#not to mention that's how I found my last two gigs.

[giftedpoison]

I think the worst thing about dipping into the live entertainment industry after dreaming of it for years and only just now figuring out how and in what field.

Is the waiting around. Like I just finished my first ever gig. And my next gig runs August - October. So between my last gig and that one I'm just bouncing off the walls like please this is all I want to let me touch it again!!

And I can't fill time with other gigs because those gigs are all gonna interfere with my next gig so I'm just sitting here frothing at the mouth. (it literally ended up meaning I volunteered to be a runner at my local pride fest later this month. Which isn't what I want to do per say but its something to do that's like adjacent.)

I am mentally compiling leads for jobs after the next gig, but no ones hiring for end of year stuff yet. So it's just a list of companies I want to check back on later and pray I find a job that they'll hire me for.

[bettyfrommars]

Touch my cheek before you leave me, baby//Part 2

gigolo!Eddie x virgin!older!fem!Reader

(part 1)(part 3)

18+Only, mature content, intimacy smut, sweet!Eddie, nipple play, praise!kink, masturbation, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, toxic mother, self-esteem issues, alcohol consumption, implied self-loathing, pet names, implied sex with someone other than reader, paid sex. wc: 4.6k

summary: After that first night together on your 29th birthday when you lost your virginity to gigolo Eddie, he mentions, in his own way, that he'd like to see you again off the clock. Reader is an introvert dealing with self-esteem issues and invites Eddie to be our date for a wedding, but not before he invites us back to his place.

authors note: I never intended this to be more than one part, but it quickly became a favorite, and I had so many requests for more. Who am I to deny us more of sweet, gigolo Eddie?

All of your support means the world, and I very much look forward to your thoughts ❤️

pls no minors beyond this point

-------

You still couldn’t tell if it was real.  When he said he wouldn’t charge you if you ever wanted to meet up again. It felt sincere when he said it, but now, two days later, by the phone with gigalo Eddie’s number in your hand, you were convinced that it was all part of his game.  Maybe he was just that good.

He knew everything that would turn you on, everything you needed to hear, right down to the pet names and the missionary style, intimate sex. It had all been in the paperwork you’d submitted. It was nothing but a job to him, and you had totally fallen for it.  

Now you felt like one of those idiot, lovesick men at the strip clubs who always believed that the girls were really in love with them after they made eye contact a few times and tipped them for hours on end. 

You did your affirmations in the mirror that morning, trying not to look at yourself from the side in the full length mirror and pinch at the parts of your body you thought were gross.  Trying not to indulge in the morning ritual of hating yourself.

Even if Eddie had felt some type of real connection with you—which you now highly doubted—how would things progress between the two of you? From what Robin had told your friend Nellie, Eddie was a busy boy.  He was a respected gigalo within a 50 mile radius, and his list of regular clients was long; your evening with him was booked a month in advance.  On nights when he didn’t have clients, he was practicing with his band or playing gigs, and you were sure he could have any woman he wanted when he performed.

But then the phone rang as you were sitting there right next to it and you jumped, a shriek escaping your throat.

It was your mom, reminding you to pick up the dress for your cousin's wedding the following weekend. You weren’t going to be in the wedding party, but your mother had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want you to embarrass her with any of the styles of clothes you would’ve picked out for yourself.  

She exhaled a haggard breath.  “I suppose you still haven’t found a date? There’s a new boy who goes to our church. I think he might even like you, as long as you don’t bring up any of your strange conspiracy theories or serial killer statistics. Wear that special bra I got for you, and put a little makeup on.  Men like women who try to look nice for them.”

You wanted so badly to let your mother know that you’d recently paid for a gigolo to take your virginity, just to hear the horror and panic in her voice.  You were already a disappointment to her, why not put a cherry on top?

You put Eddie’s number on the table and stared at it while she talked.  “Actually,” you took a stiff swallow that felt like a marble in your throat.  “I do have a date.  For the wedding.  His name is Eddie.”

You relished the silence of shock at the other end. “Oh? What does this Eddie do? Not another jobless musician like the last boy you had a crush on, I hope?”

You winced at the way she brought it up.  Almost a decade ago, you had a crush on the brother of one of your friends, that is until you overheard him refer to you as “creepy”.

You knew she’d never drop it until you told her something; what a person did for a living and their social standing was very important to your mother.  “He’s, um,” you looked around, eyes landing on one of the cassette tapes on the shelf for the band Mike and The Mechanics.

“He’s a mechanic,” but you knew that wouldn’t be good enough.  “He, uh, runs his own auto body garage.” The lie—the fact that you even had to lie—made you squeeze your eyes shut.

She of course asked what the name of his garage was, and you told her he was from out of town and only coming in for the wedding.  She started badgering you with more questions and you lied and told her someone was at the door of your apartment and you had to go, hanging up the receiver before she could protest.  

A few hours later, after listening to music on full blast in your headphones and nearly pacing a hole in the carpet, you cracked open the nerve to call Eddie.

Your blood ran freezing cold as it rang on his end, and you glanced at the clock: it was just after 8:00pm.  You’d purposely waited until it was later in the evening, praying that he’d be with his band or with another client, and then you could leave him a message on his machine.  You were banking on this, actually.  If he picked up and you heard his voice, you’d probably hang up on him.

As luck would have it, you did get his answering machine.  Nervous as all hell, your voice was a tad squeaky at first, but then you cleared your throat. 

You decided you would present the invitation to be your date to the wedding as a job, one you would pay him for.  You let him know you’d had a great time the other night, and then made sure he had your phone number, and that you would TOTALLY understand if he was already busy that weekend.  You were about to hang up when you realized that you’d never said exactly who you were, and so you blurted your name out at the last minute, but it was too late because the recorder beeped and cut you off.

You went to bed that night convinced you would never hear from him again.  

Much later that night, after a long day, Eddie grinned down at the answering machine the second he heard your voice—he knew it was you right away.  He’d been thinking about you nonstop since that night you’d been together, but he never expected to hear from you.  He worried that he had put you on the spot when he said you wouldn’t have to pay him, and it had probably made you uncomfortable.  Flirting on the job was not something he had done before and it was very unprofessional of him. At the very least, he needed to apologize to you.

But there you were, calling him this soon as if you’d been thinking about him too.  

He tucked his hand in his armpit and nibbled at his lip when you asked if he was free this weekend to go to a wedding with you.

His heart skipped a beat.  He was thinking something more along the lines of dinner and a movie, but, sure, he would be your date—he had a tux. He’d have to reschedule one of his regulars, but she would understand. Other guys might’ve seen that as getting too serious too quick, but not Eddie.  He hadn’t had a girlfriend, or even been on a date that was not work related in over a year.  Women weren’t interested in taking a gigolo home to meet their parents.  They wanted his cock in all of their holes, but none of them ever wanted to know how his day went or what his dreams were.  

“So, just let me know…” you continued in the message.  “...if you’re available, and how much would you charge for something like that? I’d totally understand if…”

Damn it, he cursed to himself, sucking air in the side of his cheek.  He thought that invitation was sounding a little too good to be true.  

All the same, he called back the next day and left a message while you were at the local grocery store where you worked as an assistant manager, letting you know he’d be honored to be your date, and to tell him the where and the when.

But he did not give a price, and the omission was not lost on you.

—-----

You were so nervous, you could puke.

But it was still a day before the wedding, and you were in attendance at the post-rehearsal dinner at Enzo’s.  Although you were not going to be in the wedding, your beautiful, outgoing sister Judith was, and you weren’t entirely against a dinner paid for by your uncle at one of the fanciest restaurants in town.  

You were feeling the buzz of the wine and trying to play wallflower as the other four people at the table, including your sister and three of her friends, engaged in lively conversation and shared exaggerated stories from their college years.  You were sitting back in your chair, offering a chuckle to something that was just said, when you looked across to the main entrance and saw Eddie coming through the door.  

You were only looking in his direction for maybe five seconds before you looked away, but it felt like an hour.  There was an ocean in your ears as your heartbeat soared and your brain scrambled to make sense of what was going on. 

He looked particularly beautiful.  Hair worn down, framing his face, a crisp white button down, allowing for the dark designs of his chest tattoos to show, sleeves rolled up at the elbows, exposing his defined forearm muscles and tattoos.  

Eddie was not alone.  

Next to him, holding onto his arm, was a very pretty woman.  Shoulder length, brunette hair brushed back from her face, flawless skin, tight black dress and gold jewelry.  She might have been mid to late thirties, much shorter than Eddie. They appeared to be very cozy as they stood waiting to be shown to their booth, and when she turned to ask him something, Eddie answered, and then kissed the back of her hand.

You snapped your eyes back to the table, twirled the stem of your wine glass a few times, and then lifted it to your lips for a generous gulp.  Everyone at your table was just tipsy enough to not notice how flustered you got, cheeks blooming red hot.

Eddie saw you while he was escorting Lana to their table, but he wasn’t sure if you had seen him yet or not.  This was his fifth “date” with Lana.  Her husband passed away four years ago, and she’d decided that she’d never love another man again as much as she’d loved him, so she didn’t want any romantic attachments.  What she wanted was a man to take care of her once in a while: escort her to dinner, treat her like a lady, hold doors for, and then let her suck him off so he could cum on her tits the way her husband used to do.  He wore her husband's Old Spice aftershave and called her “Sugar” which had always been his nickname for her. 

He needed to focus on Lana, but as the waiter handed over the wine menus, Eddie kept glancing in your direction.  It'd been a week since the two of you had been together biblically, and he’d really been missing your face, more than he could even admit to himself.  He found himself drawn to you chemically in a way he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager. 

You shot him a look over your wine glass, and he lifted his fingers in a small wave, but you ducked your head and tried to hide behind whoever was sitting next to you. 

If anyone there recognized him tomorrow at the wedding, and happened to connect the dots that he was with another woman on a date the night before, that would be bad. He made a last second decision to switch places with Lana in the booth so that his back would be to the people you were with, in an effort to hide his identity.  

“I think it’s time for me to go home,” you announced to the table, getting to your feet as you said it.

Your sister protested.  “But, we just got here? One more drink?”

You fumbled so fast for your jacket that your chair fell to the ground.  Even over the Italian music and plentiful conversations, everyone turned to look, including Eddie, and then you were rushing to get out of the restaurant, bursting into the fresh air and hurrying down the sidewalk.

Down at the corner of the building, you were catching your breath and feeling stupid as hell, when you realized Eddie was coming toward you with his hands in his pockets.  He had waited a few minutes, but eventually followed.

“Hey,” he said, catching up to you after a few slow, deliberate strides.  “I hope I didn’t make anything weird for you in there.”

You covered your eyes with your hand.  “No, I’m the one who made things weird,” you told him. “I’m just not a fan of crowds. I think I got a little claustrophobic.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie had his head down, shuffling his foot, and you noticed how different his demeanor was when he wasn’t “working”.  

You huffed a laugh.  “You’re a natural with people, what are you talking about?”

“Maybe I just play a good game,” he lifted his eyes to meet yours, chin lowered. “On the inside I spend plenty of time curled in a ball in the corner, I promise you.”

A car horn blared in the distance, and then Eddie spoke again.  “You look really pretty tonight,” his hands stayed in his pockets, but he gestured with his elbow.  “Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you said quickly, praying he hadn’t suddenly changed his mind.  “I mean, if you still want to?”

“Of course I want to, sweetheart,” he cocked his head, but then he gestured toward the restaurant. “I need to get back in, I can’t leave her hanging.”

You started to speak nervously, something about “oh yes sure go ahead absolutely okay goodnight” as you walked away, but then he caught your arm.

He searched your face in the dark shadow of the street corner.  “Are you…busy later? Like, in a couple hours?”

Your heart tightened at the urgency of his question.  The way his eyes settled on you, they were full of desire, and you couldn’t remember the last time anyone gave you all of their attention like that.  

Eddie was really taking a chance with this one.  What woman in her right mind would want to spend time with him right after he’d been intimate with someone else?  This is where any dating situation he ever attempted came to a screeching halt.  He went home lonely more often than not.  

Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his beautiful neck, letting the gravity of what he was asking you sink in.  “Won’t you be…tired?”

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek.  “Not too tired.”

—----

He called from the payphone at Enzo’s and left his address on your answering machine, just like he said he would, and so there you were, in your car in the driveway of the adorable light blue house he shared with a friend named Steve, who was supposedly also in the gigolo business. Steve was out of town for a few days, though, and inside your head you were screaming; you couldn’t believe this was happening.

 It was one of the better maintained houses on the block; lawn perfectly mowed and trimmed, a flower bed with purple pansies along the sidewalk.  There was the husk of an old muscle car in the garage though, and an engine weeping oil on the pavement.  The lie you’d told your mother wasn’t too far off, and a grin kicked up one side of your mouth thinking about how Eddie’s strong hands had some black stains in the crevasses from working on cars, even though he scrubbed them constantly.  

Eddie had no idea what he was doing.  The good thing about being a gigalo was that he could control the atmosphere and the outcome: he never had to worry about getting hurt because it was just a job.  

You could tell he’d just come out of the shower when he answered the door in a plain white tee and jeans exposing the tattoos on his arms, hair wet down his shoulders, skin warm and soft when he hugged you in the doorframe. 

The hug lingered, and when you stepped back, your chin was down, your eyes trying to avoid him at all costs. Sure, you wanted to be there with him, but also, your body was in fight or flight mode.  You could hear your mother’s voice in your head then, telling you there’s no way a guy as good looking as Eddie would be interested in a girl like you. She’d insist he was using you for something.

“Hey,” Eddie caught your chin and brought your attention back to him. He ran a thumb across your mouth.  “I’ve been dreaming of these lips.”

It made you snort a laugh, and Eddie laughed too, squeezing one eye closed.  “Sorry, was that too cheesy? Occupational hazard.”

“I like cheesy,” you beamed, parting your lips to accept his kiss, opening your mouth to take him deeper, working your hands up the front of his chest over his shirt.  You tried not to think about the woman he’d been with just an hour earlier, and the things they’d possibly done together.  If he could accept you and still find you desirable, even when you didn’t even like yourself, you were willing to have an open mind about his profession.  At least for now.

You found out he had an episode of Elvira’s Movie Macabre on the TV, and told him it was one of your favorites.  This made Eddie like you even more.  He sat back on the couch, legs long, and beckoned for you with a few eager flaps of his wrist to come and sit flush with your back against him.  “This is what I needed,” he said as you got comfortable between his legs.  He kissed the side of your head, intertwined the fingers of one of his hands with yours, and you could barely concentrate on the show with the way his closeness made your pussy pulse.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.  Both of his thumbs slid down the front of the blouse you were wearing to graze the hard nubs of your nipples, while he kissed the outer ridge of your ear.  

You could only make a needy purr in the back of your throat, pushing against him at the need for more.  

“Are your nipples this hard just for me, sweetheart?” He hushed, nuzzling your ear.  You squirmed a bit more, nodding, exposing the side of your neck to greet his mouth.  He unbuttoned your shirt and pulled down the front cups of your bra to pluck at your tender buds, making you whine.  He found your pulse point on your throat and sucked there, continuing to work your nipples in a way that had your underwear immediately damp with arousal.

“You getting wet for me so I can taste how good I make you feel, baby?”

Indeed, your body was letting him know loud and clear that this is what it wanted.  

He licked his fingers to wet your nipples, and you felt like you might be able to cum from his finger twisting alone.  You undid the zipper on your trousers and sank your fingers into the wetness there, working your slippery clit.  You slid your digits down a little further and dipped them into your hole; it gripped around you, begging to be filled.

“Let me taste it,” he told you.  You presented your two glistening fingers up and he sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean, making you tremble at the way his tongue flicked between them.

“Keep touching yourself,” he encouraged, milking and twisting your nipples with a bit more force now that they weren’t as sensitive, causing zings of pleasure to rock through your body.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, finding your clit again, working your wrist.  “You’re going to make me—”

But then it was already happening, a pop of velvet streamers liquified at your core, pulsing, throbbing, making you go blind for a second.  

Eddie’s cock bucked hard against his denim.  You turned to kiss him in the aftermath, and he slid out from under you to get on his knees, pulling your pants off the rest of the way.

“I need to taste it,” he breathed, hiking your knees up over his shoulders so he could bury his face and lick you clean, lapping up your gift, groaning and rocking forward on his knees as he did so.  

You grabbed onto his hair.  “You like how hard I cum for you, don’t you baby?”

You were learning to be more verbal, and it made his hips twitch against the couch, he wanted you so bad.  Once he devoured the sweet  nectar of  your cum, he worked his way up your body, kissing your breasts, and then finding your mouth.  He sank two fingers into your aching hole, and your pelvis flexed eagerly up to meet his hand.  

“Hey,” he brushed his lips over yours, hovering there.  “I don’t ever go down on...clients,” he admitted to you, eyes finding yours, fucking his fingers slowly in and out, curling them up once they were deep inside of you. “You are special, I just thought you should know.”

“I like knowing that,” you said with a quiver in your voice, holding his face. “I want you inside of me.”

There was a condom in his wallet and he helped you guide it onto his cock after he pushed his jeans down, every bit the teacher.  You slid your shoulders down the couch, legs spread wide, exposing all of your holes for him.  Gripping your hip, he teased the tip at your entrance, eyebrows pinching together at the sensation.

“Without a condom, I’d probably blow a hole through you, baby, you’ve got me so hard.”

Your pussy was soaked, dripping from your folds down the condom on his cock.  “You’re the only one I want inside of me,” you were merely stating a fact, but it was just what he needed to hear, and he rose up on his knees, pulled your ass a bit further off the couch, and buried himself balls deep with a hard gasp.

He leaned forward to brace his forearms on the cushion at either side of your head, kissing you, thrusting in a few times as deep as he could go, skin smacking, your wetness now shimmering on the curly hairs at the base of his cock.

You were amazed at how your body knew how to respond, even though you had absolutely no clue what you were doing.  Bucking your hips up to meet him was your favorite, and then every now and then, he’d swivel his hips, holding your legs out.  

“That was a fancy move,” you breathed against his lips. 

“I save all my fancy moves for you, sweetheart,” he chuckled.

He brought his thumb in to play with your clit.  “I want you to cum with me.”

You didn’t know if that kind of tandem miracle was possible, but you were willing to try.  You brought your fingers in to work your slick juices over just the right spot, and Eddie sat back to watch you. He was observing and taking notes.

“You stretch me out so good,” you whined, getting into the swing of things, swiping your fingers faster, not phased at all by the way the parts of your body you hated were all hanging out for him to see.  

“Shit,” Eddie bucked. “You’re gonna make me cum right now if you talk like that.”

“You’ve ruined me for everyone with your big cock, baby,” you continued. “No one will ever fill me up like you do.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight, holy shit,” Eddie cried out.

You could feel the peak approaching but then Eddie pushed in a bit too eagerly, and his cock slipped out and dove up into the folds of your pussy.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” you called out, clutching his shoulder, begging him to work the head of his cock on your clit.

“Fuck baby fuckkkkk,” he hissed, thrusting his hips, fucking your folds with the underside of his cock.  “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

And then, it was you who was cumming, babbling, riding the wave as Eddie cock dipped back inside, needing to feel like he was pumping it inside of you, worshiping you from the inside with his seed.

In the aftermath, his head lowered, hair hanging down, he enjoyed the slip of your cum, feeding you the shaft a few more times. 

Eddie was about to pull you against him to watch Movie Macabre for real this time, but when you came out of the bathroom, you were fully dressed with your bag over your shoulder and a distinct look of goodbye on your face.

“I should get going,” you announced, picking at some loose skin around your cuticle.  

Eddie stood from the couch, fixing himself, making sure the zipper was up on his jeans.  He didn’t have a shirt on, exposing the cut lines at his hips and trail of hair below his belly button.

“Sure, sure, um,” he looked around, hands on his hips.  “You don’t have to go.  I mean, you could even stay here, if you wanted. I could set my alarm if you have to get up early.”

You wondered what he charged for overnight stays.  Would you receive a bill on Monday for two full days worth of gigolo time? You had no idea what his rates were, and you still knew you couldn’t afford it.   The voices in your head were telling you what a gullible, cock drunk fool you were. While in the bathroom, you realized that everything he said was way too good to be true.  No man had ever wanted you this bad, nor would they ever.  A part of you was even harboring some anger towards him for being deceitful and making you feel things you’d gone 3 decades without.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat. “For this.  I have a big day tomorrow, so,” and then you turned without another word, headed for the door.

Eddie hustled after you.  “Okay, so, I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow, yeah? We’ll go together?”

“Actually,” you gave him your profile.  “I think it would be better if  you just met me at the venue.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said quietly.  He was having a hard time reading you. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay, thanks again,” you said in a rush. 

“Hey, wait—-” but you were already out the door and hurrying down the driveway to your car, afraid to look back.  

---------

Thank you for reading!

[miley1442111]

back to chicago-c.berzatto

a/n: i'm probably going to make this two parts (or more) because I really like this idea so this is part 1. i imagined a fem reader and it's mentioned quite a few times but as usual, imagine what you like. SET AFTER SEASON 2

summary: a double date with your boyfriend at the Bear can only go well, right?

pairings: carmenberzatto x femreader (complicated relationship), platonicthe bear x reader, romantic oc x reader

warnings: general angst, mentions of mikeys death

You and Carmen had grown up together, living across the street from one another. Your childhoods were wildly different, his filled with family drama and personal independence. Yours filled with absent parents and the necessity of independence. You went to school together, went to prom together (as ‘friends’), and you were each other's first kiss. Then, you went off to college for law and business and he went off to cook. You vowed to never go back to Chicago, but stayed in contact with Mikey until he died. Then you came back. You felt a debilitating need to see Mikey off. Watch him be put into the ground. You had hoped Carmen would show up. He didn’t. 

You had stayed in Chicago, you had the time and money. Being a successful lawyer in New York was a great gig. Straight out of college you’d gotten a job at a top law firm, and just last year you were made partner. Taking time off for personal reasons wasn’t questioned. Even if it had happened a year ago. Even though you were in Chicago purely for the reason of nostalgia. You’d gone last year for the funeral and this time it was just because something in you missed it. 

It felt good to breathe in the Chicago air again as you walked down the darkened streets, ready for a date at a new Chicago restaurant, The Bear. It was where The Beef had been. Devastating how someone just came in and wrecked all of Mikey’s work. You thought to yourself as you opened the door and searched for the man you were meeting. Adrian, an accountant you’d met at a jazz club, was a nice man. He was sweet and reliable, funny and kind and you both got along well. He was never too handsy and always on time… but you still feared full commitment. He waved you over and you sat beside him as he pressed a kiss to your lips, you smiled, greeting his friends. This ‘double date’ thing had been his idea. This restaurant had been his idea, and as you stared Richie Jerimovich in the face, a shocked dumb-founded look on his face, you remembered why you left Chicago in the first place You remembered Carmen always wanted to call his restaurant ‘The Bear’ and you remembered that there was no getting out of this. 

Shit. 

“Do you two know each other?” Adrian asked, a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. 

“Fuck yeah we do! Cousin, how are you?” Richie smiled, forgoing the formalities and pulling you out of your seat and into a hug. 

“Richie, how are you?” You mustered up your best fake smile, trying to keep the gaze of Adrian’s friends unsuspicious. 

“I’m great Bug, how are you?” he asked, using the wretched nickname you endured for all those years. 

“Bug?” Adrian smiled. 

“Childhood nickname,” you explained quickly. “I’m good, Rich, real good.”

“You're a fancy lawyer now huh? What was it, New York right?” 

“That’s right,” you smiled. You couldn’t ruin this dinner. Adrian had flown all the way from New York to see you. This was the first time in a month that he’d seen you. Adrian’s friends had to like you. You had to make them like you.

“Sugar’s going to freak out when she sees you,” Richie smiled. You followed Nat on instagram, but refused to like any of her pictures, not wanting her to reach out. You knew she was pregnant. “You won’t believe it, she’s pregnant!”

“Oh my god! I must congratulate her,” you smiled, not realising what that tiny statement would bring.

“I’ll take you to the back now! I’ll give the rest of you guys the tour after,” he smiled at the rest of the table and they seemed to be excited by the prospect of seeing the kitchen so you plastered on a smile, kissed Adrian’s cheek, and let Richie lead the way. 

As you edged closer to the kitchen, you could hear voices, but thankfully not Carmen’s. You turned a corner, pushed through the door behind Richie, and you were led to a small office. Inside sat Natalie ‘Sugar’ Berzatto, ‘Uncle Jimmy’, and Carmen fucking Berzatto. You let out a breath.

“Look who came in to say hi,” Richie announced, stepping to the side to stop covering you. Sugar and Jimmy’s eyes lit up and they immediately started to hug you, yet Carmen stayed frozen to his spot against the wall.

“My love, how’s New York?” Jimmy asked, his arms around you. 

“It’s great, everything I wanted,” you smiled. Your life was something you felt you could be proud of. You loved New York and you loved your job. You had great friends, friends that were practically family. You had Adrian, he was great and he loved you. Yet you still thought about the Berzattos daily. “Congratulations Natalie!” You turned to her, hugging her side due to her large bump. 

You exchanged small talk back and forth with Jimmy and Sugar as Richie and Carmen whispered in the corner. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it worried you. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

carmen

There you were. Standing there, fucking glowing. And here I was, a stained white t-shirt on and a pair of fucking jeans on. You looked beautiful, the type of beautiful that would make me jealous of the guy you were going home to if I saw you walking down the street. What were you doing here? Why the fuck were you standing in my office, looking so damn beautiful, yet so unattainable?

“She’s here with a guy,” Richie whispered into my ear. 

“What?” I scoffed. 

“She’s here with a guy!” He whispered louder. I felt my blood boil. So you’re here, in my fucking restaurant, with some other fucking guy. Awesome. I searched your hands for an engagement ring, or worse, a wedding ring. I saw none and my ears refocused into the room. 

“So?” I sighed, feigning disinterest.

