#someone save me from the dishes they are ANGRY

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

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

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release 📍 Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

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

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.” 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

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

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[eladandan]

Jungwon as your boyfriend 

pairing Jungwon x reader! genre fluff warnings not proofread word count 0.7k

Jungwon lives by stealing your clothes. He loves that they have your smell, and he usually wears them whenever you are away from him. For him, it is like taking a piece of you in him. 

This man somehow knows everything about you, including your needs and wants. For example, whenever you go out, Jungwon knows he needs to bring a bottle of water and snacks because you get hungry or thirsty. He also probably knows you better than you do. You would go to a restaurant thinking of ordering something, and he would go and say something like: 

“ I know you won’t like it, I just know, TRUST ME”. 

You would not trust what he said at first, so you would order the dish. Jungwon knew he was right because of the funny face you made after taking the first bite. 

Jungwon has your go-to beverage memorized like the back of his hand.

He knows when you are running out of your favorite candies before you even notice, so he would go and buy them before you are left without candies.

Communication is KEY to him.

He will call you day and night just to see how you are and to catch up, even if you just saw each other an hour ago.

He will also text you the most random thing ever just so that he can talk to you. He will also spam you with random selfies throughout the day.

Jungwon would also answer you within 5 minutes after you sent a message. It does not matter if it is 3 am. He would somehow be awake. 

Something that he hates is arguing, so he always makes sure to express how he feels without hurting your feelings. He would also appreciate it whenever you give him feedback to improve both himself and the relationship. All this together makes arguments vague in your relationship + in the rare situation of a fight, he would not let you guys sleep if you are both angry at each other.

He has the most embarrassing picture of you as his wallpaper, and he would have a Polaroid of the two of you on his phone case. You would ask him MULTIPLE times to change his wallpaper, but he would decline each time simply because he does not think you look bad, he thinks you look so adorable + he likes to annoy you with that picture.

He is both into outdoor and indoor dates. He loves to cuddle with you and eat good food as much as he likes going out and spending time with you. 

Talking about dates… Jungwon is the most creative partner ever. He would take you to go and do some pottery, take dance lessons (ofc he would be your teacher), go to a dog café, etc. He would take you to the most unexpected places sometimes.

Jungwon is someone who does not come into play when it comes to your relationship.

He dates to marry and makes sure he dedicates enough time to you.

He probably has a calendar with days marked as “Y/N’S DAY!!!”. He just loves to make you feel loved and seen. He also probably has a dedicated part of the day for you because he always says he has to take a daily dose of you. Otherwise, he will die of a broken heart. 

Jungwon is not a fan of pet names. He would call you rat face or something really stupid, and he would probably have your number saved as “my little dumb dumb <3”. 

He loves taking care of you. If you arrive home late and tired, he prepares a hot bath for you to relax as well as hot tea, and if you cannot even remove your makeup, he cleans your face with makeup remover wipes. Also, if you had a busy week, he would book and pay for a spa appointment, even if you did not ask for one. 

He is playful and goofy as well. While walking, he will try to make you fall by sticking his foot between your legs. He also likes to make you trip by making your knees bend, and just after, he will run away so you don’t take revenge by pocking his dimple.

Dating Jungwon is like dating your best friend because he would be your best friend!

Author's note: Heyyyy guys!! I know I have been missing for like a year or something 😭 but this year was HARD. I promise I read all of your requests and I will try to write them as soon as possible. By the way, this was requested by two anonymous readers, and with that said I hope y’all enjoy this post <333. Take care my loves and do not forget to eat your meals and stay hydrated! Feel free to dm me for any request and comment, like, or repost if you enjoyed it!

-Love Ela

[vanillablankcanvas]

Headcanons - The Ultimate Combo!

Brozone - drastically changed their looks coz they hate that they used to dress the same.

Brozone - All the brothers definitely hold doors open for the ladies and then close it on John Dory.

Brozone - All of the brothers share habits and mannerisms without even realising. E.g. tapping their chin when they're thinking hard, cracking knuckles when they're about to really get into a project, tapping toes when anxious.

Brozone - they became world famous, argued and left BEFORE the cage went around the Pop Troll Tree. (Canon?)

Brozone - there was a rumoured 'unfinished' Brozone song that was supposed to be released after that tour. John finally finishes it and the brothers offer to sing it for Poppy's bridal entrance song. Poppy immediately faints. In my head the song is 'Helpless When She Smiles' by The Backstreet Boys

Brozone - whatever the Trolls equivalent of the Superbowl is, I feel like Bruce and JD would be very into it. Jerseys and face paint and everything.

Brozone - when the brothers weren't sure how to reconnect, they ended up playing rummy together.

Bruce - one of those dads who would get a new barbeque and show off all the cool features to the other local dads.

Bruce - "No kids, we're not keeping that stray animal, end of story, no way..." - 1 week later and he's giving it kisses and building it an over the top kennel with a heated blanket and a water fountain.

Bruce - (canon?) carried all their eggs, indirect reason why his hair is so big. (Side note - I read somewhere someone called all their kids 'The Bakers Dozen' and I frigging love that)

Bruce - absolutely gets into the trashiest reality TV shows. "If Alejandro doesn't confess his love in this episode I will flip this table"

Bruce - makes Troll cuisine for his kids

Bruce - there aren't any Troll sized clothing stores around so Bruce sometimes has to make his own clothes.

Bruce - has considered getting his kids hug time bracelets

Bruce - the restaurants kitchen is set up like in Ratatouille (ladders, ramps, bridges, pulley systems) for Bruce to navigate.

Bruce - keeps every one of his kids drawings, their refrigerator is absolutely covered in them.

Bruce - his go-to excuse is "I can't, I've got 13 college tuitions to save for."

Bruce - has given 'love coupons' to Brandy before

Bruce - theorizes that his daughter LaBreezy will be the one to take over the restaurant.

Bruce - tries developing and inventing his own recipes, Brandy has to remind him that not everyone can handle as much sugar as a Troll can. He reels it back a bit.

Bruce - makes specific food for different reasons. E.g. makes bread when he's angry so he can take it out on the dough, makes lasagnas so he can use the leftovers as an excuse to visit someone, makes spicy dishes when he wants revenge.

Bruce - cameras make him self-conscious. If he is in a group he can tolerate it but hates being the only one in the photo.

Bruce - has caught his kids trying to do the Brozone dance routines. He tries to stay out of it best he can and let them have their fun but then they ask him to teach them and doesn't he just melt.

Bruce - has a wedding ring but it is Vacationer sized. He keeps it in his hair mostly but will braid it into his hair like an accessory for special occasions.

Bruce - 100% certain Poppy and Branch's first born would be a boy. "We're a family of five brothers! It took Brandy and I thirteen tries to have a daughter. Trust me, I have no doubt your first egg will absolutely be a boy." *They have a girl* Bruce 😑

Bruce - all the kids now request Brozone songs instead of lullabies.

Bruce - opened the restaurant before he met Brandy. Used all the money he had left from Brozone to open it.

Bruce - teaches his kids about body positivity.

Bruce - mortifies his kids by trying to use slang. "That was so very lit!" "Daaaaaaaaaadddddd"

Bruce - just starts being a Dad to everyone without realizing it e.g. cuts food into smaller bites, starts randomly folding people's clothes, licking his finger and wiping food off faces, always having snacks and bandaids in his hair.

Bruce - sleeps wearing a hair bonnet and continues his extensive skincare routine into adulthood.

Bruce - grew a full beard once. Then he had babies. They became obsessed with pulling his beard. No more beard.

Bruce - his kids have buried him in the sand more times than he cares to admit.

Bruce - has attempted to set up John Dory on a date with Brandy's sister.

Bruce - kept having kids because he and Brandy wanted at least one daughter. When they finally had LaBreezy they decided to stop.

Bruce - learned to surf to get Brandy's attention when they first met. Ended up falling in love with surfing before Brandy fell for him. 😁

Bruce - can and will reorganize someone else's kitchen to what he deems is more efficient.

Bruce - always the first to volunteer to babysit other Troll's kids. Not that he doesn't appreciate his own children, he just loves being about to dote on kids he can actually hold on his hip and carry in his hair. Just being able to do the little Troll things he can't do with his own giant kids.

Bruce - noone on the island knew about his 'past life' except for Brandy. (Canon?)

Bruce - has the world's best hangover cure but it's a secret.

Bruce - there have been times when he has muddled up his kids names and he hates himself every time.

Floyd - his hair is naturally pink but JD made him make it redder because 'we're a boyband and pink is a girls colour'

Floyd - absolutely judges you for your star sign

Floyd - knows exactly how to pop away that pain is someones back/shoulder/hips. Grabs JDs shoulder "Relax John. After three. One...two.." CRACK

Floyd - moves back to Pop Village for what JD calls 'early retirement' works in a sort of wellness center that has music therapy and yoga and stuff.

Floyd - in a desperate last resort he once mentioned he was part of Brozone to be noticed by a music producer. It's one of his biggest regrets.

Floyd - has volunteered at homeless shelters and performed at benefit concerts.

Floyd - was 100% sure he was going to die in the bottle. He now has a new outlook on life after being given a second chance.

Floyd - wants a long term relationship but is afraid of getting attached and being used.

Floyd - practices advanced yoga

Floyd - has developed claustrophobia

Floyd - released one solo album, one limited run, it was mentioned he is a former member Brozone on the cover to boost sales. It was a flop. This crushed Floyd.

Floyd - plans to get more body mods in the future.

Floyd - when asked about his past he describes it as 'colourful'. People are yet to find out what he means by this.

Floyd - kept two copies of his own album. He was going to give the other to Grandma Rosiepuff for her collection.

Floyd - when performing solo he does 10 push ups and drinks tea before going on stage. (Apparently Troye Sivan does this and I could see Floyd doing it too 😁)

Floyd - has tried on dresses and corsets before. Prefers overskirts.

Floyd - in a desperate attempt to try and forget V&V, Floyd nearly shaved his head.

Floyd - he actually wrote all of those songs for Velvet and Veneer!

Floyd - after the Mount Rageous incident he gets a little bit reckless without realizing it. He has an "I just survived death so cliff jumping isn't scary anymore' kinda attitude.

Floyd - can read palms and tarot cards.

Floyd - went through the seven stages of grief over his own death.

Floyd - can mix drinks. Messily. Was dating a bartender once and picked up some things from him.

Floyd - used to busk to earn extra cash (based on that one concept art)

Floyd - felt he needed to start a solo career because he wrote a lot of songs that JD didn't pay attention to.

Floyd - did in fact live with the other Troll tribes for a while. Hard Rock Trolls were the last ones he met. This was where he met his manager/mentor.

Floyd - high pain tolerance and godlike levels of patience.

Floyd - has been to rehab for hard candy, is currently 10 years sober. Now advocates for health and wellness in Pop Village.

Floyd - Broke up with several ex's when he found they were all only using him for his fame. 💔

Floyd - can only sleep comfortably near an open window. Sometimes can only sleep sitting up.

Floyd - will randomly stare off into space or mutter to himself.

Floyd - *clears throat* I ship Floom! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Floyd - can't stick to new hobbies for very long, he hyperfixates for a week or two then gets bored. Macrame, candle making, soap making, jewelry making, photography are some examples.

Floyd - did a few red carpet appearances during his solo era, he felt very out of place. @ssippingwaterfalls 💕

John Dory - has embarrassing baby pictures of his brothers as leverage

John Dory - over-exaggerates his retellings of stories "I fought off 30 no no no 40 snakes with one hand behind my back."

John Dory - always casually asking Poppy, Brandy and Viva to marry him, over small things too "Brandy, these pancakes are delicious, marry me."

John Dory - freaky level spice tolerance, looks people in their teary eyes as he bites a raw ghost pepper

John Dory - says "Gotta get home to the missus" when referring to Rhonda

John Dory - narrates himself "Against all odds, the brave and handsome Troll was able to tame the ferocious beast" he says as he's washing a purring Rhonda

John Dory - the Uncle that buys Bruce's kids toys that are either loud or that make a huge mess

John Dory - didn't finish school, made sure his brothers did

John Dory - has not kept track of his age and is in denial when people remind him.

John Dory - met Rhonda when she eats him. He just walks right out the door confused.

John Dory - has been arrested before, he changes the reason everytime someone asks.

John Dory - occasionally uses 'chewing tobacco' (which honestly in the Trolls-verse would be some kinda chewing gum 😂)

John Dory - serial flirt (very bad at it, he thinks he's great at it)

John Dory - does weird stuff because of his isolation e.g. will eat what's left over on the plates when Bruce's customers leave, will ask when the baby's due but they're just overweight, will go into detail about gutting a fish in front of Trollings.

John Dory - can open a wine/champagne bottle with his machete and light a match with his teeth

John Dory - does not own pyjamas, falls asleep in what he wore that day.

John Dory - has a midlife crisis when all the Trollings in Pop village thought he was Branch's dad.

John Dory - has had several concussions and plenty of broken bones. Got very good at applying first aid to himself.

John Dory - makes his own Moonshine

John Dory - sworn off ever having children.

John Dory - pretty scrappy at self defence, can hold his own when boxing.

John Dory - always has some kind of weapon on him at all times.

John Dory - tends to manspread when sitting.

John Dory - has been targeted by Bounty Hunters before, resulting in a gnarly injury on his hand he now covers with his glove.

John Dory - for a time he was convinced that he was the last Pop Troll

John Dory - sometimes refers to himself in the third person. "John Dory doesn't need a map!"

John Dory - doesn't 'get' modern art, pretends he does so people don't think he's dumb.

John Dory - will try to use fancier sounding words in a sentence, thinking it makes sense. It doesn't.

John Dory - when doing outdoor work, his brothers silently bet how long it takes before JD is unnecessarily shirtless.

John Dory - ends up helping with raising and handling the critters kept in the village. E.g rearing orphaned Cuddle Pups, shearing the Puffalos, breaking in the Adorabulls, taming wild flyer bugs.

John Dory - when living on his own, he would only come back to civilization just before the start of winter when it would be harder to forage and hunt food. He would spend a week or so stocking up on supplies, interact with the locals, then disappear again.

John Dory - takes night classes to finally get his highschool diploma. Is too embarrassed to tell anyone until he graduates.

John Dory - doesn't get sick often. But when he does, he keeps going to the point of exhaustion.

John Dory - has indeed crossed paths with Delta Dawn before. Both of them have very different versions of the story. "I serenaded her." "The fool was whining something from the inside of a jail cell."

John Dory - has been known to sleep with his eyes open. Freaks people out.

John Dory - will drink milk straight from the carton and put it back in the fridge.

John Dory - teaches Bruce's kids all the swear words and does in fact tell them his rendition of where eggs come from.

John Dory - claims to be holding back grey hairs with sheer will power

John Dory - believes in love at first sight, just not for himself.

John Dory - will wrestle and roughhouse to bond with people.

John Dory - if there was a couple sitting on a couch, JD will sit between them and not even realize what he did!

John Dory - he doesn't let it show but his ears are constantly twitching to check for danger, a side effect of living in the wilderness alone for so long.

Clay - writes long and very detailed critical reviews of restaurants

Clay - has reading glasses. Probably the ones that attach magnetically at the nose ridge.

Clay - labels everything (labelmaker is to Clay as Gary is to Branch)

Clay - very into color coded itineraries and always know everyone's business "Poppy is currently at Smidge's pod doing her hair" "How could you possibly know that?" "I have my sources."

Clay - also a notary and registered marriage celebrant

Clay - hair was always naturally green but JDs hair was already green. JD said he had to be yellow for the band, they needed that color coordinated group vibe.

Clay - has drafts for his own book series

Clay - actually plays golf

Clay - gets clumsy when trying to impress someone he admires (imagine him meeting King Peppy and he just knocks things over)

Clay - competitive af - brothers know better than to verse him at anything - has an over the top victory dance

Clay - receives special recognition alongside Viva for protecting the Putt Putt Trolls. (Knighthood? Trollstopia's official CFO?)

Clay - has a stupidly complicated coffee order

Clay - plans to move the Hole N Fun between Pop Village and Bergen Town. Imagine the business!

Clay - refers to Viva as his 'Work Wife'

Clay - knows how to use a stenograph

Clay - absolutely did not roll around the putt-putt course like the others.

Clay - everything must be neat and organized, after living with four brothers he values cleanliness so I imagine he would haaaaate glitter.

Clay - studied hard at math to set himself apart from his brothers.

Clay - occasionally tutors math to Trollings.

Clay - has a decent sized nest egg

Clay - graduated highschool early

Clay - has business cards stored in his hair

Clay - knows how to tie different knots for neckties.

Clay - can spin a pen around his fingers

Clay - is thinking of getting his own critter transportation

Clay - has no fuss, no fun breakfast. Plain toast or fibre cereal.

Clay - itching to hook Pop Village up with electricity.

Clay - was definitely the problem child. Being the middle child in a house full of teenage boys, coupled with the constant threat of Bergens with a sprinkling of John Dory as an older brother results in an angry little Troll boy.

Clay - his hardcore fans were known as Claydies.

Clay - the Putt-Putt Trolls didn't have a sad book club as they had no books! After the reunion Clay was very excited about the vast new collection of books he could get his hands on!

Clay - finds out that he was Poppy's favourite Brozone member when she was little and doesn't he just boast about it any chance he gets!

Clay - for Clay to finally forgive John Dory, JD agreed to perform for the brothers+Poppy and Viva in ONLY the funderdrawers. "Do you feel like you're having 76% more fun yet John? Cause I am!" *Camera snap*

Clay - bruises like a damn peach.

Clay - Viva made him co-leader after she gave up on the notion of being immediately rescued and realized Clay was already constructing and implementing long term settlement plans.

Clay - like the other Putt-Putt Trolls, he has basically become Nocturnal. Even with this, he pulls 'allnighters' to finish any work he has, so his sleep pattern is very inconsistent.

Clay - has a lot of energy. When he isn't dancing, he fidgets, taps his foot, bounces his knee, drums pens.

Clay - has many, many of the same sweater romper. All of them are different shades of green.

Clay - eventually hires an assistant. The assistant is mentally prepared for Clay to be a dictator of a boss. They are shocked when Clay keeps saying things like "Have you had a break yet?" "I think you need a day for your mental health." "Yes, that's how much I'm paying you. How are you going to save for your own pod if I pay you any less?"

Clay - had to quit being the Fun Boy cold turkey so that the Putt Putt Trolls would trust in his leadership.

Clay - I imagine a running gag that random Trolls keep calling him Viva's boyfriend/husband, and he keeps trying to correct them, but he is always cut off or they immediately forget. At some point a random Troll is like "What, is Viva not good enough for you?" And he is so exhausted from fighting it, he just gives up and rolls with it.

Clay - will stay up to sunrise reading 'just one more chapter'

Clay - his brothers collectively tried to convince him that he was the adopted brother.

Clay - is quite squeamish. The sight of vomit, open wounds and bodily fluids; Clay will absolutely pass out. Snotty babies make him very uncomfortable.

Clay - gets Viva to braid his hair out of his face only when something really serious is happening *cracks neck* "Viva?" "Yah?" "Braid me" "Yes, Sir." Shwoooop

Clay - Found out the Classical Trolls have a library larger the Pop Village. "Viva, they have a whole wing dedicated to tragedies! Tragedies, Viva!"

Clay - okay, so he and Viva have never been a couple, even if he ever considered it, their work came first and he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. Buuuuuuuttt the thought that another Troll could one day be Viva's person, that she would go to them instead of him for comfort or ideas or laughs or safety or hugs... it makes Clay feel... weird.

