#but how can i scream if my lungs are filled with dust

[isa-belle1367]

I AM ONE MILD INCONVENIENCE AWAY FROM PURE INSANITY I STG

[bandgie]

In Pixie Dust We Trust

synopsis: You're content with being Chris's best friend for all eternity. It doesn't matter how big your heart is, you're small where it matters most. That's what you think at least.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, microphilia (reader is 7-10in/17-25cm), pussy eating, boobie sucking, reader used as a fleshlight (non-penetrative), cum eating (m!), jerking off, little bit of jealously in the beginning, does this count as monsterfucking? idk

notes: man, I did like 3 different rough drafts on this and said fuck it. ALSO?? I guess grammarly has limited help options now? fucking assholes

3.5k words

It would be impossible for Chris to hear you cheering for him amongst the dozens of shouting people, but you scream anyway.

“Go Chris!” You cup your hands around your mouth for extra volume, “Go, go, go!”

Mythics alike cheer for their representative species. Sirens, vampryes, lycans, and many more creatures roar for a winner. Despite the overwhelming number of Mythics, humans fill up a good portion of the audience to spur on Chris. He’s the only mortal in the swim meet, one of the rare humans to be able to compete against creatures like yourself. 

Truthfully, you’re not too aware of the rules when it comes to swimming. Something about a certain amount of meters, certain strokes, and when you’re supposed to come up for air. The explanations went right over your head when Chris told them to you, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming your little lungs out. 

“Jeez,” Felix rubs his ear. “Who would’ve thought a little pixie like you could scream so loud.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry!” You decide it’s better to find a better sitting spot. Felix’s shoulder is always your go-to seat, but you don’t want to burst his eardrums from your screams. Your wings flutter rapidly, raising you high until you plop on his blonde hair. 

At least you didn’t have to pay for a seat. Being the mere size of a hand, you can easily sit on someone instead. 

You lean to one side of Felix’s head, “This better?” He nods, making your grip on his hair so you don’t slip off. “Yeah. You can cheer for your human boyfriend all you want now.” Felix’s head lightly shakes as he laughs. A sheep shade of crimson creeps up your neck and you yank on his hair. “Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend!” 

You only feel a little bad when Felix whines. He reaches his hand to fight you with the wiggle of his fingers that you slap away while giggling. “Ouch! That hurt.” 

“Whatever,” you slap the final finger away. “You deserved it.” Felix scoffs, rolling his eyes though you can’t see. “For what? Saying the truth? I’m a nymph, baby. You can’t hide those feelings from me.”

Now it’s you who rolls their eyes. As much as you would want to argue with Felix, he’s right. You may have the best friend title when it comes to Chris, but you want Chris in a way you know you shouldn't. You want to feel him hold you, have his lips pepper kisses all over your magical body until you can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how much you yearn for him when you sit on his shoulder, your wings bashfully fluttering when he talks low just for you to hear. 

It doesn’t do any good for you to think like that. It’s better to blink those thoughts away and keep cheering, pretending you’re perfectly fine with being Chris’s tiny best friend. 

But pretending is never easy for a pixie. Having such a small body does nothing to lessen the emotions you feel. Felix is doing everything he can to keep you from flying away and sobbing your heart out. When you two went looking for Chris to congratulate him on placing in the top three, neither of you expected the many female Mythics and humans to praise him. 

“Hey! He’s just feeling excited from the race, he’s just super hyped right now.” Felix laughs nervously. “It’s no biggie. They’re just all congratulating him.”

You wish that were true or that you believed it. Instead, you’re frozen at the sight of Chris smiling from whatever they’resaying. One of them goes as far as to whisper in his ear, earning a deep blush from his wet face. Felix panics more. “She just- She said- oh damn.”

It shouldn’t bother you. If anything, you should be happy that Chris is finally getting the attention he deserves. He deserves people supporting him. Someone who can give him a happy, normal-sized relationship even if they aren’thuman. Not a pixie who is barely bigger than the size of his hand. 

You blink your tears away, ignoring the ugly lump in your throat as you dejectedly fly next to Felix’s face. “It’s fine. Let’sjust go.” Felix whips his head to you, eyes wide with sincerity. “No! Pixie, we came out here for him. We can at least say hi then leave right after.” 

There’s a twinge of hope in his eyes. Felix has been rooting for you since you told him about your unrequited love. Although you would roll your eyes at his support most of the time, it did boost some confidence in you. Now you realize it was all foolish. A stupid dream you should have kept sleeping. 

You shake your head, “I can’t face him, Lix. Not when every girl in this damn city is trying to make him their mate. It’snot like he’d notice me leaving anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” Chris’s voice makes you and Felix jump. His hair is flat against his head from the diving cap he was wearing. It drips with water, leaking down his beautiful face to his naked torso. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

It’s only for a brief moment that you’re stunned. You weren’t prepared to see him so quickly. “Y-”

“No,” Felix quickly interrupts you. “She meant when is everyone else gonna leave. It’s so stuffed in here.” Felix looks at you wide-eyed as if to say don’t say anything before looking at Chris. “But dude! Congratulations!”

Chris’s signature dimple appears on his face. He wraps an arm around the nymph’s shoulder and brings him in for a hug.“I totally thought I was gonna get last. Those sirens are fucking fast.”

The embrace doesn’t last too long, not when Chris is eager to hear you praise him.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It was really impressive. I’m so proud of you!” It’s hard for you to do your normal joyful screaming, not when the bashful look he gave the mythic girl still lingers in your mind. You try to wipe the memory from your mind to focus on the mortal winner standing before you. The half-naked mortal winner that is.

“Yeah?” Chris lightens up at your words. His shining eyes warm your heart and your jealousy suddenly feels silly. “Fuck yeah! I knew you were gonna at least place in the top 5. But top 3? That’s Olympic shit right there.”