“ ‘So’? Your fucking girl is with another guy. In your restaurant!” Richie snapped. 

“She’s not my fucking girl anymore, stop talking outta your ass,” I shoved him, making him leave me alone. My words were deflections. Of course you were my fucking girl, you always would be. You were perfection personified in my eyes, even with any of your flaws. And I wanted you to be my girl, but I got so fucking in my head about it I couldn‘t ask, and then we left and went our separate ways. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

“Look, I’d better get back to my table, my boyfriend’s waiting-”

“Boyfriend?” Jimmy cut you off. “I thought you and Carmy were dating?” 

“Yeah, when we were like 17-” You started but Carmen cut you off. 

“We never dated.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Your smile faltered, then faded entirely and it was all Carmen’s fault. 

“Look, I’m sure my table is waiting on me to order, it was great to see you guys,” you smiled and left the room, walking back to your table, a sigh leaving your lips. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen 

“You are such a fuckin’ asshole!” Richie shouted as Sugar and Jimmy sighed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about ‘we never dated’? You’re still fuckin’ in love with her!” 

“Richie just fuck off ok! I don’t have to explain shit to you-” I started but I was cut off by Sugar. 

“That was such a shitty thing to say Bear! We haven’t seen that girl in fucking years and of course you had to fucking ruin it. We’ll probably never fucking see her again!” 

“I know that was shitty Sugar, I’mf fucking aware!” I started as I walked out of the office and into the kitchen. I wanted to make your food amazing. That was the only way you’d ever forgive me, right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You

You walked back to your table and answered any and all questions pertaining to your relationships with the Berzattos, leaving out that you had a crush on Carmen. You allowed yourself to peek into the kitchen window and you saw him furiously moving. He was mixing something? You couldn’t see. Adrian’s kissing your shoulder pulled you back to reality. Adrian was great. He knew how hard tonight was for you. He knew about what happened in your childhood. He knew about what happened with Carmen. Adrian’s friends, Emilia and John both got up to take a smoke break and he turned to you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, squeezing your hand.

“Fine, it’s just… messy, I guess.”

“Well you’re doing great. John and Emilia love you,” he smiled and kissed your cheek. “I wouldn’t have picked this place if I knew, I just wanted to see you-”

“I know,” you smiled at him. “I wanted to see you too,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he grinned. 

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he flirted. 

“So do you,” you simply said and he chuckled. 

“Such a flirt,” he joked and you laughed, a real laugh. He kissed you again, quick and sweet. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said matter-of-factly and his face lit up. You truly had no idea if you actually loved him. Your commitment issues were constantly getting in the way of your relationships, so you had to do something, telling him you love him, I admit, might’ve been a crazy thing to start with but, you were running out of options.

He kissed you again, less quickly but still polite enough to not be seen as improper. John and Emilia started walking back in, so you pulled away to see him with a boyish grin on his face. 

That felt… good? Like it was right?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Carmen

I walked out into my own restaurant, nervous as I was when I was 17, asking you to the prom. All you have to do is explain the dishes. I thought to myself. I know my dishes. Richie walked behind me with the other two dishes in his hands, and I took a deep breath. There you were, radiant as ever, laughing along with what someone said. I would do fucking anything to just have your number so I could just text you sometimes. 

I walked up, standing beside you and your smile flattened, looking fake. 

“Hey Carmen,” you greeted. 

“And how do you know the owner?” John asked, excited about all of the attention your table was getting.

“We were-”

“We dated in highschool,”  I said before you could finish and John chuckled as your boyfriend put a protective arm around your shoulder. I explained all the dishes and placed them in front of each of your table. 

“Thanks Bear,” you mumbled and my heart practically stopped. 

“Well, thanks,” your boyfriend gritted out. I smirked. 

——————————————————————————————————-

(PART 2)

[the-kr8tor]

Sending a req for zombie apocalypse au like you asked!^^ (Crow anon but I aint signing hehe) I have two ideas for some fluffiness (if you wanna use em!) so I'll lay em out here- 1. As I mention in my daily hobie hc, you try to call his name but you can't get to him- maybe, we'll go 180 here and you manage to get to him/he remembers you, and its like a reunion sorta thing OR 2. You both are zombies and are maybe revisiting places you've had dates before- (wink wink abandoned building date wink wink) Silly fluffy zombie stuff

Yeess zombie au!! I chose the second one! And surprise surprise, it ended up being angstier than I thought it would be lol thank you for requesting! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW gore, TW death, CW blood. Zombie AU, Angst.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Amidst the haze of death and the fog of rot, Yuri finally finds you. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of your sunken eyes and grotesque infected bite on your neck. Her trigger finger shakes as her scope roams around your bloodied clothes. Drying black splotches of blood marring the familiar jacket you always wore. A sob breaks through her body, tears blurring her vision, she finally found you but it's too late.

She's too late.

Yuri whispers your name, and you stumble out of the dilapidated record shop like you heard her. Out comes another familiar form after you, leather jacket all torn up, jaw unhinged and numerous bites along his leg. Yuri almost screams his name, Hobie. Her hopes are dashed at the sight of his undead body following you. She thought that he would be alive at least, that he's surviving somewhere, but she knows that he can't survive without you. That's probably why when Yuri moves the sniper scope downwards, she sees your hand bound with his. A rope around your wrist and Hobie's, tying you to him, tying him to you. It says everything, it tells a tragedy.

She hoped and wished that she would find her friends after the world ended, hell, she even readied herself that she would find them without a breath in their decaying lungs. But not like this, never like this.

You both shamble off into the streets, as if you're holding each other, as if you're both still breathing, hand in hand, like how she always sees you both. Yuri hesitates to pull the trigger. She remembers everything, from how you laughed at her joke, from how she met Hobie to the last gig with you two before the world went to shit. She misses you both, truly, she would always wake up wondering where you two ended up amidst the chaos. She even relished the thought of not knowing, her mind making up situations of where her friends would be.

Yuri has no idea how to tell Ned.

Her walkie-talkie cackles on her chest, the unmistakable voice of Ned sounds out on the roof she's perched on. “Yuri?” He asks, voice tired.

Yuri clears her throat but the tears still come. “I'm here.”

“Good, uh, I know we're looking for supplies but you know the drill. If you see any signs of Y/N and Hobie—”

“I'll tell you, I know.” She knows Ned's spiel already, it has been almost two years of trying to find you two, two years of Ned saying the exact same sentence. Two years of scavenging the city and the only sign you two have left was Hobie's guitar left on the floor of a pharmacy. That was six months ago. Two years of hope, two years of longing to find you both alive and well. And now that she has, she has no idea what to do now. Especially that you're husks what you and Hobie used to be.

The walkie-talkie cackles to life again. “...okay, thanks. No sign of them on my end.”

Yuri looks through her scope again, following you and Hobie shambles into the old pub where everyone in the band frequents before everyone got separated. Then she realizes, you were both going into places where you two used to go to. The record shop was where you met the rest of the band, where Hobie introduced you to them. She remembers how shy yet excited you were to meet them, and she remembers how Hobie held on to you like someone in the band would shoo you away. No one did, everyone else welcomed you with open arms. That was almost ten years ago now. Yuri wishes she could go back, but she can't.

Every place leads back to the past.

She weeps alone, gloved hand covering her mouth so the noise wouldn't attract the horde below.

Yuri has the urge to come down from her perch to take a good look at you and Hobie. But she knows that she wouldn't be able to pull the trigger once she sees your still intertwined hands closer. She hates herself for not being brave enough to come and say goodbye to her friends, she hates herself for not telling Ned the truth. She hates herself for not finding the both of you sooner.

As the sun sets and the undead below groans lowly, teeth clacking against the other, chomping into nothingness. The sobs Yuri let out has subsided, yet the heaviness in her chest stays. She wonders how long it'll stay.

Seeing movement inside the pub, she looks into her scope to spot you two walking out. For a moment her eyes betray her, she sees you both alive and well, clean clothes on your back, smiling at eachother and hands intertwined like always. Yuri blinks and all she sees is death.

With a deep inhale, she follows you and Hobie throughout your ‘day’. Ignoring James’ and Ned’s calls, she jumps from roof to roof, sniper tied on her back, and mind imagining that it's a regular day for you both. That maybe in your mind’s eye, that you're having a date with Hobie, that maybe in his mind's eye that he's taking you out for a nice day out after a hard week.

She hopes that's the case.

Yuri always thought that there's always a semblance of somebody's life left in them once they turn. You walking into the empty grocery store with Hobie in tow proves it. She wonders if there's a cure, she could possibly bring you both back to life. But the gaping hole in your neck and the angry wound on Hobie's leg says otherwise.

Jumping to another dusty roof, you and Hobie are a lot closer to her now. She could see you both clearly, she wishes she doesn't. From just one good look at the injuries littered around yours and Hobie's rotting flesh, she surmises that her friends have only been dead for two weeks.

Yuri fights a sob from breaking out of her aching chest. She was too late, her mind racing to all the what if’s. Shaking her head, she sees you two wander off to the pier. And she immediately knows where you're going. As you both disappear behind broken boats, Yuri jumps off the roof with a practiced landing. Barely making any sound or letting her knees take the brunt of the fall. A tear escapes when she remembers that she learned how to do that from Hobie.

Trainers thumping softly against the wooden dock. Yuri sees you and Hobie sitting at the end of it, barely moving, still not breathing as you two watch the sunset. Your backs are turned away from her, if you can even smell her from where you sat, you don't take notice of her. Milky white eyes glued at the orange sunset that slowly sinks down into the sea.

Yuri takes out her handgun, breath stuck in her throat as she aims shakily at your heads. Whispering your names, instead of looking over your shoulders to stare and lunge at her warm flesh, you place your heavy head on top of Hobie's shoulder.

Yuri shakes her head, exhaling, you both look so alive like this, peaceful, lives untouched by sorrow and death.

When Yuri returns back to base with Ned frantically running towards her, eyes full of worry, he knows immediately the reason why her eyes are red, and why there's tears flowing down her tear stained cheeks. He knows, and he crumbles to his feet.

[yawneneteyam]

ALL THINGS CONNECTED | j. flatters chapter two — i know what i want life to be

summary: growing up on the set of avatar: the way of water was a dream. your friends had become your family, all except for one. jamie was the one person you always found yourself drawn to, in ways more complex than the title of 'best friends' [3.5k].

pairing: fem!reader x jamie flatters

notes: based on jamie flatters documentary: all things connected. co-stars/friends to lovers. inspired by @cacapeepee. thank you to the wonderful anons and users who sent in names for y/n's character, I ended up going with tey'feyra! hope you guys like it, last chapter of establishing- moving onto their relationship more now. mentions of eating habits.

masterlist ⎸ chapter one | chapter three

2016.

it wasn't like you were waiting for a call. you had other things that you could do with your time. people are only sixteen once, you had people to see and memories to make. so if you were sat by the phone for a month, waiting for a call, people could call you pathetic.

that’s exactly what you were.. pathetic. because you had been waiting by the phone. wherever you went, your phone was on loud speaker, waiting for a call from your agent or from the casting directors. it seemed like you had finally realised how little your phone goes off when you’re waiting for it to ping you with a notification. 

you were beginning to resent people that were calling you, because they weren’t who you wanted to hear from. the anxiety that would erupt in your chest when your phone rang was piercing, but the let down once you saw the caller id was much worse. disappointed doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel. 

your friends tried to comfort you as best they could, but no amount of effort from them changed the way you saw it. you didn’t get the part. 

it had been three weeks and two days when you decided to face the facts. you hadn’t gotten the part and they casted someone else. she was probably gorgeous and didn’t go off script in her audition. you knew you were stupid to start making up your own lines, they probably thought you were unprofessional and weren’t serious. but you were, and if they gave you another chance you would show them.

but they won’t and that’s the reality you had to face. 

you promised yourself that you would accept it now. no more jumping when your phone rang, or texting your agent to see if they had heard anything. you started working harder, sending out self-tapes as quickly as you could- you were determined to throw yourself into other projects to distract yourself. you began to film again, making short projects on your own to remind yourself of the things you enjoy about film- not the heartbreak actors often face. 

you called your agent to see if she had anymore roles you could apply for. the desperation to work again was hitting you harder than it should’ve. sometimes your parents wished they never let you act, that you could just be a regular teenager with no pressures. you wouldn’t need to feel an overwhelming urge to impress everyone. but that was the life you chose for yourself.

“i need another gig,” you sat at the kitchen table, head in your hands with your phone on speaker in front of you. you knew that you couldn't just expect your agent to find you more calls that you fit the criteria for, but you could hope.

“i told you, i’m looking” she laughed, it was the third time in the last five days you had called her about getting more work. she had never met a teenager who wanted to drown in work as much as you did, you were dedicated, she could give you that much. “i cant just pull a role out of my ass for you, you know that” she sighed with a smile.

“well it would be nice if you could every once in a while” you tilted your head, a small disappointed smile made itself present on your face.

“shh, i’m reading”

“reading what?” you asked.

she sighed again, “a casting call i’ve been sent, so shh”.

you rolled your eyes and sat quietly, leaving her to read. you heard your mum pull up in the driveway, meaning you had spent another day not doing much and that she would be reminding you of that as soon as she got inside. she would rather have you working than sitting around moping.

“did i end up telling you that the crew from avatar got back to me?”

“no," you sighed, "but that doesn’t sound good”. you didn't get the part. you rested your chin in both of your hands with your elbows on the table. you had already accepted it anyway, but knowing now that it was real, felt all the more disappointing, “who’d they end up casting?”

"y/n?" you thought she didn't hear you.

"yeah?"

"you got the part"

2017.

that phone call changed lots of things for you. 

you were now a major character in one of the world's biggest films. with a new role, you had moved your entire life to los angelas for the next two years. your parents were with you, but often had to travel back home for work- leaving you in the hands of your agent, natalie, james cameron, and the other cast members, or their parents. you had been introduced to a whole new type of filming, motion capture. now, you could properly say you will never be able to take yourself seriously again after wearing your suit every day. 

los angelas was different to where you were from, it was much busier, but you had shot other projects here- just none like this. almost everyday you were training your lungs to hold your breath underwater. you worked one-on-one with professional free divers to increase your time period underwater, and sometimes in groups with the other cast members. 

character names had changed, un'su was now lo'ak, sai'ak now te'feyra. character designs changed, sigourney asked to alter the way that kiri looked. character's plots changed entirely, but.. you couldn't disclose that information. 

you and the other cast members were quite young, the next generation of na'vi. zoe and sam adored working with you all, but your favourite scenes to film were with your friends. you all grew quite close, just in your first month on set.

"y/n stop moving," jose, moved your skin back to face the mirror in front of you. he was one of the hair and makeup artists on set, he usually painted the dots on your face for motion capture. he also classified himself as a part-time babysitter.

"filip, stop it" you smacked his foot away from you.

"y/n!" jose yelled.. and this is why.

"he's kicking me!" you argued back, a smile on your face.

"i am not" he did it again, sending his foot over your way. filip chuckled softly, tapping your leg with his foot over and over.. and over.

"i'm literally going to separate you two," jose stood up straight and sighed deeply.

"good! get me away from him," you laughed.

filip leant back in his chair, the one up net to yours. "you're so mean to me and all i do is give you love" he held out his hand, "why do you do this to me?" he asked, a smile on his face.

in the main trailer, there were eight chairs in a row for each younger cast member with a small vanity space for each person. filip and you were often booked in for the same time in makeup everyday. you were just lucky enough to also have the seat next to him, which allowed him to annoy you on the daily. you had never been grateful to be an only child until you met filip, because if this is what having a brother is like- you didn't want it.

"you're still kicking me!" you sat up and yelled. he laughed in your face.

"you're so easy to annoy," filip chuckled.

"okay, that's enough" jose held up his hands, and moved to stand in between you and filip. "i need to put these stupid dots on your face, can you both stop it" jose smiled. you both knew that no matter how frustrating it was to deal with you both, that jose did enjoy you both.

"don't anger the man of the dots" you said, giving filip a pointed look before leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes. jose started painting the last few on your face, before he could let you go to set.

"i don't know why i decided to work with children," he whispered.

"do you get paid enough to deal with us?" trinity asked from next to you, where she was sat in jamie's seat.

you were lucky you got to sit with the boys in the trailer, all of them took good care of you on set. duane, filip, yourself and jamie were a little group who were always around each other. trinity often found her way to you, following you around. she was like your little sister, her sweet smile was welcome to hang out with you.

"trinity, there is not enough money in the world, sweetheart" jose shook his head with a smile. trinity giggled, spinning around in jamie's chair.

"y/n?" a voice spoke up, "is y/n in here?" rita popped her head through the trailer's entrance. rita was the head of hair in performance capture, an older woman who you loved working with. 

"rita!" trinity cheered.

"hi rita!" filip called out.

"i'm here!" you called out, keeping still for jose.

"we need you in around 5, okay lovely? jim wants to go through the leaving scene with you and jamie" she explained, coming up behind you- lightly grabbing your head and beginning to braid your hair so you could leave the trailer quicker.

"well if she sits still, maybe she can go run her scene" jose looked up at rita with a smirk.

"y/n" rita said in a warning tone, pausing her actions.

"it's not even me! it's him!" you tried as best you could to point to filip with your eyes closed.

rita chuckled, continuing braiding. "mhmm" she mumbled.

you giggled as rita laughed at you. you tried to run through the lines for the scene that you would run with jamie as best you could. thinking of the ways jamie might deliver his line, and the ways that you could carry on from that. but jamie was a dedicated actor, he always had more than one way to deliver a line- he liked to keep you on your toes.

"okay, get out of here," jose stood up straight and threw the cotton tip in the trashcan. "filip, you're next" he said.

"thank you," you said, letting rita tie off your braids with an elastic band.

"you're welcome," jose gave you a pointed look, "now, get out of my trailer," 

you found zoe and sam on a buggie together and quickly climbed on, knowing that they were going to main set. you sat in between them both on the back. 

"what are you shooting today?" zoe asked, fixing one of your braids that had fallen from it's spot pinned in your hair.

"i'm going to run through a scene with jamie and jim, and then we're shooting it at three" you said, holding your head still, making faces at sam as he looked over at you. "i have stunts later too,"

"yeah?" she asked, "one sec, i've almost got it," zoe tried to pin the braid back in securely so it would fit inside your motion-capture suit nicely. "what scene are you doing with jamie?"

"the one where i find out he's leaving" you pushed sam's hand away with a smile as he tried to poke you.

"ya, gonna kiss him?" sam teased, poking you anyway.

"ew, no!" 

"sam!" zoe exclaimed, "they're kids"

"i was kissing girls at your age," he said.

"oh my god," zoe pulled you into her embrace, "don't listen to him, he'll corrupt you". you laughed, as you leant into her hold.

once arriving on main set, you said goodbye to zoe and sam when you saw james with jamie and richard, a producer.

"i have to be honest with you," you said looking up at jim, "i forgot my script," you admitted, smiling.

"good thing too, because you should know your lines," james chuckled, sitting down in his seat.

"pfft, do you have no faith?" you held your hands on your hips, "i know my lines".

"you don't have the greatest track record, do you?" jamie leant his elbow on your shoulder, leaning his weight onto you.

"don't even talk to me," you shoved him off playfully.

"nice dots" he held up his thumbs with a over-dramatised smile.

"alright, can we run through the scene?" james chuckled, interrupting you both.

"yes, i'm ready" you nodded. you and jamie stood next to each other, knowing james was going to want to explain the scene to you both first.

"okay, so when we do it on the day, we're gonna have te'feyra coming down off of a tree branch and onto the ground with neteyam chasing after her," he explained, "so we'll get some levels out so you can actually walk down at the same angles okay?".

"yep" you nodded.

"sounds good" jamie said.

"you want us to just do lines? or mark it too?" you asked, taking a step away from jamie, getting ready to run the scene.

"we'll do lines for now, come back in around.." james looked at his watch for the time, "thirty minutes, then mark it" 

"kay'" 

richard takes a breath and pulls out his copy of the script, "te'feyra is walking away from neteyam and he says.."

"te'feyra wait," jamie's accent had changed entirely since you both met initially for your chemistry read. you and the rest of the kids had been working closely with a dialect coach to really nail the na'vi accent. jamie, sigourney, britain, yourself and trinity had worked closely with zoe too, the omatikaya having a different dialect to the metkayina.

jamie had grown a little since you first met, his voice was deeper. he had started to become more of a man. he shaved his head since you first met, it was only starting to grow back recently.

"you didn't think to mention that your family is leaving?" you asked, panting slightly to give the illusion of you walking away from him.

"it was not finalised until this morning," he argued.

"i find that difficult to believe, neteyam"

"te'feyra, please. te'feyra slow down!" jamie raised his voice, grabbing your hand, "i am sorry, but it is what is best for the clan".

"for once can you stop thinking about everyone else?" you pulled your hand away from his. jamie was a very physical actor, even if you were just running lines, he would find anyway to hold your hand or lightly pull you closer to him. he calls it acting, but james and richard could see right through it. "what about.. what about us?" you asked.

"what do you mean?"

"you are not a moron, neteyam" you whispered.

"no," he sighed, looking at the ground, "i'm not sure. my father wants us to leave as soon as possible, he has already chosen who will take over as olo'eyktan"

you scoffed, "great".

"you will continue tsahik training, you will lead this clan" jamie continued to speak.

"i was supposed to lead it with you," you raised your voice at him. "i don't want to lead, if it isn't with you. that's what our parents agreed on, yes? that we would lead together. i will not lead this clan without you here, netayam" 

te'feyra and neteyam were betrothed to each other from a young age. it was set in stone that they would grow up to be oloekytan and tsahik together. not that their parents agreement mattered, they were destined to be together by eywa's will. neteyam was all te'feyra had ever known, and now he was being taken away from her.

"you have to" jamie told you.

"no, i do not! i refuse." 

"te' please, i need you to do this for me" you heard jamie becoming more emotional in his voice, you only fed off of that. he had a way of getting through to you like that.

"and i need you to stay here," your voice broke. jamie looked up at you, he saw the tears glazing over your eyes. 

"we cannot," he shook his head, "it is dangerous if we do, the sky-people.. they- they are coming for my father, they will not stop"

"we can fight them," you nodded, grasping onto te'feyra's last piece of hope. "we are family here. we are strong" you grabbed onto his arms. see, where james and richard could see jamie's real reason for wanting to be close to you, they found that you had the exact same one.

"we cannot lose anymore people here. we are leaving, te'"

you paused, looking up at him.

"then i will come with you,"

"what?" he exclaimed, "no, you have to stay here"

"i am not staying here without you, neteyam. our parents chose us for each other, we stick together" you squeezed jamie's arms lightly.

"things are different now, it will not be safe if you come with us" jamie shook his head. 

"neteyam," you whispered, "i do not want to be here without you,"

jamie hesitated before whispering back, "i do not want to leave you".

"then don't"

"good," james nodded, standing back up, "good, that was good"

"notes?" you asked. jamie nodded in agreement. james admired the way the two of you always seeked more feedback from him. the two of you were becoming great actors.

"pretty happy, but i have a few things i want to write down and i'll get them to you before we mark the scene, yeah? he explained.

"thanks jim," jamie nodded.

"thank you"

james and richard walked away from you and jamie, leaving you both alone. jamie used one arm to bring you in for a hug, the other fixing the hood of his jumper. "how are you?" he asked. you squeezed him lightly as he held you.

"good. tired, but i'm good" you stayed in his embrace for a second longer, before letting go and looking up at him. "you seem grumpy today," you noted.

a smile appeared on his face, "oh wow, thanks so much" he nodded.

"oh, you're so welcome" you smiled back, he nudged you slightly as you both began to walk out back onto the tarmac outside into the sun.

"i'm so hungry" you said involuntarily, as you felt your stomach constrict.

"did you eat breakfast?" he looked at you whilst walking. you noticed the way his mouth always sat open slightly after speaking, his two front teeth peeking through the gap between his lips. 

"no," you admitted hesitantly.

"and why not?" he stopped walking.

you rolled your eyes with a grumble, "i had to go get my dots done" you whined, arguing with him.

jamie sighed, heading towards where the buggies were parked. "let's go get you breakfast" he said, "we've got half an hour anyway".

you and jamie hopped in the back of one of the buggies, a production assistant already waiting to take people from main set back to the tents and trailers. 

"when are you shooting?" you asked, fiddling with the pin in your braids.

"i don't start till eleven, i'm with britain" jamie grabbed the pin that you were playing with, noticing that you were struggling to get it back into its spot. you mumble a quick 'thanks' before he puts it back in.

"i haven't seen him yet" you tell jamie, as he checks if your hair is secure.

"he's probably in his trailer," jamie said before clearing his throat, pulling his hood off of his head.

"did you eat breakfast?" you asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

"yes, before i came to set," he smiled, "because normal people eat three meals a day-" he gave you a pointed look- "you know, to nourish their bodies?"

you rolled your eyes at him. jamie was always on everyone about taking care of themselves, but in the month you had been on set, you seemed to notice that he tended to look after everyone else, rather than himself sometimes.

"what scene are you filming?" you changed the subject.

jamie coughed into his hand before answering, "uh, we're doing the fight scene, when he goes to see payakan"

"mhm, fun. i might come watch"

"oh, im honoured" he held his hand to his heart.

"i need to find my script though," you noted.

he scrunched his eyebrows together, his teeth peeking through again in his fit of confusion, "i thought you said it was in your trailer?".

"i lied," you sighed, "i've lost it".

"jesus christ" he let a breath out, "you amaze me,".

"if the toast at craft is burnt, i don't want it" you jamie laughed as you changed the subject again.

"oh my god. yes princess, we'll get you some toast that isn't burnt" he nodded, hopping off the buggie now that we were back at the tents, "miss first world problems".

"i just want nice toast," you defended yourself.

"we're going to play basketball tonight at the park across from duane's parent's hotel if you wanna come?" jamie asked, holding open the curtain of the craft tent.