Clay - at some point is named some kinda Troll magazines most eligible bachelor. Bro was in a boyband, co-runs a society of survivors, runs a business, is close friends with royalty, has been knighted, has a license to practice accounting and was part of the only known Perfect Family Harmony. He's apparently a hot commodity now.

Clay - tells John Dory that some appliances are voice activated when they aren't. Will watch JD yell at the coffee maker. 😈

Clay - gets random nosebleeds.

Clay - is writing an autobiography. It will not be kind.

Clay - can read Latin.

Clay - overachiever. Was good at academics and sports in highschool.

Clay - a gambler, can count cards, good poker face and good at reading people's 'tells'.

Branch - for Pop Trolls - being in a famous singing group is the equivalent of being a recognized expert in your field. So, the fact that Branch is in TWO famous boy bands is like he has several PhDs.

Branch - Kismet formed inside a group home for Trollings

Branch - toying with the idea of building plans for a Pop Village Castle. (Secretly a fortress)

Branch - he is very, VERY aware that by marrying Poppy one day he would become King. In secret he plans. And plans. And plans. Mr. Survivalist Troll handles this new fear the way he usually does; with over-preparedness!

Branch - Kismet were the ones that originally got him hooked on ring pops.

Branch - learns phrases in other languages to build relationships with subgenre tribes of Trolls. E.g the K-Pop and Reggaeton Trolls.

Branch - started building the bunker while he was still living in the group home with other Trollings.

Branch - will hold onto Poppy in his sleep like she'll disappear if he lets go.

Branch - all those times that Branch thought the Bergens were coming? It was actually Creek harshly pranking Branch to make him look like a fool.

Viva - that concept art of tiny Viva is the age she was when they escaped the Troll Tree. So like 15 maybe?

Viva - wants to make up for all the missed holidays/birthdays/parties with Poppy so she is constantly popping out from places with gifts yelling SURPRISE!

Viva - does not knock on doors and absolutely will walk straight in when someone is changing clothes

Viva - snorts when she laughs too hard

Viva - biggest Broppy shipper. Already has their wedding planned in her head.

Viva - adrenaline junkie

Viva - no sense of personal space

Viva - rubs it into Clay's face that the ONE time he leaves is when Bergens show up. Uses it as leverage for the most petty of things. "Oh you want the last cupcake? Remember that time you left and Bergens came?" She's not even mad about it she just wanted the cupcake.

Viva - has made a list of all the things she's wanted to experience with Poppy. Makeup, planning parties, dealing with heartbreaks etc. they may not be the first times they've both done these things, but their excited to try them together. 😊

Viva - she reeeaaalllyyy wants to braid all of Bruce's hair. And Brandy's. And their kids. And oh look how much hair Vacationers have!

Viva - is worried that Clay doesn't need her around anymore.

Viva - wants to have children. Lots of them!

Viva - tries to hide sadder feelings from Poppy. Worried that Poppy won't want to hang out with her if she isn't fun.

Viva - calls the older brothers Mr.Bruce and Mr.JD (Clay told her to)

Viva - blows raspberries on peoples cheeks/arms/stomachs to show affection.

Viva - likes to collect 'things'. (Canon?) Never know when you might need the thing again. It can be reused for a different purpose. Side effect of trying to survive. Borderline hoarder. Clay does it too, he is just more organized about it.

Poppy - wishes that Branch would initiate physical contact more often.

Poppy - When something is wrong and the brothers don't want her to know, she can immediately tell because they call her 'Queen Poppy'.

Poppy - besides giving Clay and Viva their titles, she considers the other brothers unofficially part of her 'court' as well. (She might knight them later on, who knows?)

Poppy - sometimes feels guilty, if things had been different, Viva would have been Queen. Viva tries to reassure Poppy that she is "The right Troll for the role." 👍🏻 Also Viva tries to argue that they both technically get be Queens now anyway.

Poppy - would have many pillows and plushies on her bed.

Brandy - has swaddled Bruce before. By accident or on purpose, she will never tell.

Brandy - after watching Bruce, she now puts little things in her hair. Nothing huge, maybe a pen and a food order pad, a snack and bandaids for the kids. Depends on the day.

Rhonda - you know in Frozen, how Sven really wants to eat Olafs nose the whole movie? Imagine that but Rhonda wants to eat Mr.Dinkles

Rhonda - locks JD outside when she's annoyed with him. "Who needs you, I wanted to sleep on this rock anyway!"

Rhonda - when she was a baby she was more like a big suitcase than a vehicle.

Rhonda - really likes rolling around in mud, especially after she's just been cleaned. JD > 😑

Trolls - in general Trolls are pretty rare outside their usual kingdoms and it's considered good luck to meet one.

Trolls - letting another troll touch your hair is a very huge sign of trust.

Trolls - have their own version of godparents. Museparents.

Trolls - Can you imagine how many shades of foundation a Troll makeup store has to stock?! I mean, they probably don't need foundation but could you imagine?!

Trolls - having an egg on the way is known as an 'Eggnancy" 😂

Trolls - varies amongst the tribes but hair length and thickness is a good indication of their physical strength and health. So long, thick hair means they're healthy and can lift heavy weights. E.g. Smidge, Bruce, Boom. Whereas short, wild or thin hair means they could be older, unhealthy or just not physically strong. E.g. Peppy and Thrash.

Trolls - eventually a hybrid Troll (e.g. Techno/Funk) is born in Trollstopia and the parents name the baby after Poppy.

Trolls - JD and King Peppy do the same pose in some stock images. I like to think it's like a Pop Village salute. (It probably has an actual meaning)

Trolls - Hard Candy = Hard Drugs 🍭

Trolls - King Peppy invented all these bizarre holidays when they were trapped in the Troll tree to keep hope alive and to boost morale.

Trolls – teenage Pop Trolls wear eachothers hug time bracelets when they're dating. Like wearing their boyfriend's school pin or their jacket.

Trolls- Trollings can't make their hair into a gradient style until they are older. (survival/camouflage situations they can do, but only temporarily)

Putt-Putt Trolls - all delayed having Trollings worrying for their future safety. The very few eggs that hatched are hidden and protected by the whole tribe. (Putt-Putt baby names: Birdie, Par, Ace, Caddie, Fore, Eagle, Divot, Links, Scramble) Clay and Viva were present for every one of them hatching.

Putt Putt Trolls - all of them are wearing the same outfits because they used Bergen sized socks from the golf courses souvenir stand.

Putt Putt Trolls - use the courses tokens as general currency.

Putt-Putt Trolls - that coordinated attack to capture Bridget and Grissle? Clay was the one who planned and trained them.

Yodelers - Hickory and Dickory had a brother named Dock. He was the one that was rumoured to be crushed by an avalanche. He was the one to hunt down John Dory when everyone thought he was the last Pop Troll. While chasing him down a cliff side, he swung an ice pick straight through John Dory's left hand.

Sugar Gals - SPICE GIRLS TROLLS! I absolutely can picture young JD being so frustrated if BroZone was overtaken on the charts by a rival group

Crimp - goes to work for King Gristle and Queen Bridget after TBT.

Guy Diamond - Trolls have eggs when they have powerful feelings of love. Guy Diamond was able to have Tiny because he loves himself so much.

Tiny Diamond - checks on Branch and Poppy's egg daily asking if his new BFFL is here yet.

Tiny Diamond - the best wingman! E.g. He's hanging out with JD and starts playing up the baby image to lure in the ladies. "I wuv you Uncle John. You're my best friend!" And the ladies are like "Aww!" Tiny whispers "You're welcome"

Cloud Guy - gave Branch 101 reasons why he should officiate his and Poppy's wedding.

Queen Barb - messing with the Rock String made Thrash lose his mind and made Barb more aggressive. Notice they both seemed to be more level headed after the strings were destroyed?

Riff - studying to work in Aged Care. His studies are sponsored so that he can look after King Thrash.

Boom - Floyd's solo music helped Boom when he was coming out. 🏳️‍🌈

King Peppy - Didn't tell Poppy about Viva because he was in the early stages of dementia. (Canon?) For a while he thought Poppy WAS Viva. By the time he realised his 'mistake', Poppy was already grown.

Vacay Island - the brothers sometimes help Bruce at his restaurant. They have name tags with funny 'work names'. Flood, Big Fish, Classy, and Big Brunch. Viva and Poppy have done the odd shift as well, as Pinky and Diva. 😝

[threegunbrainrot]

i dont have any trigun mutuals so i'm just gonna ramble my thoughts into the infinite void of tumblr. and im sure others have touched on this same topic but

it almost seems like vash is getting softer with every new installment of trigun? like incredibly consistently and incredibly specifically.

let me explain.

i'll start with tristamp and work backwards; the tristamp vash we all know and love there is incredibly adverse to violence.

more often than not he ACTIVELY refuses to fight and just WON'T draw his gun. this post loosely counted the amount of bullets that he shot throughout all of season 1, and almost ALL of them (like to an insane degree) were dished out against knives, who vash knew was strong enough to take the hit.

the few times vash does draw his gun against a human in tristamp, it's as a blunt force weapon (against the badlads gang and livio, for example) or to disarm others/save someone with ricochet (like shooting the punisher before wolfwood can kill livio).

he just doesn't shoot people. at ALL.

then if we look at 98 trigun, things change drastically.

here, vash isn't afraid to hurt people a little if it means more will be saved in the end. of course he never kills, but he actually shoots people here. not only that...

he holds a casual, sarcastic conversation while pointing his weapon at people.

he constantly shoots at limbs to immobilize people, fires warning shots extremely close to peoples' vitals, and performs several very insane trick shots throughout the show to wound those with armor.

tristamp vash wouldn't even draw, but 98 struts around firing warning shots into the sky and singing about bloodshed for intimidation! i'm not sure there's a single episode where he doesn't shoot someone at least once.

...so what about trimax, then?

(PLOT SPOILERS AHEAD)

he is so. shockingly. violent.

of course he never kills. of course he's still trying to save people, but there's this anger in him that i was completely taken off-guard by reading for the first time.

tristamp vash is so soft he's painful to watch. 98 vash makes a heartbreaking effort to be as silly and nonthreatening as possible, constantly making himself out to be the fool. but trimax?

he's... literally grief-stricken and out for revenge. explicit revenge. he's angry and he's hurt and he lays his intentions out so clearly. he's making THREATS.

seriously:

hunting legato. HUNTING him.

it's not even a matter of drawing his weapon anymore. he does it constantly, and fires just as much. never to kill, but he doesn't joke around the way 98 vash does. the most he'll offer is a sunny smile to reassure others and nothing more.

i'm not that far into the manga, either. i'm sure there's countless more (and probably better) panels to convey this side of trimax vash, but i suppose it also says something that i've found so many panels depicting this so early on.

but the progression of vash's personality is fascinating regardless.

from a tortured, angry loner desperately trying to cling to his morals for rem's sake

to an equally devastated man who devotes himself so completely to acting the role of the fool

and finally to the sad, chronically depressed shell of a person in tristamp who refuses to so much as draw his weapon.

[sleepy-wyvern]

His Hummingbird (Miguel O'Hara x female!reader smut)

{Angsty smut oneshot}

Available: here on Tumblr and AO3

WC: ~2.2k [oneshot]

Synopsis: You're a human female who has a boyfriend from another dimension; Spider-Man 2099. Miguel visits your apartment late at night as a surprise after not seeing him for a week.

I HAD TO GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD BEFORE I COULD FOCUS ON OTHER FICS IM SORRY ;-;

Inspirations: the song Hummingbird by Metro Bloomin and James Blake and you know the fang scene… man definitely bites 👀

A/N: If y’all want/request more I may write more, otherwise this is a one shot ❤️ leave a comment or reblog if you liked. 

Warnings/tags: Angst, Smut (18+ Minors DNI), hickies (lotsa biting), fingering, light begging from reader, p in v (condom), light male whimpering

Disclaimer: I borrowed my spanglish friend for some of the translations here. Feel free to send an ask or comment if something feels off.

Enjoy!

The moon shone bright through the heavy clouds as you wondered where your spider was. 

Fighting crime, defeating evil, saving lives, all nothing you could complain about. Another universe, another day, another “business trip.” He used that phrase to try and make you feel better but it couldn’t take away from the fact that one day he may not return. Perhaps if things went bad enough you wouldn’t ever be able to know what happened to him, just spending the rest of your life waiting for someone who would never return. You tried your best to shove the thought away as you fiddled with the window latch.

You pushed open the window widely to get whatever cool night air you could in your little city apartment. As the hot summer days neared closer you took solace in the cold rainy night. The sound of the rain and the city traffic was oddly comforting.

You turned and walked toward the kitchen sink opposite of the room figuring you'd at least try to get some chores done. It was a small-ish apartment the size of a hotel room really. The biggest room was the merged kitchen and living room. Still, it was familiar enough space for you to sense the presence behind you.

The moment you turned your back you heard the window blinds gently tap against the window pane; anyone else would’ve thought that had been the wind. Anyone else without a spider person lover anyways.

“Do spiders ever use the door?” You spoke without turning around, instead you turned the faucet on to do the dishes.

“You should start locking that window at night,” his gruff voice was directly behind you.

“Miguel,” you sighed, twisting the tap off before turning around.

It had been a week since his last visit, the longest ever since you started “seeing” each other. You hadn’t put a label on anything yet, what could you call a lover from another dimension that could never stay with you?

Every time you saw him after a prolonged period you were intimidated by how he stood over you. He hadn’t meant to be intimidating as his mask was already removed, yet it was hard to ignore his height and size of his build especially when he had to look down at you.

“Nobody can enter a 4th story window,” you smiled. “Just you.”

Despite that you were angry he was gone for so long your heart melted at the sight of his brown locks falling gracefully over his forehead. He wore his blue and red spider suit as he always did when traveling.

He wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close into his hot embrace. He planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Te extrañé…” He trailed off as he pulled back to look into your eyes. 

He held his hands against your face when you eyed his bracelet; the thing that let him stay here with you without “glitching out.” It was a grim reminder of what could never be. Despite the comfort you got from his rough hands against your soft face, it made you sad. 

“I missed you too,” you sighed, overlapping his hand with your smaller one.

The bracelet was cool to the touch as you frowned. “Where have you been?” You scolded, “You told me you’d be back by Monday. It’s Friday!”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed furrowing his brows. “It’s work.”

“It always is,” You turn around putting your hands on the smooth countertop.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he offered, sounding sad and hopeful.

You knew he didn’t mean to make you worry or make you sad. You both wished things were different. It would make it so much easier. You knew though that if he could change things he would and you didn’t want to hold what was out of his control against him. It wasn’t his fault you were born in different worlds, different universes. It didn’t help that you weren’t a spider person either.

You felt his hands gently against your waist as he moved closer to you.

“I'm sorry." He sighed. "Mi pequeña colibrí…” he whispered into your ear. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck sending shivers down your body.

“Oh stop, you can’t use the español to make me feel better! No fair!” You laughed. 

He placed a kiss on your ear that tickled before you spun back around, wrapping your arms over his shoulders.

“My spiderman,” You giggled as his look of concern melted into happiness. "I'm not mad at you. Just try to let me know if you'll be late next time."

The corner of his lips turned upward ever so slightly in relief. "I promise."

Another thing that was likely yours only; Miguel’s smile. When Jessica met you she was surprised you were even real. She warned you to not mention much of Miguel’s personal life activities to the other spider people but it was hard to remember. Once you accidentally mentioned the flowers on your table were from Miguel to Gwen she nearly fainted. You adored the way he treated you special even if you weren’t sure why he chose you. You could never be mad at him for something he couldn't control.

He brushed his thumbs in a circular motion against your waist as he held you. His dark eyes were full of love as he looked down at you. 

You ran your fingers back through his brown hair. He seemed to sigh beneath your touch, it was thrilling in a way to know he was comfortable enough around you to let his guard down. Nobody else could see Miguel the way you did.

“You need to stop being so stressed. Relax more.” You sighed bringing your fingers to his forehead. “Grumpy wrinkles.”

He chuckled low as he held you tightly. He brought his face down into your neck to inhale the sweet scent of your perfume that he loved so much.

“I know what helps with that,” his voice was deep and silky and fuck it made your body melt. 

You giggled as his sweet kisses turned into loving nibbles. He was careful to not hurt you with his fangs but he knew how much you loved his gentle biting. You had a hunch he loved it as much as you did. On top of that it’s been a week without it and damn you missed him.

You let his touch overwhelm you as he held you, softly biting against your delicate skin. His body tensed against you the moment you let out a small pleasurable gasp.

“Hm,” He huffed deeply as he pulled back. “I forgot my strength. I’m sorry, mi colibrí.”

He brought his fingers up to your neck, wiping away the wetness before examining the hickie left behind.

“That’s what makeup is for,” you reassured. “Now, you have a week to make up for…”

“No better time to start than now,” he knocked off the stack of papers that were laying on the countertop.

Before you could react he grabbed your hips, lifting you into the air. You let out a faint gasp as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Miguel!” You scolded as he smirked at you, placing you on the empty countertop space. “Naughty, what has become of you?” You teased him.

“You have become of me,” he pressed his hot lips against yours hungrily. 

He brought his hands around to the back of your head holding you close so he could kiss you deeply. It wasn’t long before you could feel his cool tongue against your lips. You opened your mouth letting him in, his cold mouth meeting your warm one.

You brought your hands to his shoulders feeling the fabric of his suit. Eagerly you moved your fingers to his back, grasping for the zipper. You rotated between feeling the muscles of his back and fumbling with the damn zipper making your kisses turn sloppy.

“Eager aren’t we?” He laughed low and deep in his throat, it wasn’t a mocking tone. In fact you knew he loved it. 

He shimmied his shoulders out of the suit and it took all of your power not to basically drool over him. You wasted no time bringing your hands to feel his hot skin, tracing your fingers lovingly over the scars on his chest.

You buried your fingers in his hair as your lips met again. The man loves to kiss you, almost as much as he loves to bite you. He took the opportunity to switch to biting your neck whenever you pulled back to breathe. 

He slowly brought his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, running his calloused fingers along your silky smooth torso. You separated from him only long enough to remove the pesky fabric of your top before diving back into him again.

You could feel the bulge in his underwear against your leg as he leaned forward to undo the clasp of your bra. He brought his large hands to your breasts lovingly cupping and massaging them. Goosebumps rose against his skin at the sound of your soft, lustful moans.

“More baby,” you whispered.

He brought his lips to your nipple, his hair tickling your chest. You tilted your head down letting yourself get lost in the scent of his shampoo while he planted wet kisses against your stiff nipple. His grabs on your body slowly turned more rough as you felt his teeth against your skin.

“More,” you demand. It’s been a week and damn you wanted him more than anything. 

He hooked his fingers underneath the soft fabric of your leggings and panties as you shimmied to help. Your body shivered as the fabric pooled to the floor. Miguel looked at your body with a mixture of awe and hunger- a deep lust filled hunger.

He brought his index and middle finger to your entrance, smiling when he felt how wet you were.

“You really did miss me huh, mi pequeña colibrí?” 

You nodded “mmm’, yes I did. Need you, Miguel.” You whined feeling him circle your entrance.

He wasn’t cruel to make you wait as he plunged his fingers in. Your back arched as you gasped, spreading your legs desperate for him deeper. Feeling his fingers arch against your walls and watching the movements of his wrist as he pleased you was intoxicating.

Still you wanted more.

“Please, baby,” you whimpered.

Your body whined when he stopped and pulled his fingers out. 

“What is it, cariño?” His voice purred. He brought his fingers to his lips, rolling his tongue over your sweetness.

“You,” your lip quivered as you shuddered from the cool apartment air. “Please.”

You knew this was a game he could normally play for a long time. Not today though, neither of you could handle it. Instead your heart raced as he nodded to the kitchen drawer where you kept the condoms since counter sex had become a more regular activity.