The flush on Chris’s face says it all. He rubs the back of his neck and giggles, a small squeak emitting from the back of his throat. “I would say thaaat.”

Felix laughs at the two of you, patting Chris on the shoulder. “I saw this Korean restaurant nearby - it looks super good. Minho told me that the chefs are all human. We should go before it gets packed!” The three of you look amongst each other and nod, humming about how hungry Chris must be.

“You can save a spot for us, Felix,” Chris smiles at him. “We’ll be there soon.”

You and Chris wave Felix goodbye. You wait until he’s out of earshot before you ask Chris, “Are we gonna meet up with him later?”

Chris smiles ear to ear. “We are. I was really hoping you’d come back to my place for a surprise.” Excited is the best word to describe him right now. His eyes shine with what you think is mischievousness. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. You smile at him back, “Now? Dressed like that?”

“Oh shit.” Chris suddenly becomes aware of his nude attire, save for the tight speedo. “Let me change first, then we’ll to mine.”

-

The naughty look on his face wasn’t for nothing. Chris didn’t necessarily plan to have you like this; nude and whimpering, but he isn’t complaining either. His intentions were pure, really. He had set up his apartment all sweet, miniature roses that could easily fit in your palms as he asked you to be his lover. 

You thought of everything wrong at first. How strange it might look for your dainty self to be involved with a human. For him to practically live in the waters while you stay in the sky. Different, too different to work you said. You couldn’t help but think of all the other Mythics flocking to him; ones that he could benefit from and most importantly, ones that he can properly love.

Yet, all your worries were washed away in his eyes, full of love and compassion. He would love you because you’re you, no matter what size.

Now you’re thinking there won’t be enough time to meet Felix at that restaurant he’s been revving about when Chris’stongue ravages your body. Kissing him felt weird enough, your lips barely able to lock with his bottom one. But having him lick and suck on every part of your body easily took the cake. 

Chris is holding you gently in his palm, your wings tightly tucked into your back so he doesn’t accidentally get them wet. The tip of his tongue dips down into your cunt before it swipes up to your breasts. You can tell he’s trying to be romantic about it, but there’s nothing soft in the way he suckles on your tits, how his saliva drips down the curve of your mounds onto his palm.

“Shit,” you moan when Chris finds your sweet, tiny pussy again. “You’re getting me so wet.” In response, Chris pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact. Your body shivers in his hold from the lack of his hot mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” But he doesn't look apologetic at all. Not when he’s looking at you as if he might take a bite. Not when he licks his lips at the sight of your body spread out in his palm, twitching and soaking. 

You reach a small hand up and grab the tip of his nose, earning a giggle from his pretty lips. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you push yourself up with an elbow to nuzzle against his face. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” the tips of his ears burn redder. “I like it too.”

The two of you share a laugh before you sprawl yourself back in his hold, opening your legs so his large tongue touches you where you need him most. Chris obediently nuzzles his tongue onto your cunt, flicking it upwards. Your hips chase the feeling, arching and twisting until he has to restrain you.

“Nooo,” you gently whine when he uses his fingers to pin your hands above your head. “Wanna feel it.”

Chris smiles, directing you to flatten your feet, spread your thighs, and arch until your back is completely lifted from his palm. It’s a weird position, but you wiggle in excitement when he leans his head down. “You will, baby,” he reassures.“Just gotta listen to me for a little, okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself still when you feel the familiar muscle on your core. It’s nearly similar to when you had the freedom to move, but there’s an extra layer of pleasure from being held back. For his tongue lick up and down, reaching up high to your stomach down to your ass. Chris doesn’t have to add much pressure, not when his tongue is half the size of your entire self.

The first taste of your orgasm builds when he swipes his tongue side to side. It moves your vulva perfectly, not focusing so much on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his fingertips and you moan. “Channie…i’mma cum.”

He hums against your body, acknowledging your impending orgasm. Chris is too busy trying to get you on his taste buds. It’s more of a hint than a flavor of your pussy. If only Chris could drown in it. To feel these small thighs wrap around his head and yank him closer until all he can sense is you. But having your boobs and pussy in his mouth nearly at the same time is a huge win for him regardless. 

Your walls clench, a clear sign that you only have mere seconds before you cum. Maybe you could ask Chris to put justthe tip of his pinky finger in. It would stretch you so much, so good. If you can’t take his cock, you’ll take the next best thing. 

“In,” you mewl. “Want it in me.” 

Chris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused by what you mean. He can’t put anything in you, he doesn’t even want to think about it. He shakes his head with your pussy in his mouth, back to focusing on the task at hand.

“Channie!” You nearly scream his name. “Please! I’ve been good. I’ve been so good! Just the tip of your finger and-”

He sucks hard, making your entire body move from the suction. You wail, digging the back of your head further into his palm. He sucks and licks, obviously trying to get your mind off of being filled and instead finishing on his tongue. It works because all you can think about is flooding Chris’s mouth with your juices. You think about how good it’s going to feel to have his big tongue on you, licking you up.

You dig your nails into his fingers and tense. Chris places the tip of his tongue perfectly on your clit and you finally cum. 

He holds you while you shake. Chris can feel the trembling of your body, he can taste the essence of your orgasm, and he can hear your pretty little moans as you tip over. He can’t help but giggle at how your little hips roughly rock against his tongue. Deciding to give you a different sensation, Chris puts his tongue back in his mouth and puckers his lips instead. The plushness is the best way to ride out your high, gentle and soft.

You collapse in his hands when you come down. You can only whimper when he carefully nuzzles your body against his face affectionately. Chris peppers kisses on your body, from the top of your head to the soaked place between your thighs. It helps get you refocused by grounding yourself from his touch. You return his kisses, placing your hands on either side of his cheek and feeling his mouth against yours.

It feels like he’s trying to swallow you or maybe not trying to. You can’t really tell, but you don’t really mind. All you care about is how he whimpers against your lips, making you concerned about his state. 

