#roadies tasks

[hhughes]

៹࣪ ៸៸ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓 . . . ꒱꒱

in which Jack shows appreciation for all that you do, by doing you a favour.

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. jack hughes x athletic!trainer!reader. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. banter. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. just had this idea in my head and had to write it. who knows if I’ll do more with this pairing, maybe, maybe not. we’ll see. as always reblogs and feedback is appreciated and I hope you liked it <3

Working in professional sports means you’re exposed to attractive people most of the time. They’re professional athletes , it’s their job to keep their bodies in shape , and over time you get used to it. A six foot , fit, cocky man is much less appealing when you're surrounded by them twenty-four-seven. It helps that you get to see them in their lowest of lows. Snoring on the plane when they haven’t brushed their teeth in over 24 hours , wearing the same T-Shirt and sweatpants on the plane on every roadie , or when they take it a step further ( bc they’re overachievers ) and puke in your backseat when you pick their drunk asses up from a night out. That’ll teach you to become friends with co-workers.

So it surprises you every now and then when you hear people freak out about how attractive they are , or how lucky you were to be in their presence as often as you are. People in this case being your dad’s friends’ daughter.

“I gotta get a job like yours if I get to stare at that the entire time,” Amanda says from her position next to you in the box , her eyes focussed on Jack who stood outside the door talking to one of the building staff members. you resist the urge to let out a sigh and only send her a polite smile. You hold yourself back from wanting to give her advice because she probably wouldn’t take it into consideration anyway. It was challenging to get your job as one of the team’s assistant athletic trainers , but getting the job wasn’t necessarily the hard part. It was keeping the job , continuously proving that you deserve it.

“Thanks again for getting us up here sweetheart,” your dad says, taking the spot next to you when Amanda occupies herself elsewhere, and squeezing you tightly into his side. Your parents were both lifelong devils fans and actually met at a game. So it was only fitting that they would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary at the same place they met.

“Pass my thanks on to Jack too would you?” your dad says , knowing it was because of him that they were up there but before you could reply a smooth voice cut in from behind.

“No need for that sir , the box was gonna sit empty tonight anyway. I���m glad it’s being put to good use,” Jack cuts in and both you and your dad turn to look at him. He was clad in his game day suit , one you’ve seen many times now but it still managed to make your mouth run dry a bit.

Sir? you mouth at Jack, lifting your eyebrow in a teasing gesture and if you didn’t know him as well as you did you would’ve missed the slight lift in the corner of his lips, revealing his brief amusement before it fades away as he continues talking to your dad.

“You gonna get me a goal tonight? Break this little dry streak you're on” your dad jokingly asks as he shakes Jack’s hand and you gently nudge him.

“Dad,” you warn, knowing how hard Jack was on himself already about going pointless for a few games. You send Jack an apologetic glance but he just smiles in response. Usually it didn’t bother Jack when fans talked about his game. No one was more disappointed in him not performing than he was. And no one wanted to score more than he did.

But for some reason when someone close to you mentioned it, it struck a bit of a nerve. For some unknown reason Jack wanted nothing more than to play the best game of his career tonight and impress your dad. Maybe even impress you, but as he’s learned the last few months, that’s no easy task.

You’ve remained thoroughly unimpressed by just about anything and everything Jack Hughes has thrown your way. Which Jack isn’t afraid to admit, has hurt his ego quite a bit, but it’s also made him utterly fascinated by you.

“Should’ve worn my jersey. Give me a bit of extra luck,” Jack jokes and your dad lets out a slight laugh, patting the ‘C’ on his chest. Proudly wearing the devil’s Captain’s jersey.

“Well in that case you’ve got all the luck you need son. My wife is wearing your jersey — honey, come meet Jack! ” he yells at your mom and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment, sending Jack another apologetic smile, and your heart warms at the sweet, easy going grin he gives you, and then your mom in greeting.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him make that much of an effort to keep small talk going as he did with your parents for the next ten minutes. Even going as far as telling your dad that whatever they were gonna order at the bar tonight should go under his tab. You practically had to drag him away when game time was nearing and he had to go.

“We really need to go. I’ll see you guys after okay?” you say hugging your parents goodbye and following Jack out the door.

“Go get ‘em sweetheart,” your dad yells after you, as if you were the one about to play, and Jack laughs softly when you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re really excited to be here, as you can probably tell,” you say bashfully and Jack has the urge to stop in the middle of the hallway and just admire the blush of your cheeks. It’s not often that he gets to see you this laid-back, cheeks flushed, eyes practically lit up with happiness, foreshadows of your dimples, that he now knows comes from your mom, as you struggle to keep the smile off your face. Jack has always seen brief glimpses of this version of you, whenever they win a game, but it’s always there for a split second before you detach yourself and go into work mode.

And Jack is utterly obsessed with that version of you too. The one who doesn’t accept any shit from him or the guys. Who always seems to clean up everyone’s messes, on and off the ice, even if it’s not really in your job description. It’s not that Jack liked that version any less than this one, it’s just that his heart felt like it was going to explode because he’s the only one who has this little piece of you now. None of the other guys have seen you playfully roll your eyes at your dad’s jokes, or the fond smile you get on your face when your mom dotes on you. Only he has that.

“Don’t even worry about it. I wanted to meet them and I’m glad I did, they were awesome,” Jack says and you reach out and grab his bicep, bringing both of you to a standstill.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. You made their night. My dad’s never gonna shut up about this,” you say, squeezing his arm softly and Jack reaches for your other hand, glancing left and right and making sure no one else is around as he intertwines your fingers.

“We don’t show you enough appreciation around here for everything you do for us. For me. This was my way of doing that,” Jack says, squeezing your hand softly and his lungs malfunction temporarily as you step closer and press a feather light kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet when you wanna be, you know.” you say, moving away from him and Jack immediately misses having you close to him.

“Right back atcha,” he says, nudging you softly.

The two of you walk in silence in the direction of the locker room for a bit before he breaks it again and when you hear the words come out of his mouth, you desperately wish he didn’t.

“So the girl that was in the booth with your parents? She related to you?” he asks casually and you squint at him suspiciously as he refuses to meet your eye.

“No. She’s just my dad’s friend’s daughter. Family friend,” you explain and Jack nods.

“She single?” Jack asks and you immediately scoff, your feet coming to a halt at his question and he stops right along with you, sending you a questioning gaze.

“Are you serious right now?” you question, trying to keep the obvious hurt and disgust out of your tone. You lean back against the hallway wall, sending him a glare and Jack grin as he makes his way closer to you, his hands going to either side of your head as he leans his head so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek.

“No, I'm not. I just think you’re hot as fuck when you’re mad, and I happen to know exactly how to push your buttons pretty girl,” Jack says, and your breath hitches as he presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek.

“But really though, is she single?” Jack asks with a shit eating grin and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you push him away lightly.

“Go you’re gonna be late and you’re gonna get me in trouble,” is the only response you give him

“Wouldn’t dream of it doc,” jack responds, shooting you a grin and giving you a wink as he makes his way towards the locker room.

“I’m not a doctor,” you yell the usual response after him, hoping it’ll stick one day.

[bedsyandco]

୨୧ ⋅ 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍﹙⠀LH43⠀﹚

𐙚 ─── pairing: fem!reader x luke hughes

𐙚 ─── summary: in which your bf loves giving you head. . .

𐙚 ─── content: oral f!receiving, overstumulation. i think that's it? lmk if there's more!

𐙚 ─── word count: 0.6K

𐙚 ─── a/n: my first attempt at writing a longer smut piece, it’ll get better the more I do it <3

“luke,” his name falls from your lips on a sob, your back arching from the bed as you push at his head, fingers tugging on his curls. his arms were wrapped around your thighs, one hand gripping your hip and the other pushing on your lower stomach, trying to keep you still. Luke turns his head and runs his tongue over the purple bruise on your inner thigh. you let out a whine when he turns his attention back to your clit. “please lu, it’s too much”

you woke up this morning with the sun on your face, a light breeze trailing through the open window, and luke’s head between your thighs. you’ve lost track of how long he’s been down there. how many times he’s made you cum. It was a good thing Jack agreed to an early morning workout with Nico, you were grateful you and luke had the apartment to yourself, knowing you couldn’t keep quiet.

there were few things luke loved more than eating you out. hearing the moans spill from your lips. the way your legs closed around his head. the way you didn’t know if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away. the way you tasted. he could spend all day between your thighs. luke has no doubt that he gets more pleasure out of this than you do. it’s his favourite thing in the whole world.

he presses his tongue into you, nose bumping your clit and smirks when he feels your hands clench in his hair. “luke,” you moan again, voice hoarse and breath hitching. that was his favourite sound ever. whenever he’s on roadies, this is the moment he replays in his head over and over again. this moment. that sound. he’s obsessed with it. with you. so obsessed he just needs to hear it again. and again. and again.

“please,” you beg, pushing at his head. Luke makes a noise at the back of his throat, tongue softly flicking over your clit as he tries to build you back up again. his eyes were glassed over, staring at the mess you’ve made. focused on the task at hand. seeing that expression you knew he wasn’t going to stop until you said that magic little word.

“you’re okay baby. you’re doing so good.” he mumbles, lips brushing against your pussy and you whimper. when he lifts his head and looks up at you, your stomach clenches at the sight. the wild look in his eye. his swollen lips. your release all over his face.

“you okay?” he asks, gently rubbing your thigh and you nod.

“good, you can give me one more.” luke says, dropping his head again.

“But-”

“shh baby. just one more, promise.” he mutters, already preoccupied again.

“you said that before the last one” you protest

“I know sweetheart. I just can’t get enough of you. just one more, I promise. please?” he begs. actually begging and you nod, agreeing before you could even really think about it. your head drops back against the pillow as Luke stares down at you, using his thumbs to spread you open a little more. he lets spit drop from his mouth onto your clit before bending his head and taking it into his mouth again.

after a few minutes, you reach that peak again, tears falling from the overstimulation and luke gently presses kisses on your stomach.

“think you can go again?” he asks, grinning up at you and laughs when you use your whole hand to push his face away, and snap your legs closed.

[theemporium]

Oh, please write for Mat! What about something fluffy with surprising the partner at home?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You were dragging your feet by the time you reached your apartment after work.

The exhaustion you felt went beyond lack of sleep and long days, it was set deep in your bones and made every part of your body feel ten times heavier than usual. Everything felt harder than usual. From falling asleep at night to getting up in the morning, from focusing in classes to paying attention during your shifts, from just pushing your body to work on some twisted sense of routine that made you feel like you were a robot completing tasks to the fact you hadn’t felt like yourself in a while.

It was tiring, it was exhausting and you didn’t know what to do about it. And coming home to a completely empty apartment didn’t help settle the unease in your chest, the one that had been bubbling since Mat left for a roadie over a week ago. 

However, being on the other side of the country only put a damper on your already shitty mood. By the time you could manage a conversation over message or call, it was late for you and you were fighting to keep your eyes open, even if you knew you would inevitably be tossing in your bed for a few hours trying to fall asleep. Though, you never did sleep well when Mat was gone.

Despite every cell in your body screaming for you to forget dinner and curl up in bed with the hopes that you could manage more than a few hours of sleep for your first day off in almost two weeks, you knew there was still so much buzzing in your mind for you to do and you didn’t even think the comfort of being home would help. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that it took three attempts before you managed to slot the key into the lock, turn the handle and shuffle inside. You hadn’t even acknowledged the extra pair of shoes by the door or noted the bag dumped a few feet away. 

You didn’t even catch on to any of it until you lifted your head and found Mat standing there, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, with his arms spread open and a massive grin on his face as he stared right back at you. 

“Surprise!”

You blinked, your brain unable to even process the sight in front of you.

“We decided to take a late night flight because the early morning one got cancelled so we came home early,” Mat explained as he closed the distance between you, grinning at your silence thinking you were just shocked. “Couldn’t wait to get home to my girl.”

The second he was close enough, Mat wasted no time in winding his arms around your waist and tugging you close until you practically fell into his chest. He grinned down at you, so giddy and happy to just be back home with you that it took a few seconds before he noticed your silence, before he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the glaze over your eyes like you weren’t fully focused, like you were disassociating. 

“Oh baby,” he murmured, his voice softer and quieter as he raised his hand to gently cup your face, to let his thumb brush over the apple of your cheek as your body instinctively sagged against his touch. 

“M’just a little tired,” you tried to wave him off, but this was Mat. This was Mat who wasn’t just your boyfriend but your best friend, the one who saw right through your bullshit and bad excuses. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his lips twitching upwards before he leaned down to place a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “And I’m glad I’m home too, can take care of my girl like she deserves.”

You sighed. “Mat—”

“Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispered, a glint in his eyes that made your heart race in your chest. “Please.”

“Just hold me.” You hated the way your voice cracked as you spoke. “I just really missed being in your arms.”

His grip on you instantly tightened as he brought you closer, as he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close until your cheek was pressed against his chest, the smell of his hoodie so comforting and so him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“Always,” he answered as he pressed another kiss along your hairline. “How about ordering from that Thai place you like?”

“I thought you hated it,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“I like some of it,” he argued weakly but you could hear the smile in his voice. “Tonight is your choice. Tomorrow we can order something obscene I like that will make the trainers cry.”