He brought his large, hard cock out of his boxers, stroking lightly. You swallowed at the sight wondering how you could ever take him.

He smirked at your expression “are you afraid?”

You shook your head, reaching your hands out to his broad shoulders trying to bring him closer. You fumbled with the condom, bringing your hands to his hot cock. He gasped lightly as your hands held him him, rolling the condom down over him.

He lined his tip against your entrance, soaking himself in your juices and teasing you just a little. 

“Are you ready?” He whispered and for the first time tonight you heard his voice start to shake.

You bit your lip as you nodded “I am.”

He slowly slid himself in as you let out a moan of tight, firey pressure. The moment he was fully inside you both let out a gasp; you both waited so long for this moment. You wrapped your arms around him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck while you got used to the feeling of all of him inside. 

He waited for you to nod and give him the okay to continue. He planted a kiss on your cheek as he pulled out slightly before thrusting in again. You spread your legs further apart, moaning at the next deeper thrust. You grasped at the muscles of his back for an anchor.

“Just like that, cariño,” He whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He thrusted against, harder and faster as you felt your pleasure start to build. He kept a lovely, steady pace and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your climax.

“Oh Miguel,” you moaned, making him shiver. “Baby, I’m close.”

You grasped at his back desperate to have more of him. His heavy breaths and grunts sent electricity through you while his cock pressed lovingly against that sweet spot.

“Don’t move,” his voice was a quiet whimper while you held him.

Fuck, hearing him whimper always sent you feral but you did your best to keep still while he pounded into your tight cunt. Your back arched as the waves of pleasure crashed down into a lovely orgasm. 

“You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear. 

You knew he was close and you wrapped your legs around him not letting him go. 

“I’m, I’m-“ his voice broke off as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

His arms held you tightly to him as you were wrapped around him lovingly. The heat of your bodies, the feeling of his heart beating and the rise and fall of his chest as he heavily breathed through the pleasure… Despite that soon he’d have to leave again these moments are what make it worth it.

"Te amo," his voice was a husky whisper as he held you.

For now, you got to enjoy the warm embrace of your spider. 

===

💙💙💙💙

Thanks so much for reading, let me know if you enjoyed with any comments/reblogs, I appreciate them all!

-Wyv

[npookie0]

A Mind Too Loud. - Angel x depressed g.n.reader

Content warning: depression, possible spoilers for Angel's route. The reader may not be completely inclusive.

Angel helps you during your worse times, while she also has a chance to help herself.

Being you wasn't always as cheerful and fun as you wanted to show it. It was exhausting, you were exhausted.

Struggling with depression didn't help you with your writing or maintaining your relationships, it actually made it all extremely hard, but who would expect anything else? Maybe the people who made it an aesthetic or those who thought that hardships brought people closer and filled them up with inspiration.

But no. What you were going through was even half as inspiring as you wished it was, it was actually a nightmare.

You were rotting in your bed, unable to move unless you absolutely needed to. Your phone somewhere in your bed with a dead battery, your unfinished writings scattered all over the floor, multiple dirty dishes with, or without, food on them piling up on your desk. It all made you even more exhausted, even more unwilling to get up.

And the worst part? You completely cut off your friends and your girlfriend. For a week now you haven't contacted anyone, you slept through your days, just hoped that staying in your bed would help. Surely, if you slept long enough it all would be gone, the exhaustion, the lack of motivation, the unwillingness to contact anyone or their image of you would be ruined.

Did you feel terrible? Yes. You knew that not contacting Angel was wrong, you knew how she was and how her previous relationships were. You knew that, yet you still couldn't bring yourself to do so. Why? You didn't know. Maybe you were too exhausted, or maybe you were scared that seeing you like this would disappoint her.

"Ronin are you sure they live here?" You opened your eyes, hearing someone's voice outside of your front door from your bedroom. It was muffled, but you could tell that it belonged to a woman.

Then followed a few knocks. You weren't in a state for anyone to see you, but you didn't care. You couldn't bring yourself to wash your home, why the hell would you wash yourself? You got out of your bed, trying to figure out if you actually had to open the door. Unfortunately, the person behind your front door wasn't giving up and you didn't really want to make your neighbours angry with you, arguments were too exhausting right now.

You opened the door and being them you saw her. Maria de la Rosa herself. Your girlfriend, a serial killer and a popular model with a channel of her own. She looked beautiful, sweetness laced with teeth of those she killed. You had to blink a few times before you realised that it was Angel. You weren't ready to face her, not now, probably not never.

"Angel. .. I-" You wanted to say something, greet her, but before you could do that, she wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a hug. Holding onto you like she thought she would lose you.

"Angel, are you... Okay?" You asked, your voice was raspy, obviously dry after not drinking or talking for a while now. She didn't reply, just held you tightly until she finally let go and invited herself into your home, closing the door after you entered behind her.

"Y/N... Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, her eyes full of worry. She looked broken, a little bit more than usual that is. The perfection wasn't there, these were her raw emotions.

"Tell you what? Oh...." Oh. So she knows. Well, that saved you some explaining, but also brought up a new one. "How do you know?"

"Ronin wanted to look more into you when you went missing, he was also worried even though he wasn't really showing it.". A weak chuckle left her mouth. "He found your medical records, they really did a shitty job hiding your name, his words not mine." She sighed and looked down at her hands. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You looked away. Shame filling you up. Finally something else than this notorious emptiness.

"I... I didn't want to worry you, to disappoint you." You answered, tone weak, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry Angel." You looked at her.

She took a breath. Took your hands in hers and cupped her face with your hands, leaning into the touch. "Love, you could never disappoint me, not with something like this at least. But, this conversation will wait for a moment when you feel better."

She looked around your hallway, then looked at you again. "You should eat something, I brought lunch." She smiled gently.

Angel was looking at you throughout the whole meal. She felt like she was looking at someone who's dead. You weren't there with her. You looked at your plate, stabbing through your food, eyes emptied of all the energy and motivation, you were obviously exhausted. It broke her heart to see you like this, so different from how you usually were.

It also reminded her of herself, so empty, so deprived of emotions because they were too exhausting.

"Maria?" Your voice brought her back to the moment. Your plate was half empty while hers was still full. "You should eat too."

Right. She should eat. She actually didn't ever since you were gone and she couldn't reach you, worried sick about you. But she should eat now. For herself and for you. If she showed you that she also fought her own battle then maybe you would be willing to fight through your own? Maybe you could win this, return to be more than a moving body without a soul. Maybe with her help this thing would be easier for you?

She wasn't a healer. She could only kill to help her friends, but for you she was willing to try. She was willing to wrap you in her embrace, lay with you in your bed, listen to your problems, and slowly clean your surroundings for you.

She wanted to do all these things, in a way it was helping her. Letting her be a mess, drop the perfect Maria de la Rosa and be just Maria, Maria helping her lover and helping herself.

Helping herself with a mess of her own while you two were fighting your battle.

It felt grounding, seeing the light in your eyes slowly shine again, watching you write and get out of your house. You were alive again. You weren't just a walking corpse too exhausted to show her emotion.

You were alive and it was reassuring.

[atlasventuress]

To be loved ,

Is to be known.

° - After the events of Saw , (in a universe where Adam also survived the bathroom with the help of John Kramer) Adam Stanheight and Lawrence Gordon found themselves frequently meeting up (as a way to kill time or because they missed the others company, neither really knew the answer) , albeit discreetly. Adam suggested an empty alleyway that no one used , Lawrence suggested (and went with) Hotel Barfly.

° - Much to Adam's dismay, he would've liked to smoke a cigarette and witness the beauty that was of Lawrence Gordon. The high would've made him look more ethreal than he already was.

° - Their chats consisted of, "How are you doing?" or "Just checking in." To Lawrence, these meet ups seemed normal. From a doctors perspective, checking in on someone's well-being was a second instinct. It just occurred naturally. He'd save Adam the boredom of oncology. No rebellious, smoking man would want to hear about how he had a follow-up with a patient who’s been in remission for a year after he treated his colorectal cancer.

° - And he'd save Adam the sob story of his divorce from Alison and losing custody of Diana, but it felt nice when Adam would give him a gentle smile and promise it'd work out. Then prepare him some spaghetti to cheer him up. Soon thereafter, Lawrence began looking forward to meeting with Adam every week. (Not just because of Adam's good cooking, which surprised Lawrence too.)

° - But to Adam, this was like being handed a new lens, one that brought the blurry edges of his life into sharp focus. It was new. And it confused Adam at first. What do you mean you can get to know each other... Without sex?

° - Sometimes Adam would get suspicious. This was too good to be true. And the suspicions only rose up once both of them established a relationship. It caught Lawrence off guard, since Adam would do a lot, and then ask him if they could watch a movie together at the end of the day. His concerns only rose up when he and Adam were cleaning, Adam washing the dishes, and Lawrence reached over Adam to grab a cup to fill with water. And Adam flinched. He dropped the plate in his hand, and covered his face with his arms.

° - It seemed like a reflex. And watching Adam scramble to pick up the pieces of what was once a plate, murmuring apologies over and over again, made something inside of Lawrence tick. Adam, the one who would flip off cops ("Adam stop-" "What? It's funny as shit."), worked as Jigsaws personal photographer, often smirking when those victims got put into traps and made crude and sarcastic comments about it, was acting like a feeble child who was afraid.

° - Lawrence had remembered when Adam mentioned his punk vegan ex-girlfriend breaking up with him because she thought he was too angry, and assumed there might've been something that happened between them, but he quickly thought against it. After all, she broke up with him. Then it clicked.

Scott Tibbs.

° - "Yeah, me and Scott were friends for years. He did stab me with a rusty nail on my 8th birthday, but he claimed it was to 'toughen me up', whatever the fuck that means. We got together when we were in high school. Broke up after four years. I still talked to him, but I haven't heard from him in a while. I used to do photoshoots for his shit band. "

° - Lawrence felt that there was something off about that guy. And he never met him. He eventually asked Adam, who brushed off the subject. But Lawrence continued to ask. Adam sat him down one night, and told him the complete story.

° - "When I met Scott, both of us had bad home lives. My deadbeat dad would beat me and my mom up to a pulp, and his mom was an alcoholic who constantly had guys over. I think she was a prostitute. Because of how similar we were, we stuck close. I almost cut him off that one time he stabbed me with a nail. We would vandalize properties, he'd bring his mom's liquor, and I'd sneak my dad's cigarettes. One night, while we were absolutely wasted and on cloud nine, we kissed. Of course we had sex before, but that wasn't.. romantic, you know? When he kissed me, I finally felt what my dumbass mom and shitass dad lacked."

° - "We were together for the entirety of high school. And when we graduated, we both ran away. I mean, who the fuck wants to deal with that shit of a homelife. It wasn't until we were both on our own that he started to change. He would yell, sure, but he never laid a hand on me with the intent of hurting me." ("But he stabbed you with a nail-") "... He became manipulative, emotionally distant, selfish, rude, narcissistic. Even his own friends didn't like him. The beatings became regular, and I'm a twink for fucks sake, and I got used to it. Pretty sure he stuck around for the sex. I mean, that's what he said I was good for. Nothing else. I cut it off. But I could never really cut him out of my life, you know? How can you ghost a guy who's seen you at your worst, after you dad beat you up and you were black and blue. I don't know. "

° - Adam paused. "This is the longest I've ever spoken about my trauma I don't like it." Lawrence would simply chuckle and pull him for a hug. And Adam, for once, didn't push him off after a couple of seconds, but rather let himself go slack in the embrace.

° - The smell of that dad cologne mixed with cinnamon always managed to calm his nerves down. He didn't feel scared to ask for simple things anymore. The trauma that came from his childhood and dating Scott Tibbs that shaped his personality and the way he was soon deteriorated in Lawrence's presence.

° - "To be loved, is to be known. " is what his mom once said. And for years he pondered on that thought. This was love.

° - Who needs trust exercises when you can both just go through similar trauma together?

[www-findringo-com]

From Afar

Yuno Grinberryall x Fem!reader

I'm unsure if i should have a specific banner for my series or my stories in general or if i should change it each time, tell me what you think!

cw - unchecked

Plot: Y/N Hanabi is a commoner who has always hated her fireworks magic even though the townsfolk have always praised her. As she grew up, a woman in her life changed her view completely, making her appreciate and slowly understand her "silly" magic.

Even if she started using her magic more, she had no interest in joining the magic knights, and yet during the elves' reincarnation, she helped save the people of the Clover Kingdom. This resulted in the Sorcery King noticing her and convincing her to join the knights, which, after many rejections, she. In the end. Took on the request and participated in the entrance exam a year after getting her grimoire. Once she joined the Blue Rose Knights, something or more like someone was going to completely change ,what once was, her daily routine.

Previous

Ever since I got my grimoire, it's almost as if life at the hostel got busier. I wouldn't exactly be mad about it because it means we're getting more and more clients, but it also means I have to use my magic all the time! But on the bright side, Serene always visited us and helped out a lot. She was the self-proclaimed Paladin of Justice for us commoners. Soon, she became known in my town, and people always asked me when she was going to be back. What a pain... But deep inside, it made me happy to know people liked my friend

"Y/N, darling, could you please go serve out the dishes?" My mom shouted from across the hall. It did sound like a question but if I even dared to refuse I would have been in trouble. I ran to the kitchen since the guest had been waiting for about twenty minutes. As soon as I opened the kitchen door a nervy comment hit my face: "Look who finally decided to stop sitting on their ass and help out!" My cousin spoke. He was the most annoying guy in the whole universe. And, if we weren't family, I would have already beat him up.

"Yeah yeah I'm here. Now give me those dishes before the guests get mad" I commented back and he gave me a snarky smile before handing me about four plates to bring out.

That afternoon I was sweeping the lobby when a shadow towered over my figure. Right after some water was splashed on the floor I had been cleaning for the past hour. "Whoops~" I turned around to be met by a woman, dressed in noble clothes and with the wrinkliest face I had ever seen. On her ugly wrinkly face sat a smirk as she fake apologized for 'accidentally', spilling her water magic on the floor. I was about to lash out on her due to my terrible customer service. But I was soon stopped by an angry voice at the entrance. "Excuse me, Miss. But who do you think you are?" We both turned around stunned, and I was met by none other than Serene. Paladin of justice for us commoners, I guess. The breath of the noble lady hitched, and she fought back: "And who might you be? Let me guess, a lowly peasant. '' She chuckled and looked at Serene funny. "And what if I am? What does that mean to you? That you're a high-level person but lowly scum in the eyes of righteousness? In a world where you can be better than most and be seen as a beautiful person, you chose to be part of the mass and just follow like a wet dog the orders of someone else? People like you are bland, stale, and boring. You're the reason why this kingdom is fucked up" The lady was left shook and speechless. After a bit she grunted and stormed off, letting Serene a clear path to me.

"How's it going, Y/N? D'ya miss me?" She chuckled and extended her arms as if she expected a hug. I laughed lightly and hugged her : "I really really missed you!" We talked for a bit before my father came up to me. "Oh, Y/N, didn't know you had friends coming over!" He greeted Serene. She shook his hand. They chatted for a few minutes but then he spoke to me: "Y/N why don't you go hang out with your friend for a while? we're not having any rushes right now, so feel free to go!" I thanked him before putting away my uniform and quickly reaching Serene. She put out her hand and as soon as I held it, she ran out the door and we started running through town! "Serene slow down. I'm gonna fall!" I shouted at her, to which she just laughed and brought me closer to her.

"Jump," She whispered to me, and I did. Immediately under us formed a sort of cotton cloud, which she used to make us move even faster. "Where are we going?" I asked as the wind hit my face, making me blink. "To the capital silly." She spoke softly as we flew up into the air, and I took in the look of a huge fortified city with a castle slightly taller than the rest of the city. I was in awe at the sight. It wasn't as picturesque as the one from the grimoire acceptance ceremony, but it was still beautiful. I could tell it was a very busy and packed city, even people in brooms were flying to it! Once we landed, I noticed that the city was even more packed and busy than I expected. People were coming from all over, well, mostly kids our age. Serene brought me to a food stand, and she had me try a fried salamander on a stick. The salamander was crunchy and oddly sweet, and then she made me try roaster purple viper, and it was very dry and stale. I hated it!

After an hour or more of going around, I stopped when a huge tree towered over an arena at the center of the city. Serene took a step back before emitting a shocked sound and putting her hand over her mouth. "Oops- I almost forgot why we're here." And at that point, I looked at her in confusion. Once again, she took my arm, and before running, she whispered and winked to me. "Don't worry, you just gotta be quiet," She ordered as she put a finger over her mouth. Right after we started running and she brought me to an entrance at the back of the arena I noticed a few minutes ago. We walked in, and inside were all the kids our age I had seen a few hours prior. "Serene, what is this?" I questioned her as i followed her steps through the round corridor. "This is the Magic Knights entrance exam!" I let out a confused sound before starting to get nervous. "Can we actually be here? Isn't it supposed to be closed off to the public? What if someone catches us? What if not just someone but a Magic Knight Captain?" I was sweating, not because it was July, but because I was scared. Serene was very Nonchalant about it, as if sneaking to the exam was normal to her. "Oh, don't worry, it's going to be fine!" She stopped and brought her arms on top of the stone fencing, which ensured people from not falling off, and on one hand, she rested her chin. Without thinking, I got right next to her and started watching the exam, and then a light clicked in my head. "Serene, look!" I pointed upwards since they were flying around on brooms. "That's the four leaf guy we met at the acceptance ceremony." She faced towards where i was pointing and chuckled. "Didn't know people could be so good at flying on their first time! He must be a very irritating prick. " I giggled with her. Even though of the annoying personality he showed at the ceremony, i just couldn't help but find something about him... Cool? As if he was acting cool just for me to look at him... Oh god what the fuck that is very desperate of me. Wow.

Serene and I kept chatting and having fun when, how I predicted, someone caught us. "Excuse me." We both worriedly turned around to face the stern and serious voice, only to be met by a golden mask with pom poms at the back. On further inspection, the guy was wearing a cape, and on it was the Golden Dawn's logo. For context the Golden Dawn is like the strongest Magic Knight company in the whole kingdom, being composed mostly of high-level nobles with lots of mana and an extremely overpowered captain. Wait a second... THAT WAS THE CAPTAIN WILLIAM VANGEANCE! I could feel my face go pale, and my legs shivered at the thought of being scolded and insulted by a high-lever knight... Before I could try to explain myself, the captain spoke.

"Your Gracefulness Princess Temima, What are you doing here?”

Huh... Princess... What?

Wait, why is he looking deep in Serene's eyes?

…

IS SERENE A PRINCESS???

I stood there shaking when Serene spoke up. "Who the hell is this Princess Temima cause I have never heard a name so stupid. Are you pranking us, you... Masked buffoon? Either way, now if you don't keep bothering us, my friend and I will go away. Please and thank you." She spoke sternly, almost pissed at him. Then she took my hand and we ran out of there as soon as possible. Once we were out, we were out of breath, and before I could ask anything to Serene, she spoke. "I think It's time I bring you home." Oh yeah, she was mad. I think that Captain really irked something in her. Without objection, I let her bring me home, and ever since then, I didn't see her again.