You pull from his lips and adjust in his hands until you’re sitting. “It hurts. Doesn't it, Channie?” You don’t need to specify what you’re talking about. Not when you can see the need in his eyes, the pout in his lips. Chris nods, almost ashamed. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I dunno what to do about it.”

He looks so dejected, so lost. Your wings untuck from your back and flutter until you’re lifted in the air. Chris’s eyes drop to your breasts as if he wasn’t just drooling on them minutes ago. You snap your fingers until he looks into your eyes. “I know what to do. Why don’t you sit down for me and let me take care of you now.”

You can tell he’s hesitant. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how he wants to. Chris easilylistens to your instructions; how you want him stripped from the lower half, sitting on the couch with his legs sprawled open so his hard, leaky cock is pretty on display.

Chris looks nervous, you can tell by how he grabs a nearby pillow and hugs it to his chest. “Are you sure, baby? I don’twant you to hurt yourself.” 

How endearing your lover is. Willing to sacrifice his pleasure for your comfort.

You fly to his lap and rest on a meaty thigh. “You don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about nothing, Channie.” You reach out a hand to rub it against his cock. “I can handle it.”

Before he can say anything else, you quickly find your place on his shaft with your back facing him. You gasp at the warmth, the thickness of his cock between your legs. Your body is already wet from your orgasm, so it’s easy to gently slide against him. The veins from his cock seem huge this closeup and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body when your clit goes over one. 

“You’re so big Channie,” you hum, looking back. “Almost as big as me.”

Chris giggles shyly, adjusting in his seat so he slightly slouches against the cushions. You turn back to face his tip and place your little hands on his dick to balance yourself. A whine leaves Chris’s throat when you grind against him higher. Your hands reach out to play with his tip, swirling around the sensitive flesh and having your fingers rub against his slit. 

His hips thrust up and you let out a surprised squeal.

“S-shit, sorry,” he moans. “I didn’t mean to.” Chris is being so careful not to have you slip off, but it’s nearly impossible for him to keep still. Not when he can see your entire body jerking him off, your little ass humping his cock so nicely. He especially loves the wet trail that you leave behind with every grind. 

You laugh, “It’s okay. Just means you’re feeling good.”

Since you’re just slightly bigger than his length, you decide it would be better to lay completely flat on his cock and slide yourself that way. It’s silly though, humping his dick in a way that reminds you of the nights you spent on your tiny bed touching yourself at the thought of Chris. Now, you’re able to put all that practice to good use.

With your legs wrapped around the base, you find it much easier to slide yourself. To go at a speed that has Chris moaning and fisting his hands into the sofa. Your tongue lolls from your mouth as you moan with him, effectively adding moisture that makes everything wetter.

“Baby! Baby, baby, you’re gonna make me cum just like that.” Chris pants. One of his hands shoots down below his cock, tugging his balls to help get him closer. You tilt your head to look down at the sight, whimpering at how he holds and rubs his sack.

It makes you go faster. You practically squeeze his cock with your limbs almost painfully. Chris only finds pleasure in your hold though. Without thinking, Chris wraps his other hand around his cock and you. Your wings immediately find cover behind your back so they don’t get damaged. The hand around you tightens slightly. 

“You want me to use you, hm?” Chris carefully drags you up and down his length. “Be my little cocksleeve, is that it?” You can’t even be a fleshlight to him, but you can be useful. it’s near impossible to nod with how he’s holding you, but you let out a breathy yes. Your arms are locked at your sides from his grip, legs open and limp so he has more access to use you how he wants. 

You underestimated how slippery you would get. How his precum would leak onto your hair and face. A part of you thought it would be uncomfortable being pressed up against his cock like this, but all you can feel is how warm he is. It feels good to have him use your body like this, having your clit brush against his girth. 

Chris isn’t as careful this time, not that you mind anyway. He grunts with every drag, squeezing your body tighter until you whimper. You feel his cock twitch under you and your cunt clenches in response. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts. “Wrapped around my cock so tight.” 

You whimper. There isn’t a chance that you would be able to cum again. Your cunt is roughly pressed against his dick to get any real friction, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling any pleasure. “You’re using me so good, Channie. You gonna cum on me too?”

There isn’t a need for Chris’s confirmation. Not when the hot spurt of his release spews from his cock. You can’t see how far it shoots up, how it lands up to his thighs and leaks onto his hand. The only ounce of cum you get is on the top of your hair, a sticky, warm glob of white.

Chris releases you quickly, letting you get the proper chance to breathe and rest on his pulsing cock. 

It doesn’t last long, not when two hands carefully lift you and bring you close to Chris’s face. His neck is a deep shade of red. The blood rushes to his face to give off a pink hue. Even the tips of his ears burn with the same color. As fucked out as he looks, he still has the energy to give you an endearing smile. 

Your lips twist shyly, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’m completely covered in your cum, right?” But Chris only leans in and uses his nose to nuzzle against your face. 

“Mhm. My very own pixie dust.”

[pathetichimbos]

Hii! May I request Thomas Hewitt overhearing reader talk with her friends and saying that she came across this very cute guy whom she smiled at when they accidently made eye contact? (The guy is, of course, Tommy <3) And maybe Tommy spares her afterwards and decides to hide her away so that Hoyt doesn't order him to turn her into a human stew-

Thank you!

You're Mine

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hoyt is a creep again / Very very slight Yandere!Thomas

...

Thank you for sending in this ask! Sorry for the long wait time and I hope you enjoy!

The cool wind rushed across your face, whipping around your body and sweeping through your hair as you leaned back on your own hands.

Your eyes stared up to the bright blue sky, a few tuffs of cloud floating idly through the giant blue mass as you sped down the highway, your best friend behind the wheel.

You were sat in the passenger seat, feet planted on the dashboard as the radio blasted loudly enough to try and rival the open hood of the convertible.