"yeah," you smile, "i'd love to come"

taglist. @littlexscarletxwitch, @thexplosivegirl, @lagoonabluebabe, @rexorangecouny, @ilovejakesullysdick @rhiannonhippiegirl @leelumenaura @playboykenz @couragemydearheart @whos6claire @m-1234 @coconut-dreamz @graysonshaven @stvpidscvpid @ok-boke @cvsmic-love @sully-stick-together @caniuseurname @fandom-geek17

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-four

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I wanted this to be a slow burn/enemies to lovers but god damn it's so hard to write because I already want Reader and Noah to get together.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo

With a loud sigh, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and walked towards to front end of the bus. On this bus, I shared it with Davis, Matt, and Bryan, and sometimes one guy from the band would pop in every once in a while: except Noah. At least if he did, it was when I was asleep or not around. Especially lately, Noah and I avoided each other. After the disaster of a dinner a couple nights ago, I refused to speak to him even about work. I went to everyone else instead of him if I had a question, which I didn't often since I knew what I was doing.

I didn't want to think about Noah right now. Not when my mind should only think about my mom.

Lana told me that even though my mom was having a lot of good days, she still refused to speak to me. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't break but I couldn't cry about it. I needed to focus for work and not give anyone a reason to figure out something was wrong.

We were close to the next city, less than an hour away, and we would hang out in Dallas for two days before heading out once more. Matt mentioned he had a surprise for everyone so called for a bus meeting which is where I found everyone with two surprise visitors.

Folio and Noah.

Giving a small smile to the former, I sat next to him at the table and he returned a smile. Noah was sitting on the long couch of the bus, chatting quietly with Bryan. They must have joined when we stopped last and I was asleep.

Noah's eyes burned hot at the side of my face but I ignored him as I bumped shoulders with Folio. We had been texting a bit the last couple days and have gotten pretty close; no romantic feelings involved. Folio had been a great friend and someone to vent too. I never told him about my mom, though. That was something I would take to the grave.

"Where's Jolly and Nick?" I asked.

"They stayed on our bus. They wanted the peace to sleep."

I nodded before pointing to Matt, who was standing at the front of the bus rubbing his hands together. "Any idea what this is about?"

"No fucking idea," Folio chuckled.

With my phone buzzing in my hand, I dared a peak at the notification to see another subscriber to my Only Fan's page. I didn't have many followers but enough to keep some money coming in. I could pay Lana her first paycheck and the extra income coming in was nice. I wasn't rolling in money but wasn't struggling on how to pay for things. With being constantly surrounded by the guys, I wasn't able to post much, just one other video and a few provocative pictures. I never showed my face, only from the neck down and never naked. I always had some short of clothes or underwear or an arm covering the private areas. Maybe that was the reason I had little subscribers, but it was the rules I set for myself when I started this.

"So, I bet you're all wondering why I called this meeting," Matt spoke while clapping his hands.

Folio muttered a joke to me under his breath which earned a loud laugh from me. Everyone looked our way, and I leaned back into the booth cheeks on fire.

"What's so funny?" Matt quirked a brow.

Noah's eyes pinned me to my spot as I glanced over to him. Something flashed behind those brown iris' while his jaw ticked.

"Nothing, Mr. Dierkes. Please continue with class," Folio joked with a smirk.

I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't laugh again.

"As I was saying," Matt began ignoring Folio. "It's been a week on tour and we've all been working tirelessly to make sure every show fucking rules. But there has been some tension within the group."

"I don't think you feel the same tension as some of us do," Noah said with his eyes on me.

Our eyes matched with intensity, and I let out a deep breath wondering what he meant by that.

Tension? Of course, there was tension between us but that's because we disliked each other.

Folio noticed I was ready to speak, so he pinched the bare skin of my shoulder which caused me to yelp out in slight pain.

"What the fuck was that for?" I seethed.

He nodded towards Matt to continue on, who looked displeased at being interrupted by our antics yet again.

In our days of texting, I told Folio about how it irritates me how Noah acts around me when we're alone versus when others are around. I also may have told him about my tiny feelings for Noah, which Folio told me it was pretty clear how I felt. While I thought no one noticed, Folio saw the stolen glances, the way my body reacted differently when Noah was around, or the way the corner of my lips curled up when Noah spoke or sang.

Always so perceptive.

I tried to get out of him why Noah was so upset about that night in Chicago but Folio refused. He said that was Noah's secret to share.

I tasted blood with how hard I bit my tongue and reluctantly gave Matt my attention.

"Since we'll be in Dallas for a few days, I rented an Airbnb for us to stay at as a way for us to bond or whatever the fuck. There's a pool and grill we can have a pool day on our off day," Matt said with a smile.

My heart sunk deep into the pits of my stomach. At least when we stayed in hotels, I had my room, sometimes doors down from Noah. But now, all of us staying in a house means it would be harder to avoid him.

"Is that necessary?" I questioned.

"Yes," Matt deadpanned. "If you want a hotel, book it on your personal card."

Low blow.

"Whatever," I grumbled while crossing my arms.

He simply gave me a large smirk before speaking again. "The only issue is that there aren't enough beds so some people will have to bunk together or sleep on the couch."

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered while running a hand down my face.

I didn't care the house situation, I would sleep on the floor if I had too if that meant I wouldn't share a bed with anyone, especially Noah. I liked these guys but not that much.

Folio patted my shoulder and whispered low in my ear.

"Maybe you and Noah should bunk together. Team bonding or whatever."

"Fuck off, Folio," I playfully smacked his chest before rising to my feet, his arm falling away from me. Noah was still staring at me and I knew with how close Folio and I had been, he wasn't happy. His jaw clenched so tight, and his hands balled into fists in his lap.

I didn't bother giving him another glance as I turned my back to him to retreat into my bunk to mentally prepare for this team bonding bullshit Matt set up.

Okay, I had to admit. This house was fucking sick.

There were large floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto a beautiful backyard and if you looked past that, you could see the city down below the hill the house was on. It was a large open floor plan with a living room, kitchen, and bar with a pool table off of the dinning room. Upstairs was an open loft area with a large sectional couch and four bedrooms.

While I was in my bunk on the bus, the room situation had been decided by drawing matching straws. No one bothered to ask for me to draw because somehow by the Gods below, Noah was the last to pick and was only left with the color red.

Jolly and Nick.

Bryan and Davis.

Matt and Folio.

Noah and I.

When Folio told me the sleeping arrangements, I wanted to cry in anger. It seemed as if no matter how hard I tried to avoid Noah, something yanked us back together. Folio offered to swap with me but I declined, already deciding that I would sleep on whatever couch was provided.

A warm presence encased around me, making the hairs on my arm prick, and I peered up to my left seeing Noah standing next to me in the house's entryway.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

I blinked, somewhat surprised that he offered that. I fully expected him to lock me out of the room.

"I'm smaller than you. It might be better for you to sleep on the bed," I offered.

Was I being nice?

My body shivered at the thought.

Noah shook his head then hoisted his back over his shoulder. "Take the room, angel. You're the only girl here. You should have some privacy."

Was he being nice now in front of the others? They all stood less than a few feet from us.

Did I wake up in the twilight zone?

When I went to protest yet again, he shot me a look that caused my lips to pull tight together. We stood in silence for a few moments and I let out a soft breath.

"Thank you."

Noah made a noise in his throat and his eyes glittered as they darted between mine. His large hand brushed away hair from my face and I leaned into his touch, all the pent up anger between us melting away.

The question weighed heavy on my tongue as I pursed my lips a few times.

"Why do you call me angel?" I finally croaked out.

His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck, the pads of his finger pressing deep into the skin, and shrugged.

"It feels right."

I raised a brow. "What if I don't like it?"

"Too bad. It stays, angel," he dragged out the last word with a large grin.

Irritation flared inside of me but before I could say anything, the warmth around my neck was gone as Noah walked away. I blinked after him, watching as he tossed his bag onto the couch before stepping outside into the large backyard.

"Soundcheck is in one hour!" Matt called out, his voice carrying through the open space.

With that, I forced my feet to take me upstairs to the bedrooms so I could get ready. The only room left was the closet one to the stairs and directly across the long sectional couch. If Noah would sleep here tonight, he'd be able to look right into my room and see me laying in bed. The thought made something ignite in my stomach but I ignored it.

This was the only room with a bathroom attached which made me wonder if the guys purposely gave me this room. As I placed my things throughout the room since we were going to be here for a few days, my phone rang loudly from its spot on the bed as I was in the bathroom and rushed to answer it in time.

"Hello?" I asked breathless

"Hi dear. How're things?"

I smiled into the phone at Lana. "Good. I'm going to be heading to the venue soon to set up. Everything alright?"

"Well," Lana started.

My ass fell into the bed with a groan and prepared myself for what was about to come.

"What happened?"

"Your neighbors found your mother in their bathroom this morning; in their shower."

I pinched my eyes shut with a groan. "Please tell me it was the Johnson's. They know what's going on with her so they would understand. Well, as much as I hoped they would."

"Yes, thankfully. I was able to bring her back home without incidents."

"Good," I let out a long breath. "How is she now?"

"She's fine, in her room resting but-."

"I don't like the sound of that but," I noted.

"Y/N, I know you love your mother and want the upmost best care possible for her."

I nodded. "But."

"But I think your mother would be better in a home where someone can watch and monitor her twenty-four hours of the day. I can only do so much especially when she takes off."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to cry. This conversation was one I knew I was bound to have at some point. My mothers Alzheimers was getting progressively worse and soon, I feared there might be a time where I couldn't handle it.

But now wasn't that time.

"I'll think about it," I said after a few beats.

It wasn't a lie, per se. I would think about it, way down the road.

"I'll see if she wants to talk," Lana said.

"No, it's alright. I don't want to bother her."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips.

"Alright dear. I'll call you tomorrow."

After we said our goodbyes, I let my phone clatter to the floor at my feet then plopped down onto the bed. Tears pricked at my eyes and I dug my palms into them, hoping it would force the tears away. My mom was the most important person in my life. We were all each other had after my father died, so being so far away from her when she needed me the most made the guilt rip me apart.

Was this job worth it? Was the money worth it?

These questions kept replaying in my mine over and over as I laid on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A few tears escaped drying to my warm cheeks. The money was worth it; it had to be. I still wasn't making a lot of money from Only Fans so whatever I made doing this, I needed.

There was a soft knock on my open door and my breath hitched when I noticed Noah leaning against it. How long had he'd been there? Did he hear my conversation with Lana?

I sat up in bed while covertly drying my eyes.

"The manager at the venue said the set up for merch has to be in the hallway downstairs. Is that alright?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I've been put in weirder places so it's fine."

Noah gave a curt nod while crossing his arms over his chest. I suddenly felt small under his eyes and rose to my feet hoping that watching me gather my things to get ready it would be a silent dismissal. But no, he continued to watch every single movement I made.

"Is there anything else you need, Noah?" I asked with a sigh, finally looking at him.

His black shirt clung to the thick muscles of his arms and chest. His brown hair had fallen into his face in a tousled mess from being on the tour bus the majority of the day.

Noah was breathtaking in every single way, and my core practically begged for some kind of friction.

Not now, traitor.

"Have I mentioned how much I love hearing my name coming from your pretty little mouth?," he mused while licking his own.

My legs squeezed together, my body screaming with that small release against my core, but I refused to let him know how bad he was affecting me.

"Is that it?" I asked.

Noah said nothing as he walked over to my open suitcase and riffled through it, obviously looking for something.

"What are you doing?"

My heart raced as I watched him, knowing that if he picked up that red t-shirt, he would find the variety of sex toys I use for my videos. What he found, though, was something I hadn't expected him to. An old shirt of his that I borrowed from the last tour. It was the second night and Bad Omens played a sold-out show. The crowd was alive the entire night and every one of us was buzzing with excitement. Once we returned to the hotel that night, we all jumped into the outdoor pool even though it was pretty chilly that night. Noah offered his dry shirt to me so I could warm up which at the time I took gratefully.

That night was before the night in Chicago. Before Noah's attitude toward me changed.

It got buried along with my other things after the last tour and forgotten about.

Bullshit.

I may have worn it to bed some nights; so much so that his scent had faded while ago.

Noah tossed the shirt over to me and I caught it just before it hit me in my face. My lips stuttered trying to come up with an excuse because I still had it.

"Wear that."

"Excuse me? I asked irritation lacing my words. "Since when do I take orders from you on what I wear?"

He closed the distance between us in two large steps, his fingers tilting my chin up towards his face. Our lips were so close, I could almost taste the beer he must have had before coming into my room. And the hint of bourbon and spice from his cologne filled my senses.

So warm and familiar.

"There's a reason you kept it, angel. Might as well wear it."

Noah's voice was dark and heavy, laced with something I could pinpoint. His eyes were just as dark as his words and I swallowed hard. My body flared with desire, heat pooling between my legs, and I let out a breathless whine eventually nodding.

"Good girl," he breathed across my lips.

His eyes darted from mine down to my lips where it stayed for a long moment before he dropped his hand from my face then left me standing in the room with a heavy wetness and an ache between my legs.

[fuckinthewholetown]

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter Two

Chapter two is finally here!!! Thank you all for the support on chapter one, none of the comments made me cry which means I’m clearly doing something right. I’ve tried something a bit different with this one so you finally get some insight into what the hell Matty is doing.

Tags: Angst, slight mentions of smut, swearing

Word Count: 4985

Minors do not interact!!!

Your POV

The UK/Europe leg of the tour was over in a flash, doing a full lap of Europe before you end back where you started, Wembley Stadium. Now, you have three months to relax until you kick off the North American portion of your tour in Arlington, Texas. However, there’s one thing the Lost Atlantis girls don’t know how to do and that’s take a break. Somehow, despite all of your success, you end up in a dingy Premier Inn just North of central London on a random Sunday in the beginning of July.

“If I knew you’d get free tickets to 1975 gigs, I would’ve slid into Ross’s DMs for you years ago.” You say, slicking your hair back into a low ponytail in the dim lighting of the bathroom.

“This is why I was hesitant to tell you, because now you’ve got us dressing up like we’re spy’s.” Maddie says, chuckling as she sticks a skinny black tie around her neck.

“I thought considering you’re shagging a member of the band you’d understand this but I’ll gladly explain it to you again. This is a formal situation, and there’s a dress code. It’s essentially a Matty Healy cosplay competition disguised as a concert.” You reply, exiting the bathroom and doing a spin to show Maddie your entire get up.

“I understand the whole dress code thing, what I don’t understand is why you want to follow it. All you’ve been doing for the last two months is performing and slowly falling into a downwards spiral over Matty hating you. The last thing you want to do is look like him.”

“Maddison, when will you learn? Yes, I am constantly having a mental breakdown over the fact he hates me but my power as a fan girl trumps that any day of the week. I tried getting tickets for this gig and I couldn’t, so now that God has dropped free tickets into my lap I’m going to seize this opportunity.” You respond, sitting down on the rock solid mattress probably worth about a tenner.

“That was an excellent speech, there’s a reason we make you do all the talking.” You both fall into a comfortable silence, doom scrolling until the rest of the girls are ready.

Truth be told, you were putting on a front, acting all excited to see the boys again. And you are, both because you missed them and because you’ve spent the last four years waiting to see The 1975 at Finsbury Park. Despite this, there’s still a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. The thought of seeing Matty again and once again being rejected leaves a lump the size of a golf ball in your throat. Maddie was right, you haven’t been able to enjoy the last two months of tour. Despite traveling Europe with your best mates, performing at some of the biggest stadiums in the world, you’ve only got one thing on your mind at all times. Matty.

How he brushed you off when you first met, the snarky comments made in your direction, the infuriating nickname meant to be a jab as your band name. Despite this, the thing on the forefront of your mind is the hug. You know it was a group hug that he was forced into, and knowing how he acts towards you he would have rather been standing next to anyone else. However, all you’ve been thinking about since you last saw him was the fact the area his fingers touched has been noticeably colder since he pulled away.

You’re quickly pulled out of your shame spiral by what could best be described as an assault on your hotel room door. That means one of two things, either a mob of angry fans have found where you’re staying or the girls are finally finished getting ready. Luckily for you, it’s the second one. You have about 30 minutes until you need to leave so conversation fills the room, with the dulcet sounds of Being Funny in a Foreign Language playing in the background to hype you all up. Final touches are made to hair and makeup and next thing you know, you’re all barrelling out to the streets of London.

Despite not growing up here, London feels like a second home to you. Even though you’ve been on tour most of the time, you’ve lived here since you were eighteen so navigating the streets comes with ease to you. It’s also the one place where no one cares who you are. Everyone’s so focused on themselves, they don’t pay attention to the fact that one of the biggest bands in the world is just casually walking around next to them. It’s an introvert's dream.

You eventually get to the entrance of Finsbury Park, blending in with the thousands of fans wearing the exact same thing as you. You knew these outfits would be a good idea. Bypassing the general admissions entrance, you and the girls walk over to the VIP entrance. Introducing yourselves to the security, you’re quickly escorted through the park towards the side of the main stage.

Before you even see anyone, you hear them. The rowdy conversations echoing in the corridors, long before you even get close to reaching their dressing rooms. You hear him, his laugh as George says something out of pocket. That stupid laugh that you know you’ll never get to hear unless you’re outside the room.

“Hey boys!” Ava says, entering the dressing room and making your presence known. The room erupts with cheers at your arrival. Matty seems happy, until he makes eye contact with you and his smile drops. This is going to be a long day.

When he sees you, George immediately wraps you up in a hug that makes you actively try to keep both your feet on the floor. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget all of life’s problems. It’s the kind of hug that makes you forget that the man you’ve dreamt about since you were sixteen is currently sitting in the corner giving you a look that could burn through your scalp.

“Todays gonna be a good day, pretty girl! We’re performing at fucking Finsbury Park! I know that’s not a big deal to miss ‘I casually play Wembley Stadium’ but it’s a big deal to us.” He says, slowly putting you down. You chuckle at his slight dig at you, knowing full well he means no harm.

“Oh George, I love how you’re always here to remind me how much more successful than you I am.” You laugh, playing into the egotistical role he’s forced you into, “but seriously, this is gonna be one hell of a gig. I had tickets back for the 2020 show, but that damn covid ruined all my dreams.”

“I always forget you’re a fan. Like, it’s so weird to imagine you just casually listening to our music before you win a Grammy.” He says, sitting down on the edge of a chair and pouring a glass of water.

“I don’t listen to music before a gig, it stresses me out too much. But you know what I make sure I do before every show? Cleanse the space.” You say, pulling out a stick of incense from your bag. George gives you an apprehensive look, clearly not buying into the hippie shit you know and love. “Come on, it can’t hurt. It’s won us 2 Grammys for album of the year. You can argue with that logic.”

“Fine, but if Matty shits himself on stage it’s on you and your incense.” He laughs, holding out his lighter. You go around the room, getting some weird stares from some and knowing stares off the girls.

“Hey, don’t knock it. She forgot to do it before a show once and the sound system stopped working halfway through and a rogue pyro burnt me and I ended up in A&E at 3am. That shit works!” Moon yelled, somehow making herself louder than the countless conversations that we’re going on at the time.

Then you got to Matty, who’s been side eyeing you the entire time you’ve been walking around the room. You make sure to linger in his area for longer than the rest, aggressively cleansing him of any negative energy.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you. Might wanna fix that before the show.” You say, refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He scoffs, you instinctively roll your eyes as the horrendous nickname before walking off towards the rest of the group.

Luckily, you could ignore the side eyes and the snarky comments by supporting all your friends. The highlight of your day being The Bleachers. You’ve known Jack and the rest of the band for years, almost as long as you’ve been in the industry, so seeing fifty thousand people yell the lyrics to their songs makes your heart swell with pride. However, nothing will beat hearing the entire crowd chant the name of Mattys mum. Knowing the entire audience is secretly there for Denise, makes you and the rest of the girls burst out with laughter.

Before the boys go on stage, you meet them all at the side. Giving each of them a hug and your best wishes for the show. You can’t hide it, your inner fan girl starts coming out at this point. You go up to Matty, trying to create some element of peace.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” You say, a glint of a smile on your face. He doesn’t return the favour.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, before walking off to do some final preparations before heading on stage.

However, you could forget all about this when you hear the first few notes of The 1975 from Being Funny in a Foreign Language. All of a sudden, you’re no longer the lead singer of a world famous band. You’re just a girl, standing in London, watching her favourite band perform her favourite songs. All your problems wash away, and you get absorbed by the charismatic nature of Matty.

Every so often, you’d catch the eye of one of the people on stage. Throwing up a heart to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and giving Hann an enthusiastic thumbs up. That’s until you meet eyes with Matty. Not sure what to do, you stand there staring at him. A mischievous grin falls upon his face, a smirk that’s going to haunt your dreams. And also, the first bit of actual emotion he’s shown you. You’re unsure what to think of this, until the end of Happiness comes around.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He says into his mic, despite putting on an act his charisma is palpable. No wonder you fell for the act. “Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

You know what’s coming next, however it’s still whiplash hearing the opening notes to Love Me. You’re not sure how to feel. On one hand, they’re playing one of your favourite songs. On the other hand, the man who you’ve considered to be your musical inspiration just called you a blonde bimbo on stage. Clearly, you’re not hiding your disappointment as well as you thought you were as you feel Maddies arms snake around your waist.

“You good?” She whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m great.”

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. If you ignore the comment Matty made early on in the show, you’d go as far as to say it’s the best gig you’ve ever been to. Tim Healy singing All You Need To Hear, About You with Carly at golden hour, Be My Mistake. It’s a show teenage you would’ve dreamt of seeing.

You head backstage after the show, the energy from everyone is radiant and even Matty can’t keep up his stoic demeanor. Annoyingly, his smile lights up the room and you find yourself feeling things you haven’t felt since you were in your peak tumblr days. These feelings quickly get diminished when you realise that everytime he looks at you, the light behind his eyes dwindles.

All of your fears are washed away when you hear the familiar voice of Charli. You first met six years ago, when she opened for your band on the UK/Europe leg of your second world tour. You’ve stayed close friends since, however both of your busy schedules have kept you apart. You spot her, realising she’s mid conversation with Matty and George. Deciding to talk to her later, you turn to look for one of your bandmates however fate has other plans.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” She yells, dragging you over to join the conversation. She pulls you into a hug that rivals George’s from earlier in the day.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George laughs, handing you another drink.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” You reply, taking the drink off George and winking at Charli. Matty scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Matty responds, taking a sip of his drink to muffle what he was saying. It doesn’t work, silence falls over the group. The silence is palpable, until someone decides to play Boom Clap over the speakers and the group erupts into laughter.

You can’t help but feel guilty for bringing the mood down backstage. You know it’s him who started this, but you play into it. When Ava comes over to you to inform you that everyone’s going to a local bar, you decide to opt out of it. Using the excuse that you’re tired after a long day and you just want to go back to the hotel to sleep. Once you get back, the silence envelops you. You realise it’s the first time you’ve heard nothing all day. Before you knew it, tears started rolling down your face. Over analysing the day's events didn’t help. Every comment, every look, everything he’s done towards you crosses your mind, and the more you think about it the more tears stream down your face.

You did not expect sobbing in a Premier Inn to be how you end your day.

Mattys POV

The 1975 at Finsbury Park has been a long time coming, getting canceled due to Covid when it was first announced. He’s waited for years for this moment, and it’s finally arrived. He’s sat in the dressing room with the rest of the band, conversations about who knows what are flowing. The adrenaline in the room makes everyone unusually talkative.

“I’m just saying, would we be as successful if we were worms?” George said, with the most deadpan look on his face. The room erupts into laughter, joy that is only boosted when five unexpected guests walk into the room.

“Hey boys!” The drummer of Lost Atlantis, Ava Fletcher, yells over the roaring conversation. It’s all fun and games until he spots her. They’re all dressed in their best 1975 concert attire, dressed in different variations of his suit getup. It’s her outfit that catches his eye first though. Opting for a short sleeved shirt and a mini skirt that perfectly frames her body. Her blonde, curly hair pulled up into a low ponytail. She looks annoyingly beautiful.

His face drops instinctively when he sees her, refusing to have any feelings that may give his thoughts away. He recognises the disappointment on her face, and he knows it’s his fault. He can’t help but feel guilty, knowing he’s the reason she never truly has a real smile when she’s around them. Yet he’s not sure why he does it, maybe it’s because he’s been hurt by women like her before, maybe he’s afraid of rejection. Who knows?

He can pinpoint the exact moment these feelings started, he was on a night out with the boys when Ross pulled up a video on his phone. It was a video of a girl, clearly pissed out of her mind, singing the ending of Robbers. Ross informs them it’s the lead singer of Lost Atlantis, who’s apparently been very open about being a fan for years now. However, for some unknown reason he’s never seen her face. Even drunk, she’s beautiful. The way her curls perfectly frame her face, the makeup that’s clearly been smudged by a night of drunken antics, the dress that perfectly frames her figure. She’s everything and more.

Despite acting cold towards her, the secret looks still brings a smile to his face. Watching her interact with his boys as if she’s been a member of their inner circle for years. Watching her perform at Wembley, like she was made for that stage, hiding her fear with bravado and excellent stage presence. He’s never met anyone like her.

After sitting in the corner for what feels like hours, she finally walks over to him holding a stick of incense. He’s never brought into any of that shit, but when she does it it’s weirdly endearing. The fact that she’s so set in her belief system, it just makes her more beautiful.

She stays near to him for longer than she does elsewhere, giving him the opportunity to bask in his presence for a second longer. Her perfume envelops him, luring him further down the rabbit hole. She aggressively incenses the area he’s sitting.