Timeskip few months

That evening, I was grocery shopping with my mom. Lately, I have been a little more upset than usual, so my family tried to get me out as much as possible. "Y/N dear, could you please go pick these things?" She handed me a small piece of paper, and I went on my merry way. Shopping was boring, I saw these people almost every day, and I did the same things every week. I just couldn't take it anymore. My life had become boring, plain, and stale like a piece of dry bread. I was mad at Serene for not showing up again. Not only that, but the fact she disappeared after someone high-ranked called her princess, which made her even more suspicious. If she really was a princess, why would she need to hide it? She's so lucky to be blessed with nobility and so cool to be royal yet help out commoners and peasants. Also, didn't that Vangeance guy call her Temima? Yet I've always known her as Serene, and I was supposedly her best friend! Ugh, she's so weird and difficult. It took me some time to finish getting the groceries before trying to find my mom. It was getting dark and kind of cold when suddenly the whole market heard something break and people screaming. I started coughing, and when I turned around, there was smoke coming from around the corner. The fire started spreading, and people started running. That's when I noticed that they weren't running away from the fire yet from something... Who could be attacking a common town? Without a second thought, I brought out my grimoire. "Firework Magic: Crossettes of Purity!"

I shouted, and from my hands, I shot 2 fireworks which ended in a cross, hence the name crossette, and the two fireworks collided and landed on whatever was attacking us, leaving it stunned. I then shot fire under my feet to launch me near the spot of the stunned foe. Once I landed, and the smoke went away, I was met with the disgusting and maggot filled rotting body of my old neighbor, an ex magic knight. Before I could do anything, the guy got back up again, and as I took in the look of the decaying corpse, something behind peaked my attention. I moved my eyes slightly only to be met by an army of un-dead people and lots of fire around us.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On!”

And this was the second chapter!!! Sadly, I didn't have much inspiration for this, and maybe even for the next pair of chapters, they might be very, very boring, so please be patient with me! I tried to prep some angst between MC and Serene. i wonder if it'll be good! Let me know what you think and leave suggestions or even writing requests if you enjoy my style! see you next week with the next From Afar chapter!!!

-Ringo

[bullyingfictionalmen]

The Painting That Never Was

Summary: Recently, you've been plagued by dreams of the sea. Of drowning. Of someone saving your life. You can never quite remember what happens in these dreams, much less what they mean. But a certain eccentric painter might know more.

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: mild violence, eventual smut, Rafayel myth and main story/anecdote spoilers

Read on AO3:

You feel it again. The relentless pull of the sea.

It tugs at your clothes, dragging you down and down into its cold embrace. You flail, you struggle. Ropes dig into your wrists and ankles. You yearn for the haze of light above the surface of the water, barely making out the bubbles that escape your mouth and drift away. Your lungs burn. Your eyes sting with saltwater. Your heart pumps frantically in your chest to distribute oxygen you can no longer take in. You are going to die.

Rather, you are going to be sacrificed.

In your panicked delirium, you start hearing things. The soft, airy lilt of a flute. A cynical, melodic laugh. You fight to open your eyes again, and a form seems to glow in the water before you. Sea-glass eyes, shimmering scales, a pale hand that reaches for your cheek. A voice, warm, playful, too clear in your dimming consciousness, demands something.

“Human, shall I spare your life? Then, become my follower. Give me… everything.”

~~

When your eyes snap open, the scene soon fades. Each vivid detail becomes a vague echo, a grain of sand slipping through your fingers. All it leaves you with is a peculiar swirl of emotions: fear, desperation, emptiness, longing. You know this isn’t the first time these images have haunted your dreams because, even though their contents elude you, the feeling you’re left with is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

Your phone pings, bringing reality into sharp focus, and you let out a groan, fumbling for it on your bedside table.

Rafayel: Miss Bodyguard, I need you or I might die

You: ???

Rafayel: a powerful foe has appeared

Rolling out of bed, you compose a text back as you scramble to put on your uniform. You haven’t known Rafayel all that long, know the flighty artist is prone to overexaggerating, but the thought of him in danger wins out against your skepticism.

You: Is it Wanderer? Where are you rn?

Rafayel: at the studio, dun think I can move help

Rafayel: starvation is coming for me

Rafayel: I keep forgetting to eat lol

Rafayel: I need you to fight it off so I can finish my painting

Your stomach drops, your shoulders relax, and you let out a long, annoyed sigh. You debate sending him an angry voice memo and chewing him out for scaring you, but instead, you shoot him back a sticker of a bird rolling its eyes.

You: make ramen or smth good lord

Rafayel: I can’t!! my inspiration will vanish with the steam T-T

You: you can’t finish your painting if you starve, yk?

Rafayel: awwww, are you worried about me, Miss Bodyguard?

You: I take it back, starve

Rafayel: nooooo you have to come over

Rafayel: bring chicken

Rafayel: hurry up

You: Rafayel it’s Thursday. Plus, the metaflux levels are all out of whack recently, I have

Rafayel: a duty to Linkon City

Rafayel: I get it

Rafayel: come after work, then. bring side dishes too

You: I won’t be done til 6, eat before then istg

Rafayel: oop k thx byeeeee

You want to be more annoyed, but you can feel a smile tugging the corners of your lips in spite of yourself. As dramatic as Rafayel can be, you can’t deny that his antics chased away that empty feeling the nightmare brought. Instead, excitement warms your chest. There’s lots of work to be done, but you know can face it.

~~~

“I know we’re swamped, but there’s a civilian in peril in Sector 37. Nearby units?”

Your body moves before your brain can catch up, boots crashing through puddles, uniform soaked through from the driving rain, and you find yourself rattling off your information into the comms without a second thought. You’re mercifully pretty close to the victim’s location—if the fifth call in eight hours could ever qualify as merciful.

The sky above is so dark it could be mistaken for the N109 Zone, only periodically lit by arcing flashes of lightning. Of course, it had to be during a storm that the meta-flux levels went haywire. There’s no scientific evidence suggesting Wanderers prefer to strike on rainy days, but it’s a pet theory of yours. Rafayel’s theory is that you’re just cosmically unlucky. Today, you’re tempted to believe it.

Your usual partner, Xavier, has been off the grid for the past week. It’s not that surprising—he tends to come and go as he pleases—but you do wish his timing was better. You could request backup, but the sheer number of attacks have spread the rest of the Hunter Association’s forces so thin that you wouldn’t dare snag a partner from a less-experienced recruit. That’s why you’re resolved to finish this alone.

The coordinates on your watch lead you to a run-down shopping complex. Most everyone seems to have evacuated, but as you approach, a shriek pierces through the din of the rainfall, sending a shiver shooting up your spine. You draw your gun from its thigh holster, peering through the doorway of a bookshop seconds before a desperate employee scrambles into view, breathing in haggard gasps and clutching his bloodied shoulder. You hear a cacophony of crashing shelves and tumbling books close behind him.

“Get down!” you yell, leaping in front of him and emptying a full magazine into the Wanderer’s chest, stopping it in its tracks. Its body glows an eerie purple, hulking, vaguely feline, with a deadly scorpion’s tail poised above its head. Its eyes sear into yours as it bares its fangs. Your heart thunders in your ears. Your bullets only seem to have made it angrier.

You make a split-second decision to trade your gun for the claymore slung over your back. It’s dangerous to shoot in such close-quarters, and since you can’t tell if the injured man behind you is able to make a run for it, your top priority is keeping the monster away from him. You heft the blade in a wide arc just in time to keep razor-sharp claws from raking across your face. A furious roar tears from the Wanderer’s throat as you draw back, but you steel your nerves, landing strike after strike as you search for weak points in its protocore shield.

You manage to keep the Wanderer at bay with a flurry of quick slashes, dodging its tail and teeth in turn, but you know this can’t last forever. The day’s exhaustion is starting to catch up with you, rendering once-fluid motions stiffer and slower. You barely manage to roll away from a massive paw, but your form is a bit off, and your left shoulder takes the brunt of your fall. Stunned, you can’t pull away in time, and the beast’s claws slice through your pants and into the meat of your thigh. You clench your teeth to keep from screaming, adrenaline surging as you kick the Wanderer’s face with all your might.

It staggers back, and you seize the opportunity to run your claymore straight through its neck. With a hiss, the Wanderer dissipates, its fading cry leaving only the sound of the rain and your heavy breaths. For a moment, you lean against your sword, doubled over, chest heaving, warm blood flowing down your leg. Now that you aren’t in immediate danger, your body begins to register how cold you are, how soggy. Your shoulder throbs, the scratches across your thigh sting and you wince as you stand upright.

“You… saved me. Th-Thank you…”

The trembling voice snaps you out of your reverie, and in a moment, you’re back in work-mode. As worn-out as you feel, it’s your job as a Hunter to make the people of Linkon feel at ease. “Don’t worry. You’re safe, now.” You muster a bright smile, and a flush of red colors the man’s cheeks. Your eyes dart to his shoulder wound, and you don’t waste any time fishing disinfectant and bandages from your first-aid kit. “Hold still, okay? This might hurt a bit.”

The man clenches his fists, but he doesn’t cry out, even as you clean him up and bandage his shoulder with efficient, practiced motions. You can feel him staring at you in awe the whole time, but you don’t mind it. He’s probably still in shock. “You were amazing. I thought I was going to die, but you… were so brave. Like a warrior-goddess.”

You glance up at him after tugging at the final knot, keeping your tone light and airy in spite of the jab of discomfort in your chest. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you to the hospital, yeah?”

You move to let him lean on you for support, but the man takes your hands instead. “Please, let me repay you somehow. I could buy you dinner—”

“If you want to repay me,” your smile doesn’t falter, but you gently pull your hands away, readjusting so he can lean on you, “stay safe and healthy. That will be enough.”

~~~

You intended to drop off the civilian at Akso and head straight back to meet Rafayel, but Zayne happens to catch sight of you in the waiting area and immediately insists that you at least get patched up before you leave.

“It’s not that big a deal, Dr. Zayne, you don’t need to—” you start to grumble, but Zayne’s hazel eyes bore into you with such intensity, and you notice little crystals of ice forming along the edges of his clipboard. Reluctantly, you take a seat on the examination table. “I mean… sure.”

“That’s what I thought.” The doctor lets out a long-suffering sigh. The smell of disinfectant prickles your nose as he tends to your leg. “Now, Miss Hunter, I notice that you treated that civilian’s wounds, but neglected your own. Why?”

You look away, sheepish. “I was running low on supplies. Today’s meta-flux was unusually high, so I’ve been running around all day.”

Zayne’s frown only deepens with this information. “Did you not think to let another team member handle it? Or, perhaps, to call for help if you were injured, instead of dragging yourself all the way here and aggravating your wounds further?”

You bite your bottom lip, eyes falling to your lap. “I’m sorry, Dr. Zayne.”

“I don’t want apologies.” Zayne closes the first-aid kit’s lid loudly. He brings a hand to your shoulder (the uninjured one, luckily) and waits for you to meet his gaze. “I want you to value your life. Please, be more careful. If anything happened to you, I…” He lets the end of his sentence die, and in the heavy silence that follows, you swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“I promise I’ll be more careful.”

Zayne doesn’t smile, but his expression softens. “Based on previous evidence, I don’t know if I should believe you, but I’ll take you at your word this time.”

You chuckle, glancing down at your watch: 7:00 p.m. Shit. You were supposed to meet Rafayel an hour ago.

You rush to his studio as fast as you can. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but the streets are slick, and you’d rather not end up hurt again. The gate is unlocked as usual, and light seeps through the windows. Your phone died earlier in the day, so you have no way of knowing if he remembers you had plans. Your stomach clenches as you ease open the door. Maybe I got lucky and he was hyperfocused on a painting again?

The flicker of hope in your chest is snuffed out when you cross the threshold and catch sight of Rafayel, not perched at his easel, but sprawled out languidly on the couch. His long limbs are draped haphazardly, his head turned aside in prime sulking position. His phone has been tossed to the floor, and he doesn’t acknowledge you at all, even though you’re sure he heard the door close.

You take a deep breath. “Rafayel, I—”

“Still remember my name, I see. That’s a shocker.”

“Listen, I’m sorry.” You kick off your shoes, belatedly realizing that you forgot the chicken, the whole reason for your visit. “I kinda rushed over here. I was—”

“Yeah, yeah. Killing Wanderers, saving Linkon City. You know, you could’ve texted me. The news kept reporting on the severity of the attacks, for all I knew you could have—” Suddenly, Rafayel sniffs the air. He sits up abruptly, and when he catches sight of you, his sour expression morphs into a mask of worry. “What happened to you?”

“I-I’m okay!” You force a grin, but he’s already at your side, his eyes sweeping over your torn and dirtied clothes, your dripping hair, your freshly-applied bandages. “I just got a little careless in my last fight, that’s all.”

“You… How reckless. Aren’t I supposed to be the irresponsible one here?” Rafayel’s hand drifts to your hair, brushing a damp strand from your forehead. Then, feeling how warm your skin is, his palm lingers, checking your temperature.

“Wow, you’re self-aware now?” You let out a giggle, and Rafayel flicks your forehead with a frown. “What, do I feel feverish?”

“No idea.” He huffs, his hand running absently through his hair. “But you should hop in the shower and warm up anyway. Hold on, I’ll find you a towel and some dry clothes.”

“Really? I don’t want to impo—achoo!” You double over, barely managing to sneeze into your elbow. Rafayel lightly steers you toward the bathroom.

“Just accept my generous hospitality, okay, Miss Bodyguard? Turn the faucet toward the wall for cool water, and away from the wall for hot, got it?”

With no room to complain, you wash up gingerly, careful to avoid your gashes and to be gentle with your bruised skin. The hot water is a relief to your cold, clammy body, and you take your time, luxuriating in the familiar smell of Rafayel’s soap. It’s a gentle scent, subtly sweet and salty like an ocean breeze.

Rafayel has left a plush towel, sweatpants and a t-shirt folded on the sink, as well as a pair of fluffy socks. You smile gently at the care he clearly took in selecting everything. Naturally, his clothes are baggy on you, but feel comfortable and safe swathed in the soft fabric.

When you re-enter the studio, Rafayel is perched on the couch, arranging a spread of fried chicken and various sides on the coffee table. “You’re just in time, food’s here.” He smiles at you, and you don’t miss how his eyes linger a bit on the stretched-out collar of the t-shirt before he catches himself and hurriedly glances away, a flush of red blooming on his cheeks. “Dig in.”

“I really am sorry I couldn’t bring this stuff myself,” you plop down, swiping a pair of disposable chopsticks.

“How will you make it up to me?” Rafayel cocks his head cutely, batting his eyelashes.

“Hmmm. Open up,” you pick up the most succulent-looking piece of chicken and hold it toward Rafayel. He gratefully leans toward you to accept it, taking a dainty little bite. His eyes sparkle with approval and he takes the rest from your chopsticks, swiping a thumb over his lips after he’s done. You find yourself spacing out a bit, focused only on how soft and shiny they look.

“Your turn,” Rafayel grins, holding up a bite for you.

“I, uh…” Truthfully, you’ve never been one to let other people feed you. You couldn’t say why, but it usually strikes you as a bit awkward, if not cringey. But Rafayel is looking at you so expectantly, so cutely, even, that your hesitation melts away. You lean in and take the chicken, only realizing how hungry you were as the juicy meat and the crunchy, savory skin seem to melt in your mouth. You eagerly take a second piece for yourself, munching happily. Then another.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Rafayel chuckles as he watches you eat.

“Stop staring,” you complain, turning away from his probing gaze.

“You can’t say that. What if my artist’s eyes are gathering new inspiration? Do you want to be the reason my dreams die?”

“Oh, no! Rest in peace, Rafayel’s chicken-themed painting. We barely new ye, but your premature loss shall forever remain a wound on our hearts. Rafayel, will you say any words in remembrance?”

Rafayel clears his throat. “I’ll only say that the Painting That Never Was represents one of the most harrowing tragedies in this world—a love unfulfilled. I may never again feel such a spark as I did watching my bodyguard enjoying her chicken. It’s a regret I’ll take to my watery grave—”

“Alright, enough of that.” You lightly shove at his shoulder, and Rafayel giggles.

You fall into comfortable chatter as you both enjoy your food and fill your stomachs. Outside, the rain has picked up again. It isn’t long before exhaustion crashes over you, eyelids heavy, breaths slowing and deepening as you lean against Rafayel’s shoulder.

I should probably go home, you decide, but you aren’t even sure if you said it aloud or it’s just a thought surfacing in your sleep-addled brain. I don’t want to impose.

“Sleep, now. You’ve worked hard today.”

Who’s that? Sounds familiar. You can’t really tell, but the voice warms you up like ginger tea as cool fingers glide across your cheek. You nuzzle closer on instinct, letting out a contented sigh. I guess it’s fine.

~~

Once he’s sure you’re asleep, Rafayel’s mischievous mask fades. His expression is solemn, almost dour, as he gathers you in his arms and takes you to his bed. He’s extra-careful as he tucks you in, arranging the pillows and comforter gently and accounting for your injuries. When you are safe and snug, he lets out a long breath, shoulders slumping. He kneels next to the bedside and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get a grip on the emotions roiling in his chest.

It's her job to hunt Wanderers. She can take care of herself. She’s strong, fast, intelligent. She’s not going anywhere this time. Still, she could call me if she’s in trouble…

He raises his head, lets his gaze linger on your peaceful expression as you sleep. Your lips are parted slightly, hair mussed. You look and act exactly as he knew you. Smell the same, too. He knows that you don’t remember anything from back then. To you, he’s just some eccentric weirdo who started clinging to you not long after your first meeting. Part of him hates how selfish he is, daring to get close to you instead of simply protecting you from afar. Rafayel is a wanted man—you would probably be safer if he kept his distance. But he can’t help it. Maybe, it’s his Lemurian sense of loyalty. Or maybe, to his core, he’s always been a selfish being. A being who would damn the whole ocean for the love of a single human girl.

Ping.

Rafayel’s eyes dart to the phone he left in the living room. His stomach wrenches when he reads the notification. It’s from a man known as Sparrow, a contact from The Nest.

Sparrow: We have a tug on the line.

Rafayel: Which bait?

Sparrow: Your little Deepspace Hunter.

Rafayel’s blood goes ice-cold. His eyes drift to the window, as if whoever is currently after you might be lurking outside, huddled to escape the driving rain. He flinches as another notification sounds.

Sparrow: We actually have a few interested parties. Her name keeps appearing along with mentions of the Aether Core.

Rafayel: Don’t waste my time. I need names.

Sparrow: Can do. For a price.

Rafayel: Name it. Just come out with it.

There’s a long silence, and Rafayel curses under his breath. Maybe he showed his desperation too plainly. A rookie mistake. But, then—

Sparrow: Alright. We can get into the gritty details later, but there are three names that come up time and again.

Sparrow: Xander Sciences, the Ever Group, and Onychinus.

[autistichalsin]

I got upset at my mom and came across really passive aggressive. And I didn't mean to, and I regret it. I just... she does this thing that makes me so mad

She brags all the time about how she was such a great mom. But her examples are, for some MYSTERIOUS REASON, only ever things she did for my older brother and sister. She had his friends over all the time and they called her Mom too! She drove him to football! She drove my sister to over 10 orchestra-related events a week until she got so burned out she banned us all from doing any activities that required a ride the next year!

She mysteriously never has any such stories for me.

This time she was going on and on about how she was such a great mom because when my brother was 17 he got his first job washing dishes at a restaurant and she'd drive across town at midnight every night to pick him up from work.

Meanwhile, when I was 18 and wanted to get a job, she told me I was to go to college (and she wouldn't hear any of that "I don't want student loan debt" nonsense because EVERYONE gets loans and I needed to just suck it up.) Despite her always insisting we were welcome as long as we got a job or went to school, she changed her tune for me and me only. She threatened to kick me out if I got a job. I asked if I could stay long enough to save money for my own place, and she snapped no, I couldn't use her like that. So I went to college, when I didn't want to yet, and predictably am in massive amounts of debt that it will take me most of my life to pay off. She would later go on to say she never actually meant it about kicking me out, she just wanted me to "do what I was meant to do" and needed a push to "get my life together." Because getting a job means your life isn't together, apparently.