Carly was screaming along to the music, open beer in hand as she swung around her seat behind you, loud laughter repeatedly breaking up her own singing.

Brooke was singing as well, pausing often to puff on the cigarette stuck in her left hand, the smoke immediately obliterating in the harsh winds as soon as it left her lungs.

You three had been on the road for two and a half hours, not even making it a quarter a way through your trip. Time was dragging on as Brooke sped past the desolate Texas fields, pushing well past the speed limits.

Carly's laughing suddenly dies down as she leaned past the front seat, turning the radio down to match her new tone.

“Hey, look! There's a gas station up ahead!” She pointed at the large red sign standing prominently on the side of the road, the faded red and white paint being about the only thing you can register about it as you quickly pass it.

“Oh, perfect, we're almost out.” Brooke sighed, flicking her cigarette butt to the road.

“I told you to fill up before we left!” You furrowed your brows as you looked your friend up and down, “We sat at that first place for twenty minutes, what gives?”

“Not the cute cashier, that's for sure.” Carly giggled as she wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned her chin on the seat, “You know how our Brooke is, always the romantic.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully nudged her, “Oh, like you're one to talk. Didn't you tell Freddy and Taylor you'd go out with them next week?”

“But I've got taste,” She insisted, “My men have to have culture. I don't just go for the first cute gas station clerk that comes my way.”

“Oh, get real, Carls,” Brooke scoffed, “The only 'culture' Taylor has is whatever's growing on his dick after sleeping his way through the entire town.”

Their smiles were wide as they continued to poke playful fun at each other, filling the few minutes it took to find the gas station with conversation and laughter.

The station wasn't anything fancy, no one in sight as the three of you parked next to one of the only two gas pumps out front.

The building was old and small, the white paint faded and chipping off the sides from the apparent decades it spent under the relentless Texas sun.

The glass door was smudged and unclean, the pumps rusted and stained, and the air was filled with the red dust Brooke's car had stirred up from driving through the dirt that laid out in front of it.

You couldn't help but think of how perfect this scene would be in a horror movie.

“Here.” Brooke dug a ten out of her small pink purse, shoving it your way.

“Why do I gotta go into the creepy old gas station?” You frowned, still taking the bill.

“Because I'm pumping the gas and Carly's already drank so much she's about to piss herself.”

You turned back to see Carly had already evacuated the back seat, hurrying off to look for the bathrooms.

You sighed and gave in, stepping out of the car and taking the opportunity to stretch as you made the short walk to the front door.

The metal was hot as you swung the door open, the creaky hinges screaming out as the heavy, rancid smell of old meat swept through your nose.

You couldn't help but cringe a little, nose scrunching and feet faltering at the old pig set inside the glass counter of the small deli to your left.

You brushed it off and stepped up to the counter to your right, greeting the older woman with a smile as she puffed on her cigarette.

She looked you up and down, a slight scowl on her face as she nodded at you.

“I need ten on, uh...” You glanced back through the door, “...The pump that's closest to the door.”

“Ain't got no gas.” She deadpanned, leaning on the counter with one hand as she looked down to the ten you had sent on the counter.

Your heart dropped and you sighed, crumbling the bill in your hand, “Is there another gas station around here?”

“Not for another fifty miles.”

“I don't know if we can make it that far. Do you know when you might get some more gas?”

“'Fraid those pumps haven't worked for the better part of five years.”

You let out a huff and chewed your bottom lip, “I- I don't, uh... I don't suppose you have any idea of what we could do?”

She let out a long sigh through her nose and rubbed the butt of her cigarette into the ash tray, “I can call the sheriff. I'm sure he won't mind taking you to the nearest station.” She punctuated her sentence by looking you up and down once again.

That implication made you more than a little uncomfortable, but knowing Carly and Brooke were with you was enough of a comfort let her call the man.

The lady turned to the phone behind her, spinning the dial as you tapped your foot impatiently.

You were looking around the station, taking in the old, dusty atmosphere as you waited for the sheriff to pick up on his end.

Flies buzzed, darting around the room as the dull lights flickered in the empty display fridge across the store, a couple of old wooden tables and matching chairs filling the space between it and the shelves.

A small radio sat stiff and silent on the table behind the counter, right beside the phone the lady was speaking into.

“Sure you ain't. And I don't know, only one of 'em came in.”

You balanced on the balls of your feet for a moment, letting out a short sigh as you finally tuned into the one side of the conversation you could hear.

“Watch your tone, boy.” Her voice was threatening as she pulled the phone away from her ear, “How many of y'all are there?”

Your brows furrowed as you stopped for a moment.

It was a bit of a strange question, but you supposed that he would need to know how many people he'd be driving, so you brushed it off and gave her an answer.

“Three, including me.”

“There's three of 'em.” She didn't acknowledge your answer as she continued speaking on the phone.

You pursed your lips as the faint sound of a loud man drifted from the phone, but you had no idea what the hell he could be saying.

“If you say so. I'll see you in a bit.” She finally responded before hanging up the phone and turning to you, “He says it'll be about five minutes.”

Hope blossomed in your chest as you thanked her profusely, “I'll go tell my friends.”

She didn't say anything as you hurried out the door, meeting Brooke and Carly at the car.

“The pump ain't workin', Y/N. What gives?” Brooke was repeatedly pulling the trigger as the pump sat in her gas tank.

“She said they don't have no gas, and the next station ain't for another fifty miles.”

“Oh, what the hell...” Carly groaned from the backseat where she had been laying out, sunglasses protecting her eyes from the harsh light.

“Don't worry, she called the sheriff and he's gonna come give us a ride!” You explained, climbing back into the passenger seat, “She said it'll only be five minutes.”

Brooke huffed as she put the pump back in place before climbing into the drivers seat, “Just our luck, eh?”

Carly shot up, beaming, “It could be! I bet the sheriff is an absolute hottie.”

You snickered, “In a place like this? He's probably a hundred years old!”