You laughed lightly, and the sound made his grin widened. “Deal.”

“Good, now go get changed into something comfy,” Mat murmured as he pulled you away from his chest, lightly pushing you in the direction of your shared bedroom. “M’gonna put on that show you like.”

“And you won’t get offended when I ogle Damon Salvatore?” You questioned, mostly teasing as you took a few steps backwards.

Mat rolled his eyes, but still smiled as he placed his hand over his heart. “Scout’s promise, baby.” He paused for a moment. “Even if I’m much hotter than him.”

“No doubt about it, baby.”

.

[lizardkingeliot]

The door to Lestat’s dressing room was unlocked and slightly open. Two inches of artificial light spilling out in a golden arc on the floor. Roadies rushing in from the loading dock shoving flight cases packed with equipment and so completely lost in their tasks none of them seemed to notice Louis standing there at all.

OR

The groupies line up by the dozen to get on their knees for Lestat. Lestat only gets on his knees for Louis.

[tmrwsuns]

(𐙚⋆.˚) hello kitty tattoos !

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ [sumin x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 0.85k w. curse words, very slightly suggestive! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

3:26 pm

sumin didn't pay much attention when you stood up from your usual seat on his studio’s couch, assuming you were going to the bathroom or something of the sorts.

he paid a little more attention when you came back with a bowl, a cloth and a small pink pouch, raising an eyebrow at your reflection on the mirror he had strategically placed to be able to look at you while he painted. your unbothered and relaxed face told him the items were most likely a tool for one of the cute (but sometimes questionable) things you usually distracted yourself with, so he dived back into his painting.

however, his attention was demanded when you took a seat behind him and he felt the damp rag on the exposed skin of his back.

“angel? what are you doing?” he questioned, a shiver going through his spine at the coldness of the water.

“im making you pretty, well, prettier” you muttered, not paying much mind to his questioning as you focused on the task at hand.

“and may i ask how you're doing that?” a smile began to form on his lips as he moved so he could watch you through the mirror, catching a glimpse of your pretty face.

he swore right then and there that he could stare at you forever. the way your eyebrows creased slightly in concentration, your tongue poking out of your mouth before it was overtaken by a proud smile.

“no, you may not, now stay put” your hands found place on his back to keep him still, enticing a small groan of fake annoyance to leave his lips. he had an inkling of what you were doing, but he couldn't bear to break that to you.

your eyes found his in the reflection and he felt his heart race as it always did when he looked at you for long enough. you smiled brightly at him and leaned in to leave a kiss on his shoulder blade, making his cheeks tint the faintest pink.

“keep painting, baby, don't mind me” you hummed before sitting back down and continuing with your task. he couldn't help the warm feeling that overtook his chest, making him shake his head slightly as he tried his hardest to find his focus once again.

minutes passed and he got used to whatever you were doing to his body. you both worked in peaceful silence, the only noise being the music playing in the background and your occasional humming along that made sumin’s smile grow unconsciously.

“almost done” he heard you mutter, his eyes snapping back to the mirror in perfect timing to see a proud smile take over your face as you dabbed the cloth on his back for a last time. he watched you as you stood up and took a step back, admiring the masterpiece you had so diligently worked on.

“can i know what you did now?” his voice drew your eyes back to him, mischievousness replacing the proudness in your smile.

“look and tell me how much you love them” you demanded, and who was he to say no to you?

he turned his back to the mirror, looking behind him to find the entirety of his back and shoulder covered in small hello kitty tattoos. sumin tried his hardest to conceal the enormous smile that fought to take place on his lips, hiding it behind a stoic expression.

“hello kitty, angel? i thought they were going to be badass, like hot wheels or dragons” he explained, a frown decorating his pretty face as he analysed the drawings on his back.

“hello kitty is badass!” you defended, hitting his shoulder with little strength. “and i'm sure roady would love them”

“roady don't see my bare back, pretty” he chuckled, looking back at you, now being able to grab the back of your legs and pull you towards him. you took place standing between his legs, hands immediately burrowing on the hair on the back of his head.

“they do see your arms, though, don't they?” you asked with a small, hopefully enticing smile. sumin chuckled as he noticed the meaning behind your words.

“isnt my back enough for you, woman?” he joked, slightly squeezing the back of your thighs for emphasis.

“it is, but your arms look so pretty…” a fake pout formed on your lips as your hand travelled to caress the length of his arm, knowing exactly what you were doing.

sumin looked at you for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “okay, you can put them on my arms”

“yay! thank you, baby” you smiled and leaned down to peck his lips. he turned back around after, finally letting a smile place itself on his lips. he really couldn't say no to you when he knew your smile was so pretty and your eyes twinkled like that when you were excited.

“start with the left, i want to finish the painting”

“yes, sir”

“oh?” his eyebrows raised humorously, earning him a swat on his shoulder. “ouch, meanie”

★ blue's corner ;; i got inspired to write this by this post by @astrasng so all credits to her for the idea !! also feedback and comments are always appreciated ! ★ taglist ;; @tiramisumin (this one is for you) ★ back to the masterlist ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @roseraris

© tmrwsuns, 2024

[skulljackxiii]

GrojBand Comeback Tour - Final Act P.1

Support me over at Patreon: www.patreon.com/skulljackxiii ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Overall Narrative: With their last Summer together, GrojBand made one last ditch effort to perform in their best gig yet, being the opening act for a reunion concert for the infamous Drama Brothers, before they had to seriously think about their futures. But it turns out that life had some detours for the band as a music promoter discovered them and offered an opportunity to participate in a music competition, where potential bands battle it out throughout the country to see who was the best in their own respective musical genre. 

By himself, Corey saw this chance and took it without the rest of the band from knowing about it, he decided to make one last ditch effort to keep the band all together. At the start of this journey, Corey has been keeping all sorts of secrets from his friends that he'd never normally do; like him stealing from his dad and use his own college funds to help secure necessities and cover the entree fee for the competition, and him not telling how scared he is of the thought of him losing the one thing that gave him purpose, the band. So he held onto this to himself, but this wouldn't last long as Laney was able to piece everything together slowly bit by bit until everything came together near the end of the competition. Until then, GrojBand went on their merry way in this journey and had gigs in so many cities in the country with a fresh batch of lyrics ready at hand thanks to his sister Trina following them. 

All of that is possible thanks to Nick Mallory becoming their roadie, but that isn't all he does as he's also the bus driver, stage hand, moral support, and their protector from danger. The danger implies to not only Trina but also a separate group that has it out for GrojBand, a dangerous international crime family. Due to the band's shenanigans in each city they visit, they indirectly interfered in this crime family's dealings causing them to lose heavy financial losses. It happens so frequently that they believed that GrojBand is some secret task force sent to ruin the infrastructure of their operations. So they went out of their way to get rid of them by any means, all the while the band was unaware and safe from harm all thanks to Nick Mallory preventing each attempt.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

hey queen!!

i've been thinking of tyler x roadie!reader, where she's in charge of making sure their wardrobe is in order! lots of banter backstage and tension-filled costume fittings 😈

maybe tyler experiences some kind of malfunction on stage, causing reader to come rushing out to help him. while turned away from the audience trying to fix his outfit, reader teases tyler about the situation, which leaves his face bright red while he's trying to perform 🫣

i hope exams are treating you well!!

🕸🕸🕸🕸

Wardrobe - Tyler Joseph x Roadie!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1144

A/N: Sorry my stuff is getting shorter :( exams went well tho! Hopefully you enjoy this one. I haven't written a tyler fic in a while so it's nice to finally get a request for my baby hehe

The hum of the crowd filtered through the backstage walls, muffled but electric, as I fidgeted with the final buttons on Tyler’s jacket. My job wasn’t glamorous, but I loved every chaotic part of it. Tour life meant being part stylist, part therapist, and part magic, but my main focus was wardrobe. And right now, Tyler was standing in front of me, arms outstretched like a mannequin, as I worked my magic.

“You’ve got two minutes, Y/N,” Tyler said, glancing toward the door that led to the stage. He looked down at me, a small smirk slapped across his face. I could tell he was trying to remain calm, but the nerves showed in the way his foot tapped against the floor.

“Relax,” I replied, tugging the hem of his jacket into place. “You’re gonna be fine. You always are.”

“Not if my pants fall off mid-song,” he quipped.

“That’s what I’m here for.” I shot him a cheeky grin, earning a chuckle. Moments like these, the banter and the easy camaraderie, were what made the job worth it. Tyler had a way of making everyone feel like they belonged, even when the pressure was sky-high.

Satisfied with his outfit, I stepped back to inspect my work. Black jacket with silver accents? Perfectly fitted. Pants? Secure. Mic pack? Discreetly clipped to his waistband. “You’re good to go,” I announced, brushing a stray thread off his shoulder. “Now get out there and do your thing.”

He flashed me a grin, his excitement palpable now. “Thanks. You know, you’re the best.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here,” I shot back, already moving to tidy up my kit. But as I turned away, I felt the warmth of his gaze linger a little longer than usual, like he wanted to say something more. It left a faint flutter in my chest, though I quickly brushed it aside. Just work, Y/N, I reminded myself.

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur of tasks. Between organizing costumes for the next set and making sure the crew had everything they needed, I barely had time to breathe. But I always kept one ear tuned to the stage. Tyler’s voice carried through the monitors, and I could picture him moving across the stage, commanding the crowd like only he could. He had this way of captivating everyone, including me, though I’d never admit it out loud.

Then, it happened.

At first, I didn’t register the commotion. The tech crew’s radios crackled with chatter, but I was busy double-checking the next costume change. It wasn’t until I heard Tyler’s voice, sharp and urgent, that I froze.

“Uh, Y/N? Can you get out here?” His tone was strained but playful, as though he was trying to mask whatever disaster had struck. My heart leapt into my throat.

Grabbing my kit, I sprinted to the stage entrance. A stagehand gestured wildly toward the center of the stage, where Tyler stood with his back to the crowd. His hand was clutching his jacket, and even from a distance, I could tell something was off.

I didn’t have time to hesitate. I ducked past the speakers and onto the stage, staying low to avoid the spotlight. Tyler half-turned, catching my eye, and muttered, “The zipper’s stuck. I can’t get it down, and I need this jacket off for the next song.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered under my breath. “Turn around.”

The crowd roared as Josh took over with an impromptu drum noise battle with them, buying us precious seconds. Tyler pivoted so his back was to the audience, shielding me as I worked. My fingers fumbled with the zipper, which had somehow snagged on the fabric. The lights were hot, the pressure immense, but I forced myself to focus.

“This is a first,” I teased, keeping my voice low. “Wardrobe malfunction in the middle of a show? Guess I’m earning my keep tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler muttered, but his voice wavered, and I caught the edge of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely. Nothing like a little mid-show chaos to keep things interesting.” I finally managed to free the zipper and yanked it down, freeing him from the jacket. As my hands brushed against his, his breath hitched for a fraction of a second. It was so subtle, I almost missed it.

“There. Crisis averted.”

Tyler slipped the jacket off and shot me a look over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

I smirked. “Anytime, rock star.” My tone was light, but there was a faint tension that hung in the air, an unspoken undercurrent that made the moment feel heavier than it should have. I stepped back toward the shadows, but not before catching the faintest hint of pink creeping up his neck. Tyler Joseph, unflappable frontman, blushing? I filed that away for later, already grinning as I disappeared backstage.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch, but my mind lingered on those brief moments on stage. The feel of his jacket beneath my fingers, the warmth of his skin brushing mine—it shouldn’t have stuck with me, but it did. And the blush? That was new. I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head, wondering what it meant, if anything.

Backstage after the show, Tyler found me as I was packing up my kit. He was still flushed from the performance, his hair damp with sweat, but his grin was as bright as ever.

“Nice work tonight,” he said, leaning against the doorway, his voice softer than usual.

“You too,” I replied, trying to ignore the flutter in my chest. “Even with the whole zipper fiasco.”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, thanks for saving me. Apparently we do need you.”

“It’s my job,” I said, giving him a playful salute. “But you owe me. Next time, maybe don’t test the limits of your wardrobe ten minutes before showtime.”

Tyler’s smile widened, but his gaze lingered on me, unreadable. There was a beat of silence before he finally spoke. “How about I make it up to you? Dinner? My treat.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Are you asking me out, Joseph?”

“Depends. Are you saying yes?” His voice was teasing, but his eyes searched mine, as if the answer mattered more than he let on.

I considered him for a moment, my heart hammering in my chest. Then, I grinned. “Sure. But only if you promise not to make me change your outfit at the last second again.”

He laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that sent warmth spiraling through me. “Deal.”

As he walked away, I couldn’t help but smile. Tour life was chaotic, unpredictable, and exhausting. But moments like this? The way he looked at me, the way his laughter lingered in my ears—they made it all worthwhile.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[in-hav3n]

 ✮ 𝓘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

❘❘ NSFW - sex scene - unprotected sex - age gap

Here's finally the 4th part! Took me ages to finalize this but seriously I wanted to write a good smut, and wrote something I haven't done before so I hope you'll like it as much as I do. Thanks for all the kind and lovely words I receive everyday from many of you and for all the positive comments about this serie. Love you all and enjoy &lt;3

Previous parts

Standing on one of the VIP platforms, with a shoulder leaned against one of the metallic poles, you were enjoying your 5th Metallica show since the beginning of M72 Tour. The staff only needed help before and after the show, offering to roadies free time in between to do whatever they wanted to do. No matter how many times you'd watch it, each time was different. It wasn't the same setlist, neither the same atmosphere or energy coming from the crowd but tonight, the show was different and for another reason. 