“This is the biggest gig of your life and yet I’m getting a lot of negative energy from you.” She says, her voice acting like a siren luring him in and yet he continues to walk to the other way. “You might wanna fix that before the show.” She continues, almost at a whisper. Without warning, his trousers suddenly become two sizes too small. If she keeps acting like this, it’s going to be a very long day for him.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He responds, clearing his throat to try and hide any arousal that the previous comment caused. Rolling her eyes in response, he can’t help but let the intrusive thoughts roll over his mind. The thought of him being the reason she’s rolling her eyes, but instead of it being out of frustration it’s when she’s lying naked underneath him. Now his trousers are three sizes too small. He watches as she struts away from him, going back into idle conversation with the rest of the boys.

He tries his hardest to ignore her the rest of the day, which is an impossible feat when she’s so unknowingly beautiful. Watching as she jumps around to The Bleachers, or whooping and cheering George on as he steps on as drummer for The Japanese House. She’s always there, just in the corner of his eyes. He knows he hasn’t had a great life, but this is a cruel act even for God.

Despite this, he manages to pull himself together by the time he needs to get on stage. Standing in the wings, silently hyping himself up, he’s joined by the rest of the band as well as the Lost Atlantis girls. They’re wrapped up in hugs, which he reciprocates for most members of the band. Before he knew it, she was standing in front of him like a sight out of a dream.

“Do me a favour and play Love Me?” She says, a smile on her face, the only smile he’ll get from her for a while. That damn smile.

“In your dreams, Princess.” He responds, knowing full well they were already planning on playing it early on in the set. The thought that maybe he’d get to see her enthusiastic reaction is the only reason he can justify his response.

He stands behind the door at the back of the stage, reveling in the cheers from fifty thousand fans standing in the field before him. The adrenaline is enough to forget everything around him, he’s no longer a love struck boy from Manchester, he’s a performer ready to put on one hell of a show for the fans who have traveled far and wide to see them.

The opening notes of The 1975 blares over the sound system, somehow still quieter than the screaming fans. He looks out, reveling in the moment of fifty thousand fans screaming along the lyrics he wrote. He also notices how she reacts to making eye contact with other members of the band. Throwing a heart up to Polly, blowing a kiss to George, and meeting his stare with a deadpan expression and quickly looking away.

The first three songs are over in a flash, and before he knows it it’s time to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to The 1975 At Their Very Best! Now normally, we don’t take requests this early on. Especially not from blonde bimbos who think crystals do shit. However this songs a banger and you all deserve it!”

He’s not sure why he says it, it just slips out. This whole hating thing is way too easy to fall into. It doesn’t make seeing the look on her face any easier. The way her smile drops at what she hears is heartbreaking, turning a moment of joy into something she’ll have nightmares about. He knows the bimbo label has tormented her on the internet over the years, but he guesses hearing it on stage come from someone she’s been a fan of for years affects her differently than when it’s coming from an anonymous journalist.

He manages to put this at the back of his mind as the show goes on. And he can’t deny, despite some hiccups the show goes amazingly. Bringing his dad out for All I Need To Hear cemented this show as one for the history books, getting deservedly emotional over how far they’ve come since they were 12 playing in his mum's garage. He occasionally looks to the side of the stage, hoping to catch her eye but it never happens, either catching her eye at the wrong moment or she’s refusing to look at him for the rest of the show.

Once the show’s over, they all head backstage for a post show party. He’s dragged around left, right, and center, forced to take part in some of the most mind numbing and repetitive conversations known to man. That is, until he’s saved by George and Charli. He’d much rather be a third wheel than have corporate conversations with sleazy businessmen trying to profit off his success.

He’s too distracted to take part in the conversation though, his eyes constantly finding the cheery, blonde figure in the room. Her smile emits a light source, drawing everyone towards her including Matty. His feelings are only heightened when Charli calls her over.

“Holy shit, come over here you sexy, blonde bitch!” Charli yells, grabbing her by the forearm and dragging her over to the group and pulling her into a hug. He forgot that they knew each other, making his situation ten times more awkward.

“Damn, I forgot you two know each other. Don’t know how, Charli constantly reminds me that she’d leave me for you in a heartbeat.” George chuckles, handing her a drink that he ,not so sneakily, puts extra alcohol in.

“I have that effect, the girlies love me.” She says, looking at Charli and winking at her. A soft groan escapes his lips that he manages to cover with a cough.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He responds, taking a sip of his drink to calm him down. An awkward silence falls over the group, no one really sure what to say in response. Luckily, someone starts blaring Boom Clap over the speakers, causing an annoyed groan to come from Charli before she starts loudly exclaiming how the song was a quote unquote “mistake”.

He jumps at the opportunity when Hann asks if he’s coming out with the rest of them to a local bar. However, when they get there he notices one person is missing from the group.

“Hey, um where’s your little friend gone?” He says to the four remaining members of Lost Atlantis.

“She’s gone back to the hotel.” Maddi responds, clearly annoyed. “She claims she’s tired, but I think it has something to do with the fact an egotistical asshole called her a blonde bimbo on stage.” A look of regret floods his eyes, he knew it would affect her but he didn’t think it would be that bad.

“Look, I'm sorry but,” he starts talking but is quickly cut off.

“We don’t care about how sorry you are, Matty. We just wanna know why you did it? You’ve been an ass to her ever since the Wembley show. She’s been nothing but nice to you, and you’ve responded by being a childish dick head.” Ava snaps, giving him a glare that resembles daggers.

“You’re in a band as well, I’m sure you understand why we’re being so protective. But whenever she’s around you, she isn’t herself and we’re not losing her over some petty grudge you hold for god knows what reason.” Moon follows up, not giving Matty enough time to respond.

“Disrespectfully, but we’ve lost all respect for you after the bimbo incident, so fuck off and leave us alone for the rest of the night.” Maddie continues, walking off before he could say anything. He walks over to a booth in the corner of the bar, cradling his drink and thinking how he’s going to grovel at her feet the next time he sees her. This self pity spiral is quickly ruined when Sienna Turner walks over and sits down next to him.

“I know why you’re acting like this.” She says, giving him a sympathetic look. “I get it, I don’t agree with the way you’re doing it, but I get it.” The confusion is obvious on his face, unsure of what the hell she is on about. “You like her, trust me I totally understand. She’s a total smoke show, and I’m not just saying that because she’s my best mate. And I get that you probably have commitment issues, you’re not the first rock star I’ve met, but being a little bitch and calling her a bimbo on stage is not the way to cope with it. You’re just getting a one way ticket into us five shunning you, and that wouldn’t be fun for you because as long as Maddie and Ross are sleeping about you’re stuck with us.” She finishes, leaving the two of them in a comfortable silence.

“I’ve been hurt before.” He starts, unsure of why he’s spilling his secrets to who is essentially a stranger but he continues anyway. “And when I first saw that video of her, drunk and singing along to Robbers, I was smitten. But I never expected to meet her in real life, I mean you girls are stars and we’re just four men in our thirties. So when I did, I panicked. I mean, she’s somehow even more beautiful in real life than she is in that video.” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink to collect his thoughts. “You know flight or fight? My response was to be a dick, and now I’ve pushed her away and she thinks I’m an asshole which I guess I am after what I said today. It’s probably for the best, your songs are amazing but those breakup songs are brutal. I think I’d have to go into hiding if one was written about me.” He laughs, making eye contact with Sienna for the first time since the conversation started.

“I’m going to give you some advice, and don’t take this as me liking you, I’m doing it for the beautiful woman who we need to be as mentally healthy as possible because she pays my rent. She’s been hurt by men before, and I’ve just sat back and let it happen but I’m not going to do that again. Despite everything that’s gone down in the last couple of months, I want to believe that you are a good person. However you need to prove that and apologise. I know it’s going to be awkward and uncomfortable, but you will do whatever it takes to make her forgive you. I don’t care if you have to get on your knees and beg, next time you see her you will be a groveling little bitch.” She says, with the most serious expression on her face. He knows she isn’t joking, those girls are protective over each other and will fight heaven and earth to make sure each other is safe.

“To being a groveling little bitch.” He says, holding up his drink for a cheers. Sienna clinks her glass with his, giving him a small yet comforting smile.

As harsh as it was, he needed that reality check. And not from someone who was close to him, but from a stranger who doesn’t care about his feelings. Sienna was right, he can’t keep hurting the people around him just because he has been hurt before.

He goes back to his apartment, ready to start planning the best apology ever given. But he doesn’t know where to start, considering he writes songs for a living he can’t seem to find the right words to explain how he’s feeling without exposing all of his feelings. He decides to give up, closing his laptop and falling into his bed. Letting sleep take over him as images of her flashes in his mind.

[micahthemoon]

Summer 2024

The Are You Tattoo Saga

I have been fascinated by tattoos for a long time. I love the fact that you can make yourself into a work of art quite literally showing your passions and story on your sleeve. There’s autonomy in getting tattoos as well; taking back our body that may or may not give us dysphoria (or other senses of discomfort) and decide what it shall look like for ourselves. Body parts that otherwise would make me uncomfortable have been made a source of pride (on good days) or at least I can look at it with content indifference (on the lesser days). All because of some ink. This might be why I have been getting more and more tattoos that – in some cases- may be seen as a spontaneous decision. This tattoo I’m gonna talk about now however is far from one of those.  

If you read my previous entry about how Käärijä accidentally validated my gender, you may remember that I mentioned a comfort stim sentence: Are You.

It can be linked back to the Eurovision preshow days where Bojan and Jere were just starting to get to know each other which the two idiots did by fooling around on a date. This saying has not only become a way for the two of them to show endearment (or the fans getting to interact with each other and the boys), but it has also been what finally learned me how to roll my r’s practicing the right cadence alone in my room for the simple fact that saying it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was also one of the things I became known for meeting up with fans irl for the first time between Käärijä’s Stockholm and Berlin gigs last year.

And so it didn’t take me long to daydream about getting it tattooed. Which ended up becoming a whole saga when Joker Out announced that they’d visit Malmö on their upcoming Europe tour (which is basically Denmark) and where I later – with a lot of people cheering me on from the sidelines – got Bojan to write the phrase down to me in two different fonts. To this day the concert is amongst my favourites.

Yet things don’t end there because one comment later about the possibility of getting Jere involved as well and I was off making a new sign. I tried getting Käärijä’s attention in Böle to no avail (other than making myself more stressed than I’d ever been at a concert). So, this summer going to Backas and Allas Sea Pool I had let the sign stay at home. Jokes on me, because suddenly in a rush of bravery I made myself a new sign out of half a pizza lid box left behind in the queue for the Allas Sea Pool gig. Low and behold if not Jere saw and reacted to this sign during the concert!! Getting by with a little help from my friends (especially this one finnish fan I’d met at Backas) I went home from the gig with Jere’s handwriting. A little over a month later on August 13 2024 the Are You tattoo saga concluded when I got a local tattoo artist (I’d already fanboyed too back in March when getting one of those spontaneous tattoos of mine) to make the little three way conversation permanent on my skin.

I have no idea how long the brainrot will continue. Maybe I will stop being this much of a fanboy in a year or two. But even so I don’t think (or at least I hope not) this tattoo will lose its meaning. Because It’s so much more than just a fan tattoo. It’s a story about a time I was foolishly brave no matter if it went well (Malmö) or it didn’t (Böle). It’s a story about the importance of interpersonal connections (the fan in Allas), the power of a found family through a fandom (or two) and also just a time in my life I was actively a participant in pursuing my own happiness.

I’ll say it again: I freaking love tattoos.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Shadows of Divinity

Here is chapter three. Summary: Summoned unexpectedly to the Devildom, Nephilia—an imposing figure with an ethereal grace—finds herself navigating a world of demons, secrets, and hidden truths. Towering above those around her, Nephilia’s presence commands attention, but it’s the sense of something more, something ancient, that truly unsettles those she encounters. With no knowledge of her own mysterious origins, Nephilia must uncover the secrets of her family's lineage while contending with the intrigue and suspicion that follow her every step. As the Brothers, the Royals, and the angels attempt to unravel the enigma that is Nephilia, they are drawn into a web of forgotten history and divine legacy that could reshape the very fabric of the Devildom.

Chapter Two Chapter Four

Chapter Three: Standing Tall

The next morning, Nephilia stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her RAD uniform with a mixture of mild amusement and resignation. The conversation she had with Levi the day before still echoed in her mind, but now, her focus was on the rather peculiar fit of the uniform. The standard RAD attire had clearly not been designed with a human of her stature in mind. The tailors had done their best to modify it, lengthening the skirt to an appropriate level and adjusting the blazer so that it didn’t strain across her broad shoulders. Even so, there was an undeniable awkwardness to the way it fit—tight in some places, loose in others. She sighed, smoothing down the fabric with practiced ease. At least it’s wearable, she thought. Could be worse.

She took one last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs for breakfast. As she descended the grand staircase, she could hear the low murmur of voices from the dining room. The brothers were already gathered, their conversation quiet but tinged with the normal undertones of sibling rivalry and banter. When Nephilia entered the room, the chatter momentarily died down as all eyes turned to her.

There was a brief, awkward pause as they took in her presence—still thrown off by her size, even after a full night to process it. Despite their attempts to act indifferent, she could see the subtle shifts in their expressions: the flicker of surprise, the wary glances. It was clear that her height was still something they hadn’t fully adjusted to.

Asmo, ever the charmer, was the first to break the silence, a playful smile spreading across his lips. “Good morning, darling! You’re looking absolutely divine, but sweetie, we are really going to need to get you a better uniform,” he purred, his gaze sweeping over her with clear appreciation. He leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. “I’ve been dying to ask—what exactly do you do for a living? You mentioned having a job in the human realm.”

Nephilia took a seat at the table, her movements calm and unhurried. “I’m a model,” she replied, reaching for a piece of toast. “Mostly editorial shoots and cosplay gigs. My build makes me stand out, so I get hired for those more often than runway work.”

Asmo’s eyes sparkled with interest. “A model, huh? How fabulous! Though I must say, I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to work with you. You’re absolutely stunning.” His voice dripped with flirtation, the compliments flowing effortlessly.

Nephilia smiled slightly, but there was a hint of something guarded in her eyes. “Thanks, Asmo. But the truth is, my appearance isn’t exactly what you’d call ‘normal’—at least not by human standards. People who are different tend to be met with either disdain or indifference. My height makes a lot of things in the human world… challenging, to say the least. Simple things like finding clothes that fit or navigating spaces designed for people much shorter than me are a constant struggle.”

She paused, her tone remaining nonchalant. “But I’ve learned to embrace it. If I’m going to be different, I might as well use it to my advantage. It’s not always easy, but I’ve found that working independently allows me to collaborate with a more diverse group of people who appreciate what I bring to the table.”

Asmo’s flirtatious demeanor softened slightly, a note of genuine confusion creeping into his voice. “I still can’t believe anyone would turn down a chance to work with you. It’s their loss, truly.”

Nephilia gave a small shrug, clearly used to such reactions. “That’s just how it is. The industry has its standards, and not everyone fits the mold. But I’ve found my niche.”

Across the table, Beel, who had been quietly devouring his breakfast, suddenly looked up with interest. “Have you ever considered sports?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble.

Nephilia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “When I was younger, I did. The coaches at my schools tried to scout me multiple times. They all thought I’d be perfect for basketball, volleyball, even track. But it never really worked out. My height gives me a natural advantage so people didn’t want to play with or against me because of it. After many complaints of unfairness from parents and my peers, eventually, I was kicked off the teams... It also didn't help that I had a bit of a temper back then and some people got hurt. So, I decided sports weren’t for me.”

Beel nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed. “Makes sense. You’ve got the build for it, though.”

The others exchanged glances, some surprised, others intrigued by Nephilia’s casual recounting of her experiences. Despite her nonchalant tone, it was clear that she had faced more than her fair share of challenges growing up, and yet she had managed to turn what could have been a source of insecurity into a strength.

As breakfast continued, the brothers found themselves reassessing their initial impressions of Nephilia. She was calm, collected, and surprisingly self-assured, despite the challenges she had faced. They had expected someone intimidated by the Devildom, someone who would struggle to find their place among demons. Instead, they were met with a woman who seemed to take everything in stride, who had already learned how to navigate a world that didn’t quite fit her.

Asmo leaned closer to Nephilia, his tone still playful but now tinged with curiosity. “So, darling, what do you think of your new home so far? The Devildom must be quite the change of pace from the human world.”

Nephilia smiled, her gaze drifting to the windows, where the perpetual night of the Devildom cast its deep blue light over the room. “It’s different, that’s for sure,” she said calmly. “But I think I’ll manage.”

When Nephilia stepped outside the House of Lamentation, the cool air of the Devildom greeted her, carrying with it a faint chill that clung to air. The world around her was dark, yet illuminated by an eerie, otherworldly glow that seemed to radiate from the very stones beneath her feet. As she walked alongside the brothers, her eyes were drawn upward, to the massive silhouette of RAD looming in the distance.

The academy was colossal, its ancient stone walls rising high into the inky sky, with towering spires that seemed to scrape the heavens. From the ground to the highest peak, everything about RAD exuded grandeur and power. The windows were tall and arched, their glass stained with images of creatures both beautiful and terrifying. Gargoyles perched at the corners, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement, and the massive double doors at the entrance were intricately carved with scenes of battles long forgotten. The entire structure looked as though it had been carved from a single, titanic stone, untouched by time, its presence both majestic and foreboding.

It’s like something out of a dark fantasy novel, Nephilia thought to herself, her gaze tracing the imposing architecture. There’s so much history here… She found herself awed by the sheer scale of it all. The weight of ancient power hung in the air, almost palpable, and for the first time since arriving in the Devildom, she felt a slight tremor of uncertainty. But she quickly pushed it aside, straightening her shoulders and holding her head high. She wouldn’t let herself be intimidated—not by the academy, and certainly not by the demons within.

As the group made their way through the entrance, Nephilia could feel the eyes of other demons on her, their gazes lingering with a mix of curiosity, surprise, and something darker. Whispers followed her every step, a low murmur that grew louder as more demons noticed her presence. They craned their necks to get a better look, their eyes widening as they took in her height and the sheer physicality of her form. Nephilia could practically feel their thoughts—She’s the human everyone’s been talking about.

Some of the demons looked wary, as if unsure of how to react to a human who stood taller than most of them. Others were openly disdainful, their expressions twisted with jealousy or contempt. A few, however, eyed her with an unsettling hunger, their lips curling into sly, predatory grins as they whispered among themselves.

For a good portion of the morning, Nephilia found herself trailing behind Mammon as he led her from one part of the academy to another. He was clearly still disgruntled about being stuck with the role of babysitter, and his irritation was evident in the way he muttered under his breath, throwing occasional glances back at her as if to remind himself she was still there. She could tell that, despite his outward bravado, he was still slightly unsettled by her, by the way he had to look up at her whenever he spoke. But for the most part, he seemed content to ignore her, focused more on getting through the day than actually watching over her.

Eventually, the two were separated by a rush of students heading to their classes. Nephilia didn’t mind—if anything, she welcomed the chance to navigate the academy on her own. She had a natural sense of direction, and she quickly found her way to the stairwell that would lead her to her first class.

As she began to ascend the grand stone staircase, she heard voices echoing up from below. Pausing on the steps, she realized it was two demons gossiping—about her. The tone of their conversation was sharp, filled with malice and sneering amusement.

“That’s her, isn’t it? The human everyone’s been talking about,” one of them said, their voice dripping with disdain. “The one they say Mammon is babysitting?”

The other demon let out a scoff. “Yeah, that’s her all right. Look at her—tall and bulky, like she thinks she’s one of us. Makes you wonder what she’s even doing here.”

“Well, if Mammon’s really her babysitter, that works out great for us,” the first demon replied, their voice lowering conspiratorially. “All we need to do is wait until he’s not paying attention. Then we can strike, and he’ll never know it was us.”

The second demon chuckled darkly. “Yeah, you’re right. I say we eat the human before Beel does. We could have some fun with her first, though…”

Nephilia’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at the two demons from her vantage point on the stairs. Her calm, unruffled demeanor hadn’t faltered, but now there was an edge to it—an undercurrent of steel in her gaze. Without hesitation, she spoke, her voice carrying the same serene tone she’d used all morning, yet with a hint of coldness that made it almost threatening.

“I can hear you,” she said, her words slicing through the air like a blade.

The two demons froze, their eyes snapping up to meet hers. For a moment, neither of them moved, caught off guard by the quiet authority in her voice. They hadn’t expected her to respond—let alone to sound so calm, so composed. The confidence in her gaze sent a shiver down their spines, and for the first time, they realized that this human might be more than they had bargained for.

Nephilia didn’t need to say anything else. Her presence alone was enough to send the message. She stood tall, her expression unwavering as she stared down at the two demons, her eyes daring them to make a move. The silence stretched on, heavy and tense, until finally, the demons muttered something under their breath and hurried away, unwilling to push their luck any further.

She let out a slow, controlled breath as she watched the two demons scurry away, the tension in the air gradually dissipating. She turned to continue her way up the stairs, but before she could take another step, a voice called out to her from behind.

“Well, that was interesting,” the voice said, laced with curiosity. “It’s not every day you see demons fleeing from a human.”

She turned to see who had spoken, her gaze landing on a man casually walking toward her. He was dressed in a RAD uniform. His appearance was striking—sharp blue and brown heterochromatic eyes, silver hair, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, and an air of confidence that suggested he wasn’t easily rattled. Unlike the demons she had encountered so far, he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated or confused by her presence. If anything, he looked intrigued.

Nephilia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she assessed him, her instincts kicking in. This man was different, and she couldn’t quite place why. He carried himself with an ease that spoke of experience, and there was a certain enigmatic quality about him that set him apart from the others. But what struck her most was his expression—calm, curious, and entirely unbothered by her height or the situation that had just unfolded.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black device. “This is yours, right?” he asked, holding it out to her. “I saw you drop it.”

Her eyes widened as she recognized the D.D.D. She hadn’t even realized she’d dropped it. Taking the device from him, she looked at him quizzically, her brow furrowed in mild suspicion. His demeanor wasn’t what she was used to, and she couldn’t help but wonder what his intentions were.

The man noticed her expression and let out a light laugh. “What’s with that look? There’s no need to be suspicious of me.” He paused for a moment before adding, “My name is Solomon. I’m an exchange student from the human world, just like you.” He smiled warmly. “You must be Nephilia.”

Nephilia relaxed slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing. She wasn’t surprised that he had heard of her—given her size and the circumstances of her arrival, it was only natural that word had spread quickly. “I suppose my reputation precedes me,” she said with a small smile, extending her hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Solomon.”

Solomon took her hand in a firm, friendly shake, his gaze never leaving hers. “The pleasure is mine,” he replied smoothly. He released her hand and leaned back slightly, studying her with that same curious glint in his eye. “You know, you’re already a bit of a celebrity here. But I’m guessing you’re used to that kind of attention, aren’t you?”

Nephilia chuckled softly, but before she could respond, Solomon’s expression suddenly shifted as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Uh-oh,” he said, glancing at an invisible watch on his wrist. “I’d better get going. Can’t be late, after all.”

He flashed her a quick grin. “See you around, Nephilia. Take care of yourself.”

And with that, Solomon turned and strolled away, leaving Nephilia standing on the stairs with her thoughts. She watched him go, still processing what had just happened.

Nephilia continued her climb up the stairs. Solomon's nonchalant demeanor and the ease with which he had interacted with her were refreshing, but they also left her with more questions than answers. Before she could dwell on it further, she heard footsteps echoing down the hallway ahead. Looking down, she found herself face-to-face with Lucifer, who had arrived at RAD hours before she and the others had left the House of Lamentation.

“Good morning,” Lucifer greeted, his voice smooth and composed. “I see word of you has already spread through the school.”

“Good morning,” Nephilia replied, her tone equally composed. She noticed the way his eyes briefly flicked over her, as if assessing her. There was no trace of the suspicion he had shown when they first met, but she could tell that his current attitude was more for appearances than anything else.

“Did you sleep well?” Lucifer asked, his expression unreadable. “You seem rather at ease.”

Nephilia nodded, though she kept her guard up. “As well as can be expected,” she replied, not missing the subtle tension beneath his polite demeanor.

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened slightly, and his tone took on a more pointed edge. “Don’t let that ease lull you into a false sense of security. The Devildom is not a place where you can afford to let your guard down. I don’t want you to get eaten by some random lesser demon. That would only mean more paperwork for me, and I certainly don’t need that.”

Nephilia raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slight smile. “I appreciate your concern for your workload, Lucifer. I’ll do my best to avoid adding to it.”

Lucifer’s expression remained impassive, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Good. It’s important to be aware of your surroundings at all times.”

He glanced down the hallway before returning his gaze to her. “I noticed you were just speaking with Solomon. How was your conversation?”

Nephilia hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I was. He seems… different from the others here.”

Lucifer’s expression darkened ever so slightly. “You and Solomon are the only humans here, so it’s understandable if you find some common ground. However, you should know that he cannot be trusted. While he may be human, he wears a ring imbued with wisdom and wields powerful magic. He’s the type of person who would subjugate even a powerful, greater demon if given the chance.”

Nephilia’s gaze narrowed slightly as she processed Lucifer’s warning. “Even in the human realm, no one can be fully trusted,” she said calmly. “And as it stands, I trust no one here yet anyway.”

Lucifer studied her for a moment, clearly weighing her words. He seemed satisfied with her response, but before he could say more, Nephilia’s thoughts drifted back to something Levi had said the night before. He had mentioned how it couldn’t hurt to have someone at your back, a subtle nudge toward making a pact with Mammon. And then there was the other detail Levi had let slip—the fact that Lucifer had Mammon’s credit card. That was the bargaining chip she’d need if she were to even consider a pact with the second-born.

Lost in thought, Nephilia’s expression grew contemplative, and Lucifer, ever observant, caught the shift. “Is there something on your mind?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Nephilia looked at him, weighing her next words. “Actually, there is. Since Mammon has been assigned to look after me, I think it would be wise to learn more about him. After all, I’ll be spending a lot of time with him.”

Lucifer regarded her before letting out a resigned sigh. “You make a fair point. Very well, I’ll tell you what you need to know—though I’ll try to be sparing in my criticism, as he is my brother.”