“Hey, Carly likes the gray foxes.” Brooke smirked, leaning back on her seat to face the two of you.

“Oh, sick.” She made a gagging face and grabbed her throat, “You are a freak, Brooke!”

“There's nothing wrong with an older guy!” You defended the idea, “They're more mature.”

“Oh, so you're the freak.” Brooke laughed, “It would be you, you've always been a weirdo.”

“True! Remember when we went to that haunted trail a few years ago and she hooked up with one of the zombies!?” Carly pointed out, making you groan.

“Don't remind me. He was such a clinger, I practically had to fake my own death to get him off my leg.”

The conversation continued flowing easily, as it always did between you three.

Before you knew it, the loud slamming of a car door caught your attention and halted your conversation as the three of you looked ahead to the sheriff's car parked some feet ahead of your car.

And older man began walking from the driver side, graying and white hair, a matching, thin, goatee stained by the dip he haphazardly spit to the ground.

“Oh, nasty.” Carly whispered, pulling a face, “He really is old.”

“Don't say that!” Brooke nudged her with her elbow before gesturing to you, “You'll give the old home's heartbreaker here a boner.”

You gently slapped her shoulder, “Shut it, he's coming this way.”

“Who's that in the passenger seat?” Carly asked no one in particular, sitting up further to get a closer look.

“Well, howdy there, ladies. What brings you to this little slice of paradise?” The sheriff drawled, a creepy smirk on his face as he finished crossing the path to Brooke's door, leaning a little too close for comfort.

“Just passing through, sir.” Brooke gave a tight smile, leaning back a little, “Ending up running out of gas.”\

He tsk'd a little, shaking his head, “Well, that just won't do, will it?”

You tried your best not to pull a face as your attention turned back to the sheriff's car, hearing the passenger door finally open and close.

Out stepped a man, much much different from the first person to emerge.

He was tall, towering over the car as he shuffled in place, head hanging low as his eyes stayed trained on the sheriff.

His long, black curls brushed against his shoulders, and seemed to be held down by the homemade mask covering his face, though you couldn't see any finer details from here.

He wore an old, dirty dress shirt, and black slacks to match, almost as if he were in his Sunday best, despite the stains and wrinkles adorning his clothes.

As you stared he seemed to notice, eyes darting to focus on you.

A deep heat flooded your cheeks as you flashed an awkward smile before shrinking into your seat, and mostly out of his line of sight. Staying up just enough to peek back out at him often.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” You tuned back into the sheriff, flashing his stained teeth as he finally stood straight again, “I'll just go in there and tell Mama to keep an eye on your stuff and then I'll take care of y'all.”

You could practically feel Carly shuddering as he stalked off towards the gas station directly across from your car.

“Thomas!” The man yelled as he reached the doorway, and you watched as he motioned the second man over before whispering something to him none of you could hear.

Assuming he was going back into the gas station, you turned back to your friends, who seemed to be avoiding looking at the gas station all together, thanks to the creepy sheriff.

“What a fuckin' sicko!” Brooke shuddered, “I don't want to go anywhere with him!”

Carly nodded, making a sick face, “Did you see the way he kept staring at our boobs? I don't trust him!”

“Who gives a shit what you guys are talking about.” You loudly interrupted their quiet complaints, “Did you see that second guy!?”

They both shook their heads, having been too focused on the creepy advances of the sheriff.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, running your hands down your face, “He was so fucking cute. I'm talking tall, dark, brooding, absolutely huge build. Guy looked like he lifts in his sleep.”

“Uh, you mean that guy, right there by the door, who can absolutely hear your bat shit talk?” Carly pointed to the man, who was standing a few feet away, completely avoiding looking at the car now.

You face dropped and you slunk into the seat, practically screaming, “NO, oh my god he must think I'm such a freak.”

“Um, you kind of are.” Brooke leaned down and whispered, “He's not that cute.”

“You are so stupid.” You let out a sigh, “That man looks like what every man wants to be.”

“Well, maybe he didn't hear you.” Carly offered a small smile, “Even though he definitely did.”

“Fuck.”

“Go talk to him.” Brooke nudged you.

“No way! I'm not looking to embarrass myself even more!”

“It's too late anyways.” Carly reluctantly gestured to the sheriff who was now returning.

Brooke rolled her eyes as she turned to climb out of the car, “Come on, girls.”

You sighed as you followed suit, Carly not far behind.

Brooke was the first to make her way to the sheriff's car, opting for the backseat, much to your and Carly's dismay.

Not even giving you a chance, Carly darted ahead, loudly announcing, “I'll sit with you, Brooke!”

You groaned, knowing it would be rude to try and insist to sit in the back as well.

You glanced back to the station door, noticing Thomas was coming over too. You sighed this time, hoping that he'd take the front seat, as he seemed to know the sheriff better.

But before that even became an option, you heard the loud protest of Brooke and Carly as they pulled faces at the open back door.

“There's stuff all over the backseat! We can't even fit.” Carly pointed out.

“Oh, yea.” The sheriff mused, “Well, c'mon then. Start grabbing stuff, we'll throw it in the trunk.”

He opened the trunk and your friends gave you looks as they started grabbing armfuls of various things crowding the backseat.

You finished walking to the car, planning on helping but walking slow so there hopefully wouldn't be anything left for you to grab.

Thomas was only a few steps behind you, watching as you stood beside the open back door, waiting on your friends.

His hands twitched, and his mind was torn.

His entire life he was ridiculed and bullied.

If not for his deformities and looks, than for his lack of education and inability to fully understand and control his emotions.

When people looked at him, they saw a monster. A freak.

But... You didn't.

You, a complete stranger, if even just for a minute, thought he was cute.

Cute enough to tell your friends and feel embarrassed by his opinion.

You treated him like a normal person, for a brief moment.

And he was hooked.

He craved more, more of that feeling. To have someone look at him like he was normal, like he was more than just a deformed monster hiding behind a mask.