Each time your eyes landed on James, butterflies were tickling your lower belly and your lips couldn't stop forming a smile. The way he was moving around the stage, playing his riffs or just interacting with the fans, everything was absolutely captivating. You couldn't stop admiring him, still not believing you both shared something last night. You were probably looking silly, smiling like an idiot, but you didn't care. You were in your own bubble, enjoying these amazing feelings you didn't experienced for a long time now. 

After being alone for a while, you had to admit it was truly pleasant to have someone being attracted by you. Of course, you didn’t forget you had to be careful and shouldn’t put on too much hopes in that little adventure. You were just a roadie, he was a rockstar. Nothing else would come up out of these two nights you'll spend with him. Was it bad to enjoy it then? Absolutely not, and you decided to take your chance. 

But what to expect tonight? That was a million-dollar question. You had absolutely no idea. He said he wanted to spend more time with you and he was the one that came back in the first place. You didn't run after him like a crazy groupie. He did the first step and asked to see you again. A little voice inside you dared to say this may be positive...but still, better be careful.

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket and get your attention off from the show. Another smile crossed your lips as you read the message coming from your best friend. "Go on girl! Take care and carpe diem! Love ya <3". Of course, you had to tell her what happened earlier in the backstage and seeing she was as excited as you were made you feel more confident about all this. 

The show went on and a few minutes before the last part of "Enter Sandman", which was the last song they'd play, you left your point of view to run into the backstage area. You didn't really know where to meet James - even if you assumed he meant at his hotel room for more discretion - but you wanted to tell him you couldn't join him now. You had some tasks to do before you were allowed to leave the stadium. You waited maybe ten minutes or more, pacing around near his door. You knew the band was spending a bit of time around the stage for the fans and you didn’t mind waiting. 

Suddenly you heard some heavy steps and voices echoing. You got up, recognizing the voices, and saw a sweaty James coming over you. He was drying his forehead with a towel. Your heart beat fast when he was getting close and you didn't have the time to say anything that he opened the door with a fast move, pushing you inside to not be seen by the staff who was going to be very busy in this area in a minute or so.

"James, I-...", you started but he shut you off with a rough kiss. A mixture of sweat and deodorant hit your nose. Your lips tasted once again his salty sweated lips and you couldn't resist to place your palm on his cheek while his hands rested on your lower back. "James, I can't join you straight away. I have work to do", you explained with a sorry tone, looking deep into his eyes. He looked back at you, like if he was searching for a solution. "They'd be suspicious if I leave now and even more if I leave with you". You added to show him you cared about your both private lifes as well.

He simply answered to your idea with a nod and leaned to kiss you again, deeper this time. Your heart was pounding so fast and those butterflies in your stomach seemed to have turned into a whole colony now. His two hands pushed your pelvis against his, making you moan against his lips. 

"Do what you have to do and meet me as soon as possible", he groaned, adding another peck. You nodded frantically at him, gasping of pleasure as his pelvis hit yours once again.

✦ 𝟑𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ✮

You've never finished your tasks that fast before but you really wanted to leave as soon as possible. Luckily, the guys did most of the job and were kind enough to say you could go, since you did a lot in the afternoon to prepare the gig. You thanked them and ran over the mini vans ready to drove the staff back to the hotel. At 1am, there was absolutely no traffic in the city and it was for best. Before joining James, you got the idea of grabbing a few things from your room since he asked you to stay over.

Ten minutes later, you were knocking softly on his door, hoping he didn't fall asleep but some voices coming from the TV told you he was still awake. You looked around, in the corridor, hoping no one would show up so late at night but soon, you heard his reassuring heavy steps behind the door. 

"There you are", he smiled, opening the door and leaning on it.

"I'm sorry I did as fast as I could", you apologized, blushing slightly with a little smile. You came inside as he gently gestured you to come in. James was already wearing a bathrobe and you supposed he showered already.

"Luckily, they had enough support and didn't need me....OH!", you couldn’t finish your sentence that he jumped on you to attack your lips for a hungry kiss. Your bag fell on the carpet in a thud as you wrapped up your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes. 

"Oh I-...I think I don't smell good. I need a shower first", you giggled. James had left your lips in a hurry to attack your neck’s skin now. His mustache tickled the hollow of your neck but this answer didn't satisfy him. He groaned and pulled away, looking deep into your eyes. 

"Then this a good reason to join me", he whispered, his fingers caressing your cheek. You blushed again under his touch, playing with the opening of his bathrobe.

"And where to?". 

"To a place...", he said with a smirk and a playful tone before grabbing the edge of your black tank top. He slowly lifted it up, exposing your belly, “"...where this…”, he threw it away and when he finally took it off, he said, “…won't be necessary". 

A shiver crossed your spine as you helped him to get rid of the rest of your clothes. You quickly kicked off your shoes and stood in underwear in front of him. Last night, you'd have been quite shy to expose yourself to him but curiously he was able to help you having this confidence. Maybe it was the fact he was older or more experienced than you? You didn't know but you appreciated it.

"Then show me this place", you whispered, leaning against his lips, teasing him with a kiss. James chuckled with interest as he slowly pushed you over the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He wanted to keep the room warm. You realized he intended to share a shower with you making a smile curved on your lips. You adored the idea. 

"Make yourself comfortable", he told when he walked over the shower. He turned the water on and checked on the heat with his hand until it was on the right temperature. You nodded at his ask and proceeded to unclasp your bra, remove your thong before you grabbed two towels you placed near the shower. James opened his bathrobe, exposing his naked body and you bit your lower lip at the sight of his gorgeous body, wondering how come you could be so lucky. 

"Come", he went into the shower first, offering his hand to make you join him inside, just in case the ground would be slippery. You accepted it and closed the shower's door behind your back, smiling up at him. He went underneath the hot water first, letting it run on his head and body. You chuckled softly when you saw him shaking his head like a dog to remove the water drops running over his eyes. 

With eyes closed, he ran his hands over his face to refresh it before he declared, "Don't be shy...come closer".

He wasn't looking at you but you guessed he noticed you were staying in the corner. You were more confident to show your body but still, you weren't feeling that confident to make the first steps already. You didn't really know what was on his mind – after all, you thought he just wanted to have fun last night and nothing else - and honestly, it rattled you a little sometimes. So, you really preferred him to take the lead.  

You stepped closer and immediately your chest hit his in a shiver. You giggled of surprise when you felt the water landing on your head and embraced the heat brought by the hot water. It felt so good to finally get washed after a long day running around.  

"God bless this shower...", you whispered in ecstasy as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation that embraced you. You didn't see James pressing the soap bottle on the wall to get some and you realized what he was doing only when you felt his hands on your shoulders. 

"Oh...", you whispered, your eyes opening quickly to look up at him. He gave you a smile back and put foam on your body to wash it. "That smells good". 

"And feels good, I hope?", he wondered and made you turn over to have an access to your back. He washed this new skin given to him and whispered a "good" to your hummed "hum hum". 

For a couple of minutes, no words were shared. You both only enjoyed each other's company and James' magical touch on your skin. You never imagined he’d have done such thing with a stranger like you. Sharing a shower was something so intimate that this envy surprised you a lot. But you felt good, you felt comfortable. It was like living a dream and you intended to enjoy it till the end. 

"Oh yes, there", you moaned of pleasure when he reached a painful place over your neck. Pain caused by repetitive days of lifting up some heavy boxes. He insisted on this area, in a very kindly way, when his hand ran along your body. They stopped on your bare breasts that he gently massaged with the same softness. You smiled, eyes closed, appreciating the gesture - as well as your nipples who hardened straight away - when you felt something hard bumping on your lower back. You bit your lower lip, opening your eyes. James couldn't see it but your cheeks flushed red as you realized you probably caused this erection. 

You decided to show a slight of bravery and moved your hand up your body. Once at the right level, you moved it backwards and wrapped your hand around his hard length. James’ chin was resting against your head and you heard his groan behind you. He was okay with it even if the contrary would have surprised you, but you wanted his agreement. 

Slowly, but with precise moves, you started to stroke him back and forth, hearing his groans and feeling his short breath on the hollow of your neck. You keep going, your thumb sometimes rubbing his tip but you felt the water wasn't a good help. So, you turned over again to face him, forcing him to move his head. He looked down with a curious glance as you collected some foam on your body before cupping his hard member again. 

This time, the soap helped you to provide perfect strokes and you increased your pace, stroking it a bit faster. You decided to tease him, leaving his hard cock for a while to wash his tough chest and arms. The air in the cabin was getting thicker and the temperature was increasing faster. There was something very sensual with your two wet bodies stuck to one another. You looked up at him with desire and made an eye contact with his lustful gaze. You smiled to see he was pleased and decided to move on the next step. You were burning of desire to do that and nothing could have stopped you now. 

Now that the foam disappeared with the water, you slowly went down on your knees, your eyes still locked with his, and when you arrived at the right level, you opened your mouth teasingly. Your hands rested around his member and your tongue went out to just suck his tip. 

“Mmh…”, he groaned while his hand went down to caress your wet hair, slowly. You could tell James was enjoying this pleasant surprise very much. 

You let out a moan for the first time as your mouth wrapped around his tip only, sucking it in a sensual way. Feeling you wouldn’t be able to stay too long on your knees, you changed your position to stand on your heels. With your legs wide open now, you felt some water drops running along your wet hair on your body and on your wet folds, making you shiver and moan. Your mouth kept sucking his glans and your right hand went back around his member, gripping it but it wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more and to hear his groans, you understood he probably wanted the same thing. 

Then you held James’ cock and placed it horizontally, letting your tongue licking from the base to the top. You took advantage of this move to lick his balls, even sucking one between your lips.

“Oh yes baby…”, James moaned more, his hand pushing your head slowly. This encourages you to take him fully now, bobbing your head up and down on his venous cock. “This way…yes”.

You followed his instructions and moved further and faster, your hands following your mouth’s moves. 

“It feels good, uh?”, you pulled away to tease him with words for the first time, twirling your tongue over his tip before your lips enveloped his length again for another ride. 

“God…fuck yes”, he mumbled between moans and whines, gripping your hair tighter as he pushed your mouth deeper on his dick. You went as deep as you could and pulled away when you couldn’t take it anymore. With enough saliva on it now, you could pump it faster with your two hands as you looked up at James.

His eyes were closed now and you could tell he was focusing on his pleasure. A proud smile appeared on your lips, proud to provide him such pleasure. You weren’t a blowjob expert but you did it a few times before, memorizing the moves your partners liked.   

You stopped pumping him with your hands to suck him off again, already addict to his perfect cock. You sucked harder, placing one of your palms on his upper thighs for a better support. Your other hand couldn’t resist to reach your already throbbing pussy that needed a bit of attention. James’ groans and whines were more and more precise as he looked down at what you were doing.

You wouldn’t be surprise if he’d cum soon but surprisingly, he pulled you away with a firm grip on your hair, making you shiver. With a sexy look and attitude, you opened your lips, his dick letting out from your mouth and hit his pubes. 

Without a word, he made you get up by grasping you by the shoulders and quickly, his rough lips met yours for a passionate and hungry dance. His hands started to explore your body making you shivering hard.  Even more when his fingertips draw a path along your spine before his both hands cupped your ass cheeks, groping them.

“Oh…”, you moaned of surprise and pleasure at the same time, feeling a pressure into your core. You knew you were completely wet and you wondered what he had in store for you. 

You were both totally rinsed now and when he shut down the shower, you understood he was ready for the next step. But did he got enough energy for a love making session now? After all, he just spent two hours on a stage, rocking hard. But when you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself, you could see his erection didn’t disappear and you guessed you got your answer. He was ready for anything. You quickly dried your wait hair with another towel as James finished to dry his own body, leaving the towel on the floor. He walked into the bedroom and you heard his body landing on the mattress. You smiled and chuckled silently. 

You walked out of the bathroom, leaning against the door frame. James was shutting the TV with the remote when he caught you with his peripheral vision. He smiled at you and extended his hand. 

“Come here pretty girl”. You took his hand with a shy smile and followed his moves. He made you climbed on the bed, passing by on top of his body to make you roll on your side. When your body hit the mattress, he captured your lips again for a sensual dance, his tongue quickly searching for yours.

Naturally your arms wrapped around his neck and each other's legs intermingled. His body was hot against your shivering skin. It felt good and those butterflies came back into your core. 

James’ hand soon found the place between your thighs and when he gently pushed them open, you pulled away your mouth with a slight moan.

“Mh…can I-..”, there your shyness came back, your cheeks flushing red again but you gulped to give you courage to ask him what you really wanted tonight. “Can I be on top?”, you finally dared to suggest.

James answered first with a loud groan of satisfaction. He quickly rolled on his back again, griping his hard cock to get it ready for you. “Come baby, it is yours”.

Those words aroused more than anything and you felt your pussy squeezed at the thought of what you were about to do. You carefully got up and moved one of your legs to straddle him. You did that position for maybe twice and you hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed. But James was the best when it comes to make you feel comfortable and confident, that’s why you decided to take your chance to do it tonight with him. 