He cleared his throat, as if preparing himself, before speaking again. “Mammon is scum. Pure, unfiltered, disgusting scum, to the point that I am embarrassed to call him a fellow demon, much less my brother.”

Nephilia blinked in surprise at the bluntness of his words. “That doesn’t sound very sparing, but I suppose it’s your right to have that opinion. You’ve known him far longer than I have.”

Lucifer’s expression softened just slightly, though his tone remained firm. “Indeed. However, if there is one thing you must understand about Mammon, it’s that money is everything to him. It doesn’t matter what form it comes in—cash, valuables, or even credit—if Mammon has it, he’ll spend it. There are no limits with him.”

He paused, and a faint, almost amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “In order to impose limits of my own, I’ve taken the liberty of freezing a certain form of money that he’s rather fond of…”

Nephilia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she processed his words. He wouldn’t have literally frozen Mammon’s credit card… would he? she thought, the question lingering in her mind.

Just then, the first bell rang through the halls, signaling the start of the school day. Lucifer checked the time on his pocket watch before closing it with a decisive snap. “Class is about to start. You’d better get going—you don’t want to be late on your first day here.”

Nephilia nodded, offering him a polite farewell as they parted ways. But as she walked down the hallway, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Lucifer’s statement than just a metaphor. His tone had been so literal, so matter-of-fact, that she couldn’t help but wonder if he really had gone to such lengths.

This place is getting weirder and weirder, she thought wryly, making her way to her first class. And I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.

The night was heavy and still, the Devildom’s eternal darkness pressing against the windows of Nephilia’s room. She lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind a whirl of thoughts that refused to settle. The events of the day had left her restless, unable to shake the feeling that there were layers to this place—secrets hidden beneath every conversation, every glance. As she replayed the interactions she’d had with the brothers so far, one thought kept surfacing: There are seven of them.

Lucifer and Mammon had both mentioned it, and she had met six. Lucifer, with his commanding presence; Mammon, with his bravado masking something deeper; Levi, passionate and anxious; Satan, cold and calculating; Asmo, charming and vain; and Beel, kind but guarded. Yet no one had spoken of the seventh brother. There had been no mention of him at all, as if he didn’t exist. But he did, and Nephilia couldn’t help but wonder why he had been kept from her. Why won’t they talk about him? she wondered, her curiosity growing more insistent.

As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, her D.D.D suddenly vibrated on the bedside table, the screen lighting up and casting an eerie glow across the room. Nephilia reached for it, her brows knitting together in confusion as she saw the message was from Levi.

Earlier, after returning home from RAD, Nephilia had sought Levi out to tell him about what Lucifer had said regarding Mammon. Now, it seemed Levi had something on his mind.

Leviathan: Are you sure that’s what Lucifer said?

Nephilia’s fingers moved quickly across the screen as she typed her response.

Neph: Yes, I’m absolutely sure.

His reply came almost instantly.

Leviathan: Go to the kitchen. Now.

Nephilia blinked in surprise, sitting up in bed. The kitchen? she thought. Before she could question it, her phone vibrated again with another message.

Leviathan: And don’t tell anyone. I don’t want people to think I actually want to hang out with some normie.

Nephilia shook her head, a small, amused smile tugging at her lips despite the strange request. Levi is always paranoid, she mused, but she didn’t dwell on it. Sliding out of bed, she set the D.D.D back on the table and slipped out of her room, padding quietly down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was silent, the only sound the soft creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath her feet. As she approached the kitchen, the scent of lingering spices and baked goods filled the air—a comforting aroma, even in the depths of the Devildom. The kitchen itself was rustic, with stone floors and walls lined with dried herbs and hanging pots and pans. A large wooden island dominated the center of the room, and a double wood-burning stove sat against one wall, a cauldron resting atop it.

But it wasn’t the warm, homely atmosphere that caught Nephilia’s attention—it was the sound of someone eating. She turned toward the source and found herself locking eyes with Beelzebub, who was sitting at the island, a half-eaten loaf of bread in his hands. His eyes, usually kind, were filled with surprise as he looked at her.

“Are you going to tell on me?” Beel asked through a mouthful of food, his voice low and almost resigned.

Nephilia shook her head, her expression softening. “No, I’m not.”

Beel relaxed a little, though his expression remained guarded. “Doesn’t matter, I guess,” he muttered, taking another bite of the bread. He then looked at her curiously. “What are you doing in the kitchen so late at night?”

Nephilia hesitated for a moment before offering a simple answer. “I was hungry,” she said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Now that she thought about it, she could go for a snack.

Beel smiled slightly, nodding in understanding. “That makes two of us. Sometimes you just can’t wait until morning.” His smile faltered as he added, “But the fridge is empty. I already ate everything.”

Nephilia couldn’t help but chuckle at that, shaking her head in amusement. “That’s fine. I’m sure I can find something else to snack on.”

But as she rummaged through the kitchen, her earlier thoughts returned, and she decided to take a chance. She glanced back at Beel, her tone polite but curious. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who is the seventh brother?”

Beel’s demeanor changed instantly. His expression became guarded, and his grip tightened on the loaf of bread. He averted his gaze, his voice low and almost pained. “Don’t mention him in front of Lucifer. And I’m not going to tell you anything either… because Lucifer will yell at me if I do.”

Nephilia’s brows furrowed in concern as she listened to him, noting the sadness in his voice. “Why is that?”

Beel shook his head, his expression growing more troubled. “None of my brothers will tell you anything. We refuse to talk about him. We have to treat him as if he doesn’t exist…” His voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with regret. “Even though he’s our brother.”

He looked down at the stone floor, his large hands clenching around the remnants of the bread. “It’s not right… But since no one can defy Lucifer…” Beel stopped himself, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. When he looked up at Nephilia again, his expression was more guarded than before. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

Nephilia felt a pang of sympathy for Beel. Whatever had happened with the seventh brother, it was clear that it weighed heavily on him. But before she could say anything more, Beel stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, his voice gruff. “No point in staying here since I ate everything anyway.” He muttered something under his breath about Lucifer hiding a poisoned apple in his study, then brushed past her, leaving the kitchen as quietly as she had come.

Nephilia watched him go, her mind racing with more questions than ever. The seventh brother—whoever he was—clearly held a significant place in the brothers’ lives, but it was a place shrouded in mystery and pain. And now, more than ever, Nephilia was determined to find out why.

“Psst… hey!” a voice hissed from somewhere nearby.

She turned toward the noise, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Levi? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” Levi’s voice came again, this time clearer. “Over here! Look!”

Nephilia followed the sound until her eyes landed on a rather peculiar sight—Levi emerging from behind a strange hiding spot, wedged between a cupboard and the wall. She blinked in surprise, unable to hide her confusion.

“What are you doing hiding there?” she asked, her tone flat.

Levi looked at her like she’d asked the most obvious question in the world. “What do you think? Beel was just in here! I can’t have him finding me with you, now can I?”

Nephilia gave him a deadpan stare. “Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced by his logic. She shook her head, turning back to her search for a snack. “Anyway, why did you want to meet me here?”

Levi let out an annoyed hum, his attention already shifting. “Forget that! Did Lucifer really say the word ‘frozen’?”

Nephilia huffed, exasperation creeping into her voice as she rummaged through a cabinet. “For the third time, yes, he said frozen. How many more times do I need to say it?”

But Levi, apparently satisfied with her answer, ignored her comment and made a beeline for the freezer. Nephilia watched him with an expression that clearly asked, Are you serious?

Levi opened the freezer and began poking around, muttering to himself. “Let’s see… ice, more ice, leftovers… Hey, is that Satan’s ice cream?” He paused, squinting at something hidden behind a bag of frozen eyeballs. “Oh, right! Satan hid this from Beel about a century ago. I totally forgot about it.”

Nephilia couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell him about it?”

Levi snorted, closing the freezer door halfway as he turned to her with a smirk. “Of course not. That would spoil the joke. He’ll probably figure it out in another two thousand years or so.”

Nephilia rolled her eyes, barely suppressing a chuckle. “Levi, focus.”

Levi blinked, as if suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place. “Right, right. Focus. Let’s see…” He opened the freezer door all the way again, moving a few items around until his hand brushed against something solid, encased in a thick layer of ice. He squinted, his eyes widening in realization as he pulled out a thick, frozen block.

“There it is,” Levi muttered, holding the block of ice up for Nephilia to see. Encased within the ice was none other than Mammon’s credit card, preserved like a relic from a forgotten era.

Nephilia stared at the sight, a mix of disbelief and amusement flickering across her face. Lucifer was being literal, she thought, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. The absurdity of it all was almost too much. Lucifer, the ever-composed and severe Avatar of Pride, had literally frozen Mammon’s credit card in a block of ice. She couldn’t help but imagine how many years that card had been trapped in there, all because Mammon had probably pushed Lucifer’s buttons one too many times.

Levi, oblivious to Nephilia’s amusement, struggled to turn the block of ice over in his hands. “I knew Lucifer had a cruel streak, but this… This is something else.” He sounded almost impressed.

Nephilia watched in mild amusement as Levi struggled with the block of ice, his face contorted in concentration. After a few moments of grunting and muttering under his breath, Levi finally let out an exasperated sigh.

“This thing is too heavy,” he grumbled. “I’m sticking it in the microwave.”

Before she could protest, Levi had already opened the microwave door, shoved the block of ice inside, and was pressing the start button. The microwave whirred to life, the light flickering as it attempted to defrost the frozen credit card.

Just then, Mammon burst into the kitchen, his usual swagger replaced with confusion. “What’s all the racket in here?” he demanded, looking around suspiciously. But when his eyes landed on the microwave and the familiar shape encased in ice, his expression transformed from confusion to wide-eyed shock. “Wait a sec… is that—no, it can’t be—GOLDIE?!”

Mammon’s voice pitched higher with excitement as he realized what he was seeing. “My precious Goldie! My baby! The one thing more important to me than life itself!” He lunged toward the microwave, panic in his eyes. “Levi, you idiot! Get it outta there! You’re gonna demagnetize it and make it useless!”

Levi’s eyes widened in horror, his hand flying to the microwave to stop it. “Oh crap, I didn’t think about that…”

Mammon’s panic quickly turned to anger. “How could ya do something so stupid, ya dumb as a stump?!”

Levi, regaining his composure, let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms as he eyed Mammon smugly. “Are you sure you should be talkin’ to me like that? I’m the one who found your precious card in the first place.”

Mammon’s eyes widened as the situation fully dawned on him. He knew Levi had him in a corner, and the thought made his stomach churn. Mammon stammered, his bravado faltering. “You’d better give it to me!”

Levi’s smirk grew wider, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. “Oh, I’ll give it to you, all right. But there are conditions.”

Mammon gulped, suddenly wary. “What conditions?”

Levi’s voice took on a smug edge. “You’re gonna get down on your knees and beg for it. And maybe—just maybe—I’ll consider giving it back.”

Mammon’s face flushed red with humiliation, but he knew he had no choice. With a defeated groan, he dropped to his knees, folding his hands in front of him. “All right, all right! Please give it back, Leviathan, sir…”

Levi laughed, clearly enjoying the sight. “How embarrassing. All it takes is your credit card to make you swallow your pride. You’re one of the seven rulers of the Devildom, and yet you’re groveling over a piece of plastic. Shouldn’t you be ashamed?”

Mammon’s teeth ground together, but he forced a smile, desperate to get his card back. “I’m beggin’ ya here, Levi! Just give it back already!”

Levi waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. But there’s one more thing. I want that Seraphina figurine you won ages ago.”

Mammon blinked in confusion. “Huh? What’re ya talkin’ about?”

Levi’s expression turned incredulous. “You seriously don’t remember? The one you won in that convenience store campaign! You had no interest in it, but you refused to give it to me just to mess with me!”

Mammon groaned, exasperated. “Ugh, c’mon, enough! Whatever you want, I’ll give it to ya! Just gimme the card back!”

Levi’s smirk returned, but his gaze turned calculating. “All right, but there’s one last thing: I want you to make a pact with Nephilia.”

Mammon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Wait… WHAT?! Why d’ya want ME to make a PACT with her?!”

Levi’s smirk widened. “Think about it: if you make a pact with Nephilia, you’ll have to do whatever she says, right? Then Neph’ll order you to give me my money back immediately. And since you can’t refuse a direct order from your master, you’ll do exactly that. Game over, I win!”

Mammon scoffed, his indignation flaring up. “It’s just money! I can’t believe you’d go this far over some Grimm!”

Levi crossed his arms, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Excuse me? Remind me again which one of us tossed aside what little pride he had left, all to get his hands on a credit card?”

Mammon bristled, his pride taking another hit. He turned to Nephilia, who had been quietly munching on her snack while the two brothers argued. “And you, human! What’re ya thinkin’, lettin’ Levi use you like this? Are ya stupid? Go on, say somethin’!”

Nephilia calmly finished her bite, setting her snack aside before meeting Mammon’s gaze. Her tone was measured as she spoke. “I have a name. Use it. Nephilia or Neph, doesn’t matter. And for the record, I never agreed to trick you into a pact to begin with. All I will say is this: the only way you’re getting that card back is by paying Levi what you owe him—which includes the figurine, since you already agreed to give it to him.”

Both Mammon and Levi stared at her in surprise, not expecting her response.

“Wait… you don’t want a pact?” Mammon asked, still processing her words.

Nephilia shook her head. “Wanting one isn’t the point. While having one might offer an advantage here, I’m not about to force one upon you simply because I can—especially when you don’t want one.”

Mammon blinked, taken aback by her fairness. He had never been treated like this before—like someone who had a choice. It left him feeling both relieved and… something else he couldn’t quite name. Respect, maybe? Whatever it was, it was new, and it made him reconsider everything he thought he knew about this human.

Mammon rubbed the back of his neck, a conflicted expression on his face. He seemed to be struggling with his own thoughts, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his shoulders. Nephilia watched him silently, sensing the internal battle he was waging. Finally, with a deep, exasperated sigh, Mammon made up his mind.

“Ugh, FINE!” he blurted out, his voice filled with reluctant determination. “I’ll make a pact with ya and pay him back… But let’s get one thing straight! I’m only makin’ this pact cause it’ll be easier to do my job of babysittin’ ya, got it?”

Nephilia’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. She could tell there was more to his decision than he was letting on, but she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she gave a simple nod, acknowledging his terms. “Got it.”

Mammon looked away, as if trying to hide his discomfort with what was about to happen. He took a deep breath, gathering himself before focusing his attention back on Nephilia. “All right, let’s get this over with. Ready?”

She nodded again, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. She had no idea what to expect from the process, but she steeled herself for whatever was to come.

Mammon stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He extended his hand toward her, palm up, and after a moment’s hesitation, Nephilia placed her hand in his. The contact was surprisingly warm, and she could feel a subtle but potent energy radiating from him. His power was tangible, almost like an electric current thrumming just beneath the surface of his skin.

His gaze locked onto hers, and the air between them grew heavy with a sense of gravity. His usual brash demeanor faded, replaced by a seriousness that made Nephilia realize just how significant this moment was. A pact wasn’t something to be taken lightly—it was a binding connection, a sharing of power and will between a demon and a human.

“As the Avatar of Greed,” Mammon intoned, his voice resonating with authority, “I hereby form a pact with Nephilia. From this moment forward, our fates are intertwined. My strength shall be hers, and she shall have the power to command me, as long as it does not go against my nature.”

As he spoke the words, Nephilia felt a rush of energy surge through her. It was as if a door had opened within her, allowing a flood of power to pour in. A heady mix of strength and raw potential that set her nerves alight. She gasped softly as the energy filled her, connecting her to Mammon in a way that was both intimate and profound.

It was an overwhelming sensation, one that was far more than just the rush of energy. It was as if something deep within her—a part of her being that had always been slightly off-kilter, slightly misaligned—was suddenly snapping into place. The feeling was both foreign and familiar, like finding a missing piece to a puzzle she hadn’t realized she was trying to solve.

A bright, golden light flared between their joined hands, the warmth of it spreading through Nephilia’s entire body. She could feel the essence of Mammon’s power flowing into her, seeping into her very being. It was as though a piece of him had taken root within her, a part of his strength now hers to wield.

Suddenly, the light concentrated on a single point, just below Nephilia’s collarbone. The energy pulsed, and then, with a sharp yet not painful sensation, a mark began to form on her skin. The light traced intricate patterns, weaving together lines and symbols until the mark was complete. It glowed brightly at first, the golden hue shimmering with an ethereal brilliance, before gradually dimming, its brightness fading until it appeared as nothing more than an inked tattoo.

The mark was elegant, yet unmistakably demonic in design—swirling lines and sharp angles that formed a sigil representing Mammon’s power. Nephilia reached up to touch it, her fingers brushing against the now-cool skin. The mark felt like it belonged there, as if it had always been a part of her.

A sense of completeness, a strange harmony that resonated within her very core, washed over her. A piece of herself she never knew was missing had found its place, and now, with the bond of the pact, it was as though her nature had finally aligned with something greater—something that had always been there, just out of reach.

The mark on her collarbone pulsed once more, almost as if acknowledging her thoughts, before settling into a dormant state.

Mammon rubbed the back of his neck again, his usual bravado returning, though there was an undertone of something softer in his gaze. “All right, human—I mean, Neph—don’t go makin’ me regret this, 'kay? Just remember what I said, and don’t cause me any trouble.”

She smiled faintly, still processing the profound sense of alignment she felt. “I won’t. Thank you, Mammon.”

Mammon huffed, clearly trying to brush off the weight of the moment, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—maybe respect, maybe relief. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t make me say it was a bad idea.”

As Mammon turned away, she couldn’t help but marvel at how this pact, this merging of energies, had done more than simply give her power—it had grounded her, settled her in a way she hadn’t expected. For the first time since arriving in the Devildom, she felt a true sense of belonging, as though the pieces of herself had finally found their proper places. Whatever lay ahead, she was no longer just a human trying to survive in a world of demons; she was something more—someone who had begun to carve out her place, one pact at a time.

[jokeroutsubs]

Interview with Joker Out's member Nace Jordan, from Slovenian magazine Kranjčanka!

"Enriched by a special experience"

We caught up with Nace Jordan, bassist of Joker Out, a week or so after the Eurovision show in Liverpool, a few days after the show in Zagreb, and just before they left for the show in Dublin, where they sold out their first show in twenty minutes… On stage, they kept company to the Irish performers.

The fact that this guy, who is otherwise from Mlaka (T.N: small village near Kranj), is fully booked, can be confirmed by telling you that he moved into a new flat in March of this year - he has been living in Ljubljana for some time now - but he has spent less than 14 days there until it was time for the Eurovision Song Contest. He still returns to Kranj at least twice a week to visit his mother and to stay true to himself: he decided to get a personal trainer a while ago, so now he also goes to Kranj to train there.

Nace Jordan came into contact with music in primary school. He first played the guitar, which he soon replaced with the bass guitar. "Around the fifth grade of primary school (T.N: 10-11 years old), I became interested in instruments and a classmate and I decided to start a music group. He bought a drum set and I bought an electric guitar. Then we quickly saw that there were no bass players. So I sold the guitar and bought a bass guitar," he explains. He has no formal musical training, but says he has been lucky that wherever he has gone in life, there has always been a good mentor who has been able to guide him.

I: How long did this primary school group last?

N: In those days it was a well-known Kranj band called Success. We did a lot of gigs. It's interesting that all the band members from that time are now living off music. They are, for example, the guitarist Nejc Ušlakar, Tajda Jovanović - also from Mlaka - who is a top classical singer and used to sing at the famous Scala in Milan; if I am not mistaken, she is now teaching classical singing in Dubai. We just created an environment for ourselves and stayed in music. The drummer and keyboard player, Aljaž Bernik and Miha Petrovič, have, for example, a very successful wedding band, called Pop Deluxe.

I: What came after primary school? (* (T.N: In Slovenia, primary school lasts for 9 years, from ages 6-15)

N: I enrolled at the then Iskra University, majoring in mechatronics, but just before graduation I started working - actually playing on a cruiser. By some chance I found myself at a jam session open mind in Kranj, where the Kranj drummer Rok Rozman was looking for someone to go on the boat with him. He was impressed with me, I auditioned and of course they weren't very happy at home when I confronted them with the fact that I was going to take my final exams the following year. I was just 18 years old.

I: Was that a cruise ship?

N: Yes. We were travelling in the Baltic Ocean. I remember that we started in Germany, in a port north of Hamburg, then continued on to Gdansk, St Petersburg and to the Scandinavian countries.

l: That was probably the only time you've been on a cruise ship of that kind, a tourist cruise ship?

I've had a lot of people ask me if I would ever go on holiday on a cruise ship. Probably not. But I would go and have another look at the one I played on.

I: When you came back to Slovenia, did you graduate from high school? N: I didn't and I still regret it a little bit. When I came back from the ship, I started working with the singer Katarina Malo. During that time, I was also taken under the wing of two musicians from Primorska (T.N.: a region in the South-Western part of Slovenia) - that's what I mentioned: I found myself somewhere and then a mentor came along. I learned a lot from them. They were David Morgan and Denis Beganovic - Kiki. The first one is a top jazz drummer from the coastal area, he organises a lot of stuff, and he also plays with Avtomobili (T.N. slovenian band), I think he even played with Plestenjak (T.N. Jan Plestenjak, a famous Slovenian pop singer) at one point. Whereas Kiki is a multi-instrumentalist. He's an extraordinary talent. He has worked with Kanzyani and other famous DJs and musicians from abroad. He has made a lot of music, and he also led the Big Band from the coastal region. That was a really nice period for me. I even moved to the coastal region for a short period.

I: Why music, why not football?

N: Certainly not football (laughs). It's the sport I'm least talented in, or rather, all ball sports fall into that context - be it table tennis or football; and, even though my surname is Jordan, I'm the worst basketball player in the world (laughs). Just two days ago, I met my first grade teacher, and of course the topic of music and Eurovision came up. She told me that she knew even back then that school was not for me, but that I would definitely do something creative in my life. It brought back memories of how bored I was at school and how I would rather draw under my desk than listen, even though I was not a bad student.

I: You haven't been a member of Joker Out for long.

N: Since last year. Martin Jurkovič, the original bass player, felt at some point that music was not his main path. He is also an extremely talented programmer and is studying in that direction. He wants to study abroad and decided to finish that chapter. I knew the lead singer of the band, Bojan, from some mutual friend groups before, and the guys were looking for someone who was around their age, professional, good at what they do, and they thought of me. And Martin was in favour of me coming into the group instead of him.

I: And did you imagine that the band would continue the way it did?

N: From the beginning I went into the band with a bit of hesitation. I even suggested a test period. I had learnt that there has to be chemistry between the members. And if we didn't get along with each other the way we do, we wouldn't have performed on the Eurovision stage. We would have had a fight otherwise.

I: Do you spend a lot of time together?

N: First there were the Eurovision showcase concerts, and now there is the summer concert tour in Slovenia. We also have quite a few problems, because we get a lot of calls from abroad. It's logistically difficult, so we're looking for a solution to link some of the concerts to the tour. After the Eurovision Song Contest, we really started to get noticed abroad.

I: Was this your first Eurovision Song Contest?

N: Yes. But I have been to EMA (slovenian national selection for ESC) several times before.

I: Was it as you imagined it would be?

N: Even better. I can say that everyone who has been through this kind of experience has told us that it will be really tough: there will be a lot of work, but that we should also expect crazy parties. But in the end, it was much less exhausting than we expected. In fact, we had such a busy schedule beforehand that Eurovision itself was almost easier for us afterwards. We were practically in the Arena for five days, the rest was socialising, interviews and other commitments. In principle, we like that.

I: You seemed to be well received.

N: We were lucky enough to have connected with practically all the performers. We were always in a good mood, which was seen and felt both in the performances and in the interviews, during the statements. We came home really enriched by a special experience. And it was really nice to see how the people at home supported us. After the first semi-final, we got some footage of how they were watching us and we were just amazed how behind Bežigrad (Ljubljana district), let's say, they watched the first semi-final show in an organised way. The energy was crazy, like at a match.

I: What about Liverpool? Was there any time to "play tourists"?

N: During Eurovision, not really. We were in Liverpool before, because we were shooting a video. I think it was after Barcelona, and we did a lot of walking around the city then. For those who like the Beatles, Liverpool is great.

I : How did it come about that you went to Eurovision in the first place?

N : When I came into the group, the guys and I immediately started talking about whether we would go to this year's EMAs. We decided to go. We knew we would definitely be one of the favourites because we have a really big and extremely loyal audience. Well, then the EMA didn't happen. The jury decided to make their own choice, from the five entries who had the most songs of the week during that year. And I think only two of us ended up applying. There was no EMA, and they sent us to Liverpool.

I: You mostly use Slovenian in your songs.

N: Of course. We have a few songs in English, but we mostly sing in Slovenian. We were talking about how we would work going forwards, and we agreed not to bother with the language. We are proud of our Slovenian language. It's really something beautiful when you see an adult Peruvian man or a five-year-old Spanish girl singing our song in Slovenian. In that moment you understand the athletes and you are proud to be Slovenian.

I: How is it on the street? Do people recognise you? You often hear: is that the bass player of Joker Out?

N: Yes, quite. Most of the time it's people who say something nice to you, or want a selfie. Of course, there are also some "admirers" who stick gum all over my car or leave messages. There's a good side and a bad side to being a public personality. Sometimes it requires of you to spend three hours taking photos - but if you enjoy doing something, that's not a problem either.

I: Do you think that it is actually the fact that you get along well in a group that "pulls" in the audience?

N: The energy between us is definitely something that is contagious. I don't know if it's what makes the audience really like us, but it's something that puts even someone who is in a bad mood in a good mood.

Translation by @kurooscoffee (jokeroutsubs). DO NOT REPOST!

[chubbypotatoepie]

Lily’s War (Chapter 4)

Summary: SOE Agent Lily Darlington is unexpectedly demoted from her position and offered a life changing opportunity to become the first female Paratrooper in US history?

