is anything but gentle.

(I wish he had thrown two darts, wink wink.)

Keiko returns in "Ascension," season four, episode 17, thereby ending Miles's "year as a bachelor," as Julian calls it.

Miles spends more time with his family, even trying to teach his daughter to play darts (in this context, darts with Molly does not represent sex, it just represents him trying to be a good father and husband and not having sex with his boyfriend). But he is clearly missing Julian; look at the way he longingly gazes at the outfit they wore together:

Julian has also been unsuccessfully playing darts with other people, and he and Miles lament that it just isn’t the same without each other. Eventually, Keiko arranges for them to spend extra time with each other because Miles is so depressed.

Season five, episode 16, "Dr. Bashir, I Presume?" reveals that Julian is augmented and has exceptional strength and hand eye coordination, among other things. This makes Miles realize Julian has been letting him win at darts all this time.

He is understandably upset that his boyfriend has been… uhhh… "faking it" 👀 and makes him play from 3 feet back to level the playing field (Miles metaphorically using marital aids).

He also suggests Julian play blindfolded. 👀

The next, and last, significant time they play darts is in season seven, episode 23, "Extreme Measures."

This is the episode in which Miles and Julian go through a harrowing ordeal which forces them to finally acknowledge that they love their significant others, but they like each other more.

At the end of the episode, the boys are playing darts in the bar. They are drinking. Miles is struggling with his sexuality at the realization of how close he and Julian are.

He says he needs to go home to Keiko. This is the conversation they have, word for word:

"She's a hell of a woman."

"That's why you love her."

"Mmm. That's right. That's why I love her."

There is no eye contact. It is awkward as hell. Is very obviously Not About Keiko, but rather Miles's last ditch attempt to avoid admitting that he would rather be with Julian right now.

So he leaves. Julian is alone, sad.

Then Miles pops back into frame. He has reconsidered. "Do you want to come?"

They leave the bar together, but not before Julian throws one last dart.

It's a bull's-eye. He scores, and, if you believe my metaphor, it won't be the first time he scores that night.

[neverwanttofallasleep]

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Masterpost

It's December 2022. You're the tour wardrobe coordinator for rock'n'roll band Greta Van Fleet. You find yourself inexplicably pulled toward a certain guitarist, and he you, as much as you try not to be.

Pairings: Jake x Female OC, f!reader x Female OC (mentioned), Jake x f!reader, Sam x Female OC, Josh x Male OC, Danny x Female OC

Warnings: +18 content, angst x1000 (crying, arguing, swearing, depictions of depression/panic attacks, mentions of cheating and open relationships, miscommunication), marijuana and alcohol use, cigarettes, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of religion/anti-religion, mention of divorce, eventual smut (kissing, masturbation, sex, very vanilla and fluffy), Christmas

Real people used as fictional characters: Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka, Sam Kiszka, Danny Wagner, Karen Kiszka, Kelly Kiszka, Ronnie Kiszka, (Josie, Daniel Sr and Lori Wagner are all mentioned)

Disclaimer: it took me a while to come to terms with writing real people as characters in this story. As an avid fic enjoyer, sometimes I struggle not to get the ick when real people are written about because I don’t want to be invasive into their personal lives, especially when it comes to the family and friends of celebrities because they didn’t choose this. Please take everything written on this wild and wonderful internet with a grain of salt and know that the characters in this story ARE NOT REAL. They are fictionalized versions of rlly hot celebs and are completely original characters other than their names and looks. I have chosen to use the real names of their siblings and parents to keep the world feeling authentic, but I have literally nothing to base these characters on so I am fully making them up. I do not know any of these people personally (and I’m gonna assume you don’t either) so let's just stay weird over here babes and respect their privacy and leave them alone xx

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Character Gallery

Playlist

Word count: 52k completed

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Part 1 | Chapter 8 - Part 2

[din0lover]

Funny post of all the little "ghosties" talking moments in the captions

(It's ccbbh but also there might be some missing I did the best I could in trying to get it all lol enjoy!)

-

Signs of Pomme and Ramon

/

"Fudge I missed the sign"

"Maybe bad should stay dead a bit longer"

"Stress never killed anybody, except for the people it did"

"Isn't that cannibalism " (referring to pomme apple die comment)

-

Zinc cave

"Richas is going to die" (richas digging straight down)

" Oh Fudge not this one" (referring to cave they went into go collect zinc)

"This is limestone not zinc"

"Look how pretty"

"Let's go mine proceeds to mine limestone"

"These statements are now canonical ghosty thoughts"

"The block looks chewable" (referring to the limestone block)

/

"Canonical ghosty bathroom break"

"And canonically left alone" (after he got back from the bathroom break)

/

"There are going to be so mad at us when the eggs die" (after richas digs straight down deeper into the cave)

"Ghosties have bad hand eye coordination" (after falling in lava)

"50 zinc that's enough to make 1/10 of a drill"

"Free stuff"

"Lucy what are you doing over there"

"Later peasants I'm warping away, what the Fudge, that's crazy" (referring to richas warping out of the cave)

-

Leaving Zinc Cave

"All your stones belongs to me"

"Give me your stone I'm going to eat it all"

"Nom nom nom nom nom nom"

(ramon and pomme digging up out of the cave)

/

"Well this is the end for me I'm afraid"

"Should've taken those swimming lessons"

(Water bucket was placed down for a split second this guy is so dramatic LOL)

/

"You know, I'm holding sugar cane, it's magic, but why am I holding sugar cane? Is it a coincidence Or is there a higher meaning to it? Not even caption viewers will find out"

/

"Yep some of you realized all stream it was me reading the signs."

"Yep what you thought it was magic?, no I was reading them."

"The entire time thats where the captions come from."