Before sinking on him, you checked first with your fingers if you were wet enough and with no surprise, you were. James gave you a help as he spat in his hand, spreading the saliva on his tip. When you felt ready, you moved backwards a little, lining up your entrance with his hard cock. 

“Wait…hold on me”, James suddenly said when he saw you unsure of your moves. He sat up on the bed, lining up his dick better and guided it between your wet folds. The touch made you whine of surprise and when you felt his tip at the right place, you slowly push yourself on him with heavy breaths mixed with moans. His shoulders were a good support as you slowly sunk on his length, going inch by inch, your tight pussy being stretched out. 

“Oh fuck…”, you whispered in a gasp, when he was completely inside you. 

“That’s it, baby. Go at your pace now”, James groaned and massaged your ass to make you feel relaxed before he laid down on the bed again.

Your hands didn’t leave his shoulders and when you felt ready and wet enough, you started to move your hips, up and down. Moans and groans escape your mouth as you leaned further on his shoulder, feeling his tip hitting your walls. 

“You love it, don’t you?”, James whispered to you, forcing you to look down at him. You nodded with a shy moan as his hands spanked you hard. "You love riding that old man's cock, I know you do". You moaned louder this time and allowed yourself to move a bit faster on his hard cock. 

“Feels good”, you breathed between your whines, your hands finding a comfortable place on James’ chest. He couldn’t leave his eyes off of you, watching you taking pleasure, your breasts jiggling as you were bouncing on his cock. It was arousing him more than ever. He decided to give you a little help, knowing you’d enjoy what he had in mind. 

“Lean a bit more sweetheart”, he suggested as he gripped your both hands with his. You listened to his advice and leaned as he asked you to, arching your butt. “Great, now bounce on my cock. C’mon”, he encouraged you with another spank and you realized this position was far better to make you bounce easily on his hard member. 

“Oh! Fuck yes James”, you cried of pleasure, feeling new sensations arousing you. You could tell your pussy was getting wetter each time it was sinking on James’ cock, your wet folds enveloping it with ease. Your ass cheeks were hitting one another at each moves making you feel sexy. And when you felt his dick hitting your spot, you whine of surprise, opening your eyes before they rolled back in your head. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock. Make yourself cum hard on it”. You whined at every praise he told you and squirmed faster on his dick, feeling this familiar and powerful sensation growing up inside your lower belly. But this time, it felt like it was growing stronger and faster than ever. You panted hard, thrusting hard up and down to reach this amazing feeling you wanted to feel. It was a strong need, a strong desire. 

James could feel you were about to cum, he could tell by your moves. He noticed you were going deeper and faster, trying different paces in search of your release. He even hesitated to take the lead cause he could have grabbed your ass and pounded hard into you but he finally decided to let you move the way you wanted. And honestly, it was better this way. James couldn’t stop watching how sexy you were in that position, bouncing on him. 

“Oh James…I’m gonna-…God…I’m gonna cum”, you begged and whined, your breath increasing as well as your moves.

“Let it go baby…let it go…breathe”, James whispered as he didn’t stop watching you from beneath. His glance going up at you then glancing down at your pussy enveloping his hard dick. He would cum soon too if you kept going on this pace but he was holding it, wanting you to reach your climax first. His hands gripped tighter your wrists and when he saw your face contracting, your teeth biting your lower lips and your pussy squeezing around his cock, he knew you were cumming.

“OH FUCK!”, you almost screamed of pleasure when you finally reached the object of your desires. “Holy fuck, yes. It feels good”. Your pussy contracted around his member as you freed one of your hands to rub your clit. 

“Yeah baby…C’mon, fuck yourself. That feels good. Yes!". You heard James’ praises but it was like he was talking from afar. Your legs started to shake and you struggled a little to hold on to the position. Your fingers shook frantically your clit as you keep bouncing on his cock to ride your orgasm till the end. It was completely overwhelming you and nothing could compare these amazing sensations.

Your whine soon calmed down, the pleasure and pressure going down slowly but you breathed loudly, leaving your used clit and pussy recovering from this orgasm. 

“Oh my god”, you panted in a whisper as you came back to your senses. James smiled, looking at you and let you enjoy this pure moment of ecstasy after the orgasm, when the sensations are going through your whole body, making you feel complete and happy.

Meanwhile, he grabbed his dick and stroked it slowly, waiting patiently for you. When you opened your eyes again and met his, you both smiled at each other. Then he pulled you down to kiss his lips in a tender way. It surprised you how relaxed and how easy you were showing yourself to him but you guess he was helping you a lot. 

“Can you take it for another ride baby?”, he requested with a grin and you don’t hesitate a second. 

“Oh yes”, you sighed of pleasure as you positioned yourself again. 

“There you go. Sit on that cock again”, James helped you line up with his dick again and this time, you sunk on him faster. When all his length thrusted into you, you bounced up and down. James' right hand rested on your lower back for a while as your moves started to be more sloppier and easier now that you had cum hard on him. “Oh fuck baby, keep going”.

You smiled proudly at him and leaned on him to take back the position that made you cum. You adored it so much that you wanted to do it once again. Maybe it would be the last time trying this with him so why not enjoy it till the end? James understood what you were doing and held your hands again with his, gripping them firmly on his chest. 

“Go on, sweetheart”, he commanded as he looked at you arching your back and butt.

Very quickly, you bounced again on his cock, your wet lips squeezing, making you moan like crazy again. James closed his eyes, enjoying these sensations as he felt his core burning. But he wanted to look at you, looking at how your body were moving and reacting. He looked down again and spanked you harder, admiring how his dick was disappearing inside your pussy with so ease.

“You’re so fucking tight. Jesus, it feels so good”, he growled with his hoarse voice as he groped your ass hard, opening wide your two tight holes. This made you squirm again with a loud whine and when he felt your pussy contracting around his cock, James felt it was the right time to cum.

“Oh yes baby, don’t stop moving this way…I’m gonna cum”, he warned you in a groan, his face contracting under the pleasure coming. 

“Fuck me James…please…cum on me”, you bounced a little more on his tip and when you realized with his screams he was about to released his load, you thrusted out your pussy, leaving him space so he could stroke his dick against your ass. He stroked it so his cum could land on your ass cheeks and ran over your folds before dripping on his stomach. 

“Oh fuck…yes!”, he groaned like a beast, arching his pelvis a little, his head hitting the pillow as he jerked off his dick with pace, his orgasm making him tremble a little.

He had closed his eyes and you smiled, watching over your shoulder all the mess. He panted hard when he stopped growling and you looked down at him, still straddling his hips. You smiled and hesitated a moment before you allowed yourself to run a fingertip along his sweaty chest. He giggled at the tickle, his eyes closed as he was just enjoying his post orgasm feelings and you smiled. 

Leaving him recovering, you got up to go to the bathroom, searching for a towel to clean you. You picked another one for him before you came on the bed. But first, you couldn't resist to suck his dick one last time to clean him. Surprised by your gesture, James opened his eyes in a moan and looked down at you with a grin.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist”, you said with a tease, wiping a drop that left on your lips. 

" I won't complain", he chuckled softly and grabbed the towel you were handing to him. "Thanks for the towel".

"You're welcome", you replied with a warm smile and while he was cleaning his stomach, you walked in the other side of the room, picking up your bag to peeped inside. James frowned at your attitude as he placed the towel on his bedside table.

"I hope you don't intend to leave me alone again tonight...", he asked as he sat down on the bed. You looked up at him and your gaze met his piercing blue eyes...

[cherri-balms]

♡﹕𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓, 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓! — PROLOGUE

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A/N﹕YAY I FINALLY FINISHED THE PROLOGUE FOR MY FIRST SERIES!

This is the first full fledged fanfic I have written in a long time, I hope anyone who finds this finds it enjoyable, I had a fun time writing this prologue chapter and I currently have around a 10-12 chapter vision for this series as it stands, but if this proves to be something you guys like I will be happy to extend the series! I do plan to create a tag list, if you would like to be added shoot me a DM and I will add you to the list! As always any replies will be made through our main acc @caravan-mad!

This prologue pretty much gives most if not all the information about the reader aside from important plot details. I wanted the reader's demon form and time period to be as ambiguous as possible and limit the use of Y/N, the reader in this story has allegories to butterflies.

Not all chapters will have warnings nor does this one, however the full fic will contain dark content and will be under the dead dove do not eat tag.

Some content will include but are not limited to: Unhealthy relationship dynamics, N.SFW, Unrequited love, Yandere themes, Dubcon, and pretty much any tag youd find listed in Hazbin Hotel tbh

𝐄 × 𝐌/𝐅 × 𝟐.𝟔𝐤 × 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 × 𝐀𝐎𝟑

♡﹕Bored at work performing repetitive choreography and pleasing faceless demons, you find yourself reminiscing on life, death, and limbo.

♫ envy baby ~ ♫

“Lights clear? Sounds clear?” 

“We’ve been fucking over this Steven! We’ll know it’s clear when they finally stop tuning our shit-” 

“Anne chill, we still have six minutes till airing. Don’t waste all your energy on the roadie.” 

“That crowd doesn’t seem to be getting any quieter does it…” The little imp’s observations were now only being met by eyerolls and silent treatment by the two drummer girls as the completed instruments silenced in countdown. 

Lights crew above, sounds crew from behind, and effects team surround. The way every single backstage member of your cast would run and scurry around you to get their various tasks done always made you think of little mice, rats even, so worked up making sure everything was in perfect position before those curtains had a chance to stop separating you, from them.

It was cute enough to make you laugh as though you were still a highschool girl.

“Broadcasting live in 60 seconds!” Dark blue scene lighting begins to fade your entire surrounding to a pitch black, and among doing so freezes your little mice into statues all around. Only the tiniest crack in the fabric ahead illuminated the space with a sharp vertical line down the curves of the figure that stands as the adorning center piece of this particular attraction. Roaring bass brings about a quake to the stage beneath your feet, queuing time for you to give your puppies a treat.

“Awwwe~ Did we leave you waiting long?” The volume of pure passionate devotion always rang to your ears louder than any electrical speaker could achieve. 

The wave of the new future adorned in electrical inventions was something you’ve always been prepared to face; why even in the faint blur of the overworld it was all the grown ups could ever yap enough of! No, that wasn’t where that bitter taste came from.

In the full truth of things, you just never knew you’d stick around long enough to bear full witness to its infection of mankind.

Oh come on. Who are we kidding right now?

“Hi. I wanna people save, all right? ”

You’ve never been more liberated.

“You’re in m-my way!!”

Your eyes have but a second to adjust to the flood of bright neon before life hits play once again. The choreography you, and and the other 4 devils fanned out beside you have programmed into your bodies for the past months flow across the stage with ease. among the camera men you can make out the mass of waving pen lights stirred ablaze after the long anticipation, oh how you love they always use the color dearest to your heart…

“The tightrope falls, broken by others”

Once you felt the rushing high of the stage the first time around tolerance for it subsided immediately after. You’ve seen the looks on those poor saps down in the front row, each one hyper fixated on every movement you make wishing they could be you, or be up here with you.

And of course, you all flash them bright smiles, longing gazes and praise them with verses of purity more fitting for the angelic souls looming up above. Customer service is the utmost desired, as they say!

“What a lady, she’s gonna jump

towards the light and shatter humiliatingly”

Actually, can you even remember when your first performance was? How old were you even? All of this came from a cheap shot of gaining a few quick pennies back in the day. Landing yourself a handsome and rich husband with the filth you wore on your back was the first childhood dream you found dead on arrival, but what you were cursed in status you were blessed with the cuteness that made kittens hiss in envy. To say you had “the voice of a goddess” would mayhaps be a bit too presumptuous, but who were you to refute the compliment when it came your way?

Well, maybe trying to parse through finding the day your career debuted or took off was a fool's errand, but the moment it ended certainly still remains as a burned film stuck to your mind. You stopped caring about the “Oh woes me~ what did I do to deserve this~” a long time ago. Still, the punishment you received in death far exceeded what you ever did to earn in your eyes, more so than your sentencing of eternal damnation.

“High and without care I’m lonely, lonely”

Right on que, as always every time you reach exactly 32 seconds into your first song the intrusive memory flashes the same images of the past over your current reality it almost feels as if you were stuck suffering that fate again each time.

You wish there was more to say on the matter of your demise, but there’s only a brief two second window between staring down some heckling loud mouth making a scene in the crowd and a bomb beneath the stage going off before your soul is falling down under the earth’s crust as a blazing comet onto the asphalt below.

And two days before your 21st birthday too are you serious?! UN-Fucking believable!

“From their idle words, the clown becomes a prisoner”

The only thing you wanted to do was scream in the immense burning agony you were suffering until the whole world knew the kind of pain you were in, but each time you cried not even a croak could get past your scorched throat

Even after the blazes subsided and your charred cocoon was all that was left behind, the inferno decided your vocal chords were going to be its payment.

…. That was it?

This was your payout…

And after all that work…

“It’s the same love as always, no way I’d have regrets”

Surreal didn’t even begin to describe what became of the following weeks, months, you haven’t a clue. The construct of night and day seemed to mean jack in the bizzare wonderland of maddness holding you, only so much telling what shade of putrid red in the sky was darker than the same shade of fucking red from two hours ago! What a productive way to spend your newfound endless time!