He wanted to get your attention again, to selfishly hear your sweet voice say more kind things, things that no one had ever said before.

He stared holes into the back of your head, trying to will you to give him just a little more of your attention.

He thought you were beautiful too, and he wondered if you knew.

Could you tell, with the way he stared every chance he got?

God, he didn't even now your name, but he needed to. He would do anything to learn more about you, to keep you close and safe.

He was so lost in his own thoughts and emotions he didn't even notice how severe the situation had gotten between the sheriff and your friends until you darted forward.

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. His mind screamed, his hand shooting out to stop you.

The skin of your wrist was so soft compared to his calloused hands, he never wanted to let go.

He wondered if the rest of you was just as soft.

Your confused eyes flickered back to his own, questioning him without any words being spoken.

He shook his head, tightening his grip just enough to get his message across without hurting you.

You were his now. And he would give his life to protect you.

[zorosdimples]

THESE LITTLE DEATHS OF MINE ꒰ okkotsu yuuta x reader ꒱

minors do not interact—i will block you. cw: angst. reader’s stream-of-consciousness and emotions regarding yuuta’s line of work. ambiguous ending (hope is alive). brief sexual descriptions. reader is gn and implied to be shorter than yuuta. wc: 1031. notes: fingers crossed that this makes sense :’-) it’s a little all over the place.

A piece of you dies each time he recklessly throws himself in harm’s way.

Caring for others to the detriment of his own wellbeing is as natural to Yuuta as breathing. He won’t ever admit it (not in words, at least) but you know his heart better than your own. You have held it bloody and beating in your clammy palms, felt the muscle contract and expand, contract and expand; you have seen the truth buried within its chambers, vessels, and valves.

Yuuta believes his suffering is deserved—a cyclical debt he must repay for unwittingly chaining his childhood love to this realm.

Each little death is painful. Gasps of air clatter in your throat, unable to reach your screaming lungs. Violence rends your spirit and severs your very being, its splintered fragments crumbling to dust. You’re a vessel of who you once were, your boyfriend’s life your only concern, his medical updates the gospel.

It’s a basic trick of the mind—a twisted form of self-preservation—convincing yourself that your own injuries aren’t serious. Tattered nerves and a frayed psyche simply need stitching; what is ripped can always be mended.

Though every time you think you’ve grown accustomed to seeing him bear another senseless scar, you’re proven wrong.

═════════════════

Two hands can’t count all the conversations you’ve had like this, his body rigid and prone, your tears threatening to carve crimson rivulets down his wan face. There’s a cruel voice that whispers in your ear: from a distance, he looks like a corpse. A new wound weeps profusely on his abdomen, a weary smile tugging at his split lips. 

“I’m going to be okay,” he soothes before you can say anything.

It’s unconvincing. Maybe it would be easier to trust him if you hadn’t been in this exact position over a dozen times before. Yuuta soaks up your expression, honing in on the furrow between your brows. If he had a little more strength, he’d smooth over the wrinkle with his thumb—there, all better.

“I’ll be good as new in a couple days.” He tries to keep his tone breezy, but you hear a coarse rattle when he exhales. “Then we can laugh about this, yeah?”

Sniffling, you rub your puffy eyes with the heel of your palm. Your mouth curves into a pout, your lips the delicate petals of a flower curling shut. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

“I could never break a promise to you.”

You find the pulse point on Yuuta’s wrist, taking comfort in the dull lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. 

═════════════════

He decides to tell you now.

You’re crammed together in the shower, wet skin slipping and sliding, soap suds swirling across the tile and down the drain. The water is hot, steam fogging up the vanity mirror. (You both like to write your initials in the condensation, drawing a heart around them like lovesick teens—a silly way to reclaim some of your lost youth.) Yuuta diligently washes your body, nimble digits working at the knots in your shoulders before lathering your back. 

“Tomorrow morning, I have to leave for an assignment. I’ll be gone before you get up for work.” His voice is muted—a ghost of whisper—and you suck in a breath. His touch trails down your spine, lingering over each vertebra before he reaches your hips and grips the fat, thumbs stroking your softness. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone…”

It takes you a few beats to process the news; you release the breath you’ve been holding. You squeeze your eyes shut, tracing over the crack in your words before you speak. “I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I have to, my love.”

“I know you do.”

Deafening silence stretches between you like a void, filling the distance between your bodies.

“Say something,” Yuuta entreats.

He bows his head to smear a kiss against the nape of your neck. While the water is scalding, his lips are cold, and you tremble. Crystalline droplets blur your vision as you turn to your boyfriend, seeking solace in his embrace. A lithe arm wraps around your waist while the other cradles your head. 

“You don’t get to leave my side at all tonight. Not once,” you mumble into his chest. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I can’t risk disappointing you, can I?”

His irises are too deep, too blue—mournful as the twilight sky.

═════════════════

It always plays out the same, the evening before he leaves. You’ve made a ritual of it, a sacred, holy rite. There’s an unspoken understanding between the two of you that this could be it—which is why you must devour each other wholly. 

Loving and being loved by Yuuta is usually honey-slow and tender. But when everything is at stake, you can’t get enough of one another. It’s reminiscent of your first time together: sloppy kisses that wet your chin, blooming marks that litter your bodies, stuttered confessions in the rare moment that you part for air. You finish around his fingers and tongue until you’re dizzy and pliant. And by the time he enters you, a flame engulfs his movements, everything brutal and incandescent with passion. It’s his declaration of love. Of possession. Of yearning. 

“Don’t leave me,” you cry, clawing at his shoulders—your lifeline.

“I’ll be back,” he promises. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Eventually, you collapse in a heap of damp sheets and sticky flesh, your limbs inextricably tangled, your lover still buried inside you. Moonbeams slip through the edges of your curtains while you drift off as one.