"No way /j"

"The poor people without the captions right now."

/

That's it Ramon takes one call, I'm going to narrate their actions"

"Pomme looks around aimlessly "

"Ramon thinks I'm done cave mining it's probably best to leave"

"Pomme thinks Fudge dirt that means we're close to the surface but I hate digging through it."

"Don't worry we're good"

"Now it's off to do more adventuring"

"Sorry I'll stop being silly"

-

Finally out of the Zinc Cave

"You got this

You got this

You got this

You got this

You got this

You can do it"

"Freedom of fudge, worst ad time ever"

"Actually no we had some horribly timed ads."

"Dumbo, the moon, why did it translate it to that? I think there was a mistranslation chat."

"And pomme sacrifices Ramon to the squids" (Ramon fell out of the boat)

"Hey guys maybe we should take that zinc to Badboyhalo house instead"

-

Repairing the town of Fobo farm

/

Richas : "I mean I am not human I don't know, that works with tio dad and my dad's"

Ccbbh aka "ghosties" : "he's onto something "

/

"Huh bird"

"Nosy ghosties"

"Lucy Hi"

"So wholesome"

/

"3 minutes till restart"

"One minute before void"

"Toxic not the backup"

"The lore killer"

/

"Sometimes I still hear his voice" (referring to bbh it's almost like we can still hear him in the after life)

/

"There comes a day in every pet owners life" (referring to richas killing his caged amethyst crab)

/

"It is a good way to keep memories, if only bad was doing that." (That vile man he needs to be put in a panini press)

/

"I'm running out of sad music"

/

"Guys stop trolling the Chatters and telling them I died IRL"

"I can still hear his voice"

/

-

Group hug for all

/

"And it's a group hug"

"Get down here richas it's group hug time"

"Oh my gosh he is dying"

"Okay now he is good"

"Group hug richas, don't let him go up"

"Don't let him wiggle his way up there"

/

"He can't get away from The Angst train,there's a train and it's full angst"

"I love angst"

"I'm going to be honest this has been a very wholesome night but it is a lot of angst."

"Choo Choo"

-

Richas getting down again

/

"Crazy people oh my gosh"

"Gave me a heart attack right now"

"Oh my gosh they actually just trying to kill him in front of me"

"That's crazy"

"Where's you armor ?! He's not wearing armor!"

"Oh my gosh just let him die, finish him now"

"That be the worst time for a creeper to just slither its way and explode right next to them "

"Like actual nightmare fuel"

"You're going to give me a heart attack"

"He's going to die chat like if we don't see the death and no one else is online it doesn't really happen."

"It's like a tree that falls in the forest, and no one around here it doesn't make a noise."

"Pretty sure that's how it works chat mathematically "

-

Slight BBH love <3<3

- "I'm sorry chat thus has been a long stream, I'm trying to keep myself chucking along, I'm enjoying it but it is a long stream."

"Two really long streams in a row"

(Peace and love ccbbh thanks for the long streams with the eggs and other memes <3<3)

-

Back to richas and his vendetta against group hugs

/

"Rebel Richas, no hugs, hugs are for the weak"

/

"Oh my gosh they're going to actually kill him, I need to make sure to look away before he dies"

*looks away*

"There we go"

"If I dont see the death it doesn't count"

/

"This is like a slightly unhinged nature documentary "

"Bros really going to fall and die literally if he's not careful oh my gosh"

/

*commentating*

"Quick everyone lets vandalize their building even more."

/

"Oh my gosh please just don't do it."

"He's going to drown."

"No don't die drowning underwater it will kill you instantly "

"Stop"

/

"Bro really said that I'm going to maybe die someday and choose that day to be today."

"He's crazy chat, oh my goodness."

"Oh my goodness please holy crap."

"Let me build or I will die, thats your only two choices here" (even after death bbh still having beef with richas that's crazy)

/

"Yippee!"

/

"Bro better-" ( looking to see if richas is wearing armor and then proceeds to find out he's wearing diamond pants)

"I've been wearing pants this whole time. "

"Someone who doesn't have their cosmetic armor off and they just see pants walking around."

/

"Mimi"

-

Back home

/

"Confused but following "

"Where am i?"

"He's still not wearing armor either "

-

Fin (I just realized that didn't bbh say he be recording his audio too? I just transcript all this for nothing I'm done on a serious note though it was fun to read the captions and hope you find slight entertainment in what I was able to capture lmk if I missed any which I probs did well im off) (also forgive me if I did some misspelling I did this really late)

Extra clip:

[akajustmerry]

what bugs me about people eating up lestat's piss poor "apology" at the trial is how there is literally no amount of fucking abandonment and loneliness issues that justifies that level of violence. I personally have lost count of the amount of times I've been ghosted, rejected, or politely let down by someone I had feelings for. one time I caught a train 3 hours for a date with someone and they blew me off and blocked me last minute. I was so furious and embarrassed I sat at a train station alone and cried for an hour. never in my fucking life would I dream of harming people who reject me regardless of how upset I feel. most people wouldn't. what also pisses me off is people eating up lestat's, "I couldn't make him love me" shut the fuck up. there isn't anyone on EARTH who could claim with a straight face that ldpdl didn't love lestat. the reciprocation of "love" was not the fucking issue. the issue was that lestat was beating the shit out of Louis, abusing him and cheating on him serially and Louis, like a normal fucking person, was angry and hurt by that. It is so fucking horrible, abysmal even, that viewers of the show were ever even slightly positioned to take that level of abuse apologism seriously. It's genuinely so upsetting to see people parrot that scene as a genuine apology when it was lies told at a lynching lestat helped coordinate in front of an audience. it makes me sick. youse really would forgive a white man for ANYTHING so long as you like him huh. this is why IPV victims get fucking KILLED.