Pairing: TBD - The suspense is part of the fun, no?

Warnings: Mentions of violence, language

A/N: Chapter 4 finally here. Please forgive my lateness, but say welcome back to Lily, hopefully with a bang!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Chapter 4.

Camp Toccoa, 1942. 

It hadn’t been an unusual day by any means, nothing particularly out of pocket had occurred. Yet, as Lily sat hunched over on the cold shower tiles watching the crimson stream of blood circle the drain, she recounted how the day had turned out so very wrong. 

— -

The bunkhouse was filled with the chorus of snoring soldiers broken only by the occasional creek of an ever restless Joe Toye rolling in his cot. All were sleeping soundly, except for Private Lily Darlington who was curled into a ball at the very top of her bed. Gentlestreaks of moonlight had trickled their way through the windows, glinting off a pair of dog tags clasped between her hands partially hidden beneath the covers, her fingers glided over the raised letters as she accosted herself at her inability to control her emotions. She sucked in a silent breath and pulled the blanket over her mouth in attempt to stifle any noise as she endeavoured to catch her breath. It had been a week since she’d last slept through the night without being plagued by a nightmare. It wasn’t unusual for them to hit once a fortnight, even once a week at their worst. She was used to that, she expected that, however lately, she was lucky to go two to three days between them. She hadn’t had a full nights sleep for a week, and it was starting to show. It was causing her to lose her sturdy exterior, she had started to quip back whenever Liebgott made a joke at her expense, and she’d purposefully tripped up Guarnere on the obstacle course the previous day due to his somewhat degrading comments on her performance. 

Each time was the same. Waking up, drenched in her own sweat, a searing pain emanating from her old wound accompanied by the smell of blood still lingering in her nostrils. It was part of the gig, came with the job she had been warned. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she placed her head between them, letting her fingertips graze over the scar as she sat there listening to the cicadas chirping outside the barracks. Their true meaning escaped her, she understood that she would have to be void of all human emotions if she weren’t to let past experiences stay with her, but why they haunted her was a question she had little answers to. It was a miracle that she had kept it to herself this long, how she hadn’t woken any of the men with her gasps or thrashing about. Lily thanked her lucky stars as she ran her hands through her damp hair, the groans from the springs beneath her sending a gentle reminder to maintain the peace within the quiet cabin as she gently knotted up her boots and tied her PT sweater around her waist. 

As she quietly sneaked out of the bunkhouse for some desperately needed air she found herself so lost in her own head that she didn’t notice the pair of eyes on her from across the room watching with a curious intensity.

— - 

“Yeah well I bet you’re regretting it now.” The irritating register of Perconte’s voice filled the latrine as he leant on the wall, half in and half out in the open door way, puffing his way through a lucky strike and scraping at a dirt stain on his shirt. 

“How was I supposed to know he’d hear me.” Luz looked up at his friend with a less than amused look on his face as he sat, back to the wall, tapping the excess ash from his cigarette into the bucket by his feet. 

“Ahh he’s got it out for all of us, yesterday was just your lucky turn.” Perconte answered.

“Last week was my lucky turn too, first time in my life I hope I run out of luck.” Luz said, his forearms on his knees as he took a deep breath of his cigarette. 

“You should be grateful, ain’t nobody been as lucky as Redcoat here, every goddamn day Sobel sees fit to reward her.” Perconte looked towards the girl scrubbing away in the corner, rolling his eyes to her seemingly obliviousness to the two men’s conversation. 

“Ain’t that right Redcoat? Hmmmmm?” Perconte clicked at the girl, trying to pull her attention from the floor. “Ears like a hawk that one” he mock whispered to Luz.

“I bet he can hear me in his sleep.” Luz replied, ignoring the short man’s half hearted attempt to irritate his punishment companion. 

“I bet he can hear you smoking and not scrubbing.” Perconte taunted tipping the sud bucket with his boot. 

Luz replied by flicking his half finished cigarette at the man, grabbing the brush from the wobbly bucket and began to scrub the tiled floor again, a little harder than necessary, his eyes conveying a less than amused look. 

“Well I’m off to enjoy this sunny afternoon, a free pass afternoon, do whatever the hell I feel like.” Perconte taunted.

Luz reached for the nearby bucket in retaliation, “you’re gonna be doing it soaking wet if you don’t get outta here” grinning to himself as Perconte made his way back out into the glorious sunshine, leaving Luz and Lily to scrub their afternoon away in the musty latrine. 

“Enjoy.” He spoke, his palms raised in defence, stepping out of the door way and cocking his head towards the girl in the corner with an eye roll.

Back in the corner, Lily knelt by the shower drain up to her elbows in suds from scrubbing the filthy floor, amazed by how the dark speckled tile was actually a light brown, hidden by a thick layer of dirt, grime, and God knows what else. She had been so graciously gifted the afternoon of latrine duty for an unknown infraction that Sobel had concocted the day prior during the afternoon obstacle course exercise after she had displeased him for the thousandth time that day, probably simply from existing. She wasn’t in the know as to Luz’s infraction, but she guessed that it was most likely due to his inability to keep his colorful thoughts to himself during the exercise, although, some of his impressions of Lieutenant ‘stick up his arse’ did make the time pass quicker. So now, they had the pleasure of each others company whilst they spent their first free afternoon in forever scrubbing the dirtiest part of the barracks as the rest of the men lamented in the summer sunshine. 

Without Perconte’s commentary echoing around the building the only sounds were that of the two scrubbing brushes rhythmically sanding away at the grimy floor. The silence was palpable. Lily didn’t mind the cleaning duty as much as Sobel probably hoped she would, she much preferred it to running a couple of miles in the humid sun with a full pack, and whilst she didn’t know Private Luz all that well, he’d been sticking to his end of the latrine, and wasn’t causing her any trouble thus far, so it came as a surprise to her when he broke the silence. 

“You know, if they’d mentioned in that damn Life article that being a paratrooper meant spending two sorry years of my life stuck with Sobel I might not have signed up so fast.” Luz stood up from his bent over scrubbing position, groaning as he clicked his body back into shape and wandered over to find where he’d left his water canteen, leaning back against the sinks, mulling over the absurdity of his situation. He looked over at the girl, scrubbing away at the endless grime that covered the floor, continuing to ignore him.

Lily had been part of Easy Company for some time now, that part being ignored, unwanted, forcing her to the back or just pretending she didn’t exist, the men always attempting to keep her an arms length away from the action. Luz wouldn’t have known she was still there if it weren’t for Sobel’s incessant barking at her. She didn’t speak up much in the classroom, never sat with the men at chow - never invited to sit with the men either he noted, even during the evenings before lights out she was either nowhere to be seen or already in bed turned away from whatever group conversation was taking place. 

“You don’t talk much do you?.” He peered over at her hunched figure as she continued scrubbing, when she didn’t answer he cleared his throat a little louder than necessary. 

“Hey Luz, how are you today? Well Redcoat, I was doing just fine until I had to come here and scrub! I love scrubbing, I’m so thankful that Lieutenant Sobel gifts it to me so often, it keeps my arms strong and my spirits high.” He chuckled to himself, tilting his head slightly in the hopes that she saw the peace offering he was attempting. 

She glanced behind herself, irritated at Luz’s attempt at humour, raising a singular eyebrow as she made eye contact with the sniggering man. 

“Oh thank god, it worked! You aren’t deaf! Had me worried for a minute there.” A ridiculous smile plastered across his face as he stared at Lily, waiting for an answer. She remained on the ground, one hand on her brush, one of the floor, her eyes attempting to bore a hole through his head. Her stare was beginning to make him think that they may have been better off in silence, his heart rate only slowing as he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in as she broke eye contact and slumped herself into a seated position, grabbing her canteen and taking a long, slow drink. 

Lily’s body ached from being bent over too long and her hands were raw from scrubbing, she had blisters on her palms from days of climbing ropes and scaling beams, she wasn’t in the mood for jibes or jabs. Her gaze remained off in the distance until she noticed Luz still looking at her, waiting on a reply, she was too tired for this, but she was too tired to continuously ignore him for the remaining hours of scrubbing they still had left.

“I’m touched?” her voice monotonous, her face unimpressed. 

The pair stared across the latrine at each other in their respective corners, an awkward silence dragging between them as neither knew what to say next. George realised that it might be the first time he’d actually properly talked to her, actually talking to her, rather than the odd nod when they came in contact during exercises. He couldn’t help but feel that part of her hesitation in talking is his own fault. By no means has he been the worst, but he hasn’t been all that forthcoming in welcoming their latest addition to the Company. He’s seen how she sits alone reading on her bunk at night, whilst the rest of the men play cards and enjoy themselves, how any conversation dies down if she merely walks past a group. A strong feeling of guilt washed over him as he racked his brain for what to say next.

“George Luz.” He wiped his hand on his pant leg before extending it towards her.

“I know who you are.” She looked towards his hand but made no move to accept the gesture.

“I know you do, and I know who you are too. Ain’t this how you do it in England? Introductions and shit?” He pushed himself off the sinks as she continued to just stare back at him, motionless. 

“Christ Redcoat, shake my damn hand, I ain't got cooties.” He stood there for a moment, his mind dancing between pride and patience before taking a few steps towards the girl, sitting himself down opposite her and extending his hand again. The lump in his chest evaporated as she waited a few moments, before placing her canteen back on the ground and with a firm shake she replied. 

“Lily Darlington.”

“And here I was thinking all this time that your name was Redcoat.” He mocked.

“I can see how you would think that.” She replied, her eyes rolled as she slumped her back against the cool wall.

“Sobel seems to really have it out for you.” He said, dancing on the edge of conversation.

“I’m starting to get the notion that he doesn’t quite like me.” She said in jest, it wasn’t enough to form a laugh, but she let out a huff of air.

“You ain’t wrong there.” He replied, stretching his legs out across the half scrubbed tile floor. 

“Well, perhaps my day just wouldn’t shine the same if Sobel didn’t remind me how worthless I am to the Company. Keeps me eager.” She turned and winked at him as she took another sip from her canteen, the suds from her elbows dripping onto her pant leg. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to have an actual conversation with someone, she felt as if she hadn’t said anything of substance in weeks. 

“You’re funny when you actually talk you know.” Chuckling when he receives a sarcastic seeming eyebrow raise and hint of a smile out of her.  “I don’t know how you do it,  I got six sisters and they cry if I so much as comment on anything they do, I hate the guy and he ain’t half as bad on me” Luz’s expression crinkled. 

“Its manageable.” She spoke as she scraped the sudds off her arms and shook them back into the bucket. 

Manageable, it was just about manageable, however it was teetering close to unbearable. She had a stern spirit, and a stiff upper lip, but not even she was unbreakable. They had so much more training to go, and then goodness knows how many years actually in the thick of it. If she couldn’t break the seal on the men’s freeze out then she had no hope of survival.

“Manageable, hmmm. Your Lieutenant hates you, your Company ain’t so keen on you either. Either you’re one determined son of a bitch, or you’re crazy.” He replied with a single eyebrow raise. 

“I’m not entirely sure I want to be friends with people who spit in my food.” She replied.  

“That’s Liebgott, he’s a jackass. And we don’t all hate you, we just don’t know you. You’re the only broad outta nine companies. You gotta see how weird that is.” 

“I see that it’s different, I don’t necessarily see it as the disadvantage that your lot do. I don’t even think they realise to know me they’d actually have to talk to me first, their friendship hasn’t exactly been forthcoming.”

“That’s fair.” He replied, his hands raised in defence. “We ain’t exactly been forthcoming, maybe it don’t come easy talking to a broad if it ain't at a bar for my lot?” He winked at her, met by a disapproving look. 

“I know you and I don’t think you’re all that bad. ” He smiled at her.

“You’ve known me, all of, two minutes?” Her sarcastic tone coming out again as she glanced down at her watch ticking away on her wrist. 

“I only let the very best of people be my friends.” He said mockingly.

“You’re friends with Liebgott…” She replied looking through her eyebrows.

“I am friendly with Liebgott, there’s a difference.” He smiled back. “Two long minutes, give it six months, we’re gonna be best friends.” His face turned to her with a childish grin plastered across it. 

“Is that so?” Her pitch raised as she suppressed a laugh at the mans premonition. 

“I know these things, feel it in my bones.” He winked before standing up and ‘wiggling his bones’ as he made his way back over to his own bucket, laughing to himself as left.

The pair fell back into their quiet rhythmic scrubbing, broken every so often by Luz trying to make conversation, and to his surprise, Lily trying to reply in a way that showed him she wasn’t entirely disinterested by his peace making attempts. After the lack lustre interactions she was used to she didn’t want to get too optimistic over a single conversation, but she couldn’t help feeling that it might be a tiny step in the right direction. 

— -

A hint of a smile crept across Lily’s face as she hung the buckets back up in the supplies closet. The pair had finally finished their punishment and Luz had rushed off to enjoy the rest of the afternoon with the men, something about Bull Randleman owning him a pack of smokes from their poker game the previous night. Lily had offered to finish up the job, and afterwards planned to find a quiet corner and watch the world go by, she had been looking forward to doing nothing for so long and her body was begging for a break. 

With her smile still lingering and her heart a little lighter she made her way along the barracks towards the quieter end of the camp, turning the corner without noticing the large figure coming straight towards her until it was too late, smacking head on, and sending both parties stumbling back, the ground littered with papers that Lily could only assume the other party had been rushing somewhere.

“I’m so sorry!” Lily exclaimed, gathering up all the lose sheets around her before looking up to see exactly who she had run into. Her heart dropped in her chest when her eyes raised to meet those of Lewis Nixon’s, Lieutenant Lewis Nixon’s, “Sir.” She tried to add quickly, however in her shocked state, it came out more like a whisper, much to her embarrassment. 

His eyes lowered for a split second before he also reached for the loose sheets, shoving them haphazardly into the file tightly grasped in his hands, almost in an attempt to by himself some time to think of something logical to say. Before it could conjure anything Lily’s hand thrust out towards him as she offered his remaining papers, his eyes met hers once again, and he drew in a sharp breath as he took them from her grasp. They both stood there awkwardly, waiting for the other to speak first. 

It hadn’t really sunk in for him yet. He still didn’t truly believe she was here. That it was actually her. Yes he’d sat through the meeting with her and Winters, however, most of it was a blur to him, he was certain he was being pranked and any moment now his sister Blanche would pop out from behind a tree, grab Lily and run off giggling. He felt as if he had been shot upon seeing her unannounced all these years later. She had been here for weeks now, yet he found himself avoiding her, filling every available hour with extra tasks just to minimise the amount of time in which he’d actually have to face her. He just couldn’t understand what the hell she was doing here - the Lily he knew would not be here. 

Lily could feel a flush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks, she had been wanting to speak to Lewis privately ever since she arrived, yet could never seem to find an appropriate moment, now she had one she couldn’t even seem to form a single word out of her mouth, it didn’t help that he was staring at her in an unnerving manner. Before either of them could say anything Lieutenant Winters called out for him. His eyes rose to the source of the voice across the far side of the opposite field before dropping back to meet hers with a regretful expression. 

“I have to go.” Was all he could bring himself to say before pushing past her small frame and dashing off to the very meeting he had just made himself late for, grimacing at the way he had just handled the situation, knowing full well he was just making everything more complicated for his future self and somewhat guilty for not even saying hello to the girl he was once so very close to. 

— -

If persistence was a person it would be George Bloody Luz. It was evident that he been steadfast in his intentions in becoming best friends, but to be fair, Lily hadn’t been stopping him. She was right about the step, which had actually turned out to be more of a leap, George Luz didn’t seem to do anything halfheartedly. She had begun to enjoy having a someone to shoot the shit with as they scaled Currahee, someone to compare notes with after a classroom exercise, to stand in line with at the mess hall as they awaited that evenings sloppy serving of grub. Luz had even been trying to get her to sit alongside the men at meals, to which she complied, but somehow always found herself perched half on half off the bench, too far away to be able to be involved in any discussion. One step forward, one step back. Lately they’d even found themselves sat out the back of the Barracks late in the evenings before curfew, sharing a laugh, going over the best and the worst parts of that day, occasionally joined by Floyd Talbert or another one of Luz’s friends, which only seemed to make her situation feel even more isolating, ironic really. Lily craved the dynamic that George had with the rest of the chaps, the camaraderie and the comfort it seemed to bring him at the end of a long day when he could truly be himself. It was a harsh reality, not one that she was expecting either, that to let herself be open to any form of friendship, she had to be able put her guard down, not to mention swallowing her pride. 

In a surprise turn of events, the men seemed to take the lead from Luz, she was far from getting into conversation with anyone new, however when she sat next to Luz at chow the previous evening, she received head nods from some of the others at the bench, and Randalman had even saved her a seat. It was an improvement, a very small improvement, but one she so desperately needed. 

— -

"You know Nix, I think if you stare any harder you might just fall through that window.” Winters noted from beneath his stack of papers. 

“I am not staring, I am observing.” He replied, eyes fixated on the field before him.

“That her?” Spiers motioned to the short figure at the back of the group.

“Sure is” Winters replied, placing his papers down and joining the men congregated around the window. 

The trio stood side by side behind the window, watching the line of Privates as they stood in formation, being barked at by their beloved Lieutenant Sobel. Nixon’s eyes fixed on the form of Private Lily Darlington at the end of the line, a full head and shoulders below her fellow men, the longer he stared the less he began to recognise the girl he once new. 

— -

“Easy Company, each of you will select a strip of paper! On that paper will be a name, that name will be your partner for the rest of the day, there will be no trading partners, no exceptions!” Sobel’s voice cried as he thrust the helmet forcefully into Lily’s hands.

She groaned as she grabbed a strip from the pile, she had gotten away with mostly pairing Luz for the week. Sparing wasn’t anything new to her, in all actuality she excelled at it, but there in lay her problem. Her position within the Company already ruffled feathers and had the men asking all sorts of questions that she had little interest or ability to answer. If she had gone from quiet girl at the back of the group, to launching grown men over her shoulder within a day she doubted that she’d be able to escape without explaining herself. Luz was her scapegoat, not that he knew it. She had let him lead the training, she tried to spar with her non dominate hand to lessen the blows, heck he’d even commended her on her improvements the day before. As she passed the helmet towards George she said a silent prayer that the name on her slip was an easy opponent, whilst she knew she was going to have to suppress herself, she wasn’t exactly hoping to have to take a punch from the likes of Bull or even Guarnere, she was hoping to remain under the radar, not in the medical bay. 

“Who’d you get?” George whispered across to her, passing the helmet to its next victim. 

Lily felt her prayer fall from the sky and slap her as she opened the strip of paper between her fingers. Inked across in a barely legible scrawl was the one name she’d have paid good money to not see.

Liebgott. 

She tilted the paper towards him and rolled her eyes as an amused grin swept across his face.

“Weren’t you saying yesterday how much he deserves a ‘kick up the arse’” Luz replied, mocking her accent rather crassly, his eyebrows wiggling in jest.

With a look of distain she nodded towards his paper, the corners of her mouth turning up as she read ‘Randalman’, looks like Luz will have a tussle of his own. 

“Find your partner and pair up!” Sobel yelled from the other side of the field. 

“Have fun!” Luz mocked as Lily dragged herself towards the other end of the field to find her unlucky partner. She was barely 10 steps towards where he was stood before she could feel his eyes beginning to glare a hole through her.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, boys, this is gonna be fun.” He spat, looking her up and down before shoulder passing her and strutting away from the group of men towards his spot on the field.  

“Listen up Easy Company! The man on the far side of the field will make the starting move, last man standing wins!” Lieutenant Sobel’s whistle rang through the air as Lily centred her weight and dug deep deep down within herself to find an ounce of self control to not smash his face in. Defence, defence, Now wasn’t the time to be putting anyone in the medical bay.

“Afraid of messing up your hair sweetheart?” His childish voice rang in her ears as he stood on the far side of the field rolling his sleeves up. 

“You’d have to make contact with me to be able to do that, Liebgott.” She smiled back at him with a shit eating grin, spitting his name as if it were a slur.

“Yeah?” He said, slowly squaring up towards her. He was a good head and shoulders taller than her, and he was using every ounce of his stature to try to intimidate her. It was pretty easy to pinpoint exactly how Liebgott managed to get under her skin so easily, he was impulsive, rude, he knew how to push all her buttons, but mostly it was that he seemed to wake up every day with the innate desire to do anything, say anything to tick her off. It was killing her to find an ounce of strength not to retaliate. She had learnt the hard way that it mostly makes situations worse.

The duo stood steadfast, each not willing to back down from their ridiculous stare off, completely oblivious to the approaching footsteps of the Lieutenant Winters as he made his way over towards them. 

“Do we have a problem here?” His deep voice broke their trance, his eyes shifting between the pair. 

Liebgott’s head swung from between the Winters and the girl, “Afraid of getting her hands dirty I’d say, Sir.”

Winters let out a huff of aggravation, “Private Darlington, do you have a problem sparring with Private Liebgott?” His face displayed a look of curiosity as he peered down at the girl. “From what I’ve seen I’d say quite the opposite. Perhaps you can teach Private Liebgott here a thing or two.” He said with a wink. 

“Yes Sir” Lily happily replied, a hint of a smile edging on her lips, I’d happy slap the shit out of him, Sir. 

Lieutenant Winters smiled as he backed away, he couldn’t help but admit that he did hold a slight interest in watching her take down the loudmouthed Liebgott. He’d been an onlooker a few of their interactions, and whilst he wouldn’t feel inclined to step in between them; he knew that they needed to learn how to live amongst each other, and sometimes that required an ego takedown, he was comforted in the knowledge that his meddling would only produce what Liebgott had been fuelling with his behaviour.

Lily didn’t know the last time she had free rein to pummel someone, and she adored it. A rush of adrenaline overcame her as she waited, her weight spread, knees slightly bent. Joseph Liebgott you are so bloody predictable. During the drills prior shed had time to observe almost every man, assessing their strengths and taking note of their weaknesses. Liebgott was a classic, he favoured his left leg for balance, he always threw his first punch with his right arm. He was always telling the other men about fights he had gotten into back home, he was experienced, but impulsive. His aim was always to throw as many punches as he could before his opponent got a look in. Always so quick to attack that he never assessed the situation, his anger and his ‘better than thou’ attitude clouded his judgment. 

Lily dug her foot further into the dirt for leverage as she looked across at her partner, taunting her with a confident smirk and accompanying wink. Her eyes didn’t move from his as she waited for him to make the first move, she remained still, waiting on each footstep as he moved closer towards her. 

She barely had a second to breathe before Liebgott launched himself at her, throwing a punch that narrowly missed her eye. She ducked to dodge its trajectory, having to stop herself from sinking her fist into his crown jewels as she came back up, although she’d be lying if watching Liebgott rolling around on the ground like a worm cradling his crotch wouldn’t amuse her. 

Her weeks of silence in the evenings had been beneficial, it seemed Liebgott’s favourite pastime to recount the street brawl fights he’d gotten himself wrapped up in back home in California. She needed to prepare for a dirty fight. He retreated for a short moment before he lunged at her again, his movements brash and wild, he aimed for her blind spots, however, Lily anticipated it this time, and blocked and you countered, clipping his ankle as he came past, his impulsiveness made for a simple fight, however she kept her fists tight to her body, defence Lily, she reminded herself, scraping every ounce of self control she had left.

Winter’s attention was pulled from the scene as Nixon and Spiers made they way over the field to where he stood. 

“Battle to the death?.” Spiers said as he looked out onto the scene before them. 

Nixon stood between them, his arms tightly folded watching the ebb and flow of the drill intensify, his brow knitted tightly. “She’s reading him like a book.” He said, with more concern than he intended.

Thwack! 

She blocked his expected right hook, and countered with an elbow to his face, it wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but just about enough to knock his balance off. Swinging around she met his eyes as he recoiled back, his dark eyes glared at her, a mixture of shock and fury. This time Lily moved without hesitation, rushing forward she ducked down and grabbed Liebgott below the waist, using her entire body weight to throw him to the ground, the loud thunk of his head colliding with the mud drew inquisitive eyes from them other sparring pairs. A quiet murmur started to form amongst the onlookers who didn’t know wether to stop or watch what was going on. The force of the impact sent ringing through Liebgott’s ears, his eyes felt heavy in his head as if he was being pulled into the earth itself.

A quiet suppressed chuckle escaped from Spiers as Sobel shoved past the onlookers him yanked Liebgott back to his feet by his shirt collar.  “Easy Company is better than this Private, are you going to let a girl beat you?!” He bellowed into Liebgott’s ringing ears as he shoved him back into the fight. 

Liebgott stood for a few seconds catching his breath, before swinging his arm again and unleashing a series of rapid strikes. Lily moved and countered, her blocks almost poetic in their efficiency. 

Sobel’s voice called out once more, “Private Liebgott this isn’t a street fight, you are to take down your opponent!” His cowl voice broke Lily’s concentration, and in the split second she had stopped to turn her attention towards Sobel Joe had moved to throw a wild punch. Lily failed to block him as his fist collided with the side of her face. He was overjoyed, a slinky grin crept onto his face as his eyes scanned the red mark quickly rising across her left cheek. 

A few men down, Luz and Randleman had paused mid takedown as they saw Liebgott’s fist meet Lily’s face, they anxiously watched, unaware how they each still had their fists curled into each others uniform. 

Lily swallowed hard as she re-entered herself, she was prepared for a few bruises, she had settled on a few bruises, a few stumbles and she’d fall, faking defeat. She’d be able to sit the rest out and no one would remotely pay any attention to her, she had had her fun with him. That was until Liebgott decided to open his mouth and drain every inch of her self control.

“Gonna cry Red? I’ve seen you cry in your sleep, ain’t gonna be nothing new, you just can’t hack it.” He scoffed in her direction as she wiped a loose tendril of sweat covered hair out of her eyes.