Every aspect of this place made you absolutely sick, enough so to have you still praying you just were drugged and having the worst trip of your fucking life, but the horror in maddness is the consistency that lies between the lines. You’re certain that damned illuminated “WELCOME TO HELL!” sign and the stranger you befriended in the mirror was that line that made you finally cave.

“Hey, it's a amazing.”

Honestly, you couldn’t say what specifically led you into the epiphany you had, all of a sudden one day you heard a sudden snapping sound in your conscience, and like that everything made sense to you. Why your life was snuffed before you could emerge from your cocoon, why your makers deemed this your new home, and why that bomb taking your life just wasn’t enough to deem your afterlife a hell.

There was a certain liberation that came with hell that you were never going to get being the glowing little diamond you were in human society, through terrorism, cannibalism and bloodshed one thing would remain a constant throughout devil society. No one would ever give a damn about anything.

Hell became your fucking playground by the time your first extermination came around, and keeping on the move while broke as shit was a cakewalk this time around, but your first encounter with an overlord after catching your foot in the grave in the casino humbled your inflating ego. Chaos for society did not necessarily mean chaos without hierarchy, and going without a voice to call your own put you at an extreme disadvantage.

“LA-LA-LA!”

The crescendo of the opener is right around the corner, for the leading front and center of your group your vocals and choreography had primarily remained reserved for backup. The primary color of lights among the crowd made the obvious clear with who the majority of these demons were here to see, your manager was aware of this more than anyone else.

Your fans tended to be aware of this for a majority of your shows, your parts in particular tended to stand out even as mere background vocals.

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand. 

Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

Sinners rejoice once the solo everyone was edging towards drops with the bass of the loudspeakers and the flares of the strobes above. The pitches your vocals were now capable of hitting and the frequency you were able to synthesize between notes wasn’t just inhuman, it was impossible for any singer whose notes carried on oxygen.

Your manager always made it a note in the writing room or when creating your setlists that overfeeding wolves with delicious treats would dull the taste over time, your solo singles often did well enough to prove this didn’t need to always be the case, but whenever it came to the business decisions you always put your full trust in him. Where you are standing right now is more than enough proof in your eyes that he knew exactly where and when to move his pawns, and in doing so he turned you into a valiant queen.

“Ah! I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two 

Lie-lie loving you, such words 

and doing such things, you’re in m-my way!”

Survival was of the least of your concerns after so much time had passed, but survival was all you could find yourself able to do in your forced retirement. Where you yearn for character in sound you were able to temporarily find when turning to radio, but living vicariously only quenches so much before greed starts cozying up within.

Plausible excuses for your laziness were wearing thinner by the day, even the last sane smolder of human morality trying to keep itself sparked wanted nothing more than to argue you weren’t supposed to be living to the fullest in hell, but the mute silence in your throat was beginning to phase your memory of the voice your inner conscience called its own too, and you'd sooner go mad trying than wither away again a fucking waste.

“Here comes the love maniac who never misses,

Stack up all the whining,

Fall in a high-fi love lie-ai-a!”

Overlords were still beings that had you nauseous upon first glance, your first meeting of one of these overlords had you vowing to never end up in the claws of one again, should you find yourself in a deal you can’t unbind yourself out of. Pride stuck thick to the roof of your mouth and there was nothing more you wanted to do than stick to your morals and prove use on your own, but reality had pelted you with stones throughout your entire afterlife.

You were going to need to write out a loan before you’d find yourself with any ounce of power to call your own, not like you didn’t have options for whom to choose! Even so, you needed to keep a steady head and an even sharper nose. In your ponderance you'd come to realize there was only really one option for you to go to this whole time. Maybe that gambling kitty taught you a valuable lesson on staking bets in the long run.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

A bet on the future was what you were going to stake it all on.

“Copy their acting and keep the truth hidden

Stacking three and lonely, lonely 

You’re surely a clown, a prisoner”

Everything about how the world operated changed so rapidly from the days walking in the sunlight to your eternal party in the redlight, the wave of the future had finally hit with the promise for a solution to everyones problems. There couldn’t have been any better timing, if technology was going to be the way of the future, who's to say you couldn’t prove what was achievable? Like that, you had your sales pitch. The hardest part on your end was complete.

“Hey, it's a amazing.

LA-LA-LA!”

“So you were a singer in life and lost your voice in death, and just what the fuck made you think I was the man to go to for this?” Those were the magic words you were waiting for, with his composure shaken it wasn’t long before he was the one asking the questions and allowing the ball to move into your court. Your fingers dance on the illuminated tablet laying on the table once again before you flip it over toward his direction.

~Have your inventions not made it to that level of advancement yet?

Hook, line, and sinker. You had a hunch a passive aggressive challenge toward the ego would be what ultimately won you over with any overlord you chose, but the speed in which he stood from his desk and held out his hand, it felt almost too easy.

“If it’s a new voice you wish to invest in, consider your stocks opened, Monarch!” Finally…

“I’m ready for this this lover baby! 

My garden of love is in danger from a drawing hand.”

“Now for what you have to offer me,” You don’t care. “I hope you weren’t planning on extorting me out of a generous gift and then making the big bucks with it, hm?” These overlords just love to hear themselves go on.

“Truly, this this lover’s crazy! 

In the garden of harm, the bud of a human is a lie-ai-a!”

“I suppose I could just issue a royalty for your voice, after all you wouldn’t be making a sound without my tech. Lucky for you, I’ve been having fleeting thoughts of entering the music industry. So why not invest in each other instead~”

“Ah I love you and even things about you I probably shouldn’t love 

I love you too much, on a count of one and two”

Being owned by an overlord in the end wasn’t so bad, or maybe this is the fated “stockholm syndrome” everyone seems to be crying about these days. Either way, the biggest price you had to pay in the end was just having someone else do all the “business” part in show business.

Naive maybe, but rosey eyed you weren't. For all that he’s done you still fail to see how your end of the deal has in any way repaid what’s given, which can only lead to one thing down the line. You were going to have to give him your everything.

… Yet, how could you find yourself ungrateful to someone who fulfilled your afterlife dream and still continued to provide for you?

“Lie-lie loving you, such words and even such things, they’re in m-my way!”

The audience went absolutely ballistic at the final group pose signifying the end of your opening set, some of the really hardcore fans in the front row you swore passed out the second eye contact was made.

Yet when you turn your chin upward to the VIP section after performing your tricks so well, all you’re met with is a turned back and a schmoozed up producer instead of a tasty bone.

“Thank each and every one of you for coming to see us tonight!!” No, you only wanted him to come out to see you.

Only you.

Hey, Vox?

Can you just turn your stupid flat head this way?

[whiskeyapologist]

was looking through my camera roll & realized i never posted about this?? but i did a check please theme in my bullet journal back in april & i am still beyond obsessed with how it turned out!

task list & cover page

april was all about finishing my fucking thesis (i earned my mfa in stage automation in may) & i used the task list to break down each section of my thesis & make it less intimidating. i still pulled a bitty & had to marathon write most of my thesis within a like 36 hour period. i slept so good once that draft was finished!

when i started planning this theme, i flipped through the comic & decided pretty quickly i wanted the cover to be this view of faber from 4.25 "faber". i filled the outside with some of my favorite details from throughout the comic, including (clockwise from top left) the "text from chowder: i'm shouting!" from 4.2 "nonstop celly", jack's "oh" moment from 2.17 "graduation", the jack lego (?) figure from 3.1 "wag", dex & nursey's background roach & house bubbles & (i think it's) ransom's "et tu lardo?" bubble from 2.12 "post i: roadie", one of my fave senor bun appearances that didn't make it into a weekly from 1.16 "linemates", & bitty's phone (i don't think there's a specific appearance of bitty's phone that looks like this, at least not that i'm finding in the flip-throughs i've done to write this post. i think i did a lil freehand moment with it, but if anyone happens to find it in the comic, let me know!), as well as my usual little calendar & monthly focuses section

monthly calendar & habit tracker

the monthly calendar & playlist is inspired by the smh team roster hanging on the bulletin board in the haus at the beginning of year 2

the habit tracker features a few other details from 2.1 “moved in”, namely the “haus sweet haus” rug & the sock pinned to the bulletin board. the shopping list bubble is a callback to the “jizz!” speech bubble also pinned to the bulletin board next to the sock

meal & time trackers

the breakfast, lunch, & dinner headers are a callback to the hockey puck taped to the bulletin board

not much to add here, but it’s a great time to mention the “it’s tough but you’re tougher” speech bubble from 4.20 “spotlight on eric bittle” which was the quote i used to decorate my grad cap ❤️

weekly #1 is modeled after y1 & features my favorite y1 senor bun appearance (1.18 “playoffs - i”) & line (1.8 “checking clinic”)

weekly #2 is modeled after y2 & features my favorite y2 senor bun (2.10 "shinny") & line (2.4 "hazeapalooza")

weekly #3 is modeled after y3 & features my favorite y3 senor bun (3.3 "meet the falconers") & line (3.26 "cup v - post")

weekly #4 is modeled after y4 (the layout of the top panel specifically is modeled after the first panel of 4.16 "christmas in madison - iii" which shows a bunch of the christmas pics/posts from the rest of smh & tater) & features my favorite y4 senor bun (4.17 "senior thesis") & line (also 4.17 "senior thesis"). i has some extra space, so i included some excerpts from bitty's y4 tweets

camp nanowrimo tracker, before the pen. the left is just a table for tracking time spent on & words written for my thesis & the novel i've been working on forever. my camp nanowrimo goal was to write 1 hour every weekend day & 2 hours every week day, for a grand total of 50 hours, which i am proud to say i achieved! the right is a visual tracker, where each pie was equal to an hour of writing. i included 50 pies for my 50 hour goal. the bubble near the top is from 1.4 "the haus" with 2 footnotes i added; one on "kitchens" that says "word docs", & one on "pies" that says "words". clearly i think i'm very clever lol

visual tracker, filled in. i surpassed my 50 hour goal with about a week left in the month, & i wanted to include that additional progress on my tracker. once the month was done & i knew how much i needed to add, i made a tip-in (although this might just be a fold-out lol) to tape in. on one side, i included the dialogue bubbles from a panel of 3.19 "keagster"

on the other side of the tip-in/flip-out, i included jam jars for the additional 10.25 hours of writing i did, plus "it's gonna be two trips" also from 3.19 "keagster"

& that's all the spreads! spreads were done in an archer & olive b5 notebook. supplies include: mildliners in the colors vermillion, dark blue, beige, & gray; a black papermate flair, a white gellyroll pen in size 08, and stabilo pens in gray and brown. oh, & a piece of masking tape, bc i couldn't find any clear tape lol

[ghoulodont]

β-Lactam

Getting sick on the road is a well known phenomenon in the touring world, but only a folktale for the newly summoned ghouls — up to this point. Dewdrop gets hit particularly hard by whatever illness the roadies are passing around, but the show must go on. Rain considers the nature of his relationship with his bandmate in light of subsequent events.

Relationship: Raindrop Characters: Dewdrop, Rain, Aether Words: 6846

Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Prequelle Era, Pre-relationship, warning for vomit and needles

Read below or on AO3

A plague is spreading among the production’s cast and crew.

For the more experienced members, it’s to be expected. Having that many people in close proximity for enough time is bound to encourage contagion, and they know from experience that it will. For many of the musicians — the ones who are freshly summoned from Hell, tailor-made to fill that role — it’s something they’ve only been warned about. Their ability to perform is the top priority, and they are expected to take care of themselves.

So illness prevention becomes part of their daily routine. Immune fortifiers and remedies of all kinds start showing up on the bus and at the venues, added to the hospitality rider, fetched by staff on errands, picked out themselves during their downtime.

Understandably, the vocalists are all extra concerned about how this situation might impact them. Copia keeps his distance from anyone he deems a potential disease vector, usually squirreling away to his dressing room before and after the show. Cumulus swears by a tea that purports throat soothing properties. Swiss eats cough drops nonstop, though it’s later determined that he just thinks they taste good.

Mountain hands out tiny bottles of vibrant yellow-orange juice one afternoon before the concert. The blurb on the label is packed with scientific-sounding words about vitamins and antioxidants. Rain reads the ingredients — he doesn’t recognize any other than lemon and ginger — and knocks his bottle back all at once like a shot of alcohol, as suggested. The back of his nose burns for the next two hours. Upon searching the internet he learns that “cayenne” is a type of pepper. Several other ghouls fall victim to this as well, excluding Dewdrop, who sneaks away with the bottle and passes it off to an unsuspecting roadie, and Aether, who drinks the juice but seems to genuinely enjoy the taste.

But, otherwise, it’s business as usual. As showtime approaches everyone focuses on the task at hand. They’re warmed up, soundchecked, costumed, ready to go.

And after the performance, the ghouls can relax again, for the time being. Most of them usually end up in the green room while the crew is tearing down, and tonight is no different. At some point they’ll all head to their dressing rooms and get ready to get back on the bus, and then the cycle will repeat. For now, they can revel in this brief low tide in their ebbing and flowing responsibilities.

It’s nearing the time that the party inevitably dies down when things go awry.