═════════════════

The trill of the alarm startles you awake. The room is empty—save for your lone figure, nude and sore. You roll to Yuuta’s side of the bed and nestle beneath the covers; the herbal scent of shampoo clings to his pillow. If you close your eyes, you can pretend he’s beside you, gazing at your profile with disarming adoration. 

I’ll be back. 

You revisit that moment, play it frame-by-frame, memorize his insistent stare and the decisive set of his jaw. A stray tear pearls at the outer corner of your eye and rolls down your temple, wetting his pillowcase. 

I’ll be back. 

Hopelessly, you wish that Yuuta didn’t have a habit of making promises he can’t keep.

═════════════════

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-eleven

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

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

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

Authors Note: for this one, no theories or what ifs. it's all from our owns personal experience which makes it cathartic for us and maybe some of you. MUST LISTEN TO EILEY BY TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH! DURING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. HEADS UP: there will be talks of suicidal thoughts throughout this chapter so please please please, read with caution.

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

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

READER

My feet took me almost in autopilot mode to the end of the hallway where the door urged me forward while my heart kept screaming at me to turn around; go back. The tears that gathered in my eyes were blinding me and I could barley see as I pushed through the door, quickly ascending the staircase. So many questions filled my brain and nearly knocked me on my ass, I had to grasp at the railing. I gasped for breath, my lungs being crushed by the weight of leaving him. His broken eyes begging me to come back, not to leave. But my own issues kept me from following my heart.

Why did I leave? Why did I fucking leave? Why couldn’t I just talk? Why did I leave him like that?

Those usually bright eyes filled with so much darkness and sadness, it made me stumble over my feet as I neared the door that led out to the roof of the hotel. The wind brushed around me in rapid waves as I came to a sudden halt in the middle of the roof. Even though it was four in the morning, the hustle and bustle of the city noise carried all the way up here.

Why was I so worried about a future I wasn’t even sure I was going to have?

My mind was clouded with images of Noah and how I left him I didn’t realize I was standing at the edge of the roof until my foot slipped. I cursed while steading myself on my feet and stared down at the passing cars. If I was being honest, I wish I didn’t save myself from falling.

As I stood at the ledge, memories of Noah and I played in a loop in my brain as the weight on my chest caved in. Two hearts that beat in sync but they could never be.

When he first stepped off the bus, taking all the breath out of my lungs.

The day at the zoo where he bought me the stuffed wolf; the one Trey tossed out of the bus in his rage.

Our afternoon at the beach where we had a heart to heart conversation, one of many, and it made me realize Noah was someone I could trust. He made me feel so free and alive that day; like the crow.

When he analyzed my lyrics that first night of tour in the green room and how passionate he looked.

A choked sob crawled out of my throat when the memory of the night we lost Keaton slammed into me. Then his funeral and how broken Noah was that entire day. I thought I lost him into the darkness that was grief but no, quite the opposite happened. My lips tingled as I remebered our first kiss, the one we shared that night.

I should have known how fucked I would be for Noah Sebastian from that moment.

“Fuck!” I screamed while falling to my knees, sobs plowing through my entire body.

My chest finally caved in, bones crushing into dust, as that negative voice that buried itself so deep within years ago continued to chastise me for my decision.

You’re a fucking idiot.

How could you leave him like that?

He begged you to come back. He wanted you to stay until the morning.

Did you expect him to be okay with never having a family?

What man doesn’t want a future like that?

I told you he wouldn’t want to stick by all that bullshit.

“Stop it!” I smacked my palms onto my forehead repeatedly to quiet the voices.

It didn’t work; they only got louder and more persistent.

I tried to tell you, babe. Being with him only leads to heartbreak.

“Just get out! Get out of my head! I beg, please, just get out! Get out of my head before I cave in!” I screamed, now digging my palms into my eyes.

I was absolutely exhausted and unbelievably unhappy. I hated myself and was so angry for what I did. Noah and I were so happy and to see him smile that grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling made my heart burn in my throat. The tattoos that covered his toned stomach with slight pudge in the center. Soft skin and a comfortable smell I wanted to be buried in.

A mochi. My mochi.

No, not yours. You walked away.

I ruined it. I possibly, could have, most definitely destroyed the best thing that could have happened to me, besides this band. My hands shook, my body, my knees were weak. I should have stopped by my hotel room to bring some alcohol with me on this venture up here but knew if Chase or Malcolm saw me, they’d want to know what happened.

Shit.

Everyone had to know by now what happened, I’m sure they do.

Oh god, what did I do? To hurt Noah was like walking on broken glass. I never wanted to hurt him.

But you did, you bitch, you did!

“Oh Keaton,” I sobbed on my knees. “I ruined everything. You knew him better than me, what would he have done if I told him the truth and stayed!?”

Besides Chase and Malcolm, Keaton knew about my secrets only because he was there when the pain was unbearable. He helped me through it. So now, in this desperate time of need and confusion, I called out to the one person who couldn’t give me an answer.

CHASE

“Fuck, what do you think happened?” Malcolm wondered while tossing on a sweater.

I quickly stepped into a pair of sweatpants then ran a hand over my buzzed head. “I don’t know. But whatever it was, fucked both of them up.”

His hands shook as he tried to type something out on his phone and knowing Malcolm better than anyone, I knew he was seconds away from his own panic attack.

“Steven,” he wiggled his phone. “He’s wondering if there’s anything they can do to help find her?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly. “Tell them to take care of Noah; we’ll take care of Y/N.”

She was our responsibility; we made that promise to her father years ago when he came to visit. He couldn’t watch after her so he entrusted us to. We failed with Trey; we let him burry his claws so deep into her and now we’re afraid that whatever happened with Noah we wouldn’t be able to get her back.

Malcolm realized that too because his hands shook and breathing became uneven.

“Hey,” I said softly while covering his hands with my own. “We’ll find her, we always do.”