His words seared into her skin and a switch flipped inside of her. She let him move first, her eyes shooting daggers into his. She watched as he moved slowly towards her, before shifting his weight and throwing a punch that she dogged with ease, he was playing into her hands. Then, with a sudden sprint Lily moved towards Liebgott.

Crunch!

With a sudden jab to the face Liebgott stumbled backwards, his nose bloodied and his fists tightened. He moved to wipe the blood away, however Lily didn’t give him a moment’s rest. 

“What in the Sam Hell…” Escaped from Randleman’s mouth as he stood, still connected to Luz, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the tiny girl, his eyes wide with shock.

With Liebgott’s hands up to his face, he left himself open, and Lily rushed forwards again. She explored his opening and with a shark kick has landed a blow to his ribs, a jarring move that stole the air from his lungs. Liebgott doubled over as the onlookers winced, barely sparring themselves anymore, too interested in the action. 

“She’s got bite, I’ll give her that.” Spiers spoke

“You can thank the SOE for that.” Nixon replied, his eyes completely fixated on the girl.

Liebgott, with more fury in his eyes than before attempted a desperate counter attack, Lily, however, moved in with ruthlessness, blocking each strike, and retaliating with a relentless barrage. Her fist collided with the Californian’s nose for the second time, forcing Liebgott to stagger backward as he let out a gasp of pain. As the confrontation reached its climax, Lily delivered a final, devastating series of blows, landing a final kick to his abdomen, followed by an elbow to the face in order to distract him, seizing the opportunity she grabbed him by the arm and flipped him over her shoulder. The onlookers shuddered as a sickening crunch sounded when Liebgott hit the ground, his shoulder dislocating the impact. Lily stood over him, her hands on her thighs as she panted, catching her breath as he lay there, defeated, bloody, and breathless. 

“Jesus Christ” Nixon breathed out as stood with the other Officers, their faces a mixture of curiosity and shock. He was finding it difficult to put into words what he had just seen, who was this Lily?

Tag list:

@shakespear-picaso-lovechild @icantdecideofthename @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @weird-obsessed-girl

Next part sooooo much sooner than you think!

[karmic-vibes]

If I Can Dream

16 - Too Much Rain

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr/lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: mentions of divorce

Year: 1992

Pattie and John finalized their divorce in January of 1992. Per their lawyer, they had to try couples therapy, amongst a few other things, prior to their official split. When nothing took, they officially called it quits.

While John never came around quite like Pattie did, he still tried addressing everyone by their proper names and pronouns. He never stopped by or gave anyone the time of day, but when he remembered, he would send birthday gifts or vague holiday cards to try and act like he cared (mainly to spite Pattie, showing her she wasn’t the only involved grandparent).

But, Pattie didn’t care. She had finally connected with her son and her granddaughter—she couldn’t care less what her ex-husband did.

Pattie often found herself stopping by once every weekend to bring the boys a meal and a little gift for Bobby. Since tensions had been resolved, Pattie hadn’t misgendered Eddie or even slipped up on his deadname. She addressed and introduced him as her son’s husband and Bobby’s father. She earned strange looks from people who think the way she used to, but it was second nature to her at this point.

Her son was married to a man, who also fathered her granddaughter. Totally normal, right?

Ever since she left John, she could give two shits about what others perceived as “normal”—she loved her new, free life and she’d be damned if anyone took that from her. For the first time in her adult life, she was happy—she didn’t care about the rest.

One weekend when Pattie dropped by, Eddie was getting his belongings together to head over to The Hideout for his weekly gig. Corroded Coffin hadn’t performed nearly as much since Bobby was born, but his band mates didn’t mind—they all understood where Eddie’s priorities were.

“Alright, I’m heading out!” Eddie called.

“Good luck tonight, Ed,” Pattie chirped.

“Thanks, mama.”

That was a newer development—mama. Eddie had never been close with his own mother, so once Pattie started coming around more often, she very quickly took on a motherly role for her son-in-law. He called her mom or mama, and she had an array of pet names for him that she used interchangeably.

In all honesty, it made Steve sick to his stomach hearing how gushy they were towards each other, but he figured it was better that it was happening to Eddie rather than him.

“Do you have everything?” Steve asked.

“I think so. What would I be missing?”

“I don’t know, you’re forgetful,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, if I forget something, then I’ll just call you and make you come down to The Hideout. Sound good?”

“No.”

“Great. Love you.”

“Hate you too, stupid.”

The two quickly kissed each other as Eddie ran out the door. Bobby was put to bed about an hour ago, so Eddie had covered all his goodnight bases for the evening.

“I should probably head out, too,” Pattie sighed as she slipped her coat on. “It was a pleasure, Stevie.”

“Always nice to see you, mom. See you next weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Later that night, when Eddie got home from his gig, he burst into his bedroom and started bouncing on the bed, urging Steve awake. Steve grumbled to himself and hesitantly turned over to face Eddie.

“For the love of god, what, Edward?” Steve mumbled.

“Guess what!”

“No.”

“Steven Michael, guess!”

“No! Now shut up before you wake the beast down the hall.”

“Please, just one guess.”

“For the last time, no.”

“You’re no fun.”

Steve sighed and rolled back over, burying himself in their covers. Eddie straddled his husband and ripped the covers from his face. Steve hissed at the cool air and eventually gave up, caving to his spouse’s antics.

“How many guesses do I get?” Steve whined.

“Three.”

“I’m only guessing once.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I don’t know, Eddie, for god’s sake, I want to sleep!”

“Come on!” Eddie started bouncing up and down.

“You better behave, I swear on my life.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Regardless, I’m too tired to deal with you.”

“Come on! Guess!”

“I don’t know—you bought the bar?”

“No! We got a gig as openers at the Hoosier Dome next weekend!”

“What‽” Steve was suddenly jolted awake in excitement. “You’re bullshitting me.”

“I would never,” Eddie guffawed.

“You’re really playing at the biggest arena in the state?”

“Sure am,” he smiled proudly. “You and Bobbs get to come backstage and all that. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Won’t it be past her bed– what the fuck am I saying? Screw her bedtime—she gets to see her father perform at the dome! Ugh, I’m so proud of you, Eds! Who’re you opening for?”

“Oh, no one big—just Gun N’ Roses,” Eddie said nonchalantly.

“Eds, that’s huge!”

Steve cheered as he pulled his sweaty husband down for a kiss. Eddie held onto Steve’s face and deepened their kiss, reducing it to teeth and tongues. Eddie rutted his hips into Steve, but Steve held onto him, holding him in place.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“But Stevie,” Eddie whined.

“What, Eds?”

“We haven’t had sex in ages… making me think you don’t find me attractive anymore.”

“Okay, first and foremost, that’s asinine. You’re literally a smoke show—always have been, always will be. Second, I know, it’s killing me too, but Bee has been running me into the ground. She’s just at that age where she has endless energy. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah… but even when she was a baby, and we were going days without sleeping, we still did stuff,” he pouted.

“Ed, ‘stuff’ was just you giving me head.”

“Yeah, and? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you not like how I give head?”

“What? No, I… what?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with how you suck my dick, okay?”

“So, like… can I, then?”

“Eddie, for the love of all that is holy, it is three in the morning. Please, for my sanity, let me sleep.”

“It’ll take like five minutes.”

“Hey! I don’t finish that fast.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie smirked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t!”

“You have since we had the baby.”

“No… that can’t be true… can it?”

“It can be and it is. However, if you’re up for a challenge–”

“Okay, yeah, more so because I want to prove you wrong.”

Eddie chuckled to himself as he started shimmying Steve’s boxers down. The couple became intimate for the first time in ages and, much to Steve’s dismay, Eddie’s point had been proven right.

“Stevie, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s infuriating. I had no idea I lost so much stamina!”

“It’s okay! Just an excuse to practice a bit more—get your times up,” Eddie teased.

“Very funny, Ed,” Steve scoffed.

“Listen, my offer with pegging still stands if you’re ever feeling lazy and just wanna lay there. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“Okay, we were talking about how I can’t last longer than five minutes. How on earth did you go from there to pegging?”

“I dunno.” Eddie shrugged as he cuddled up to Steve.

“No, you do know.”

“Didn’t you want to go to sleep?”

“Well, now I’m awake, dickhead. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know, a few years, maybe.”

“Years?”

“Uh, yeah? You know how frustrating it is to be a dude without a dick? I just wanna do what you get to do. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay, well, let’s put that on the back burner for now.”

“Can we try it after my show next week?”

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, god, how I love you.” Eddie gently kissed Steve’s neck as he rubbed circles into his chest. “Get some sleep, big boy—it’s your morning with the beast tomorrow.”

As the couple fell into a deep slumber, it was soon interrupted by their daughter screaming at the top of her lungs from the end of the hall. The boys were stirred awake, trying to gain a sense of where they were and what was going on.

“Is that Bobby?” Steve grumbled.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed. “It’s your night.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled, sitting up in bed. He trekked down to Bobby’s bedroom where he flicked on the light and knelt next to his toddler’s bed. “What’s up, Bee?”

“There’s ghosties under the bed!” She cried.

“What do they look like?”

“They don’t have faces…”

“I, um… what are they doing?”

“They have scissors and, and, and they’re cutting up the carpet. Daddy, I’m scared!”

“Okay, uh… hold on…”

Steve’s eyes were bulged out of his head as he made his way back to his bedroom. Sweat was collecting at his brow as he stood in the doorway of his room.

“You good over there, big boy?” Eddie teased.

“Nope, this one is yours.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as he climbed out of bed to tend to his daughter. As the couple walked back down the hall, Eddie was desperately trying to figure out what was going on.

“Why was she screaming?” Eddie yawned.

“She saw ghosts under the bed. She said they were cutting up her carpet.”

“Dear lord.” Once Eddie crossed the threshold, he embraced his daughter in a warm hug, gently kissing the crown of her head. “Papa’s here, baby girl.”

“Papa, daddy! Make the ghosties go!” she sobbed.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie got down on his knees and peered under her bed. “Hey, guys? I know you’re having fun under there, but it’s late, and she’s little, so you’re scaring her. So maybe calm down on the carpet cutting for tonight.” Eddie popped his head back up and smiled at Bobby. “They said they’re sorry and they’re going to bed. You should get back to sleep too, princess.”

“But papa, I’m scared!”

“Do you want me and daddy to stay until you’re asleep? Just to make sure you’re safe?” She nodded profusely. “Okay. Do you want a lullaby or a bedtime story?”

“Both…” She said with a slight lisp, clutching her bumble gum pink comforter close to her chest.

“Okay. Stevie, do you wanna grab a book?”

“Sure. What do you want, pumpkin?”

“Goodnight Moon, please.”

“Alright. Do you want story or song first?”

“Story, please.

“Okay.”

Steve crawled into the bed, pulling Bobby into his lap. He straightened out her strawberry printed nightgown and made sure she was cozy in his embrace. Bobby pushed her messy curls out of her face so she could get a better look at the pages. Steve began reading in a soft, calming voice, slowly easing his daughter’s nerves. By the end of the book, she was half-asleep.

Steve shimmied her over to Eddie’s lap where he held her close against his chest, similar to when she was younger. He rubbed small circles into her back, making her melt further into his touch. Eddie started out by quietly humming before he finally started singing.

“Once there was a way,” he started, but was quickly stopped.

“I don’t want Golden Slumbers, papa,” Bobby mumbled.

“Uh, okay… but I always sing it to you…”

“I want the other one,” she whispered. Steve and Eddie looked to each other, puzzled—they had never sung anything else to her.

“What other one, honey?”

“The one pop-pop always sings,” she said into his chest.

What does Wayne sing? Steve mouthed.

I don’t know! Eddie mouthed back, panicked.

“Do you know how it goes?” Eddie asked.

“I dunno...”

Then it hit Steve—it was the same song that brought him and his husband together all those years ago. He had heard Wayne sing it from time-to-time when he insisted on putting Bobby down for a nap.

“If I Can Dream,” Steve smiled. Tears brimmed at Eddie’s eyes—their first date; their song.

“I can sing that, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered. “There must be lights burning brighter somewhere… got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue… if I can dream of a better land…”

Eddie sang the song in a slow, low voice until Bobby was fast asleep. He slipped out from under her, turned off her bedroom light, and the couple walked back to their bedroom for the night.

“How were you so calm?” Steve grit his teeth.

“Are you kidding‽ I fucking shit myself!”

The following days were filled with more or less the same. The boys would go through their morning routine, drop Bobby off with either Wayne or Pattie before heading off to work. Then, pick their little one up, have dinner as a family, put Bobby down for the night, then switch off who had to deal with her night terrors.

But then, finally, the fateful Saturday had come—Eddie was performing at the Hoosier Dome. He had to be at the arena for sound check around noon, which Steve and Bobby tagged along for. Once that was all set, it was Guns N’ Roses’ turn to take the stage and rehearse until the show that evening. Corroded Coffin was free to roam around Indianapolis until four or five—as long as they were back by six, management couldn’t care less what they were up to.

The Harrington’s roamed around the city, taking Bobby anywhere she wanted to go. Around three in the afternoon, Bobby started to get a bit tired, so she urged her dads to sit down and rest. Eddie found a quaint brick wall that he happily hopped onto, hauling Bobby up onto his lap shortly after.

The cool breeze brushed through each of their curls and Steve couldn’t help but stare at his beautiful family. All he could think was how he got so lucky. How he ended up with such a gorgeous, loving family.

As Steve was off in his own la la land, Eddie adjusted Bobby’s bright yellow puffer jacket and her pale pink skirt (which was layered on top of some thermal leggings to keep her from catching a cold). She insisted on dressing herself for this momentous occasion, but Eddie and Steve would be damned if she’d be left to freeze.

In protest of her warm outfit, Bobby demanded she’d bring along her heart-shaped sunglasses—while Steve thought it was ridiculous, Eddie fed into his daughter’s antics and brought along his black shades as well. Oh, how the two troublemakers were similar in endless ways.

By six, Eddie was back at the arena for a final run through with Corroded Coffin, while Steve took Bobby out for dinner. They weren’t going on until eight, so Steve figured they had time to kill. At seven forty-five on the dot, Steve brought Bobby back to the dressing rooms to wish her father good luck on his set.

Eddie held Bobby close in an embrace, hugging her so tight you’d think it would be the last time he’d ever see her. He pressed a kiss into her forehead before placing giant, noise-cancelling headphones over her ears to protect her from the booming chaos of the arena. The stage hands ushered Corroded Coffin to the stage-wings, with Steve and Bobby tailing closely behind.

At eight sharp, the band stormed the stage, screeching their instruments to get the crowd going. Shortly after, Eddie boomed into the microphone: “hello, Indianapolis!” The arena erupted with cheers—Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

“How’re we feeling tonight?” Everyone cheered again. “Love it, love it! You guys should know, you’re our first big gig. Make some noise for yourselves, come on!”

And they did—Steve did his best to clap for his husband as he held Bobby up on his hip. Bobby held her hands firmly against her headphones, stunned and overwhelmed by all the commotion. Steve gently bounced her up and down as he pointed to his husband on stage. Bobby eventually put two and two together and screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Papa’s on stage!” She cheered. “Daddy, look! Papa’s on stage!”

“I know, pumpkin, I see him,” he chuckled.

Corroded Coffin played their first few songs before Eddie decided to speak to the crowd again. It was when he stopped to take a sip of water, shortly chased with complimentary beer the arena provided.

“How’re we feeling, Indianapolis‽” Cheers erupted from the audience once more. “Good, good,” Eddie chuckled. “Before we sing our last few songs, I’d like to take a second to thank everyone who made tonight possible.” Eddie started rattling off names of managers, event coordinators, Guns N’ Roses themselves, and finally, his own family. “Last, but certainly not least, my own beautiful, supportive, amazing husband—and yes, you all did hear that correctly. He’s supported me since we met back in ‘85 and he hadn’t missed a gig until we had our gorgeous daughter, and even then, he told me to get back to performing as soon as I was able to. Everyone, please, give it up for my husband. None of this could’ve been possible without him.” The crowd applauded weakly. “Oh, come on, I know you can do better than that! Give it up for my husband, ladies and gents! Come on!” Cheers and applause flooded the arena. “Yeah, that’s more like it! Alright, I think you’ve earned this last song. Hit it!”

As the band closed out with their grand finale, Bobby started kicking at Steve’s stomach, wanting to be put down to dance. She ran over to the stairs leading up to the stage and eagerly jumped up and down to the beat.

When the song finished, and everyone went to go bow, Bobby slipped through the cracks of all the production coordinators (and Steve) and ran onto the stage to smother Eddie with hugs.

“Bobby, no!” Steve yelled.

But it was no use��she couldn’t hear him through the headphones. Eddie spotted the brightly colored girl out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, gingerly setting down his guitar, and wrapped his daughter in a warm embrace. She tackled him to the ground, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh.

He squeezed her tight, running his hands through her tight ringlets, and placed a million kisses all over her face. Tears prickled are Eddie’s eyes as the entire audience faded into the background.

At the end of the day, she was what made it all worth it.

“Papa, you did so good!” She yelled, not knowing the volume of her own voice.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he beamed. He sat up, still hugging her, as the stage crew started setting up for the main act. “We should go before we get in trouble. C’mon.”

He stood up, hiking Bobby up onto his hip, as he handed his guitar to a random stage-hand. He held her close as he headed for the stairs, meeting Steve with a warm hug.

“You did so good, baby,” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered.

“And you!” Steve started, pointing sternly at his toddler. “Never run away from me like that again, do you understand? Scared me half to death, Bobby.”

“Sorry, daddy…”

“Oh, give her a break. She was just excited,” Eddie said. “I appreciated the hugs. I wouldn’t mind if it became a post-show tradition,” he teased.

“Let’s not get carried away.” Steve rolled his eyes, hand rubbing up and down Eddie’s sweaty back.

“So, Harrington…” Eddie leaned in to whisper in his husband’s ear. “Our deal still on?” Steve’s eyes widened as he blushed up to his ears—Eddie smirked proudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

[tarttheart]

PRECIOUS LOVE: CHAPTER 1 - JAMIE TARTT x YOU

summary: you finally tell someone.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language, mention of pregnancy loss

-

chapter 1: my own worst enemy

It was a cold, wet spring morning in March. It was the annual day of grieving. You always took the day off work to give yourself time to sit at home and wallow. Thankfully, it fell on a weekend this year so you were free to be miserable all in your lonesome.

Or, at least you had planned to until the EPL fixtures messed up your plans.

Man City was coming down to London for a match. De Bryune was not playing. God forbid, not with his injury but he was more than happy to be around to provide some moral support. However, given he did not actually have a game to play, he found a nice gap in his schedule to catch up.

When he first told you, your mouth went instantly dry. He had been so excited, there was no way you could sour his mood by declining the invitation to hang out. But, you also knew your gig was up. You had managed to keep a somewhat neutral line of communication and not give anything away while you were away. There was no way you would be able to keep that up face-to-face. Especially not on the one day every year you had to be completely vulnerable with yourself.

You heard the buzzer and inhaled deeply, summoning whatever strength you had to at least keep up some facade for the next hour or so.

You opened the door to a beyond excited De Bryune. It was infectious and you could not help but smile back as he pulled you into the biggest hug, swinging you around. You squealed in response and laughed as he replaced you on the ground.

“Took you forever to find your way back. Did you get lost?” He joked, as he shrugged off his outerwear.

“Work was always busy,” you reasoned calmly. It was only a half lie. It had genuinely gotten hectic as you slowly climbed the corporate ladder. Too hectic for a trip back to England? Probably not. Afterall, you had managed multiple trips around Australia and Asia. But, it was as good an excuse as any.

“How is it being back? How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged a response as you popped into your kitchen.

“Tea?” you offered, not really waiting for a response as you popped two mugs on the countertop and threw a teabag into each.

De Bryune looked at you funnily as he took a seat at your tiny dining table.

“Who sent you flowers?” Kevin asked conversationally upon spying the fresh bouquet in the corner of your kitchen.

“No one, I bought them,” you responded hesitantly.

“Oh, who are you giving them to?”

“N-no one.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow, “but you don’t buy flowers for yourself. You said before that it was sad and pathetic.”

Shoot, you forgot you had said that to him once. What he did not know was that you indulged in flowers once a year as a remembrance gift to Lemy.

You spun round, frown set firmly on your face as you replied a little defensively, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Kevin laughed, raising his hands as if he was surrendering, “yes, yes, everyone changes. You’ve become prickly,” he commented and you looked up, a little put upon at being called out.

“Am I?” you asked, trying to cover over it before asking, “How is Michele? How is everything at home?”

“Good, good. She says hi. Everyone at home is wondering when you’ll come visit. Mason and Rome want to show you their new baby brother.”

“Mmhmmm,” you paled a little at the mention of his kids. You should have known there was no way this man would not mention his clan but the last thing you needed right now was any reminders of children. Or, specifically the baby you did not have.

You turned away, busying yourself with brewing the tea. De Bryune cocked his head at your odd behaviour and waited for you to join him at the table before continuing the conversation.

“So?”

“So?” you repeated.

“How’s work been?”

You quietly sighed with relief that Kevin had moved onto what felt like a ‘safe’ topic, “good, good. Busy but good. There is so much to do now and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Like, I’m supposed to be making some of these decisions and I don’t want to.”

You laughed a little as did he, glad to see some life in you. There was a long lull and De Bryune was slightly unsettled by how little you had to say. The friend he had would have wanted to know what every player had been up to and how they were. The friend he had would have asked about the match today. The friend he had would have asked for a detailed rundown of everything the children had been up to but there was a tension in the air that was palpable and told him that none of these topics were safe for you.

“What’s going on?” He tried again as you fidgeted endlessly with your mug.

“Nothing,” you responded, furrowing your brows. You looked up at De Bryune, stubbornly trying to prove your point but it only proved his when he saw how dull your eyes were. You looked like a shell of your warm and vibrant self.

“What?”

Oops. He might have said that last but out loud.

“You just look like a shell of yourself. What is going on?”

“Nothing,” you answered again, unconvincingly.

“Why do you keep lying to me?”

“I’m no—“ you started but De Bryune’s stern look stopped you mid-sentence.

“I’ve known you since you were 9. Why do you think I wouldn’t know? You sound like you’re lying to stay out of trouble but you’re not in trouble? Not with me, at least. You know, I’m always here for you, to help you. And if not me, you can also lean on Michele.”

You opened your mouth and then closed it again because you could not find the right words. So many years of running, so much time spent alienating them and here Kevin was treating you with such grace and love. You did not deserve this. You hung your head and you could hear him shuffle.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you but I’ll get out of your hair if that’s what you need right now.”

You felt your lower jaw slacken. It was not that you wanted to push him away, you just found it easier than talking. But if not now with Kevin, when would you ever be ready to talk?

“I was pregnant,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, more as practice at sounding the words out than anything else. The words felt weird coming from your mouth.

“What?” Kevin asked. Maybe he heard wrong.

You looked up, tears in your eyes as you repeated yourself. Your voice was shaky but the words were clear as day when you spoke, “I was pregnant.”

-

< prologue | master list | chapter 2 >

[bi-bard]

The Show - Graham Dunne Imagine [Daisy Jones & the Six]

Title: The Show

Pairing: Graham Dunne X Reader

Word Count: 1,155 words

Warning(s): none

Summary: (Y/n) goes to Graham's gig and writes a review that will change everything.

Author's Note: I am sorry for how long this took. Shit's getting crazy on my end.

PART ONE [Flirting] HERE

PART TWO [Breakfast] HERE!

--------------------------

Walking into Filthy McNasty's was interesting.

I hadn't found myself in a venue like that in a while now. I had missed it. There was a lot less pressure when looking at smaller places like this.

I was pointed to a table with a folded nametag on the table. I chuckled at the way my name had been scribbled onto it. I dropped myself down in the booth, pocketing the paper.

There were a few minutes of calmness before a girl stood next to my table. I looked up at her.

"Hi, sorry," she said. "I just... I like taking photos for the band. Mind if I sit here and try to get some shots?"

I motioned over to the other side of the booth. "Be my guest."

"I'm Camila," she introduced herself.

"(Y/n)," I replied, opening my small journal to take some notes.

"Oh..."

I looked back at her to see her looking at me with a somewhat stunned expression. I chuckled a bit.

"I hope that look is a good reaction," I joked.

She slowly nodded. "Yeah... Yeah, of course. Graham... Graham mentioned you."

"I see... All good things?"

"Oh, absolutely, he wouldn't shut up about you," she promised before quickly backtracking. "Not that he was being creepy about it. He just thinks that you're really amazing. He really admires you."

I chuckled again; I had hints that it was a little bit more than admiration. "It's alright, Camila. I promise. It's nice to meet you."

"You too," she seemed to relax.

"How do you know them?"

"I... Billy and I have been together for a while."

"The lead singer?"

"Yeah."

"You... followed them out here?"

She nodded.

"You really believe in them."

"With everything I have."

My heart felt like it swelled a bit at the sentiment. It was cute to see.

"I hope you like the show."

I leaned back a little further into my seat. "So do I."

The show started a few moments later.

Billy was a natural lead singer. I don't mean that he just sounded good - he did- but I meant that he acted like it was his place. His calling. His energy took up twice as much room as his physical form. He clearly loved the attention... I silently hoped that he loved the music as much as he loved the attention.

I did everything in my power to split the rest of my attention equally between the band's different members and the crowd.

It was difficult. Graham had become such a distraction to me that I had trouble pulling my attention away from him. He seemed to notice me at some point, a grin pulling a little bit further on his lips. That was when I had to pretend to look down and take notes.

I hated feeling like this. I had spent so long thinking about the kiss that almost was that I couldn't even look at him without imagining what could have happened if I had let his lips touch mine.

I did everything in my power to focus on the performance itself.

And I did a pretty good job after a while.

It wasn't until I sat down to work on the actual review.

That's when I realized that Graham had been such a major distraction. I couldn't tell if it was annoying or if I was... comfortable. It was nice to have something... someone to think about that wasn't merely for my work.