But she gave my older brother rides from work. So she's a great mom. The best mom ever.

I got really angry when she did this yet again and kind of laughed but made it sound lighthearted. She said back something like "oh you laugh but you know I was a great mom."

So then I just said, well, when I wanted to get a job, you told me you'd kick me out if I did it.

She went quiet and gave this weird guilt trippy non-apology about how she's soooo sorry about what she did but she still feels she was a great mom, she just had some issues when she was drinking.

I feel bad for being passive aggressive about it, but I can't stand when she does this. She wants me to tell me she was a great mother because she was capable of treating her golden children well. And she wants me to judge her based on that and not how I, the scapegoat, was treated.

Like!!! She got drunk and told me she wished she could kill me. You never get to call yourself a good parent again once you do that. Not even if it was only once and you were drunk and you actually WERE good before that (which she really wasn't). And you especially don't get to claim that TO the child you said it to.

She drove my older two siblings to all these things, and then never showed up to a single track meet of mine. When I complained to her about it at the end of the year, she said, "you know, I've heard of 40 year olds who tell their parents it hurt when they didn't do that, but I've never heard of someone complaining while they're still young." She rarely came to any of my orchestra performances unless my sister was also there.

In fact, she asked the whole family to help out with money to send my sister on a music department trip, and then the next year, when I was old enough to do it, said they couldn't ask the family twice because it would be weird, and then told the rest of the family that I only did music because I wanted to be like my sister, guaranteeing none of them actually would think I WANTED to go on the trip so they wouldn't help me. I asked if I could do a program the school offered where I could help out at concessions at the sports events so I could save money to go, and she snapped "they shouldn't be making you work so you can go." So I didn't get to go.

So yeah, if you judge her by how she treated her golden children, she was pretty fucking stellar, I guess. If you judge her by how she treated the forgotten child (my little brother) she was alright. But if you judge her by how she treated me?

And then she fucking wonders why I'm closer to my dad.

God I'm so fucking mad.

[mjonthetrack]

R3

Tamika stepped into the Fatu residence, it

was Saturday around noon, for years Tamika

showed up to meet with Talisua after the

older woman went to church. “My daughter,

you look so beautiful, I’m so happy you’ve

stopped by,” the older woman yelled out

in her native tongue, suddenly Jey was jogging

down the steps from his old room,” Mama

what is it?” Talisua smacked his arm,” act

right, we’ve got a guest, Tamika I wasn’t

sure if you knew Jey is back.” The mother

of the Fatu family was well aware of the

pairs bumping heads and her sons feelings,

considering the young woman a daughter.

Sitting on the island in the kitchen Tamika

avoided his eyes folding her arms, the

man stood eyeing the woman his mom

had called for a guest had come by, when

he saw Tami flaunting her body in some more

tight clothes in his mama house he was

ready to set her straight but the sound of

his mother clearing her throat staring with

the look he recieved growing up, nodding her

head at the direction of the woman sat up

silently. “Hey Mika,” he said picking at his nail

his eyes up at the ceiling find the calmness

he found disappearing when she didn’t respond.

Talisua shook her head swatting at the pair, she

cut a slice of her new cake putting it between

the pair,” you two not leaving this kitchen til

you can learn to act your age and share this

cake, if I come back to arguing ima put my

hands on ya,” the woman said firmly

disappearing down the hall. “Save some for

me damn greedy,” Tamika glared at his side

profile as he had snatched the plate up taking a

big forkful,”nah you wanna come in here like it’s

a club dressed like that you not getting no damn

cake.” The woman laughed incredulously, she

slid off the counter yanking the plate away and

eating the rest of the cake on the plate

slamming the dish in his hands,” what I wear

is my choice, just like you chose to stay away.”

Jey felt his patience diminish at the attitude

in her voice, he had her over her shoulder

heading to his old room throwing her on the

bed,” don’t think cause we in this house

I won’t set you straight with that fucking mouth

of yours what I tell you about that bullshit.”

Tamika rolled her eyes sitting up on the bed

her eyes wandered around the room, it was

like a capsule. Jey watched her carefully,” I

don’t like this new Mika, why you acting so

hard Tami?” Tamika felt angry tears betray her

otherwise calm disposition,” it’s all your fucking

fault Joshua, I wasn’t supposed to get stuck

here by my self!” Jey hummed feeling her

anger at him, he sat down sighing pulling her

close to him he found himself kissing her

forehead,” I’m sorry baby, I couldn’t stay they

was looking for us and we had to flee.” Jey

swallowed his own frustration down rubbing

the woman’s arm,”I didn’t want to leave you,

if it was up to me I would’ve stayed right here,

woulda took you to prom, woulda been by

your side through this all.” Tamika quietly

cried bitterly clinging to him as he spoke she

listened,”I know it don’t change nothing but I

am here now, nothing is gonna take me away

from you this time I promise you baby.” Tamika

lifted her head finding him being serious, she

shook her head,” ion know Jey, I can’t do that

again.” Jey’s warm hand cupped her cheek,”

what do you want me to do Tamika, tell me

and I’ll do it.” She couldn’t believe the words

coming from her mouth,” move in with me, the

house is quiet and it would be good having

someone else around when everyone’s out.”

Jey couldn’t believe what he heard, his eyes

searched hers,” I had some stuff brought here

when we moved back we were just gonna crash

here while figuring out these new roles we

got.” Jey felt her grasp his hand,” please boo

I don’t want to do it alone anymore, I’m tired,”

her uncertain tone broke him down a bit,” you

never have to beg to have me around,” he went

to swoop his duffle bag up,” I didn’t pack much,

we can head that way if ya want, I can stay in

the guest room.” Tamika shook her head, the

woman’s voice was quiet,” I still have the

dreams, their bodies haunt my dreams even

now,” Jey sighed at the woman’s admittance

the night terrors that were the reason she snuck

to him as kids and vice versa were still there

and it hurt him. “What do you want me to

do Tami, it’s your choice,” he opened the door

with the woman following him out not seeing

the mother dip into her room from

eavesdropping. “Can you bunk with me, like

old times?,” the words rang in his brain,”like old

times,”he responded calling out to his moms he

was leaving.

The pair arrived at the Diggs home ignoring

the shocked looks of Zilla, Trin and Jimmy who

were on the couch watching football, Jacob

was in the kitchen fixing some lunch eyeing

the pair curiously,”am I tripping or did the

terror twins just walk in?” Jimmy shook his

head,” it’s real that’s my brother and Mika-,” a

smack from his now girlfriend Trin made him

groan rubbing the back of his head. Trinity

smiled brightly,” it’s about time you two made

up, I was tired of seeing yall sour ass attitudes

like you didn’t both miss each other.” Tamika

shot her friend a look to shut up, the woman

took Jey’s bag to her room making Zilla whistle

lowly,” it’s like that, damn cuz I didn’t think

you’d hit so soon.” Jey’s eyes widened he

smacked his cousin,” shut the fuck up reptar,”

the twin followed the woman up the stairs to

the master suite. “Woah you killed the set up

in the house, it looks great Mika,” he

encouraged checking out the space. Tamika

cursed,” I wasn’t thinking, how are we gonna

run two families out one house.” Jey flopped

down on the huge king bed groaning at how

comfy it was,” this shit nice as fuck, and don’t

worry about that, we cross bridges as they

come, don’t be stressing baby, you know I

told you I got you, there’s no more balancing

this shit on your own, let me lead and help

you with your load.” Tamika swatted at him,”

boy get up, no outside clothes on my duvet!” Jey laughed at the expression shift to shock

as he removed his shirt tossing it then his

sweats, plopping back down on the bed he

tucked an arm behind his head then started

working the tv remote as if he hadn’t seen her

eye fucking his tattooed body, something that

stroked his ego in the right way. Tamika

felt her cheeks heat at the sight of his

carved abs and the way his tattoos looked on

his warm skin, she felt herself moisten the

thoughts she began to have confused her, this

was hey child hood friend the fuck was wrong

with her. “You still skinny,” she said matter of

factly lightening the tension making Jey

grin, he patted his abs,” what would you

prefer me to be fat?” Tamika moved to

sit by his side not stopping her intrusive

thoughts that led her fingers to trace the

outlines of his tattoos, the action had Jey

shiver trying to imagine horror movies to

avoid the hardening from his boxers. His hand

grasped her wandering one kissing her palm

wordlessly, then patting his chest the woman

adjusted herself to lay her head over his chest

listening to his heart feeling a forgotten

sense of ease. Jey took a pic of them to her

ignorance setting it as his Home Screen he

smirked,” suck my dick East,” he grumbled to

himself pleased with the way things were

going. It wasn’t thirty minutes later her bedroom

door flung open,”T, we gotta go it’s Zilla - he’s

been shot,” Jacob alerted the woman who’s

guard immediately went up and shot up shoving

a glock in her waist band, Jey stood,”that’s my

fucking cousin, what happened?!,” Jacob shook

his head,” we don’t have time, he’s at central

getting seen but we got eyes on the car who did

it.” Tamika shook her head,” I don’t understand

he was just here what happened?” Jacob

frustratingly sighed a gun in his waistband and

blood on his basketball jersey,” we ain’t got

time T come on!” Jey was already stepping,” if

you know who did it let me in that’s family Uce,”

Jacob nodded his head to Tamika’s surprise.

The trio was out the door once Talisua

messaged she was at the hospital for Zilla,

for them to get the lick back.

“It was a blue classic, green rims,” the

sound of the voice from the other end made

the woman go rigid,”there’s got to be some

sort of mistake, check again?!.” Jacob growled

out,”I’m not fucking blind T it was ya boys

car that had my bullets in the tail lights.” Jey

sat up hearing Tamika standing in her bathroom

talking to what sounded like his cousin,”Ayo

what’s wrong Uce?” The phone hung up and Jey

answered his phone, Tamika was already out

the bathroom looking uneasy,”Jey- it can’t be

right.” Jey’s tongue prodded the inside of

his cheek and a dark chuckle escaped,”yeah Uce

you got it, bring him to me.” “He wouldn’t-,” Jey

whirled around,” why the fuck are you still

tryna side for that dude, his car was the one

responsible for my cousin getting shot, and

I know you not tryna call Jacob no liar

he saw what happened, if he confesses to

shooting my blood I’m gone scrap him.” Tamika felt hot tears in her eye not sure

what to think, East was her boy, there’s no

way he would do this, would he ? Jey gripped

her jawline,” You better not be fucking crying

Mika, I swear to god you fuck on a dude a

few times and this is what happens?!” Jey’s

head swings to the side as the sting of her

hand on his cheek. Seeing the woman standing

in the door way he growls,” get out of my way

Tamika,” the woman stepped to the side

watching her old best friend storm down the

stairs.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

You Cannot Run From Your Past

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. a/n:this is a mafia au! so there will be a LOT of violence, MINORS DNI, this is part one of the series, the rest will be linked once posted warnings:mentions of wounds, blood, murder, gore, smut(MAJOR smut) word count:4.5k

Everyone knew who the 141 were, some of the most feared men on this side of the Atlantic. No one with even a single braincell knew to fuck with them. Their leader, Price, had killed men for less than what you were currently kneeling for. You’d gotten caught trying to steal money from one of the henchmen. Your boyfriend had kicked you out of the apartment, after finding out he’d been cheating of course, and now you were homeless. It was either steal from the, what you assumed was dumb, henchman or go hungry for another week until someone took pity on you. So here you were, kneeling before a man who wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet between your brows.

“Did you really think he wouldn’t notice?” Price was more annoyed than truly angry, he felt some sort of sympathy towards you.

“I thought if I was quick enough he wouldn’t, no.” You were ashamed to admit you thought you could get away with your plan.

“Why were you trying to pickpocket anyway?” Price sat on the edge of his desk, staring down at you.

“Boyfriend, ex boyfriend, kicked me out and I’ve been living on the street for the last couple of months. Got desperate if I’m gonna be honest.” You hadn’t lived in England that long, having moved over from Massachusetts earlier in the year to live with your boyfriend.

God you had felt like such a moron, he’d lured you over with the promise of being able to take care of you, only to dump you out onto the street like trash. Of course he’d at least given the courtesy of telling you about Price and his men first, and yet here you were.

“Soap, take her and get her something to eat, I want to have a chat with the ex.” Your brow furrowed, why the hell did he want to talk with Eric anyway?

A man walked over, the strip of hair down the middle of his skull was slicked down yet looked almost fluffy. He helped you up gently, taking you down to the kitchen where a chef was cooking up something delicious. Your stomach grumbled loudly, leaving you embarrassed as everyone’s heads turned to stare at you. It really had been too long since you’d had a decent meal, not counting the scraps that the cook had given you a few days ago.

“Have a seat lass, eat as much as you’d like.” His voice wasn’t condescending and that you were grateful for, people could be so cruel to the homeless.

The chef dished up a heaping plate of what looked like spaghetti bolognese, the scent of roasted garlic and tomato filled the air. Your mouth was salivating within seconds, but before you could pull the plate closer the chef was sliding a heft piece of cheesy garlic bread on top. Oh my, you had definitely died and gone to heaven if this was going to be the case. You picked up your fork and slid the plate closer. The steam rising from the sauce caused a slight bead of sweat to rise along your browline. You couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away as you dug in, knowing better than to eat as fast as you could lest you get sick.

The flavours burst over your tongue like fireworks, this was definitely the best bowl of pasta you’d ever eaten. You swallowed the forkful you’d just eaten before biting into the garlic bread, nearly moaning at the salty bite of the cheese. This was how Price got to eat on the daily? God you would give anything just to eat like this at least once a month. Half the plate was gone before you came up for a breath, wiping your mouth with the napkin Soap had left by you.

“Would you like some water?” The chef was holding out a glass, his hands now clean that you noticed.

“Oh thank you so much.” You took the glass grateful, gulping down the water until there was nothing left.

You set the glass down next to your napkin, digging in once more to the amazing pasta. Maybe he was letting you eat one final meal before he killed you, there were worse ways to go. At this rate you weren’t going to complain, not since this was the first decent meal you’d had in forever. On the other side of town, you were completely unaware that Price had located your ex Eric and was paying him a personal visit.

Knuckles collided with the skin on his cheek, blood pouring from the wound opened by the ring on Price’s pinky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eric could barely lift his head, words slurred as his vision blurred.

“Do you really think I’m that naive? You worked for me, and yet your little friend is trying to steal from one of my men to get herself some food.” Price was beyond enraged, Eric was one of the lower henchmen, someone to clean up his dirty work mainly.

“Fuck, she’s still alive?” Eric screamed in pain as a blade dug into the skin and muscle of his shoulder.

Simon was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Price take care of a mistake he’d made. Though no one but Soap, Gaz, and Price were ever allowed to call him Simon, most people who bore witness to him as Ghost. He was the silent killer, slipping into someone’s apartment with ease and slipping out without leaving a trace behind. He’d had nearly as big a reputation as Price himself, for different reasons of course.

“Yes, she’s still alive, however since I’ve come to find out you’ve been stealing money from me you won’t be around to see any of it.” Eric’s eyes widened in fear, lips parted to beg and plea as Price pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was partially muffled, no one would call the police until Price and Simon had fled the scene, giving him ample time to make it home with an alibi. He began to wonder how you were doing, had you been able to eat and take a shower? Maybe you took a bath and soaked in one of the large tubs he had. It was the least he could do, the only thing Price never did was murder women or children, it was against his code. He’d heard about someone else who took anyone down that crossed their path, he refused to be like that.

Goddamn American’s.

“Make sure all our fingerprints are gone before tonight.” Price didn’t wait to see if Simon listened or not before heading down to his car. 

His driver was waiting behind the wheel, nodding when Price muttered the word ‘home’. He hadn’t planned on getting messy today, but sometimes things happened that he couldn’t control. It would be less paperwork in the long run, he’d just transfer the money from Eric’s account to one for you. Maybe he could get Kyle to do it, he’d been itching to do something for the last few weeks anyhow.

“We’ve arrived sir.” Alex pulled the car into the garage, knowing better than to open the door for Price.

“Thank you, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? If I need your assistance I’ll call.” Price slipped out of the back of the car and headed inside to look for you.

The sound of two people arguing caught his attention, he could make out Soap’s voice right away, but the other wasn’t one he was quite familiar with. As he turned the corner the picture before him nearly had him laughing. You were standing across from Soap, freshly showered in what looked to be a pair of Soap’s pajamas, arguing about desserts.

“Brownies are clearly the superior choice! You just have horrible taste!” Soap scoffed, rolling his eyes at your bratty attitude.

“Tha’s a lie!” Soap was ready to argue his point on why the chocolate chip cookies were better.

“That’s because you have horrible taste! Even the chef agrees the brownies were better.” You refused to back down, ignoring the way Soap’s chest was heaving.

Price had stopped in the doorway, snickering at the way the two of you were acting like complete children. It was a nice change of pace, and with how his night had gone it was a pleasant surprise to come back to.

“You’re back! I just wanted you to know that your chef is amazing and makes some of the best bolognese I’ve ever had before.” Your stomach was still full, slightly aching with everything you’d eaten.

“Glad to know the food was up to your standards, you settling in alright?” Price kept his hands hidden, knowing his knuckles were bloody and bruised.

“I am, I honestly don’t even know how to thank you for everything.” You were afraid he would still kill you, especially since you’d spent the last hour arguing with his henchman Soap.

He brushed you off, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry about repaying him right then, he could find a way for you to work for him if needed. Maybe you could do the finances, it was an easy enough job for you to do, it would keep you housed and fed as well. You were quite attractive as well, he could take you to any fancy party as his arm candy.

“How well are you with money?” It sounded like such an odd question.

“I worked in finance in the US, so I’m decent.” You didn’t want to say who your employer used to be, lest it cost your life.

“Perfect, you’ll work for me, if that’s alright.” Price raised a brow questioningly.

Your jaw dropped open, nodding quickly to confirm that yes, you would absolutely be alright working for him. It would get you off the streets at least, though working for someone so dangerous was nothing new to you. Maybe you could get an apartment nearby, something that wasn’t infested with termites like your ex's place.

“We’ll get you started tomorrow, the first matter of business is taking you shopping so you can look presentable for meetings.” Wait, you weren’t going to have to be around him 24/7, were you?

“I’m sorry sir, I’d be going to meetings with you?” For some reason the thought unnerved you, what if things backfired and you ended up dead this time?

“Yes, is that going to be a problem?” Price turned to face you, brow raised slightly.

“No, not at all sir.” It was time to keep your mouth shut and do whatever was told, Price was a very dangerous man.

You only had a couple minutes to prepare before Price, along with Soap, were dragging you out to one of the many cars that sat in his garage. Soap would be driving wherever you wanted to go, money not an issue to make sure you would look flawless. Designers were a waste of money, sure having the logo would make heads turn, but thousands for a piece of cloth? Ridiculous.

Price insisted you buy things that at least looked professional, since you seemed to be so against letting him purchase things for you. Soap even tried to interject and get you to agree with Price’s demands, saying it was better not to argue. You wanted to stand your ground and refuse, until you caught sight of a gorgeous dress. There’d be no reason to wear it, but by god did you need to have it at that moment. So you relinquished and gave permission to price to choose things for you, as long as you could get that dress.

He agreed happily, choosing things and letting you find your size so as not to make you uncomfortable. It was nice, knowing that you would be able to get all these new clothes without the stipulation you would need to sleep with him. Your ex would constantly hold gifts and such over your head so you would sleep with him. And yet he’d still had the nerve to cheat and throw you out.

“Awfully quiet sweetheart.” Price turned his head to face you, noticing the way your brow had furrowed.