Dewdrop has been subdued since coming offstage. He’s always more reserved day-to-day than he is in front of a crowd, but his behavior tonight, by Rain’s assessment, is uncharacteristic. He had gone straight to a couch near the corner of the green room and barely interacted with anyone, even when Swiss pelted him with a grape from the catering table, something that on any other day would have warranted a ruthless counterattack.

At one point over the course of the evening he ventures away from his outpost to retrieve a bottle of water, but he brings it right back to where he had been sitting.

Later, out of nowhere, he drags himself up from the couch and staggers to the big commercial-grade plastic trash bin next to the door. He grabs the edge of it with enough horizontal momentum that it hits the wall with a hollow thunk before he leans his whole body over it and retches. This sudden series of actions makes everyone still in the green room pause. The sound of whatever was in his stomach — just water, presumably — hitting whatever else is in the trash can is stark in the now quiet space.

Rain is the first to react; he stands from his seat and promptly freezes in place. Aether is the first to actually get up and walk over towards the door. It snaps Rain out of his daze, and he follows behind.

Before they can get there, Dew is already on his way back to his spot on the couch. Aether recalibrates their trajectory to meet him there. Dew flops back onto the seat, his head tipped back against the top of the backrest, legs extended out in front of him, arms limp at his sides.

“What’s going on, you okay?” Aether stands over Dew, and Rain stands next to Aether. Dew doesn’t respond. His eyes are unfocused.

From this distance Dew is visibly shaking, his entire body inundated by a fine vibration that itself pulses in intensity, like a modulated wave.

“Hey,” Aether tries again, “you okay?”

Dew groans and puts his hands over his eyes. Then he jolts upright, the soles of his costume shoes squeaking against the laminate tile floor. He takes short, hitching breaths.

Aether immediately anticipates what is about to happen and drags over the trash bin. Dew leans over it, gripping the edge, and releases a tendril of saliva. He gags.

Swiss runs out of the room, hands over his ears.

The trash bin is so large compared to Dew’s seated form that it looks like he could fall into it and disappear. Rain finds a small plastic-lined wastebasket by one of the other seating areas and swaps it with the big bin. Dew relinquishes his grasp on its folded rim as Rain pulls it away. He relaxes somewhat, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees and the wastebasket between his ankles.

He heaves again, unproductive. Aether and Rain hover over him like if they look at him long enough the power of their concern could will him to be better somehow.

After a few more dry heaves, Aether prompts again, “What’s going on?”

Dew responds this time. “My throat hurts so much.”

“Your throat? Are you sick?” Aether puts the back of his hand against Dew’s forehead. Dew tries to lean away from him as he approaches, but his dodge is ineffective and Aether makes contact anyway. His gesture is so maternal, but as far as Rain knows, Aether is just as experienced with this kind of situation as he is, which is to say not at all.

“For how long?” Rain asks.

“Just today.” Dew pauses, amends his statement. “Just since the show.”

“Maybe he has what all the roadies had?” Aether wonders out loud.

"It hasn’t been this bad for anyone else, though, right?" Rain mentally tallies the casualties so far. It’s only been crew members, none of the musicians, and none of them have had to take any time off.

Aether's brow furrows. "Do you think he needs a doctor? We probably have enough time to get one here before bus call."

"Why are you asking him? I'm right here." Dew directs this comment to the wastebasket.

"Do you think you need a doctor?"

"No."

"And you're going to be better for the show tomorrow?"

"I was fine for the show tonight."

"Sure, but it seems like you're not fine now."

Rain isn’t sure whether Dew's tight-lipped expression is indicative of the nausea or the denial. Dew might not be sure himself, either.

"I think you should let a doctor look at you, at least, just in case," Rain suggests. He’s never seen Dew this sick before, or anyone else, for that matter, and it’s scaring him a little.

Dew actually always seems to be the most likely ghoul to throw up — repeatedly, even — when they're all hung over on a day off. He’s prone to motion sickness as well; Rain wasn’t there, but he’s been told it gets bad enough that on Dew’s first tour he had to swap bunks because the top one swayed too much whenever the bus took an exit on the highway. But he never really seemed bothered about any of those incidents. He certainly wasn’t trembling like a newborn fawn. So this feels different.

“Fine.”

Aether nods. “Okay, I’m going to go find someone who can help.” He briefly places his hand on Dew’s hunched shoulder before leaving.

—

Rain leans against a nearby table for a few minutes while Dew drools occasionally into the wastebasket. He’s stopped outright dry heaving over it at this point, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to part with it. Then he suddenly moves to get up.

“I need to go shower.” Dew has to brace against the couch with his hands as he stands.

He sways in place as he rearranges his feet to avoid kicking over the wastebasket. Rain steadies him with a hand on his upper arm.

“Okay, yeah, let me walk you there.”

Dew is already walking toward the door. Rain keeps his hand on his arm and follows, letting him lead the way to his dressing room. At some point in the hallway Rain adjusts his steadying hand to hook around Dew’s waist instead. He isn’t supporting any of Dew’s weight, and only applies any pressure at all when the two of them start to veer from their intended bearing.

Dressing room situations varied between tour stops, depending on what the venue offered and what the management requested. Usually the ghouls ended up sharing them, in groups of two or three. The worst so far was actually when they had individual rooms — each room was so small that Rain could almost touch both sides at the same time if he extended his arms all the way. By the time they were all on the bus that night, there was at least one dent in the drywall that hadn’t been there before.

This time, Dew is sharing a dressing room with Aether. When they get there, it’s empty and quiet. Dew rifles through his bag for clothes and toiletries and heads for the ensuite bathroom, closing the painted steel door behind him.

Now Rain is alone in a dressing room that isn’t his. He checks the time on his phone. There’s still plenty of time before bus call. He should shower too. His shoes are glued to the worn low-pile carpet. He listens to the shower turning on in the bathroom.

Aether shows up a couple minutes later.

“Oh! Hey,” he greets, looking a little surprised to see Rain there. “I explained what happened and they’re calling a doctor to come out.”

Rain nods. “Here?”

“Yeah, and then hopefully he can be on the bus in time.”

Rain nods again, checks his phone. Aether stands there.

“You should go shower,” Aether offers.

“Yeah.” Rain doesn’t move.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s okay in there.”

This finally unglues Rain’s feet. He nods, thanks Aether, and heads for his own dressing room.

He ends up pacing around the room, and later up and down a segment of the hallway, while he waits an eternity for Swiss to finish showering. He takes his own shower as quickly as possible — normally he would be in there at least as long as Swiss was, if not longer — and finds himself drawn back to Dew and Aether’s dressing room when he’s done.

When he gets there, the door is propped open. Aether isn’t there, but Rain can hear the shower running. Dew is slouched in an armchair, curled up with his feet on the seat. He’s changed from his costume into jeans and a hoodie, and his hair is damp. As Rain steps through the door, he’s in the process of forcing down a minuscule sip of water. Dew looks up at him and offers what he thinks is supposed to be a polite smile but ends up more like a tight-lipped grimace.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rain leans against the makeup counter along one wall of the room.

Dew shrugs.

The two of them sit in relative silence for a few minutes, Rain tapping his fingers rhythmically on the laminate countertop and Dew fiddling with the lid of his plastic water bottle, before Dew leans over a strategically placed wastebasket — if Rain hadn’t walked him here himself he would have assumed Dew brought this one from the green room — and throws up the tiny mouthful of water from earlier. He sighs, quietly, turbulent air rushing out through his nose, and leans his head back against the chair.

Eventually a member of the venue staff arrives outside the room, knocking politely on the doorframe. She explains she’s here to escort Dew to where the doctor is set up. Rain hovers next to him as he stands, ready to steady him if he needs it.

The three of them zigzag through the backstage hallways. The trip isn’t far, but Dew is moving slowly, still wobbly. The staff member, seemingly stuck in a state of haste, has to stop and wait at each intersection for Dew and Rain to catch up.

Their journey ends at a door propped open by the tour manager. He waves them into a dressing room, the larger kind that might be used by an ensemble cast. It is devoid of everything but furniture, clearly not intended to be occupied tonight. There is a couch against one wall; two others are lined with makeup counters and mirrors. The doctor stands at one end of the counter, picking through a hefty bag of supplies.

They walk single file through the doorway, Dew first and then Rain. The doctor glances up at them through the mirror, then turns and introduces herself. She’s wearing inconspicuous, casual clothes, nothing that would explicitly indicate she’s a medical professional.

“Please have a seat.” She gestures toward the couch.

Dew settles onto one end of the couch, but doesn’t relax. He folds his arms loosely around himself. Rain considers his own seating options and decides to perch next to him on the couch’s padded arm in a pose somewhere between sitting and leaning.

At the counter, the doctor drapes a stethoscope around her neck and picks up a small collection of equipment.

“I’d like to start by checking your vitals,” she says.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” says the tour manager, taking a step toward the hallway while holding the door open. Rain realizes it’s a cue for him, that he is expected to leave as well.

He suddenly also realizes there was no real reason for him to have followed Dew here in the first place. The venue management had been considerate enough to find him a private room, and Rain had invaded that privacy without even thinking. He stands up from the couch arm, turning back towards Dew to tell him he’ll see him on the bus and —

Dew is looking back with his eyes wide and his shoulders tense. One of his arms is extended toward Rain from where it had been wrapped around his body, his hand resting limp on the couch in a noncommittal, minimal energy version of physically reaching out to him.

Dew has his mouth slightly open like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t.

“Should I stay?” Rain finally asks.

“If you want to,” Dew counters, not ready to admit that he’s the one who wants it.

“I don’t mind.” Rain settles back down on the arm of the couch.

Dew looks away from him and deflates, compressing back in against himself.

The tour manager just nods and waves goodbye, then lets the door swing closed.

—

The doctor crosses the room from the counter to the couch and hands Dew a digital thermometer. “Hold this under your tongue, please.”

Dew complies, holding it in place with one hand. She clips a pulse oximeter on the other.

The shrill beep of the thermometer breaks the silence in the room. Dew removes it from his mouth and hands it back to the doctor without looking at it.

She takes it and reads the glowing screen. “You have a fever. Are you having body aches? Chills?” She reaches to collect the pulse oximeter as well.

Dew lifts his hand slightly so she can unclip it from his finger, the minor exertion causing it to tremor. He shakes his head. Rain thinks about how he looked when he was flopped on the green room couch and wonders if they have different definitions of those words.

The doctor checks the measurement, hums quietly, then places the device on the couch and picks up a blood pressure cuff. She wraps it around Dew’s upper arm and then squats next to him, donning her stethoscope. She takes his forearm and flips it so his hand rests supine on his knee.

The room is quiet except for the rush of air as she inflates the cuff, then lets it slowly deflate again. The sound of the velcro ripping apart when she unwraps it echoes in the still room. Dew tucks his relinquished arm back around himself. The doctor stands and removes the stethoscope from her ears and drapes it over her shoulders again. She replaces her other equipment in her bag.

When she returns, she sits down next to Dew on the couch, perched close to the edge so she can turn to face him.

“Can you tell me more about your symptoms? The sore throat started tonight, after your performance?”

Dew nods. “I felt fine during the show. But then it was like I noticed…” He pauses, considering, as if he’s trying to string together the events. “My throat hurt a lot and I tried to drink water and I threw up.”

“Your body is full of adrenaline when you’re performing. It masks your symptoms and gives you energy, and then when it wears off you suddenly feel worse.”

Rain nods at this. It makes sense. He’s accustomed to that feeling after every show — being hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion when the excitement of the situation finally falls away. It’s absolutely never been this dramatic before, for any of them.

“Have you been drinking water since then?”

“Trying to,” Dew answers. When she raises her eyebrows, he elaborates, “It keeps coming back up.”

The doctor nods. She holds out her hand toward Dew’s. “Can I see your hand for just a minute?”

Dew offers her the hand that’s closer to her, which because of the way he’s folding his arms is actually the one from the other side of his body. She takes it and gently pinches his skin, then presses on his fingernail and watches it change color.

“You don’t seem too dehydrated right now, but it’s something to watch out for.” She releases his hand and he tucks it back against his side.

“I need to look at the inside of your throat.” She picks up a tiny flashlight.

Dew unwraps his arms from around himself, resting them in his lap instead. He sits up a little straighter, tilts his head back slightly, and opens his mouth.

She shines the light into Dew’s mouth. Rain can’t see what she sees because Dew is facing away from him. Whatever it is, her face doesn’t reveal anything. She doesn’t look for very long. Seconds later, she clicks off the light and places it on the couch. Dew closes his mouth and drops his shoulders.

“I’d like to feel the outside of your neck.” She’s paused halfway though the motion of reaching out to touch him. Her hands are palm-up, fingers curled loosely, nonthreatening. The gesture reminds Rain of someone holding their hand out for a cat to sniff before petting it.

Dew nods, staring over her shoulder at nothing.

She presses her fingers into both sides of his neck where it connects to the underside of his jaw. She walks them forward from beneath his ears towards his chin. As she feels, she asks, “Is that sore?”

“A little.” His brow is creased slightly and his mouth is drawn into a straight line.

She lowers her hands to her lap. “Have you been coughing at all?”

Dew shakes his head.

“Still nauseous?”

He pauses, then nods.