It took ages to get the review done.

But once it was done, it was a piece of art.

I had always been careful with my work, but I hadn't been so meticulous in years. I could only hope that it did what I needed it to.

It would be a few days before I got a call from Graham Dunne again.

It was brief. I don't think I let him speak. I just told him to meet me where we met before.

He was waiting there when I showed up. I saw his eyes light up a bit when he spotted me. That made me nervous. When was the last time someone truly seemed that excited about seeing me?

I took a deep breath as I walked over.

"Hi," he said, standing up from the table.

"Hi," I replied, grinning at him. "You saw the review."

"I did," he nodded. "You really think we're that good?"

"I probably wouldn't meet you if I lied about it."

He stammered for a moment. "Y-You make a good point there."

I chuckled.

Our breakfast had an air hanging over it. A cloud of knowing and anticipation. It was strange for me. Both comforting and nerve-wracking.

But Graham had told me the truth.

He waited.

He waited to make any kind of move until we were back in that parking lot again, standing next to my car.

There had been a pause between us before he spoke up, "The review is out..."

"It is..."

He stepped forward, grinning a little more as his eyes jumped around to every part of my face. I took a deep breath, feeling the nervousness that had been in my stomach all day coming back in stronger waves.

When he went to lean in and close the remaining distance, I felt myself truly panic for the first time in years. I leaned back just a bit. Graham's eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

"You do this... I can't review anything else that your band does," I said. "You understand that, right?"

"I think we'll be fine," he replied. "Said it yourself, didn't you? We're a pretty talented group."

I chuckled. "I guess I did."

He grinned a little wider before leaning forward again. He pressed his lips to mine, moving to cup the sides of my face as he did so. I touched his arms as I kissed him back.

It was at this moment that everything seemed to fall into place.

I had spent a long time refusing to entertain things like this. I had been so focused on music and my career that I had stopped entertaining anything that I had truly wanted.

But this.

I wanted this.

I wanted to entertain this.

I leaned back first, grinning at him.

"That was nice," I mumbled to him.

"Yeah, it was," he replied.

I stepped away from him.

"What now?" he called as I made it to my car. "I... I just keep calling your office so I can take you to breakfast?"

I chuckled. "I'll be at your next show. We can talk more then."

He didn't respond.

"I'll see you then, Graham."

If he spoke up as I got in my car, then I didn't hear him. I would have listened a little closer if I hadn't been so focused on how fast my heart was still beating after that kiss.

I bit my lip.

What a strange and brilliant couple of days.

--------------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-twenty one

*gif found on pinterest*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: here's some more smut for you!

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo @er3nslovergirl @iamdesolate @lma1986 @jessitpwk @themodern-daywednesday @writethrough @bngurngheart @dreams-that-are-anwsered @loeytuan98 @omens-in-reverse @loverofagoodbeard @jay02bo @niicoleleigh @tearfallpixie

NOAH

A small yawn left my lips as I buried myself deeper into my bed, pulling the warm body closer to my chest. Y/N sighed in her sleep, unbothered that I began trailing my fingers up and down the skin of her arm, and I gazed down at her. It's been a few days since the fire and at first, she was really apprehensive of staying here until Jolly and I reassured her we didn't care. Eventually she eased away her worries and became more comfortable moving around the house.

But the nightmares weren't something she got over.

The last two nights, she woke up screaming thinking she was back in her house, in the flames. I would calm her down by bringing her to my chest and soothe her hair away from her face, sometimes even humming a soft tune so she could calm herself back to sleep.

So far tonight, there were no signs of nightmares, but I stayed up to watch her, just in case.

As my knuckles grazed over her arm, my gaze caught sight of the healing cuts and bruises that were scattered along them, the fight with James flashing into my mind.

I kicked the back door in, smoke immediately filling my lungs, and I pulled the top of my sweater over my mouth. Through hazy vision, I did my best to maneuver my way through the unfamiliarity of the house. I tried to remember how the layout was when I was here last time for the funeral.

Just past the kitchen was the hallway where the stairs were that would lead me upstairs to Y/N's bedroom. Where the fire was fastly spreading and by now, it could have spread to the room next to her; the one I needed to get to.

A loud grunt followed my something dropping to the floor caught my attention, and I swung on my heels to see a body leaning over the couch in the living room; the only area where the fire hasn't spread. It seemed like wherever the fire started, it must have been upstairs. Even through the smoke filling the space around me, I recognized who was pouring something on the couch.

"Mother fucker!" I spat.

James turned hastily towards me, a look of shock on his face. "What the fuck? You're not supposed to be here!"

Sprinting towards him, I tackled him to the ground, the red jug of now what I realized was gasoline falling out of his grasp onto the couch. I laid fist after fist into his face while James tried to protect himself, failing miserably.

"Fuck you!" I seethed when he somehow pushed me away from him.

Scrambling to my feet, I brought my foot back in a high kick, the toes of shoe connected with his stomach. James groaned in pain as he clutched himself, spitting what I imagined was blood to the floor.

"I should have figured you'd come to save her; her knight in shining armor," he chuckled darkly while kneeling in front of me.

Anger radiated through me in hypersonic waves, but I did my best to keep myself calm. I couldn't afford to waste time with this asshole while Y/N was barley hanging on.

"Why the hell are you burning down her house?!" I demanded to know after throwing another punch to his jaw.

Shit, that hurt.

I shook out the pain in my hand while watching James clutch his face.

"She doesn't deserve this house! It should have been left to me! My mom left me with nothing after leaving me as a child. Who does that!" James bellowed.

"You think you're the only one that was traumatized by your mom?" I scoffed but then coughed as the smoke filled my lungs completely. "You want to talk about what Y/N doesn't deserve? She doesn't deserve her fucking brother trying to kill her!"

By now, the flames were licking their way down the staircase, burning away the only way for me to make it upstairs to Y/N.

James looked up at me with blood pooling from his mouth, a sinister smirk on his face.

"How does it feel knowing the girl you love is seconds away from burning alive? That is, if the fall doesn't kill her first."

Sheer darkness overtook me as I lifted him from the floor by the collar of his shirt and tossed him over the couch. He clattered to the ground as the jug of gasoline fell with him, covering him in the foul smell.

A knock at my bedroom door brought me out of the memory and carefully detaching myself from Y/N, my feet pattered towards the door. Once opened, I gave a small smile to Jolly.

"How's she doing?" He asked nodding behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I noticed she was still asleep, clutching the pillow tight to her chest.

"She's alright. So far no nightmares," I said when I turned back to Jolly.

Jolly gave me a curt nod. "Well, there's a detective downstairs wanting to talk to you."

My heart pounded in my chest but I did my best not to show how worried I was. I had a feeling after the police talked with James and got his side of the story, they'd be knocking on my door right after.

"Isn't it kind of late?" I asked, running a hand through my hair.

"He said it won't take long," Jolly shrugged.

With a sigh, I nodded and followed him downstairs where I saw the detective standing in the middle of the entryway.

"Mr. Sebastian, I'm sorry for stopping by so late," he extended a hand towards me.

"Noah is fine," I said while shaking it. "Is there something new with the investigation?"

The detective nodded. "We spoke with James a few hours ago. He finally woke up from the coma the hospital put him in to deal with the pain. He told us you attacked him?"

"Yes, because I saw him pouring gasoline downstairs. He was the one that started the fire." I retorted back defensively.

"We know that" the detective nodded. "James told us everything so as far as I see it, you're not in any trouble."

I gave my own nod. "Good. Now what does this mean for Y/N?"

"She'll have to go through the insurance company to see if she'll get any money from losing everything. But as far as I'm aware, that can be a process."

"Right," Jolly snorted. "So what you're saying is that has nothing?"

The detective gave us a sorrowful smile. "I wish I had better news on that front. But at least James won't be a problem anymore. He's looking to go for a plea deal so Y/N won't have to worry about testifying."

"Thanks for the update," I grumbled then gave him my back as I walked upstairs.

Jolly was wrong; Y/N didn't have nothing. She had me, us. We would be all she needed until she found herself back on her feet. No matter what it cost me, I'd give her the entire world if that's what she wanted.

Back in my room, I noticed she was still fast asleep and ran a knuckle over her cheek to brush away the hair from her face, marveling at how soft her skin was. In the beginning, our relationship was rocky and I'd said some hurtful things to her not knowing what she was going through back home. Her life was crumbling and instead of being a strong support system, I was being an asshole because of my own problems. She didn't deserve this, any of this that life threw at her, and yet she still had a smile on her face throughout all the pain.

I knew from that moment she came to the party that she would mean so much to me. I despise how long and what happened to her for me to finally accept it. But from this moment forward, I'd prove that to her.

"I love you, angel," I whispered, staring down at here with a small smile.

READER

"Oh, fuck you!" I bellowed.

Folio chuckled as he set the game controller down on the couch next to him. "Damn, I never realized you were such a sore loser."

I shot him with an icy glare. "You cheated."

Nick shook his head at the two of us while he brought us two plates of food; fresh hot pizza.

"Thank you," I smiled warmly at Nick.

He sat down next to me with his own food and motioned to the television, where Folio and I just ended the game we were playing. "Folio will claim he never cheats but he's a screen watcher."

I gasped while whirling my head back to Folio. "I knew it!"

It's been almost a week since the fire and this was the first time I'd seen both Nicks since then. They traveled back to Virgina to visit family and returned earlier this afternoon. We decided to have a relaxing night in because in just a few days, they'd be leaving for Europe while I stayed here because I couldn't find the voice to ask for my job back. I knew the guys would allow me to continue work with them but the part of me that didn't want to be a bother held me back.

Plus, I was dealing with a lot of personal thoughts that was causing a small wall to be built up around me. Something Noah noticed. We hadn't been intimate since the first night here and needless to say, I was horny. Noah wanted to make sure I was in the right headspace since I was dealing with nightmares, him being there to hold me when they woke me with a scream.

If the nightmares weren't bad enough, I was also upset with the fact that out of everything I lost in the fire, the only thing I wanted was my laptop that had pictures of me with the guys and crew members. Hundreds of pictures and videos of all the fun times we had on the road together. The one I really wanted was the picture of Noah and I from that party, before everything went to shit.

"Angel."

Looking up to Noah as he stood in front of me, I raised a brow at him. "What?"

He said nothing, simply picked me up from the couch so he could sit with me now in his lap. Large arms wrapped around me from behind as I leaned deeper into his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my back. He covered us with a blanket as Jolly switched from the video game to a movie while Nick turned off the lights. We all settled in as the comedy movie played and when I shifted to be more comfortable on Noah's lap, he groaned quietly in the back of my neck. My name fell from his lips in a hushed warning.

Smirking, I played with this a bit more.

Underneath the blanket, I snaked a hand between my legs and ran fingers over Noah's dick, which twitched underneath my touch. He wore a pair of sweatpants so I could feel the outline of it but I couldn't slip my hand beneath his waistband to grasp it which made me frown.

"What are you doing?" He breathed in my ear.

Ignoring him, I made a show of getting comfortable in a different position by now sitting at his side and curling up into his chest with the blanket still covering us. Both Nick's and Jolly were engrossed in the movie that they were oblivious to Noah and I as I finally slipped my hand in his pants, fingers touching the soft skin of his already hard cock.

"Angel," Noah grunted in my hairline.

Keeping my gaze on the television, I worked my hand up and down, squeezing every so often. When my thumb brushed along the head, swirling the pre-cum everywhere, Noah's body twitched next to me. His hand slipped underneath my shirt, calloused fingers grazing over the skin of my stomach up towards my breasts and he pinched my perk nipple.

I bit back a moan but kept up my actions on his cock only this time working harder. His head fell back against the couch, silver chain catching the light from the television, and I had to hold myself back from not straddling his lap to get a taste of the skin of his neck. Noah's hips thrust up into my hand a few times before stilling, a harsh breath crawling from the back of his throat when warm cum spilled into my hands and I peered up at him through my lashes, jerking him off through the last waves of his orgasm.

His gaze was hot, burning into me, as I pulled my hand out of his pants and brought my finger to my lips, unnoticed by the guys, and licked his arousal off my fingers one by one.

"Upstairs. Now." Noah yanked me from the couch and tossed me over his shoulder.

I squeeled in delight as he began running upstairs.

"Try to keep it down, alright?" Nick called behind our backs.

[emilieautumnarchives]

Emilie Autumn for Bubblegum Sl-t Zine

Original Link (Archive Post from Author) Last access 3/31/24 Originally Posted: Summer 2010

...I interviewed Emilie Autumn a few times in the mid-00s, although only once for Bubblegum Sl💛t. I think the photo of Emilie and me (seen on the left of the first slide) was taken after an interview for Alternative Magazine. Every time I saw Emilie, her gigs grew a bit grander and more bonkers. Consider that her entry point to the era’s music scene was a violin-and-vocal concept album - which concerned Shakespeare and mental ill health, and arrived accompanied by a semi-autobiographical novel, fusing psych ward memoirs with a Victorian fantasy world – and you get some sense of just how bonkers things got. By the time this was printed in 2010, her shows were bringing cabaret vibes and musical theatre production values to rock venues. Accompanied by the ‘Bloody Crumpets’ (a troupe of burlesque belles posing as asylum inmates), and an elaborate array of handcrafted props and costumes, she was greeted at every show by hordes of adoring ‘plague rats’ in bloomers and stripey stockings. Something I always found both inspiring and a little intimidating was just how hands-on Emilie was with every aspect of her ambitious shows. Right down to handmaking merch, she oversaw every last damn detail of her immersive fantasy world, putting in frighteningly long hours to make it happen. This was a big a theme of this very wordy interview.

Interview and scans below the cut.

Transcription note: this interview is long and EA's comments are interspersed throughout, so I've put her words in bold.

Wayward Woman

Released from her old record contract, our favourite asylum inmate Emilie Autumn has lately let her creativity run. And run. And run.

18 hour day corporate workaholics would be put to shame by the drive that Emilie Autumn exhibits in her many artistic endeavors. With each successive, increasingly grand tour I've witnessed (for which Emilie handles the design and production of lavish stage sets and costumes, the creation handmade merch and the choreography of dance routines and comedy set-pieces with her sidekicks 'The Bloody Crumpets', not to mention violin, harpsichord and vocal duties) I've felt, with crowing certainty, that superhuman powers are the only explanation for her quite extraordinary ability to maintain both the quality and vast quantity of her output. Speaking to the insomniac artist herself shortly after her Spring 2010 tour of Europe and Australia however, I've forced to entertain the more improbable, and frankly frightening notion, that her stamina is actually that of a mere mortal, as she recounts woefully how a throat infection forced her to cancel two shows on this most recent outing. The singer can't claim she wasn't warned; management -- characterized in popular music mythology as the business bods cracking the whip on the backs of their poor, cash-cow artist -- apparently made efforts to talk her out of undertaking such a lengthy tour before she had embarked up it, but inevitably such a suggestion was never given any serious consideration by a women who describes the experience of taking a few days off as "torturous".

"I wasn't allowed to speak," she elaborated on the horrors of her enforced spell of rest and relaxation. "I wasn't even allowed to whisper, so I had to write things down to communicate. As somebody who talks a lot--as you can tell--it was definitely torturous!"

Yes, I can definitely tell you that, amongst a great deal of many other talents, Emilie Autumn can really talk. Figuring out that much in the four previous interview I've got to admit that, while the kind of intense and frank debate and confessions she offers in volumes are a refreshing pleasure over any media-trained soundbite, I approach this latest encounter with as much dread as anticipation; dread that is for the figure that will appear on my phone bill when the receiver eventually goes down and Emilie and Chicago. And on this occasion there's more to talk about than ever before.

See, even within the biography of an artist who is prolific by nature the past few months can be considered a fully of activity. The tour aside, there's been the double dis re-release of Emilie's breath-through album 'Opheliac', while the publication of her long-awaited book 'The Asylum of Wayward Victorian Girls' requires epic discourse by itself. So more -- much more -- of the book later. Firstly, Emilie explains, the starting point for seeing this succession of projects come to fruition was opting to break away from former German-based label Trisol.

"Once all the house clearing went down I found, to my surprise, when the door opened I had a good amount of options," she recalls, swiftly skipping to the part where, having weight these up, she found and offer from New York's The End records the most attractive.

By signing on the dotted line she joined an oddball, distinctly arty roster, which also includes Mindless Self Indulgence, Dir En Gray and Dirty Little Rabbits, and celebrated seeing her music gain a release in her native Unite States at long last. Although "frustrated" by the prior limbo period, when her work languished on record stores' prices import shelves, she has to conceded that there's little evidence to suggest hefty taxes impeded the spread of the 'plague' (as she is wont to refer to the rise of her so-described 'violindustrial', with fans readily wearing the label 'plague rats').

"I was amazed to see the fanbase I have [here] when I first toured the US," she says. "The Plague rats are here, they're everywhere, and it's insane that this thing has spread almost without radio, without videos and without a label until now."

The fresh pressing of 'Opheliac' has also been granted a second release in Europe, where by contrast Emilie has enjoyed strong support from the alternative music media ever since the album was initially issued in 2006. Critics might assume a second coming so soon a little premature but, even without the addition of a wealth of bonus material, a record that can honestly by called a 'grower' -- rewarding revisits by revealing new depths to it's complex sonics and storyline -- makes a good case for being deserving of a second look. For Emilie herself "the 'Opheliac' record is still the most important thing" - the silver lining to the breakdown which followed her separation from musical collaborator turned lover Billy Corgan, traced to the eureka moment at which she began charting comparisons between her own increasingly troubled life and the misadventures of Shakespeare's archetypal 'difficult woman.'

"I think a couple times in your life, if you're lucky, you just get it right," Emilie reflects of the work now. "It's like creating the perfect quote that people will say 500 years later, because it still rings true. When I sing those songs onstage, or listen to that record it still strikes me that there's not a single thing I would change."

Such a definitive statement from the artist herself does rather invite the suggestion that the bonus disc can do little to enhance the piece; only encourage plague rats to pick up the second copy.

"The first disc is completely a concept album, where every sound is a puzzle piece within a big plan and everything relies on everything else around it," Emilie affirms. "So that second disc is like 'here's the mixbox' -- it's a complete jumble of things, like the inside of my head. But it is all very relevant to the suicidal theme of the album."

Specifically, she cites her unlikely rendition of an age-old song Billie Holiday mad her own, declaring "'Gloomy Sunday', - that's like the original suicide song, it couldn't be more relevant." With her version sitting alongside a cover of The Smiths' 'Asleep,' a solo violin rendering of Bach, several original acoustic recordings and samples of the spoken word, performances Emilie has lately been giving in support of her book release, she's not wrong in her assertion that the second disc is a 'mixbox' either. Set in contrast to the main album's heavy, literary study of her own human condition this new component is also reflective of the trademark scatter-brained and impatient intellect she overwhelms with when she chatters mile a minute.

By far the greatest justification for revisiting 'Opheliac' now Emilie excitably gabs is the long-awaited arrival of its companion and sequel, the Asylum book, viewed by it's author as a sort of key to decoding the shorthand hints embedded in the other releases in her catalogue.

A back-burner project in the Trisol offices for more than 2 years, the book looked so sure to be lost to the world for a time that Emilie's reaction when it eventually when into production under guidance of The End was to "go into shock - I've almost been in denial that i was ever actually happening.," she gasps. "I'd got so into saying 'wait for it, it's going to be great!' and not having it materialize that it was a shock when the new printing company put it together. It was torture to keep touring a keep releasing knowing that, even if I have a great fanbase who like what I'm doing, they really had no idea of what they liked was about at the time, They didn't know the full extent of how serious it actually was, how much i actually means and real it is."

Referring to the titular 'Asylum' -- most basically defined as a location in [Emilie's] imagination and art, but nonetheless deeply rooted in historical documentation of the treatment of Victorian madwomen, and the harsh realities of Emilie's own experience of the modern mental health care system -- she tells "there's this thing of assuming it's a fantasy world when, actually, it's for real. That was very difficult," she sighs, "to go on touring, knowing that there were so many things I couldn't do onstage that I actually might have wanted to, but because they were references to things in the book they would never make sense without it."

As much a novel, information manual for those wanting to pick up tips on surviving a mental health ward or swarm of leeches and detailed history lesson as it is an autobiography, the book was a massive undertaking --particularly for an author possessed of the perfectionist tendencies Emilie is. To put in perspective the length of the sentence 'The Asylum..." served in post-production hell, journalists received sample pages from Trisol's PR department, in preparation for an apparently imminent publication, way back in 2008. In the months it took for a released date to pass many other active and breathing public figures saw fit to issue second volumes to their autobiographies. Hence it figures that the finished Asylum on bookstore shelves now is a substantial development of those early previews.

"The story was there but with every day there was another delay and so more painting and ore words would go in just so that the time wasn't completely wasted," confirms Emilie. "If I had to wait I had to make the most of that time and now you have something that wouldn't have been quite as awesome if it had come a day earlier. It's not like the 'Opheliac' record, where I wouldn't add a note or take a note away -- this is the story of my entire life, it goes on -- I could always add another scribble in another corner. 'Opheliac' is a time capsule and this is everything, it goes [from] the beginning to beyond the end... the ultimate ending is still just a massive cliff-hanger because we don't know how it ends!"

Candor and openness being defining traits of the Emilie I've come to know it's surprising to hear that the other "big, open question mark," the book implanted in her head was a wave of self doubt--

"Like, 'okay, you think you know how you're going to react if people read this stuff by do you really ?' And for a couple of days there was this silence, on our sounding board--you know, the internet," she translates. "Everything was really quiet for a couple of days as people were reading it and digesting it and when they came back there was a kind of collective 'holy fuck - we though we knew what was going on by now... maybe not.' There's an increased understanding of me and what I do now - the colours of everything are a bit brighter, because it means more. It's a relief," she announces. " I've said it now, everybody knows all of these things about me now, and if you still like who I am, knowing that this is the life I've lived and things I've done then you like who I really am. It's just a relief to finally tell someone who you really are... like you might have wanted to pretend to be the little queen, or tired to be the good girlfriend, and when you give that up... well, it turns out that pressure is a lot scarier than telling the truth and doing whet comes naturally."

While she's in the mood to share, Emilie reveals the next stage in her grand plan.

"I'll tell you my secret," she relents, after a moments hesitation, reasoning. "I don't know if it's a secret, it's kind of obvious really. My plan, of why the book has to get so very much out there, is because we want to make a movie."

A nanosecond is spared for dramatic effect here before her enthusiasm spurs her on to laying out the blow-by-blow proposal, as though addressing her plague rats en masse.

"Here's what I need you to do," she instructs. "I need you to go buy me these 52 hundred copies of the Asylum book, because then we in the popularity contests--and that's how we get to the top of the bestsellers list. That's very simple, right? Because then, everyone knows, every single book that reaches the top of the bestseller chart is very quickly made into a movie. So if you want to see that movie you've got to help me and purchase that book!"

Emilie is right to think her plan is becoming 'obvious' at this stage. Always theatrical, her stage shows have now grown to a scale that their props are testing the limits of her one-woman workshop, and their stunts are insurance policies of venues only every intended to play host to the humble rock band. A theatre or screen production is the clear next step and, not one to restrict the creative outlets at her disposal, Emilie has not ruled out the former option.

"When we're hitting a new venue every night we have to wonder every night if we're going to be able to do the full show," she sighs. "It's 'are they going to let us to aerials here?', 'are we going to have to leave out the fire-eating because they won't let us do fire here?' It's becoming very clear that, at this level, there are limits to what you can do and the alternative to that is getting a theatre run where you're actually in the same place for 3 months. But there's a part of me that doesn't want tot do that because, however grueling life on the road is, there's that whole thing of the show coming to the people, which I love. SO I think maybe doing both is the ideal. Something I'm quite seriously working on," she impressed, before continuing, "is the possibility of being able to tour with my own venue. Circuses do it, so why can't I? It's a bigger production, and it's expensive, but if you know what you want there's always a way, and I've figured out what we need to do, which is embrace the fact that this isn't a rock show and begin putting it into a setting which reflects that."

Which reminds me, amongst Emilie's many interests is creating music, and between talking books, movies and big tops we've so far neglected to mention an additional iron in the fire, that is 'Opheliac's musical follow-up. Suddenly engaged on another new topic Emilie tells, "I'm about halfway through writing, but nothing has been recorded. It's still being added to because that's the next thing -- making sure that this album accurately represents my life right now. It ties in to the Asylum book, and 'Opheliac', which laid out 'this is the situation you're in,' so this next record is naturally saying 'okay, now what do you do about it?' So that's where it gets a bit more violent and bloody, because now it's about fighting."

Supporting Emilie's often re-iterated line that her seemingly disparate works are, truly, inter-connected and even inter-dependant, recent live shows have started to develop the theme of fighting. Most obviously performances on the Spring tour included a segment in which Emilie and her Bloody Crumpets tool up to become the Asylum Army, marching to a gruffly barked, yet uniquely feminine, drill chant.

"Now there' about 50% guys in the audiences," she notes. "And so when we ask there 'are you ready to fight like a girl?', and every one of them is screaming 'yes'... well, that's amazing. It's about taking that phrase -- that we've heard our whole lives a s derogatory thing, 'you fight like a girl', 'you throw a ball like a girl,' we're taking that and turning it on it's ass completely to make it like the greatest thing possible, knowing that actually, if a girl really has something to defend, there will be no chivalry, no rules, and she will use every tool possible.

For Emilie, these violent developments, as explored more graphically on the next album, represent "part tow of the adventure. It's still completely relevant, it has to be," she says. "When I put [the record] out it has to mean at least as much to me as 'Opheliac' did."

Here the perfectionist standards that her vast ambition demand surface once again, and she tells "I never want to do anything that doesn't have the same impact, on me that is. I want to get it right again. I can't fail, it's just not what I do. I would rather not put anything out. But that's not going to be a problem. I'm already working on the new record and we're gonna be just fine."