“Just thinking about the past is all.” You merely shrugged, there was no use in being upset over things you couldn’t change, but it still stung.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” Price had turned to face you fully, attention focused on everything you had to say.

The words turned to ash in your mouth, could you tell him the truth about the type of person you were? How you’d helped someone murder so many innocent people that dared cross his path just by simply existing?

“Do you want the basic rundown, or all the nitty gritty?” You had only ever told one person about your childhood, you’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Everything, spare no detail.” Oh, well this was going to be a long day.

The words slipped out with ease, telling Price everything, from how your father was physically abusive, to how your mother tried to use you for her own benefit. You had run away at fifteen, working odd jobs before you met your old boss at eighteen. He kept you housed, fed, and clothed from when you turned eighteen to a few months shy of when you left entirely. You’d seen things most people who’d gone off to war never dealt with. It was a horrible reminder of how much you’d had to give up just to survive.

“You worked for someone else, someone important..who.” Though it was a question, Price knew exactly who you’d worked for.

“James Barnes, sir.” Your heart was racing, no one except for James, and his right hand woman, Natasha, knew about you.

Price’s expression darkened, causing your heart rate to spike suddenly as you realized how badly you’d fucked up. Would this be the end for you? Having admitted to working for what was essentially his rival?

“How long?” Price could use any information you had on the other man, especially if it meant getting ahead.

“Over ten years, took me in when I was barely eighteen.” It was the truth, you’d basically grown up alongside James.

“And you don’t by any chance know some things that could be useful to me?” It was a loaded question, do you tell him how James had a son he cared so much about. Or how his best friend for over twenty years had cut off all contact after he’d heard of what became of him?

“I’ll tell you everything over dinner.” It was a proposition. You give him information, he gives you anything you could ever ask for.

Soap smirked to himself, pulling down the long road that led to Price’s luxurious home. You would fit in quite nicely with everyone.

Price had everything brought to your room, the closets stuffed full of all your new clothes, shoes, and even the few accessories you picked out. It was nice, knowing you were going to be alright as long as you didn’t step on anyone’s toes. As you made your way down to the kitchen you noticed someone else talking to Price. He was big, arms large enough to crush your skull(though you’d probably thank him). Something about him seemed so familiar though, as if you’d run into him many times before.

“Ready to eat?” Price turned away from the stranger, gesturing to the expansive table.

“I am, thank you so much for all of this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”  You walked over and sat down, if the food was even half as good that lunch was, you would die happy.

Soap and another man you’d never met before walked into the kitchen, taking their own seats alongside the newcomer. The chef brought out the first course, a delicate butternut squash soup with crusty pieces of bread to dop. You nearly moaned at how silky the soup was, making sure not to slurp and disturb anyone else. The bread had a slight bite to it, the crust just hard enough to soak in the buttery goodness without becoming soggy.

“So, what can you tell me?” Price had finished his soup, sipping on the glass of bourbon that had been brought out along with his food.

“James is someone that’s highly feared in most of the states, word spreads like wildfire and they’re all too afraid to say anything bad about him.” You took another bite of the bread, taking a moment to collect your emotions.

“His best friend Steve hasn’t spoken to him since they were teens, he’d found out about James joining the mafia and just disappeared one day.” You’d witnessed the way Steve had torn the other man apart, it was gut wrenching to watch.

You felt bad for James at that moment, he no longer had his family, and now the one person he could rely on was gone as well. Natasha was the closest thing he had to family anymore, and last you knew they were still friends. 

“He has a son, named after himself of course, goes by JJ. Last I knew his son was nearly thirteen and was living solely with his dad.” You sighed softly, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Surprised he had the time to knock someone up.” Soap mumbled into his food, ignoring everything else entirely.

“Johnny, what did we talk about?” Price stared at the other man like a disappointed father.

“No talking shit at dinner.” Soap, or was it Johnny?

You tried to hide your smile, a soft giggle slipping through as you finished your bowl of soup. Soap looked affronted, how dare you laugh at him being scolded by Price as if he was a child, very uncool.

“Before we continue with our conversation, I’d like to introduce Gaz, and Simon.” Price gestured to the two men sitting across from you.

You were shocked that someone as stunning as Gaz was working for him and not as a runway model, he could bring people to tears with his beauty. Simon wasn’t glaring at you per se, more like he was trying to decipher you. There was something about him that made you want to stare back, but you thought better of it and focused your attention back onto Price.

“Nice to meet you both, I met Soap earlier and his horrible taste in snacks.” Gaz couldn’t help but laugh at your statement.

“Thank you! He’s always had the worst taste imaginable.” Gaz was definitely going to become a good friend, you could sense it.

“Shut up!” Soap threw his hands up, arms crossing over his chest with a huff.

“You do mate, it’s all out of love.” Gaz slapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing when Soap rolled his eyes.

The chef brought out the entree before anymore conversation could continue, a beautifully seared filet mignon with roasted fingerling potatoes and caramelized carrots. You wanted to dig in almost instantly, waiting until everyone had their plates before slicing into the meat. It melted like butter on your tongue, washing over your taste buds as if it were made by god himself. 

“Alright, as I was saying earlier about James. He’s a very paranoid man, comes with the territory when you’ve slaughtered as many people as he has. So unless you have a reason to do business with him you won’t be able to get close. I’ve watched him murder a man for less before, and that’s the last thing I want to see ever again.” You cut apart one of the potatoes, popping the half into your mouth.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I need to take care of him, we need someone on the inside.” Price had a point, but James would see it coming a million miles away.

“Partially, but James would see that coming a mile away. You want someone he’s close with, a loved one, or a best friend that knows his every move and can get you the information.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not noticing the way all eyes were suddenly on you.

“And, do you know someone that could do this?” Price was asking something dangerous, sure you knew plenty of people that could, and had reason to kill James, but none of them were willing.

“The only man that would ever want to take him out would be Tony Stark, man’s had it out for him since he found out James had his parents murdered.” It had been the final straw that sent you packing.

“Hmm, I’ll have to give him a look see later.” Price dug into his own food, ignoring the way Simon seemed to still be staring at you.

“He’s a dangerous man, nearly had me killed just for walking on his property one day.” You rolled your eyes, stabbing your potato with more force than necessary.

Simon raised a brow, watching how you seemed to become annoyed at even mentioning Tony’s name. Whoever this man was clearly had a vendetta against you, and you as well for him.  That’s how this type of world worked, you were either with or against the people you considered the villains. You seemed to fit in so well that Simon couldn’t be bothered to second guess any of it, not when Price welcomed you in with open arms.

“Have to be precautious, comes with the territory darling.” Price merely shrugged, he’d always kept one eye open no matter what, but some people were just paranoid.

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t make my life any easier when I was trying to get out of New York though, I swear James has men everywhere.” You’d almost been caught twice before finally boarding the plane to safety.

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. This was definitely a dream, you were going to wake up in the morning and find yourself under that bridge with everyone else. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream only to wake up to reality. Though it usually landed you back in the US and not over in London.

“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me, goodnight.” Price nodded towards everyone before leaving the table.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to head to bed or not, after the day you’d had your body was begging for sleep. Soap’s clothes, while a little oversized, were definitely going to be comfortable enough to sleep in. Gaz immediately pulled Soap into a conversation, discussing something that sounded like an entirely different language to you at that moment. You gave Simon a quick nod before leaving the table and heading up to your new room. The only light was from the moon, illuminating the room in a soft ethereal glow.

Throwing back the covers on the mattress you crawled into the plush bed, groaning softly at how soft the comforter was. It felt as if you were laying on a cloud, even with the crisp air the blankets were just warm enough to keep you comfortable. Your eyes slipped closed before you could even try and fight them, slipping into dreamland.

Downstairs Soap, Gaz, and Simon were all sitting around the table. Soap had tried to pull Simon into the conversation only to be shot down immediately. Simon couldn’t explain it, but something about you drew him in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way, always pushing away the prospect of dating as if it was a deadly disease. Soap would catch on to his sudden fixation on you, man was like a bloodhound when it came to women. The very last thing that Simon wanted, or needed, was Soap getting on his ass about you. He couldn’t get a proper read on you, there was something you weren’t telling everyone. And Simon was determined to find out every tiny thing.

Meanwhile in New York

James was angry, nearly panting as he paced the foyer of his penthouse. How the hell had you managed to slip through his fingers so easily? He’d had eyes on you for so long, and yet you’d managed to get to fucking England. Natasha had been the one to break the news to him, stance stoic as the words sunk into his bones. You were gone, and now there was a high chance that you’d managed to get yourself killed. James knew all about Price and his little minions, the fucker was slowly taking control of more countries.

“We need to locate her, now.” James kept his back to Natasha, the only person he ever trusted.

“I’ve reached out to my informants, they’re scouring every nook and cranny to find her. Last we knew her boyfriend was killed.” Shit, if they’d gotten to someone you were dating, you were definitely next.

“You mean that little shit convinced her to leave, and someone got to him before me?” James’ tone was deadly, venom lacing each word.

“It appears so, they’re claiming his death was a suicide, but the autopsy showed facial wounds caused by something small but sharp.” Natasha had seen the photos, it was pretty clear what had caused the superficial wounds.

He sighed softly, stepping away from the floor to ceiling windows to fully face Natasha who was watching him closely. James was the type of man to take out anyone that stood in his way of something he wanted. She could never figure out why James seemed to be so infatuated with you when you’d never shown any interest. You were friendly with him of course, but there had never been romantic feelings. Had he been trying to replace Steve’s friendship with you? It was the only thing that made any sense.

“Why don’t we make a quick little trip across the pond, there’s some people I’ve needed to visit anyway.” James smirked, reaching up to slick back his hair gently.

“I’ll call Scott and make sure the plane is ready in the morning.” Natasha turned away from him, pulling out her phone to make a quick call.

Who in the world did James know that lived over in England? The last she’d heard about that was when she’d had someone killed in their apartment for stealing money. Her phone pinged with a new message, a name she’d never expected to see again flashing before her.

Steve Rogers: We need to talk.

[noffy96]

Eclipse X Servant Sun New Fic

This pairing has me in a grip, so I wrote more for it. Enjoy more of them

Explosions, Rays, and Traumas

Chapter 1

Word count: 7,888

Status: complete

Summary:

“Y-you’re Hurt”,

He reiterated and reached his hand out carefully, before thinking better of it and tapping the side of his own cheek. “There seems to be…metal?...glass? A lot of small pieces stuck in your faceplate here…It left scratches”

Eclipse's eyes furrowed and carefully raised his hand to his cheek, and then pulled it away as he likely felt it prick against his fingers.

“Fuck…of fucking course…It’s fine…”

The last part was muttered, before letting out a loud sigh. Eclipse looked tired…really tired

or

After one of Eclipse's projects explodes in the lab, Cygni helps Eclipse out with the scarp that buried itself in his casing because of it.

Read it on AO3

or read down below

There was a sudden loud bang that rang throughout the entire bunker. Followed right after by a colourful string of curses.

For a few seconds, he stood there frozen by the sink. The brush he had been using for the dishes had fallen from his hand into the soapy water below.

The volume of the curses lowered till all he could hear was angry crumbling. He stood there still as a board waiting for the angry footfalls of the Eclipse Model to reach him any second now. Ready for the punishment that was sure to follow.

But as the grumbling stayed away he finally dared to drag air across his fans again. He let his hidden claws come out picking at the paint on his arm casing, far enough up for his sleeves to cover. It took several more seconds to realise that the angry shouting he had heard hadn’t been his Lord.

He hadn’t been back there for a long time, and this Eclipse didn’t take his anger out on him anyway. This was the person that had saved him. Taken him out of that dingy cell away from his former Lord. Who had slowly but surely been teaching him ways to get his autonomy back.

He let out a soft grumble of his own. He had been doing better lately, but then again. That explosion had been loud as well as the swearing.

… wait…

That had been an explosion!

As the realisation hit him that Eclipse could have been hurt, he took off in a sprint to the other side of the bunker. Pistons hammering loudly in his chest with his steps. He wasn’t sure which thought was scarier. Finding the eclipse model hurt on the ground, or angry with him.

But if he had been hurt?! He was not gonna do nothing! The doorway was in sight and called out

“S-sir?! Eclipse?! Sir! Are- Are you alri-alright?!”

He came to a stop as he saw him. An angry scowl on his lips, and there was soot on the red part of his face and chest. Something was smoking on the other side of the room. Spare parts, pieces of plastic and glass, as well as dust were scattered everywhere near the workbench.

Eclipse threw whatever he was holding into the garbage with so much force the can shook. Then the angry eyes snapped to him and he felt frozen once more

“Of fucking course not! “

His rays shrunk into his head as he heard the angry rattling of Eclipse’s rays Bracing himself, gaze snapping to the floor, but enough to still see the other's belled slippers.

“Yes Lord”

His answer was immediate and without much conscious input. The angry rattling stopped in an instant. Eclipse's legs turned to face him more fully. But no more shouts came, he dared a look.

Surprised to find the anger gone…like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on a flame. There were still embers…but…they looked more annoyed, there was still a form of anger as well. But…different.

His rays slowly extended as he raised his head again. The other's gaze looked far away like he was thinking. He took another quick scan around the room. Whatever Eclipse had been working on had obviously exploded. In his face even.

He had been working on the contraption for the last few weeks. From what he understood it had been a drone of sorts to monitor around the bunker with. But whatever he had been doing…well

Plastic and metal bits were coating the floor, he thought about suggesting maybe helping him clean it up. That was until he had a better look of the taller bots faceplate.

Some of the black soot was now smeared, but he could now clearly see the thin white scratches on his face along with something else. He took a step closer, eyes zooming in, there were a lot of tiny bits of metal and glass wedged in his casing. IT was a surprise his optics hadn’t cracked.

“You’re hurt”

Eclipse faceplate snapped back to face him again. His gaze was full of surprise, so he took another step towards him.

“I…what?”

He grew more concerned at the question. Had...had the explosion knocked something loose? Was he having problems processing stuff?!

“Y-you’re Hurt”,

He reiterated and reached his hand out carefully, before thinking better of it and tapping the side of his own cheek.

“There seems to be…metal?...glass? A lot of small pieces stuck in your faceplate here…It left scratches”

Eclipse's eyes furrowed and carefully raised his hand to his cheek, and then pulled it away as he likely felt it prick against his fingers.

“Fuck…of fucking course…It’s fine…”

The last part was muttered, before letting out a loud sigh. Eclipse looked tired…really tired. The other had been taking his dinner to the lab for the last few days. He wasn’t even sure if had slept. He had intended to ask about it tonight and see if he could convince him to take some downtime. He wanted to spend the night reading something together again. Or maybe even continue teaching him the basics of mechanics

His eyes scanned over the mess then back to Eclipse, whose gaze turned sour as he also scanned the room. He needed a break…maybe even a bath. He hadn’t seen the other so tense in a long while. The trash stuck in his casing, as tiny as they were, also worried him.

“I could…try and fix that, for you…”

Eclipse's yellow eyes rolled to face him again, it reminded him of when his lord was suspicious of him. It took everything in him not to backtrack his offer. Instead of trying to explain himself

“Y-you’d have to use a mirr-or to remove everything that's stuck in y-your faceplate. T-the bathroom light isn’t that bright, so using the mirror there might be d-difficult?…and I am pretty precise…And I think we could f-fix the scratches with a b-buffer? If I remember our reading”

His hands clasped the opposite arm's wrists. Surprised to find them bare but then he realised that he had been doing the dishes. He wanted to tug on his sleeves to cover them so he could hide the paint he had peeled off, or worse, pick at it some more.

Eclipse's eyes went up and down him before looking across the lab once more, face set into a scowl.

“Fine…gotta re-calibrate anyway”

He tried to not let his eyes widen, he didn’t think he would agree. He had a whole routine he had to do normally to get him to take a break. So that he just…folded. It was surprising.

“Where do you wanna do this?”

“Living room, or your room? The lighting there is the best second to here…but I think if I stayed in the lab, I won’t be able to stop my programming from trying to clean everything.”

The cleaning protocol he inherited was one of the hardest ones to break. Likely because it was a combination of his base programming as a daycare bot, even as he has seemed to have lost most childcare protocols over his long life. As well as his lifelong instructions to keep the lord’s castle in pristine condition.

He still wasn’t sure that he liked to keep things clean for his own sake, or that it had simply become a compulsion at this point.

“I-i’ll grab the tools we need. “

He hurried out the door so that hopefully Eclipse wouldn't go back on his word. He moved quickly but silently to the bathroom. As he searched for some tweezers he caught his face in the mirror.

He saw his own fear staring back at him, and he took a moment to just. Breath. Relax his shoulders, refresh his optics. Let air rush through his vents.

There was no danger. Eclipse wasn't hurt and broken on the ground. Thank god. He didn't know if he could forgive himself if Eclipse had needed him and he had been too busy panicking to help.

Also, Eclipse wasn't angry. Well, he was, just not at him. He paused, Eclipse had fallen quiet after he had yelled.

He stares at his own reflection, trying to wrap his head around it. Warring with his instincts that he expected from when his lord used to get angry and his experiences with Eclipse

He shook his head, introspection could wait, he had to help his ….

He had to help Eclipse, finally finding the tweezers he grabbed everything else and went to the living room. Expecting to find him there. But it was empty

He shilved his head around wondering where he’d be.

“Over here, Cygni”

Eclipse's tired voice drifted from the hall, his hands tightened in what he was holding. Well…he had said his room.

He made his way to the open door of Eclipse's bedroom and peeked inside. Eclipse often left his door open when he wasn't in it.

Eclipse had made it very clear when he first started living here. Both their bedrooms were for their own space. That neither of them was supposed to come into each other's rooms without express permission. Unless it was a matter of safety.

That didn't mean he hadn't been in here. But usually didn't linger, but one thing he always thought was that it was surprisingly empty.

There was only a bed, and a desk with a chair that held a PC he had heard Eclipse play an occasional game on. A simple nightstand and one shelf with a couple of books next to the door. On it was also an unused table lamp that had probably been on the nightstand before, standing next to the books.

He assumed most of Eclipse's more personal stuff was actually in his lab.

But it wasn't completely empty, he glanced at the nightstand. He felt a smile tugging at his mouth just as the first time he saw it. There was an unfinished knit-work lying there. Next to it was the friendship bracelet he knew Earth had made him.

It had been a while since he had seen him wear it. But then again he usually didn't if he had to work in the lab, which had been doing a lot recently.

He glanced at Eclipse who was sitting on the bed eyeing him as he placed his stuff on the free space on the desk.

“Got everything?”

He nodded, turning around to face him. Now that the fear had passed somewhat. Eclipse looked even more tired than he had in the lab. It was subtle. Yet he could tell, he was slouching just ever so slightly. There was also a little movement in his normally still rays, telling him he was either too tired to notice or bother with keeping the movement set locked.

“Actually, I think we need some water and soap. I’ll be right back”

He swore he could hear a fond-sounding snort of sorts when he left. But that must be a trick of his mind.

Grabbing a bowl and cleaning cloth. He drained the water in the sink from his early dishwashing. Taking the extra moment to calm down AGAIN. Because this was not going as he expected.

He filled the bowl quickly with warm water and a bit of soap, before returning to Eclipse’s room.

The slightly taller animatronic had gotten up, dragged the chair closer to the bed, and placed the tools he brought on top. Knit-work, having moved from the nightstand to the desk.

“You can place it there”

Eclipse pointed to the now empty nightstand.

“I assume you needed me to be beneath one of the lights,”

Eclipse said as he sat back down on the bed right under one of the brightest lights. He nodded and carefully put the bowl down.