“Alright.” She sits back slightly. “Based on your symptoms it sounds like you have strep throat, but I want to run a test to confirm. It takes about ten minutes, and if it comes back positive I’ll give you an antibiotic which should have you feeling better within a day or two and also prevent you from spreading this to anyone else. Regardless, I can give you something for your symptoms so you get through your performance tomorrow night.”

She pauses. Her unasked question hangs in the air — is that okay? She’s giving Dew a chance to say no, or request another option, or do anything other than drift through this situation like an unmoored boat.

“Okay.”

“Great.” She stands up from the couch and returns to her bag on the counter. As she comes back to the couch, she peels open the paper package of a sterile cotton swab. She sits back down next to Dew, facing him like before.

“I’m going to take a sample from your throat. I need you to open your mouth and stay as still as you can.”

Dew sits up and opens his mouth again. This time, he closes his eyes.

The doctor pulls the swab from its packaging and inserts it through his open mouth and all the way to the other side of his head, rubbing it against the back of his throat. He gags, but doesn’t close his mouth. He reflexively lifts one hand from his lap like he’s going to grab her arm; it hovers for a moment before he pulls it back down.

“I know.” She keeps rubbing.

Dew lets out a tiny sound, a round, open-mouthed “ah,” and squeezes his eyes tighter shut. The flush in his cheeks spreads.

“Done, I’m sorry for that.” She stands and returns to her supplies, holding the swab upright like a lit match.

Dew slouches forward. His eyes are still closed. He sniffs once, quietly.

Rain rubs his hand back and forth along Dew’s shoulder blade. He feels the tension in his muscles ease just a little under his touch. His breaths are slow and intentional.

Rain pulls back his hand when Dew leans back on the couch, pulling his feet up in front of him. The two of them watch the doctor performing some alchemical ritual with the swab, combining reagents and swirling them in a plastic tube. When it’s complete, she pulls a laptop from her bag and types on it, which is less interesting. Rain lets his eyes drift shut.

He opens them again when Dew speaks.

“I’m sorry for making you stay. You didn’t have to.” His voice is quiet. He’s curled up now, with his arms draped loosely around his knees, leaning one side of his body against the back of the couch so he faces Rain.

Dew, in fact, didn’t make Rain do anything. He didn’t even ask him to do anything, really. But Rain knows what he’s trying to say.

“It’s okay, I wanted to,” is how Rain decides to respond. He cringes inside at the implication. He did want to stay, but it feels creepy to say it outright like that, like he had been selfish to intrude on Dew’s vulnerable situation, even though Dew just claimed he had asked him to. They’re both talking about an imaginary interaction instead of what actually happened.

If Dew hadn’t stopped him like that when he went to leave, if he had wanted privacy, Rain would have understood. He probably would have gone back to his dressing room and paced around, or made himself busy doing something useless. He would have been worried, but he would rather be worried than make Dew uncomfortable.

And if Dew hadn’t stopped him despite actually wanting him to stay, hadn’t been able to ask for what he needed in even the most subtle, minimal way — it makes Rain’s chest ache. He imagines Dew sitting in this unfamiliar room being touched by a stranger, wishing he was there with him.

But Dew looks almost comfortable now, all things considered. He’s resting the side of his head against the back of the couch, eyes closed. His face is relaxed except for a single crease between his eyebrows. Rain is nearly overpowered by a sudden instinctive desire to reach out and touch him again, to feel his forehead like Aether did, to press his hand against his flushed cheek, to tuck a strand of mostly-dry hair behind his ear. But he doesn’t want to violate the trust Dew is putting in him by simply allowing him to be here. Instead, he counts Dew’s steady breaths.

—

Rain shifts his attention to the doctor when she closes her laptop and moves back to her makeshift alchemy lab. She barely glances at the test before she’s on her way back towards the couch.

She sits next to Dew again. He pivots so he’s facing forward, but leaves his legs tucked up in front of him.

“The test is positive for strep,” she explains, “which is treatable with antibiotics.”

Dew nods.

“Because of the vomiting I would recommend an antibiotic injection. Given your schedule, I think it’s the most reliable choice. The other option is pills, but if you can’t keep them down you won’t see any benefit.”

Dew is staring at the carpet somewhere near the middle of the room. He nods again, slowly, like he’s on autopilot.

“It’s just one dose and it will start working right away. I really do think it would be the best way to ensure you’re feeling better by tomorrow night.”

Dew glances at her and nods again, a little more present this time.

“Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I can also give you a corticosteroid to help with the inflammation in your throat until the antibiotic starts working.”

“Okay.”

She nods. “I’ll be right back.”

She stands and crosses the room once again to the counter. She picks an assortment of sterile packages and medicine vials out of her bag. She unwraps empty syringes and plastic-capped needles.

Rain has gotten shots before — each of the ghouls had been vaccinated against earthly diseases soon after being summoned. He didn’t mind them. They hadn’t really hurt, though his arms were sore afterwards. The idea of something being injected into him makes his stomach turn, but he had made sure not to look when it was happening and the actual experience ended up being uneventful.

These syringes are significantly larger than any he’s seen before, though. He watches the doctor fill one of them at least two thirds of the way full in a single motion. It makes his stomach drop.

Dew, on the other hand, has never been squeamish about anything. Blood, gore, and other stuff like that doesn’t phase him whatsoever. He isn’t really averse to pain either. Rain wouldn’t expect needles to be an issue for him. Looking at him now, Rain can’t place the expression on his face. It’s not one he would have imagined.

Dew is watching the doctor closely. He looks exhausted, which is expected. His eyes are lidded and rimmed with dark circles. He still has that single crease between his eyebrows. He’s frowning, just barely, a slight deviation from his usual neutral expression that you might not notice if you didn’t know him. There’s something else in his face that, if Rain had to put a word to it, he would guess it was nervousness, or apprehension. It’s visible in the way he tracks the doctor’s every move despite his eyes clearly wanting to be closed. He seems to be carrying more tension than he can afford to right now.

The doctor has gone back to searching for something in her bag. “Okay,” she instructs, “can you lower your pants a couple inches and lie facing down on the couch for me please?”

Dew’s eyes widen just a bit, just for a moment. But he stands, unbuttons his jeans, and slides the waistband down slightly. Then he lowers himself back onto the couch.

He doesn't actually lie all the way down; his hips and legs are flat against the couch, but his head and shoulders are propped up with his elbows. Rain imagines he's ready to fling himself up from the couch and scuttle away. It’s at odds with how sluggish his movements have been since he came offstage tonight.

Dew turns his head to watch the doctor cross the room but looks down at the couch when she gets close. She squats next to the couch and places her supplies on the seat near his leg: two prepared syringes, two adhesive bandages, a few alcohol swab packets and some small gauze pads.

She pushes the edge of his hoodie up to expose the bare skin of his hip. She tears open the wrapper of an alcohol swab, saturating the air with its sharp smell.

“I’m going to start with the steroid.”

Dew nods without looking at her, plucking at a loose thread on the edge of the couch seat cushion. He flinches slightly when she wipes the back of one hip with alcohol. She picks up one of the syringes, pulls the cap off the needle.

Dew glances up at Rain with that same inscrutable expression — tired, apprehensive. He’s blushing, or maybe it’s just because he’s feverish. Rain smiles, tries his best to look reassuring. Dew’s flush deepens. He breaks away from the eye contact.

The doctor places one gloved hand on Dew’s sanitized hip. “Try to relax your leg as much as possible.” She taps her fingers against his skin a few times. Dew’s body is lean and wiry, but this is one of his softer places.

Dew wiggles his feet a bit to loosen the muscles in his legs.

“Good. Here we go.”

She sticks the needle in quickly like an animal striking its prey. Dew doesn’t react to this, but the sudden motion makes Rain flinch.

She presses down on the plunger of the syringe painstakingly slowly. Rain decides he can’t watch this part. He watches Dew’s face instead. His eyes are closed but he looks mostly the same as before. A muscle in his jaw flexes.

When the doctor withdraws the needle she immediately flips an attached plastic cover over it. She presses a folded square of gauze over the tiny puncture wound on Dew’s hip.

“Well done. One more.” She’s praising Dew for doing absolutely nothing, but Rain supposes that must be the point. He still looks like he’s considering in the back of his mind that he could get up and run away.

She removes the gauze and smooths a band-aid over the puncture. She selects another alcohol swab and unwraps it, renewing the lingering smell in the room.

“Relax,” she reminds him, rubbing his other hip with the swab.

She picks up the other syringe and removes the cap from the needle. This one seems bigger. Not the needle, but the contents of the syringe are greater. Rain is trying not to think too much about details like that.

She repeats the same procedure — hand on his hip, needle through his skin like a predator, slow pressure on the plunger. Rain looks away from it again.

Dew’s eyes are closed again, and his jaw is still tense. His fingers curl slightly against the flat surface of the couch seat cushion. He cranes his neck to look behind him at what the doctor is doing. The plunger has barely moved. He turns himself back around and lets his head hang forward between his shoulders. He pushes a slow breath out through his nose.

Rain watches Dew's hands close fully into fists.

Rain offers his hand to hold instead. He’s not sure if Dew would accept it. His understanding is that affectionate touch is a gray area for Dew. It’s more likely to be okay when it’s playful and unserious. And onstage, anything goes; it’s all a game. Rain would place hand holding firmly in mushy, lovey-dovey, serious territory, completely off limits. But his other supportive and even comforting touches tonight had been uncharacteristically tolerated, and it's not like anyone else is here to see them besides this doctor — who he's pretty sure they will never encounter again. Plus, it’s not necessarily romantic at all. He would do this for anyone, he tells himself.

Dew grasps his hand immediately, without looking up. He doesn't squeeze it tightly, but his grip is firm. Rain presses back with just as much force. He glances up at the doctor, unintentionally making eye contact. She looks away, back to her task, without saying anything. Rain looks back to his and Dew’s hands.

Dew is still looking down, motionless. It makes Rain think of the way a sick wild animal will shut down and hide from predators in some secluded place. Or, more broadly, the instinct of fight or flight. He already observed Dew’s desire to flee in his body language, and there’s clearly no fight in him right now. All that’s left for him to do is accept what’s happening.

Rain ventures a glance to the syringe again. It’s probably about halfway emptied. Which means half of what was in it is now deposited inside Dew’s flesh. He snaps his gaze away from it and tightens his grip on Dew’s hand — just sympathetically, he justifies, not because that makes him feel queasy.

Dew squeezes back a little tighter too.

“Keep breathing slowly,” the doctor encourages. “You’re doing great.”

This first comment makes Rain notice his breathing sped up just now, and he has to glance up at her to see if it was actually directed at him. It doesn’t seem to be — she’s looking at Dew — but he realizes that Dew’s breathing has been mirroring his. So maybe it was, in a roundabout way, an instruction for him. He focuses on setting a good example.

He counts eight measured breaths before it’s over.

“Good job,” the doctor says as she removes the needle. “You’re all done.”

Dew’s shoulders droop. Rain releases his hand. The doctor continues with the rest of the procedure from before — needle cover, gauze, band-aid. Then she gathers her discarded items and returns to the counter.

Dew rolls himself onto his side and gingerly sits up. He runs his hands over his face, pausing for a few seconds with both palms cupping his jaw, eyes unfocused. Then he stands and shimmies up his pants and fastens the button. Rain stands too, ready to support him if necessary.

The doctor is digging in her bag again.“You’ll be contagious for the next day or so, so try to avoid close contact as much as possible.” She returns to the ghouls with a small stack of disposable face masks and offers them to Dew. “You should wear a mask at least until your performance tomorrow.”

Dew nods, taking them and putting one on right there. The pastel yellow contrasts with his otherwise all-black outfit.

“Try to keep drinking fluids and get as much rest as you can. The steroid will give you a bit of a boost, so don’t overdo it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Anything else I can do for you?”

Dew shakes his head.

“Well, if you think of anything, you can have your tour manager get in contact with me. I won’t be able to see you again but I can answer questions or consult with any other providers you see."

Dew nods. He’s thumbing through the stack of masks like the world’s most boring flipbook.

“Alright, take care. Feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks,” Rain echoes.

—

With that, the two of them wordlessly split to their separate dressing rooms to retrieve their bags.

After packing, Rain backtracks down the hall to Dew’s dressing room instead of heading straight to the bus. He checks the time on his phone. He’s cutting it much closer than he would ever consider doing on any other day. Their schedule is usually strict — the shows are the top priority, of course, and everything surrounding them is carefully arranged maximize their success — but maybe illness would be an extenuating circumstance. Regardless, he’s already decided he won’t let Dew risk getting left behind alone. If the bus leaves without Dew, it will leave without Rain as well.

In his dressing room, Dew is haphazardly throwing items into his bag. He startles slightly when he notices Rain through the mirror, but goes right back to packing his luggage. When he’s done, the two of them head for the bus.

Thankfully, the bus is still there when they get outside, parked just past the back door of the venue. Dew wobbles on the first step of the steep staircase, and Rain steadies him with a hand on the middle of his back. They proceed up into the warmly lit front lounge.

Everyone else is already there, and so everyone’s eyes are on them as they get to the top of the stairs. Swiss is the first to greet them.

“Hey, look who made it!”

Dew glares at him. “Back off, I’m contagious.”

“I see how it is,” Swiss says, looking pointedly at Rain, who is still following Dew closely.

Dew tugs at the top of his mask like he’s going to pull it down. Swiss raises his hands in surrender.