“Ideally yes. Just get comfortable”

He fought against a stutter that had wanted to come out. He put the cloth in the water and then wrung it out.

Eclipse eyed him as he came closer. With their tall lanky forms, even sitting on the bed. Eclipse's faceplate was about eye level with his chest.

it felt strange looking down at him. Eclipse looked almost bored. It didn't escape his notice that Eclipse's fingers held the blankets in a tight grip and he decided to hurry up.

So trying not to delay anything. He brought his hand to the bottom of Eclipse’s faceplate. Barely touching it and asking

“Could you just tilt? Ah yes. Perfect hold still.”

Wrapping the wet rag around his hand. With the tip of his finger, he cleaned away a little bit of soot. He felt a tiny prick and when he pulled away. The little piece of glass was now glinting in the light

“Got one. “ He murdered softly.

Eyes focusing in, and reached for the tweezers without looking. Putting the wet rag over his shoulder he let his hand come up to gently brace the back of Eclipse's faceplate and the other hand closer till the tips of the tweezer appeared in his zoomed-in vision.

“Might sting. Try not to move”

There was only a soft grunt when he pulled it out, but that was that. He carefully deposited the tiny piece in the tiny soap bowl he had brought along with a soft clink.

He continued like that for several minutes. The rag got darker and darker with black scoot, With every gentle swipe as the pile of little pieces of glass, plastic and metal grew. Eclipse stayed perfectly still, only letting out the occasional grunt.

“You’re pretty good at this. “

The sudden praise startled him a little,

“Thank you, it helps to have cameras for eyes. Can you Imagine trying this as a human? I would need a magnifying glass bigger than our faceplates for some of the smaller pieces”

He had hoped to get another amused snort out of his roommate with the little joke as he pressed a bit closer to get the next piece.

“Is that what you are doing with your eyes?”

“Hmm? “

“The rings of your eyes kept getting bigger and smaller….are you zooming in on my face?”

His gaze went to meet Eclipse, proving the other’s statement by having to zoom his eyes out all the way back to see more than just the yellow of his pupils. The sound whirring loudly in the now quiet room.

Eclipsed eyes narrowed for a brief second

“You are not even thinking about it…are you? You just do? No need to find the settings at all”

He gave a helpless little shrug, thumbing over the lighter half of Eclipse's face that he had cleaned.

“I had to spot even the tiniest of mistakes if I didn't want my lord to punish me. “

The yellow eyes watching him switched from warm intrigue to steel cold at the mention of his former master. Something in his chest thumped at seeing it.

It had always made him feel safe to see Eclipse get so angry at his lord. Those thoughts he had to bury away that what had happened to him had been wrong were validated.

It still felt too dangerous to express that, that if he mentioned or even dared to feel all of his anger… his lord would return and this would all be gone. It felt safer for Eclipse to hate…and maybe one day he could actually show it as well.

For now he just ducked his head and grabbed the tweezers again. He felt a little unstable with how much his lord had crossed his mind today. A hand came to the small of his back.

He was pretty sure he hadn’t wobbled or shook yet it felt warm and grounding nonetheless keeping him in the present. He stares into Eclipse‘s eyes for a moment.

He never knew what to name the emotion that he saw in there. Especially not now..but he felt seen, even if he was scared to voice it. He gave a little wobbly smile and that seemed to be enough.

Desperate to switch topics, he briefly leaned over and took the time to rinse the cloth and wring it out, Then stuttered out as he began cleaning the darker half of Eclipse’s face

“You really should wear some goggles. You are lucky nothing damaged your optics. “

Eclipsed scoffed softly

“I wasn't even soldering something on, it wouldn't have helped”

He pulled back from cleaning his roommate's face and gave him a look.

“Do I need to show you how much stuff I just pulled from the red side of your face alone? If any of that had gotten near your eyes, you could have a scratched optic. If not likely worse. Don't tell me you hate looking like Solar so much you skip safety protocols “

Eclipse stayed silent, and he let out an exported huff.

“Sir! You can't be serious”

He had to move his hand again as Eclipse’s eyes narrowed.

“I didn't say anything”

He gave a gentle poke between the other's eyes

“Which tells me enough”.

Letting out another sigh, carefully cradling his roommate's face once more, gently tilting it more to the side so the light above would hit the darker shade at an angle and he was able to see the glass more

“Seriously though, be more careful, don't want you to get hurt”

Silence fell over the room again,

“Fine”

Eclipse's reply was soft, and he barely even heard it. But he had and it warmed his circuits. Not that he showed it.

Cleaning the darker side of Eclipse’s face was a lot harder than the fiery red side. The glass had been easy enough, but the plastic also being black was blending in much better even under the light.

After finding it was a matter of getting it out. He was pressed much closer than before but worked just as gently and meticulously as he removed every single piece of scrap he could find.

Eventually, there seemed to be only one left. He had found it early but couldn't get it out. Eclipse's nose kinda got in the way of his tweezer which is why he had left it.

But now there was nothing else to do.

“Gonna warn you, this is likely gonna sting a lot worse than all the others. “

There was a grunt of agreement, and he shuffled forward. There was a quiet rattling of Eclipse’s rays, his own hand holding the back of Eclipse’s head as steady as he could. The one holding the tweezers resting on his cheek to actually be able to reach it

When he gave the first light tug, eclipse let out another grunt, but it had barely moved at all. He titled his head, face nearly touching eclipses, tilting this way, then the other. Then he noticed that the scarp was bent at an awkward angle.

So reangling his arm, that he almost held Eclipse's head in a full embrace of sorts.

“This gonna feel weird for a sec”

What must feel like he pushed the scrap back in for a second he was able to turn it and then slowly, and steadily handily pull it out while turning his hand.

“Got you, little bastard”

He muttered as he let it fall into the bowl with a definite click. When he turned back he realised how close he had actually gotten to Eclipse. He was practically sitting in his lap, Eclipse’s hand hadn’t left the small of his back to keep him steady. Their chests were pressed together.

He managed to shut down his glow feature before it toggled on. For the barest of split seconds, he stared down at Eclipse’s yellow eyes. Then shuffled backwards, gently held the taller bots face and stroked his thumbs over his cheeks to see if he missed anything. Out of everything he did THAT got eclipse to slowly blink for the first time.

“Feels like I got everything, “

The hand that wasn’t on his back came up and Eclipse pressed it against his face nodding with a grunt. He thought he heard a soft clicking sound as he did

“ I have to agree…thanks”

“Yeah…no pro.- “ He cut himself up as he heard the sound again

“I’m sorry can you just tilt your head to the side for me”

He asked instead and then heard it again, and he slowly pushed against the left centre ray, feeling resistance. Eclipse clearly felt it too as he stopped moving. He held it in place and peaking in between the little gap, where the ray came out and gasped

“Eclipse…there is... A pretty big piece of glass stuck there, We don’t want that to fall behind your faceplate and risk it cutting anything.”

“How the fuck…of fucking course…let me guess can't grab it with the tweezers can you,”

“No…doesn't look like it. More likely to accidentally push it further back“

Eclipse let out an annoyed sigh

“So gotta remove my faceplate cover for that, fucking wonderful”

He stared at the glass piece, then saw the little hinge it rested on. Suddenly he had an idea

“Can you rotate your face?”

“What?”

“Rotate it? You know the full 360 spins of the faceplate?”

He let his rays extend and did a quick rotation himself.

“Like that?, you are still a variant of a DCA model…so there should be file for it in your code”

“Don't know…but why would it help? “

Eclipse eyed him suspiciously like he thought he suggested it to make him look stupid or something like that

“If you rotate, it loosens some hinges to keep your face in place. If I push your ray in at the right time. The glass will likely just slip out through the same gap the ray does”

“And if it doesn’t? “

“Like you said I’d have to remove your faceplate”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Eclipse sighed

“Fuck it, try it, really don’t fancy screwing my face off”

He decided to stay quiet about the innuendo that could be made. Pretty sure that would earn him at least a glare, if not get shoved completely off.

“Let me just…find the fucking movement file”

He hummed, placing his hand against the ray’s tip.

“Ready when you are, blink for me when you are ready, that way the glass will not move”

Eclipse's eyes flickered back and forth with some barely audible cursed mumbling. Before they focussed once more. Then he got a slow blink, Eclipse's face started spinning, his rays extending as it did. Besides the one he was keeping in place, he pushed further in. only to let go once it aligned with Eclipse mouth. The spring jumped back dragging the glass piece along with the bottom part of the ray and no hinge in the way to keep it stuck.

Catching the glass piece as it fell out. Luckily not scratching his head, Eclipse brought a hand to his forehead

“That’s disorienting” he grumbled angrily as he put the large glass piece on the chair.

“Did you not lock your vision in place?”

He got another small glare

“Why would I know to do that, if I just said I had to look for the movement file “

He couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him, Eclipse's glare turned more fond which made him fight his glowing feature even harder.

“I’m sorry Sir, “

Eclipse sighed leaning back a little

“You are fine, why is it not just locked in the first place”

He shrugged

“In case you wanna look at something upside down? I don’t know, ask the creator I guess”

Eclipse made an annoyed face. Which made him laugh once more, and he raised both his hands up near the other's rays.

“Would you mind if I touch your rays for a bit, making sure there are no other pieces of glass stuck in there”

Eclipse shrugged,

“Go ahead”

He felt himself beaming down at the other and he got a little half smile in return. He was happy Eclipse seemed a little less stressed. Now if he just got him to take at least a nap, they would be golden.

He brought his hands to the bottom two rays on either side of Eclipse's face. Gently pushing them in and out a couple of times. Running his thumbs gently across the base as they extended again, just to see if there were not tiny pieces of glass, metal or plastic stuck in there as well.

Then Doing the exact same thing to the next two rays, until he eventually reached the top one. Gently checking it with his right hand, while the left went back down to gently run between the ones below. He was about to pull away, only to see that Eclipse had closed his eyes and even seemed to lean into the gentle ministrations.

Only hesitating for the briefest of seconds. He decided to keep going, Gently, stroking, petting, pushing against Eclipse’s rays that swayed gently with the movement of it. The longer he sat there, looking down at his roommate. He wondered if the other ever had anyone allowed to do any of this. He didn’t know the entirety of what Eclipse went through before meeting them.

The little bits Eclipse, Sun and Moon told him were not…. pleasant. He was willing to wait until Eclipse was ready to share more details…and more importantly how he felt about everything. But it was clear as day to him, that Eclipse wasn’t used to being treated gently. It made heat blossom and spread across his chest and face that he was trusted enough to be allowed to.

Honestly, it was a calming experience for him as well. Soft repetitive motions, and he felt safe here. Surprised that he was allowed this much control and close to the other eclipse. But then again, The kindness Eclipse showed him was one of the main reasons he wanted to stay around him.

The fact that Eclipse's relaxed face looked very cute was just a bonus.

After several minutes Eclipse's eyes finally opened again, and a couple of seconds later realisation seemed to come over his face. Not wanting to risk this ending on a sour note, he retracted his hands slowly and carefully. Then sucked in a breath and decided to take another risk as his fans and motors sped up.

He moved the last bit of space that was between the two of them forward. Wrapping his own long arms around Eclipse's torso in a hug he tugged his head over his shoulder.

“Thank you for indulging me”

He Squeezed Eclipse firmly, counting in his head to three, intending to let go afterwards. Only for his own eyes to widen when shaky arms came across his own torso. The touch was light, but it rooted him in place as if he were being held tightly.

For a few moments, both of them sat there, a little too still. He wasn’t sure if Eclipse was just not used to giving hugs or uncomfortable. Honestly, now that he thinks of it, he doesn’t remember if he ever gave Eclipse a hug.

If they ever held each other, it was either because they had drifted closer on the couch and either one of them leaned against each other in exhaustion. Before falling asleep cuddling one way or the other.

But intentionally giving a hug? When was the last time he had ever done that? Others gave him hugs. It was nice though, giving comfort, and receiving it in turn. With slow deep breaths, he felt himself unspool slowly.

He should probably move back. Offer to buff up Eclipse's face, so the little scratches and holes the glass, metal and plastic from the explosion had left behind could be smoothed out. Or a shower so the rest of the scoot and faint smell of burning plastic could be washed away.

But that would mean letting go, and unless Eclipse did. He was fine with staying here for now.

Minutes ticked eventually he felt one of Eclipse's hands rub at his shoulder where it was resting, Now that his face was hidden from view he didn’t mind letting the biggest dopiest grin spread over his face at the feeling. He started to do the same with the hand that rested on his lower back.

Being this close he could hear the small ticks and clicks coming from Eclipse's body. The same ones that he heard as they cuddled together. Making his eyes drooping at the familiarity,

“Cygni”

He blinked himself back to awareness

“Mnn yeah?”

“Earth said there is a market at the mall the day after tomorrow. Wanna see if we can find some more story books so we have more then the four we have now”

He laughed softly

“Yeah sounds fun, been a while since we went out”

Maybe he could find some other things that he could try as well. He wanted to get into some sort of crafting.

“You gonna look if you can find something to use for your lab?”

He asked softly and Eclipse huffed a little, and he noticed him subtly trying to scoot a little further back on the bed. He hid another smile, and helped along till they were resting against the wall.

“I doubt they have anything I want. But I need some stuff before my next meeting with Earth”

“I’ll help you look”

He moved his hands a little higher so that they weren't trapped between Eclipse and the wall. One resting between his shoulders just above the skyhook, the other coming back up to gently play with the rays on the side that his face wasn’t resting.

He heard an almost silent puff of air escaping from Eclipse's shoulder vents like a deep sigh. As they fell back into silence again, where he slowly drifted further and further back into sleepiness. Eclipse seemingly doing the same.

The last thing he did was briefly lower his hand to tug the blanket they were sitting on half around them to keep warm. The last thing he remembered was the warm flow of electricity as he got plugged into a charger.

That should have been the end of it. A perfect restful end to what had been a chaotic week and certainly day. With further plans to unwind in the weekend. But of course, nothing could ever stay calm.

He wasn’t woken up slowly in Eclipse's arms, which then led to some stilted, awkward yet sweet. Words of gratitude and then going for breakfast. No, instead he woke up from the shaking beneath him and mumbled words from Eclipse’s voicebox getting louder and louder.

It took a little bit for his mind to shake off the deep sleep mode he had been in. But once he did, the words started to make sense.

“Let me go, Don’t delete me, don’t kill me, Free me”

Each more frantic than the last, getting louder and louder. He tried to pull back, but the blanket he had wrapped around them had twisted and moved. Somehow cocooning them tightly together. Trapping them both.

“Sir! Sir Eclipse!...it’s okay… You are okay?! Please wake up!”

He tried to desperately call, trying to free himself enough. Even if he had to cut the blanket to free them. He tried to wriggle free, But Eclipse’s more frantic trashing made it difficult. Equally frightened and concerned for his roommate he Finally managed to pull back enough.

Staring down at Eclipse's face. Eyes strobing, clearly still caught in whatever nightmare he was having. Their trapped circumstances are likely making it worse. Sharp claws were scratching along his back, trying to pull him off, and he made a soft whimper at the sting

“Sir..please! Please!”

Then the strobing faded as the lights from his eyes clicked on, shining blindingly bright, staring him right in the face. Never had he seen the other more frightened….or more pissed.

“GET OFF ME!”

“I’m trying”

“DON'T TOUCH ME!”

He felt small and weak under the glare and the screaming. A far cry from the night before, he was being shoved again and the blanket made a tearing sound and he landed backwards off the bed. His arm landed painfully against the chair, tools scattering all around.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM SUN!”

He scrambled up and out of the room, tears running down his face. Something crashed loudly against the wall just as he got out the door. That made him start sprinting trying to get away from his lord's anger. Running to the other side of the hall to his own room, locking the door with a slam and the bolt before hiding under the desk, panting harshly.

Praying that he wouldn’t be found. That he could stay hidden enough for his lord's anger to pass. But the place was small, not many hiding places. He would break the door down and drag him out of there by his rays. His punishment would likely get so much worse for running away.

He just needed to be still, if the anger passed he would still get punished but his limbs might stay attached if he showed up later. Quieting his rapid breathing, he had learned to stop making noise while crying long ago. He strained his audio receptors.

Tried to hear the loud stomping footfalls of his lord, gauging if he needed to find a better hiding spot. Instead, there was only deadly quiet, not even the sound of the armour moving around. Was he further away? He was never this quiet

Shutting off his vision he listened even more closely. There was the soft hum of electricity, the occasional hiss one of the pipes further down the bunker let out, and the soft ticking of the clock.

Shit he was in the bunker the lord would not find him here, but…

Then he heard it, the rapid sound of breathing. Like it was struggling to be inhaled. His eyes opened and widened and he got up. Hitting his head against the top of the desk, but he didn’t care. Even as he unlocked the door again, tears still streaming down his face.

Eclipse was panicking..not his lord. He had been so clearly afraid and he left him alone! For some reason, he had thought he was dying! Even if he got hurt, he had to help. Eclipse always helped him.

So silently, trembling like a leaf he moved closer, back to Eclipse’s Room. He stood near the still-open door. Just out of sight, should he call out? He wasn’t sure he should, wiping the oily tears that were still streaming from his eyes away so he could see he took a glance into the room.

Near the door was a pillow, it seemed to have hit the lamp that had been on the shelf next to the door. Having it crashed onto the floor. Bits of glass and broken light bulbs pieces scattered around.

Stuffing and torn bet sheets were near the bed and in the corner. With wide angry eyes was Eclipse staring at him.

He knew how strong Eclipse could be, and could probably kill him if he ever wanted to. But right now, it was him he looked scared and small. Even through the anger, everything inside him screamed. Danger! Danger! Get out! Get to safety.

But he replayed the pleads in his head instead, and shakily stepped inside

“S-Sir…? Eclipse?”

“DON’T you go near me SUN, I’m not letting you lock me up again!”

His heart hurt at hearing himself referred to as Sun, the name he shed a while ago. Eclipse never called him that, and that combined with his fear was making it harder to concentrate on who was sitting in front of him.

He moved a little closer, not much reassuringly raising his hands.

“I-i won’t…i never did Sir ... .J-just…”

He trailed off, he didn’t know what to say or do to the cornered Eclipse. He just wanted to help him.

“Then GO!”

He shook his head, and in a moment which even he admitted was pure stupidity, but he was frightened and scared. The yelling didn’t help, sounding too much like his lord yet he needed to do something dammit. Anything to help him.

He sprinted across the room falling to his knees near the bed. Eclipse, clearly frightened, bared his claws, ready to lash out. Until he grabbed the hand shooting for him with both of his own as he screamed

“NO I AM NOT LEAVING MY FRIEND ALONE!”

He was trembling and shaking badly as he knelt in front of the other. He felt Eclipse trying to tug his hands free and held on desperately, the casings groaning under his grip. He should have wondered why the other hand hadn't come down to strike him. But at the moment he was just trying to hold on.

“I dunno why Sun trapped you, But I swear I'll get you out! I will come find you, and try to save you just like you did for me! Because I don't want to see you hurt Eclipse.”

His panicked screaming gave way to tearful pleading.

“Just…please…please I promise you are safe…I won’t trap you…you’re my friend. Believe me, I don’t wanna hurt you”

He wasn’t sure he was making sense, trying to reassure and calm him from whatever trapped state his mind had left his friend in, looking up through his tears he saw Eclipse staring at him, Eyes wide the arm he was holding started to shake

“Cygni?”

He nodded rapidly, squeezing the hand he was holding. Thumbs stroking up and down with a trumb hopefully calming him.

“Y-yeah…yeah it’s me…”

Some form of Horror came across Eclipse's face and he scrambled up clambering onto the bed on his knees.

“Do-do you recognize me now…”

Eclipse just nodded, and he couldn’t help his own sigh of relief. Eclipse tried to tug his hand free once more and he tugged back on it instead as he kept his grip. He saw the other look up quickly and surprised.

“I’m glad…I dunno what I was doing, or how to help…but I am glad I tried…”

He squeezed the hand tighter,

“S-sorry I…Is it okay?…if I keep a hold?…gotta…remind myself it’s you as well…I would…offer a hug..but considering how trapped you felt, I don’t think that a good id-EA!”

At the end of his sentence, he was suddenly tugged forward landing against Eclipse's shaking chest. After a brief second, he warped his own arms back around his friend holding him tightly, trying to still the barely there shaking.

For a moment they just stayed like that, the slight tremble of their frames loud in the silent room. As he pressed his faceplate against Eclipse's chest. Enjoying the feeling of the taller bots arms around his shoulders as his own held tightly onto Eclipse’s torso.

Once he got his bearings he let his voice come out softly, to try and reassure him.

“It’s okay…I’m not hurt…and you are safe…we’re okay”

“....I tried to attack you”

“I rushed at you when you asked me to stay away…that was a dumb…I wouldn’t have blamed you”

“I shoved you…threw something at you”

He sighed, stroking his hands firmly across the red and black casing as he pressed his own body closer to the person who had saved him. Trying to over that little bit of comfort he had felt so long ago.

“You felt trapped…I think I nearly scratched your buttons off the last time I felt like that. Also, you threw a pillow…that wouldn’t have hurt me even if you tried”

There was a scoff.

“You are scared”

It was not a question, but a statement and he nodded.

“Honestly I am terrified.”

Slowly he pulled back and sat up to look Eclipse in the eye again, not letting go of the hug though he needed that closeness just as much.

“But I’m also worried about you, as this could ruin our friendship…I don’t wanna lose that Sir. I really don’t “

Eclipse's eyes seemed to widen. His own mouth clicked shut, not sure if had done or said something wrong.

“You consider us friends? “

Now it was his turn to feel baffled and confused. Because it was true, he did. He hadn’t dared say it, let alone think it. Sure that the Eclipse would find it Silly or something similar. Maybe it was the fact that he had clearly just been shaken by the Nightmare he had had. But the yearning in his voice. It broke yet warmed his heart at the same time.

Broke, because it clearly seemed like Eclipse wouldn’t even dare let him think that they could be anything deeper…than whatever you wanted to call their current arrangement.

Warm, because…he was wanted. Wanted by Eclipse. Who was so strong and capable, he didn’t understand why Eclipse would want to be friends with him.

There were so many other people Eclipse could be friends with, better people. That could challenge him intellectually, or not get scared of him any time his trauma came back. But…but fuck it he wanted to stay near too.

So carefully, in full view of Eclipse's vision, he removed one of his hands from the hug and brought it to Eclipse Rays. Gently ruffing the left bottom three with a watery smile.

“Of course…friends help each other…even if it is hard…right?”

He saw Eclipse's pupils follow his arm movement up and down, but he made no move to stop him. Before breaking his gaze, clearly still troubled he saw the hint of fondness as he mumbled

“I suppose so”

He gave one last firm pet before dropping his hand from Eclipse's rays to hold his arm gently instead of making Eclipse look at him.

“I just….I don’t want to pressure you to talk about it if you don’t want to…but I have to ask…When?… When did Sun trap you?… Was this…Was this recent?”

Because if it was, he might have to seriously reconsider his friendship with the other Sun model. Neither of them had ever mentioned it. But if Sun had kept Eclipse trapped against his own free will. Clearly believing that wherever he had been stuck, he might die there. IF Sun had done that….If Sun had made Eclipse that afraid like his lord had done to him…

He didn’t know if he could trust him ever again.

He got shaken out of his thoughts by another sigh from Eclipse, who was glaring at the mattress. Clearly debating talking, he was about to tell him to drop it and that he was sorry for bringing it up.

“Do you know how most Eclipses are made?”

He blinked at the question, not sure where it came from but he shook his head.

“Yeah…I doubt your Lord would have ever told you…wouldn’t want to seem weak, or inferior, or whatever he would have called it. Though I thought he might have…gloated about besting…”

He trailed off and shook his head as if shaking the thought away and getting back on track

“Doesn’t matter, just…it’s complicated…What happened between Sun, Moon and Me”

He looked at his friend. The clear irritated frown on his face. The way his hands were still holding onto his body The whole air of unease, and he saw the other drag a big gust of air across his fans, then let it out slowly. His heart ached for his friend and wished he could light the burden somehow.

“Come on….let’s…clean up a little, then I’ll tell you…you deserve to know”

He frowned and his own hands tightened around Eclipse's arms

“Only if you really want to…I…I dunno if I am reading this right…But this seems like one of those things…that...everyone I know in this dimension just kind of knows about it. While you never got to tell just… tell what happened on your own terms?…So…please only tell me what you want to. If I am allowed to have my secrets…and take my time unpacking and talking about what happened to me with my lord. I wanna offer the same to you. Like I said…we are friends… I trust you. “

Eclipse stared at him, eyes looking at his face in that way when he wasn’t sure if he was hearing the truth. He held as firm as he could, even if his face was likely a mess from all the tears he shed before. Eclipse's shoulder slumped just the tiniest bit with relief.

“I’ll give you the bare bones version, so you are least caught up, and you can ask if there is something confusing you”

He gave a smile gently rubbing at his friend's arms as he slowly scooted back, gently tugging Eclipse along

“As long as you feel free to not have to answer all of them if you don’t want to. But first…breakfast? I dunno about you, but i am hungry”

Eclipse gave a little nod, as he let himself get tugged up till they were standing in front of the bed, and looking up at the Eclipse model again.

“Sure, breakfast first. “

He let go of his friend and turned around to walk to the kitchen. Eclipse was not far behind, he cringed as he saw the dishes he hadn’t finished the night before. But he could deal with that after eating.

As he was working the kettle for their morning tea and coffee. For a brief moment, Eclipse came up right behind him. A hand gently touched the small of his back, as the other reached for the cupboard above him, searching for something. That in itself was surprising, but more was the soft voice barely audible over the sound of the two machines in front of them. But clearly heard

“Thank you for staying with me…friend”

For once he was not able to win the fight against his glowing feature and smile. Beaming up at Eclipse who was trying really hard trying not to look at him he answered

“Of course, the same goes for you, friend”

It felt a little awkward to say for both of them it seemed. But he was happy it was said. That the words were spoken, so that they became true. They were friends…finally both brave enough to finally say it.

Eclipse coughed awkwardly and stepped away, and he went back to the machines, still grinning wildly. His first ever friend. Sun might have given him that title first. But it was not the same. He was not Eclipse.

Eclipse was his first friend, if not something more. Best friend? He shook his head. It was okay, happy to finally call Eclipse his friend.

Even if they both knew, it was something far more than that.

[kissorkill16]

If Bubba Had Lived In WWWOH: AHNF

By JJ

Summary: The title says it all.

A week had passed, and Nicky has been slowly turning back to his normal, coherent self.

But after the incident, he was more quiet, more jumpy, less energetic, and more tired.

Bubba understood that recovering from whatever he went through is difficult, and she knew that he wouldn't be the same again, but seeing her grandson like this really broke her heart.

So she'd been doing everything to try and be a better grandmother for Nicky. She practically never left him alone, but when she did, she'd ask either Jay or Luanne to keep an eye on him, despite not trusting them after the incident.

One particular afternoon, Bubba had decided to let Nicky go out after he practically got down on his knees and begged her, saying that he'd been cooped up in the house for too long. Reluctantly, Bubba agreed, but only if he was home by dinner.

As the elderly lady was finishing dinner, she heard a loud slam at the door, startling her and nearly making her drop the plate in her hands. She went to see who it was, and Nicky stood at the door, completely drenched and covered in small red scratches.

"Nicholas, what happened to you?", she asked in worry. But Nicky just stormed past her and stomped up the stairs to the bathroom.

After a silent moment or two, Bubba had went upstairs to the bathroom, with the door slightly ajar, she saw that Nicky was drying his head with a towel. She knocked before pushing the door open.

"Nicholas, what happened? Why are you so angry?", she asked. Nicky sighed and threw the towel on the toilet.

"I feel like my friend is replacing me."

When he said that, he sat down on the toilet and explained the situation to her.

"Me and Trinity were just hanging out, and I told her that I was still kind of recovering from the whole Mr. Peterson incident, and then she mentions that she invited this other kid named Delroy.", he said, the word Delroy sounding like venom in his mouth. "He's just a dumb jerk, and she knows we don't get along, but I guess that doesn't matter to her. The moment I mention I couldn't hang out much anymore, Delroy tells me to step!"

He rung out his wet clothes as he ranted on.

Meanwhile, Bubba had taken out some disinfectant pads from the bathroom sink, and she gently cleaned the scratches on Nicky's body.

"Darling...", she started, "I don't think your friends are replacing you. I think that maybe they're worried about you ever since the incident, so they're trying to invite someone else into their group to fill that empty space in their hearts that you once filled. But they know it's not the same."

Nicky looked at his grandmother with shiny eyes, "You really think that?", he asked.

"Yes, little wolf.", replied Bubba. "Your friends love you so much, especially that little Trinity girl. If she didn't, do you think she would've saved you?"

Nicky looked down at his shoes, "No, I guess I didn't think about that."

Bubba put away the pads back under the sink. "Just try not to think about it too much, dear. Maybe you might like this Delroy once you two get to know each other."

Nicky nodded, "I guess you're right. Trinity did mention that she was going to try and help us get along more."

As they continued this conversation, they went downstairs for dinner.

The next day, Bubba was finishing up with the dishes. Just as she was about to dry them off, she heard a knock at the door, so she put the dish and the drying towel down, and went to answer it.

She was greeted by a woman with black hair, a violet jacket, and white pants.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Is this the Roth residence?", she asked.

"Yes.", replied Bubba, "Who are you and why are you here?"

"My name is Amanda Bales. I moved to the neighborhood not to long ago with my husband and daughter, and I need to talk to you about Nicholas Roth.", said the woman. Bubba's eyes widened slightly. "That's my grandson.", she said.

"Yeah, may I come in? I'd prefer to have this conversation inside."

Bubba was reluctant for a moment, but she stepped aside and let Amanda walk through the door.

The women went to the kitchen, where Bubba continued drying the dishes as Amanda sat at the table.

"Now, why are you coming to me about my grandson?", asked the elderly lady.

"Has Nicky ever mentioned my daughter to you? Trinity Bales?"

Bubba nodded, "Yes. One visit at the nursing home.", she said. "But what does your daughter have to do with this?"

"Apparently, she had a hypoglycemic attack at her after school club today. I'm sure Nicky has mentioned this to you, she's diabetic, can't have sugar. But the thing is that I know my daughter is always so careful, so I find it highly suspicious that she went into a sugar coma when she told me that there was sugarless cookies at the little get together her and her friends were having."

Before Amanda could say more, Bubba slammed down a glass cup, and turned around. "What exactly are you trying to say here, Amanda?"

She set down the towel and stormed closer to the woman sitting at the table, "Are you implying that my grandson is responsible for your daughter going into a sugar coma?"

"That is exactly what I'm implying.", said Amanda, "Not sure if you know this, but Nicky is a constant troublemaker and is always making bad things happen. Just ask Principal Abanate -"

"I don't need to ask Principal Abanate!"

Amanda was startled by the elderly lady's sudden outburst, but she stood her ground. Bubba continued on.

"Just who do you think you are, coming to my home and accusing my grandson of such a cruel act without any evidence to back it up whatsoever?", she said, pointing a finger to her chest. "What's worse is that you're accusing a child of this. You accuse children of such crimes? What is next? You accuse a couple of children for burning your house down too? You're disgusting, woman. Disgusting."

Then she pointed to the door, "You should go.", she said, her voice deep. When Amanda didn't move, she said more sternly "Immediately."

This time, Amanda did move. Before she walked out the door, she growled at the elderly woman, "This isn't over."

Bubba slammed the door as soon as she was completely out of the house.

"Things go wrong, and the first thing people do is blame a child?", thought the elderly lady. "More so, my grandson? These people are horrible."

Next part:

[unadulterated-syd]

james potter x reader !

req - 🌙 dancing in the moonlight 🌙 james - always been you by jessie murph

warnings — none

watching from afar was no longer new, it wasn't like you were incapable of speaking to him, or laughing and cracking jokes— james was your friend after all.

but sometimes, admiration was a breath of fresh air. watching him cheer after winning a bet against sirius, it didn't matter how stupid the bet was. it didn't matter if you had no clue what the appeal was.

because all you cared for was the idea that james was happy, and he looked like a polaroid doing so. if you could snap his smile everytime you saw it, you would, but for now memory had to suffice.

you had never been the type to sit behind and wait for anyone— never the type to let anyone get to your heart, especially if you weren't sure they reciprocated your feelings.

james was different though, he always had been. a year sat alone, waiting for him, would have always been better than a an eternity having never known him.

he was the sun in the sky, and you the earth who orbited him just the same as others. an earth without a moon, to keep it from letting the tides wash over.

you could've sworn he took the breath from your lungs with even a glance your way, but worst of all you weren't angry about it. it had always been him.

maybe 5 years ago when you'd met him, maybe 3 years ago when he'd asked you to a gryffindor party, maybe a year ago when he listened to your worries, or maybe it'd always been him. maybe must've lost it's meaning if so.

"y/n, earth to y/n !" mary called, her hand running infront of your eyes, attempting to get your attention back to them. "you're drooling again."

"merlin, i am not, i'm back in the atmosphere, what's up."

mary gave you a smile, a knowing look washing over all the girls faces, and peter's, who'd happened to be sitting with you all. he was just as confused by sirius and james, even wrangling remus over at some point.

"we were talking about this weekend, but you seemed to have something more important to talk about.." lily gave you a wide smile, obviously holding back a million excited screams.

all of the marauders had been aimlessly waiting for you to find someone, even james himself had tried to play cupid before.

"i am not talking about anything." you said sternly, glancing back at james and sirius— both now looking in the groups direction due to the sudden excitement.

"oh god, you alerted them." the group exchanged glances, before groaning at sirius and james' enterance back into the conversation, saving you from dishing out details.

—

by the time the week ended, and the parties sprouted up left and right, you had forgotten that weeks call out. not that the others hadn't, but you'd all been far to busy to congregate.

your last class had just let out, a simple essay being your homework for the weekend— something you could easily do between parties. your daydreams of the weekend were shortlived, when james jogged to catch up to you.

"hey." you hummed, looking in his direction, grasping your bags strap tighter. "someones in a rush, what's up."

"party plans." he said, giving you a grin, "changed to tomorrow,, i forgot why. they told me i swear—"

you laughed at his forgetfulness, giving him a grateful smile, "thanks for the information, potter, got anything else for me?"

"well,, i was going to ask if you wanted to do our essays together." he hummed, waving the parchment you'd both been instructed to fill. "i'm a great studier."

"oh, i'm sure." you grinned, shaking your head, "yeah, when?"

"uhh, are you good now?"

"alright."

—

settling into a quite corner of the library, you sighed, prepared for a long couple of hours trying to focus on anything besides james.

however, today he seemed off, fidgetting around more than he usually would— staring more at his empty parchment than spitting bad jokes.

sitting up straighter in your chair, you pulled your pencil tip from the paper, eyes trained on the boy across from you.

"james?" he shot up at the sound of your voice, "is.. everything alright?"

"uhh,, yeah— uhm.. i was, i mean i have, had? do?"

"spit it out, james."

"can i ask you out."

"what?"

"forget it, that was weird! pals, friends, mates, nothing different." he pushed his hands together, close to a silent clap, as if convincing himself.

"ask out? as in— dating? like.. not pals, friends, mates."

he didn't answer, almost as if he was ashamed of asking in the beginning. but, you could see the answer in his manneurisms.

"yes, you can. i'd actually like that a lot."

"really !" he exclaimed, eyes training on you instantly, "whew, i was really nervous, sirius and i had this bet that you had this thing for lily not me, but i totally wanted to ask you out—"

"james, it's always been you." you assured, placing your hands on his.

req by @loving-and-dreaming

james potter tag list — @loser-fics , @innerloverpainter , @nyxxxxxxxx , @nutellani , @angry-little-frog

marauders tag list — @withastrangerheart

[fuckyeahhandizzie]

Mischief Day 4 - "I have no regrets" Legacies - Hope/Lizzie/Landon Warnings: N/A Words: 620

Between Hope, Landon, and Lizzie, the likelihood of hijinks rises if all three of them are together.

Then, in pairs and descending order, the most chaos happens between Lizzie and Hope, Landon and Lizzie, and then Hope and Landon. Individually, Lizzie is most likely to get into actual hijinks, while Landon is most likely to accidentally get into trouble, while Hope only does so when it has something to do with saving someone. 

All this to say, it’s a normal, quiet evening as Lizzie and Landon lounge on the couches out in the main hall. They’ve dragged in a projector and a screen to watch Star Wars inside. Everyone else in the school is away for winter break, so they have the whole place to themselves. (And a few other stragglers, but this is, essentially, Lizzie’s house, so she reigns supreme most during holiday breaks). The fire is crackling and warm. They’re on their third movie, and both of them treat it like a game, yelling out quips they know will be funny given what comes next and working to make each other laugh more than anything. A few times, they get side-tracked on some tirade about a plot point or a character. Trivia flows freely from both their lips. 

Outside, snow rages on. It’s been a brutal winter, but in here, life is good and warm. The Salvatore School is decorated head to foot in Christmas Lights and trees and glittering snowflakes. 

The power goes out in the middle of the climax. Landon and Lizzie yell out at the screen, distraught. More distressing, though, is the fact that it’s Hope that walks through the doors behind them only moments later. 

She’s dripping wet.

“Hope?” Lizzie asks as she and Landon get up and go to her. “What the hell happened?” 

“It was nothing!” Hope says. 

“Are you okay?” Landon asks. 

“I’m fine,” Hope says. 

Lizzie narrows her eyes. “But you did this?” She gestures around to the dark lights. 

Hope grins and shrugs. 

“Why are you wet?” Landon asks. 

Hope sighs. “Okay fine. You know the lake behind the school?” 

They both murmur their confirmation that they do. 

“Well,” Hope continues. “I noticed it was frozen over, so I went out there to skate.”

“And you fell in,” Lizzie guesses. 

“Shh.” Hope waves a hand in her direction. “I was skating, all was fine, and yes, I fell in. I panicked, okay! It wasn’t my fault!” 

Now Landon narrows his eyes. “What wasn’t your fault?” 

She starts walking toward the kitchen. “Well, you know how there’re decorations all along the path down to the lake, and then all around the lake?” 

“Yes. . .” Lizzie shoots Landon a suspicious look. 

“Well, I panicked and my magic shot out and shorted out some of the lights. Which was better than the other lights that I accidentally tore down,” she explains. 

“Hope!” Lizzie chastises. 

“That can’t be all that happened,” Landon says. “The powers out.” 

When they get to the kitchen, Hope takes a clean dish towel and uses it to dry her face and her hair. “Yeah, that part was also me, because after I put the lights back up around the lake, I had to go turn them back on. I guess I dripped some water on some plug or something because then everything went out.” 

There’s a moment of laughter before all three of them burst out laughing.

“I have no regrets!” Hope declares. 

“Hope! Landon! Lizzie!” Alaric yells a few hallways away, clearly angry and calling for the most likely suspects. 

“Are you sure about that?” Lizzie asks, trying to smother more laughter. 

Hope’s eyes go wide. “Help me.” 

Lizzie and Landon share a look, then start giggling more.