Dew and Rain continue through the tight space of the lounge into the aisle between the two rows of bunks. Rain lets the door swing closed behind them. It’s quiet, and darker than the front lounge.

Dew hurls his bag at the closed curtains of his bunk. It ends up halfway on the mattress, halfway on the floor of the aisle. He nudges it with his foot, to no effect, wobbling as he tries to balance on one leg. He grips the platform of the middle bunk to steady himself and kicks at it again. It remains stubbornly on the ground. He crouches and shoves it all the way inside.

He groans quietly as he stands back up, one hand against his hip and the other clenched into a fist. The sound makes Rain pause where he’s stowing items in his own bunk. He watches Dew stand there, unmoving except for the heaving rise and fall of his chest.

Then Dew moves the hand on his hip to one belt loop of his jeans and yanks the waistband down slightly. He hitches up the hem of his hoodie with the other hand, exposing the band-aid there from earlier. He cranes his neck so he can look at it. Rain isn’t sure what Dew was expecting to see, but it’s just a plain, unmarred band-aid, looking like it could be covering up nothing at all.

Dew prods at the flesh of his hip with one finger, pressing into a spot an inch above the band-aid. Facing away, masked, head tucked behind his shoulder, it’s the only part of him Rain can see.

Rain isn’t sure what comes over him, but this image of Dew metaphorically licking his wounds, with his frustration simmering over, pulls at his heart. He reaches out and places his hand over the band-aid.

Dew’s sharp inhale hisses through his teeth.

“Sorry.” Rain snatches his hand back.

“It’s okay. It actually feels nice. Your hands are cold.”

Rain lays his fingers over the spot again, touching as lightly as possible. Dew exhales, almost a sigh.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s okay,” he answers, too quickly, a question Rain wasn’t asking. “But yeah, more than I expected. Feels like I pulled a muscle.”

Dew turns around so they’re facing each other, but doesn’t make eye contact. Instead he looks down at the hem of Rain’s shirt, pinches at it, worries it between his fingers, not actually touching him but bridging an indirect connection between their bodies.

Rain lets his hand fall away when Dew moves, but puts them back, both of them this time, on Dew’s hips. He strokes his fingers up to his waist under his shirt, then back down again. The skin there is so warm.

“It’s not that bad. Everything is just, a lot. Right now.” Dew’s voice is so small. “My brain is frying.”

It sort of is, in a literal way. Dew leans forward and rests his forehead against Rain’s shoulder. Rain can feel the heat radiating through his shirt.

“And my throat really fucking hurts and now my ass hurts too and I still feel like I’m going to throw up everywhere.”

Rain thinks his chest might crack open and swallow him up.

“Oh,” is what he manages to say to express this feeling. “Can I get you something? Water? Tea, maybe?” He thinks. “An ice pack?”

Dew chuckles, or maybe scoffs.

“I don’t know,” Rain backpedals. “I’ll get you anything on this bus. Or I’ll make the driver stop somewhere before we get on the highway if you want.”

“I mostly just want to sleep right now.”

“Okay, well, text me if you need anything.”

Dew pulls back from his shoulder to look up at him. He’s smiling; the mask is covering his mouth but Rain can tell by the way his cheeks are raised near the corners of his eyes.

“Maybe an ice pack would be nice.”

[theemporium]

The roadies where Trevor was away for weeks on end were the worst of them all.

They were long, tedious and felt like they dragged on for longer than necessary. They felt never-ending with each day blending into the next, and yet the day he returned was not getting closer any faster. When Trevor went away, it felt like time stopped and had no real meaning anymore. 

Phone calls and messages shared between you were a crutch during these stints, but sometimes even they weren’t enough. Sometimes the time differences were too awkward and your schedules just clashed too much. Sometimes you were too tired to talk for long, or he didn’t have much time alone without one of his teammates lingering over his shoulder. 

Overall, roadies fucking sucked but the longer ones were the ones you completely dreaded.

Between work and classes, you didn’t have much time alone with Trevor before he left for the three week roadie which just made this one worse than the rest. You were upset you didn’t get to spend time with your boyfriend. You were overwhelmed with the workload you were dealing with. And on top of everything else, you were sexually frustrated. 

You needed an outlet. You needed to relax and shut your brain off. You just needed to fucking come. It shouldn’t have been too much to ask, and yet it seemed like an impossible task.

The toy tucked away in your bedside table felt like a scam over the last few weeks. No matter what time of the day it was or what position you were in, it never got you off. You would get close, you would feel your body tensing up and the coil in your stomach tightened and then, it was gone. 

No matter what you did or tried or watched, nothing seemed to be able to tip you over the edge the way Trevor seemed to do so easily, and it made you want to fucking scream.

Trevor picked up on your moodiness by day ten, noticing how snappy and impatient you were than usual. And he knew exactly why you were like that, he knew after the countless times he edged you and teased you during the course of your relationship. And honestly, the idea that you were unable to come without him made him more smug than he ever cared to admit to you. 

Each day passed with only one goal in his mind: to get home to you and give you the orgasm you deserved. And that was exactly what he did, plus some more.

“Shitshitshitshitshit—”

“That’s it, baby,” Trevor murmured, his words soft and reassuring even if his actions were completely the opposite. “Let it all out. This is what you needed, huh? Just needed to let it all out.”

You let out a cry as your body arched off the mattress, trying to squirm away from your boyfriend but it was useless. He had you completely at his mercy, your hands tied to the headboard so you couldn’t push him away and his body between your legs so you couldn’t close them. You had been so desperate to be close to him after he returned home that you didn’t care how he manhandled you onto the bed, as long as he was touching you it was okay.

But then he had you all tied up, naked and desperate for him whilst he was fully dressed. And before you could even ask him questions, he was leaning over to your bedside table and taking the small bullet vibrator you had tortured yourself with for the last few weeks.

Now, two hours and three orgasms later, you had soaked the sheets beneath you and your body was shaking but he showed no signs of stopping. 

“My needy girl,” he cooed as he gently caressed your thigh, the bullet pressed against your swollen clit as you bucked and squirmed and desperately tried to evade the vibrations coursing through your whole body. “Just needed to come, didn’t you? Poor thing just needed my help.”

“Trevor,” you sobbed, the tears of overstimulation and pleasure running down your heated cheeks. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” He prompted, a small smirk on his lips as he watched your hole desperately clench around nothing, practically begging to be filled.

“Need you,” you whined, high-pitched and breathless as your hips stuttered against the vibrator. 

“You have me, honey,” he assured you, pressing a soft kiss just below your belly button that made you whimper. 

“Need you inside me,” you told him, chest heaving up and down as your lungs fought for air between all your moaning and whining and begging. “Please.”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” he murmured as he squeezed your thigh softly. “But only after you come one more time f’me.”

You choked out a moan. “Trevor—”

“Nuh uh, honey, that’s the conditions,” Trevor murmured, biting back his grin as your hips lifted off the mattress to grind against the vibrator. “One more and then you get my cock, okay?”

“Mhm.” 

“Good girl. Now gimme a smile, baby. Wanna see my pretty girl all fucked out and relaxed for me.”

.

[leonardperreault]

Nah but why did my brain do a full 180 and imagine Nora deciding she doesn’t want to come home from school when Quinn leaves for a roadie because when she came to school he was at home so if she just stays at school she can pretend he’s still at home and it doesn’t scare her as bad

oh my god wait no because my nephew who is nora's age did the same thing when my sister was watching him for a week

he'd get so excited that it was time to go home, but when it wasn't mommy picking him up he'd refuse to leave

so of course i'd believe that nora does this

even with ellen!

she'll look and see her bubbe or nanny in the doorway and just straight up ignore them going back to her task

[deadend-if]

This is just to give you guys a better idea about the game!

Where is this taking place?

The MC, A, and S will start in the city they live in together. M will also be there, but you won't meet K until Chapter One starts (sorry). Once Chapter One starts the rest of the game will be in the underworld!

The underworld? Which one?

Great question!!! All of them!!! I have taken my inspiration from... so many things. I'm sure there is a depiction out there similar to mine, nothing is original or something? It will get explained in the game but it can't hurt to give a little summary of it! The underworld is surprisingly easy to reach if you know where to look. The old doors are deep within catacombs and cave systems, but in the modern world, it becomes a problem to bring massive amounts of souls down twisting tunnels and tight passageways. So, when the subway system was implemented in big cities around the world, the denizens of the dead decided it worked for them, too. The underworld became the city of the dead, built with skyscrapers that reach toward no sky, and streetlights that have no stars to outshine. At the lowest level, souls are in turmoil, writhing in memories of people and tasks they left behind. The highest point is occupied by misty, formless wisps who have left behind everything they knew and loved to seek an audience with the Council of Rot. It's a crooked city of souls that linger on the cusp of something new, or something old. Hardly anyone knows what happens after the dead are done being, well, dead.

What kind of customization will the MC have?

You'll be able to choose your name, pronouns, gender identity (trans or not), hair color and length, eye color, height, college major, room/apartment decoration/general style, and smaller details like tattoos, freckles, glasses, etc. MC will also have different job options, though limited, along with some choices on their backstory, mostly focused on death and family dynamics. You can choose why S has a rivalry with MC, one-sided or not. I am also adding a childhood pet choice! And if you ever have an idea on something small to add to the customization feel free to let me know! I'll do my best to accommodate it, but I'm still not great with twine lol...

What are the non-customizable features of MC?

There will be limited choices for your background, job, and rivalry, but I'm hoping to leave a lot of options on the table for your MCs. That being said, your MC will always have a neutral-to-good relationship with A and a neutral-to-bad relationship with S at the beginning of the story. You will also have a set age (27) for various reasons. There might be more later, but I want to keep a lot of options on the table for you guys. The ending may seem a bit rail-roady (I don't know 100% yet) so I want to leave a lot of wiggle room for other things.

Personality Stats? Skill checks?

Yeah, so there won't really be "skill checks" in the typical sense, whoops. This story will have personality choices and some other variables that will change the game, but there won't be any failing/passing checks or rolling dice. MC's personality stats will affect flavor text and it will be the classic types like stoic, cheerful, shy, bold, etc. Your most game-changing stats are going to be MC's feelings on death and attachment to living. You determine A's fate, and maybe everyone else's, too. Who knows? :)

On the topic of NSFW and RO asks

The main reason I'm not including NSFW in this IF is because I genuinely don't think it would fit well in the plot at any point. That plus the fact that I, myself, am asexual... I don't think I could even begin to do it justice lol. It would be just... cringe guys, you wouldn't even want it. I can't really say anything though, I'm writing romance while also aromantic :/ I intend to keep this blog and the story away from anything NSFW. While I, personally, don't care about those asks, I want to create a space without NSFW topics. I'm also wary of people asking NSFW questions about asexual characters (Mortimer/A). Romance/SFW asks/scenarios/prompts about worldbuilding or ROs are totally fine, and I will be sososo happy to answer them.

Updates and Timeframe

Guys... I hate to break it to you... but I may be slow on the updates (shocking, I know). I want to write as much as I can, but I am also a college student writing this on a whim. I love this story, I've been thinking about it and scribbling ideas for it for about 2 years now. I don't want to abandon it, but there may be long stretches of silence sometimes. I WILL say something if it goes on hiatus or goes dark completely, I won't leave you hanging! This story will go through a lot of changes, I change my mind about things all the time, so you may be getting a lot of random updates of me changing (seemingly) unimportant things, sorry in advance. Lowkey might take years to write this :)

This will update with time! :D

[goldenseresinretriever]

Blog Update: 7/15/24

Hello beloveds!!! I want to take a second and recap everything that’s happened in the last six days. First I want to say that I couldn’t possibly have expected the response that I’ve gotten since coming back 😭 I never dreamed that this many people would care if I came back or even cared that much about my stories to want to come back to them. I’ve gotten so many sweet messages and asks from people welcoming me back and there’s still a bunch I haven’t responded to yet.

It’s been LESS THAN A WEEK and I already have over 100 followers??? When I deleted my original blog I had just hit 500 and I didn’t expect to get 1/5 of them back within the first week????

On top of that, the overwhelming response to the reposting effort has been crazy. When I first came back I wasn’t sure if I was going to repost and publicly continue the SDDU. Then lots of y’all inquired about the future of the series and it gave me the push I needed to tackle the tantamount task of reposting everything from SGS, YCMBWH, and FC. It was an insane process that was a lot of work but now that I’m on the other side of it I’m excited to see where we go from here. To the people that are out here liking and reblogging every single chapter I’m reposting, y’all are the real ones and know that I see what you’re doing and it means the world to me. I’d come to terms with the fact that I’ll never reach the numbers on those chapters and masterlists that I once had but I appreciate your help in spreading the word that I’m back as well as helping new people find the series.

With the reposting out of the way, I’m excited to share BRAND NEW content with you guys!!! Starting this afternoon, there will be a BRAND NEW CHAPTER of False Confidence dropping at 3:30pm CST 🥰 It’s dedicated to every person who’s ever related to Roadie and her story and I can’t wait to hear what y’all think of it.

With that, thank you all so much for all the overwhelming support this past week and here’s to a bright future!! From me and all your favorite characters, we love you and we’ll see y’all real soon! 💚🩶💛

(Also, is this what Taylor Swift feels like?)