“I know,” he swallowed. “I’m just-worried. She told me earlier that she was going by Noah’s room to hang out. I didn’t think-.”

I cupped his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Why don’t you stay here in case, she comes back. I think I know where she might be.”

Malcolm eased into my touch, emerald eyes glowing from the moonlight casting in through the window, and if it was any other moment, I’d tell him I love him.

He knew already, but I still liked to remind him.

“I love you,” he breathed a long deep breath.

With a final kiss, I muttered I loved him back against his lips, before pocketing my phone and slipping out of the room. I didn’t bother checking throughout the hotel for her. There’s only one place she’d be.

The roof.

Y/N’s always had this fascination with behind higher than others. She wanted to feel like one of the Gods on Mount Olympus. But I didn’t doubt right now, she felt smaller than a peasant in past Athens.

The door to the roof was open, cold winds blowing down the fire escape stairs as I reached the top, eyes immediately landing on a figure curled up with their knees to their chest, sobs being drowned out by the noise from down below in the streets.

Panic set deep within my stomach as I neared her. “Y/N?”

At first my voice was quiet, so I said her name again, this time deeper; louder as I kneeled in front of her. “Y/N!”

Her eyes struggled to open due to how swollen they were from her crying, mascara running down her cheeks and staining her face.

“Sweets,” I sighed with slumped shoulders.

“Chase?” My name came out raw, a clear sign that her voice had gone horse; from what, I wasn’t sure.

“What are you doing up here?” I questioned while taking off my sweater and wrapping it around her shoulders.

She was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Her lips were blue from the cold of the predawn air and she shivered as I rubbed my hands up and down her arms.

“Oh, gods. What did we do?” Y/N cried while falling into my chest.

For a moment, I didn’t move her although I knew I needed to get her inside to warm up, but I decided another minute wouldn’t hurt. She needed that extra minute to let out all of her pent-up feelings and doubt. Something happened in that room between her and Noah tonight and I didn’t care how long it took, she would tell us what happened.

I hushed her cries with a soothing hand to her back, cradling her, until the cries lessened and her body went limp against me; she must have dozed off again. So lifting her into my arms, I carried her back down the stairs towards our floor and as I turned the corner, our room only two doors down, I stopped mid-step when my eyes landed on Steven and Matt.

Anger filled me for the briefest of moments but I tried to let it go. None of knew what happened so it wouldn’t be right for me to get upset with either of them. They weren’t in the room with Noah and Y/N.

“She okay?” Matt asked.

I nodded. “Found her up on the roof. She’s fucking freezing and I don’t know how long she was up there for.”

Steven sighed while running a hand over his tired face. “I’m glad she’s alright; given the circumstances. We’ll let the others know.”

Not bothering to say anything else, I stepped between the two of them so they could get a good look at how broken Y/N was; blue lips, puffy eyes, and face stained with makeup and tears. Noah wasn’t the only one hurting, she was too.

When I knocked on the hotel room door, I could physically see the relief fall away from Malcolm’s shoulders as he opened the door, letting me step inside.

“Get the blankets,” I motioned towards the bed.

He pulled them away so I could lay Y/N gently into the bed, both of us covering her with the mounds of blankets; and a few from the closet. As I stepped away to let her sleep, cold fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“Chase.”

My name came out broken on her chattering lips and I laid a gentle hand on her face. “Get some rest, sweets. We can talk in the morning.”

She shook her head. “No, I n-nee-need-.”

Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed next to her while I stood behind him. “What do you need?”

“No-Noah,” Y/N forced out through the chills her body continued to attack her with.

“Y/N,” I sighed. “He’s not in a good place right now.”

Her eyes glimmered with tears before they fell from her eyes in groves. “It’s all my fault.”

Malcolm tensed under my touch on his shoulder. “What happened?”

Y/N remained silent as she stared up at the ceiling for a few long beats then she turned over in bed so she could face towards us, clutching the pillow closer to her chest.

Now I kneeled down in front of her so I could look directly into her eyes. “You need to tell us what happened.”

Malcolm wiped away her tears as she let out an unsteady breath. “I asked him a stupid fucking question.”

“What did you ask Noah?”

There was a slight hesitation in her words. “Where he wanted to be in 10 years.”

Malcolm and I shared a look with each other, not sure how that simple question could cause this much damage between them. Y/N could read us like a book, from start to end, so she immediately knew what we were thinking.

“Noah said one day, he wants a family, a dog and cats and a little wooden house,” she explained flatly.

Then it all clicked into place, the puzzle of the night with that simple word; family.

That subject always had been a sore subject with Y/N so we never brought it up. We knew how hard she had to work for things, especially that, so it was understandable why she freaked out the way she did.

“Sweets, it’s alright,” I cooed while brushing the hair away from her face. “He didn’t know.”

Malcolm agreed with a nod while rubbing her back. “I’m sure if you talk to him about it, Noah will understand.”

Suddenly, she was pushing away from us and stumbling out of the bed, both of us watching her pace with worry in our eyes.

“You guys don’t understand the pain. You don’t know how he looked!” Y/N pounded her chest. “It’s like a huge hole has been punched through my chest. This pain is the reminder, he is real.”

“Y/N,” I cautioned while rising to my feet and slowly walked over to her. “Everything will be alright.”

She jerked her hand away from me. “No, it won't! I did what I always do, Chase! I panicked and ran away. I so badly wanted to stay. Fuck, you guys should have seen his face when he asked me to stay- the crinkles, the cheeks, so sweet I just- I can’t believe I did this. I’m so damaged, guys, so damaged.”

I stood there frozen, unsure how to console Y/N because we’d never seen her like this; so broken. Tears fell from her eyes as her chest caved in with each deep, stuttering breath. As Malcolm pulled her into his arms, I took out my phone and typed out a message to Nicholas.

I know what happened.

MALCOLM

“Are you sure you two will be alright?” I asked while adjusting the bag on my shoulder.

Chase nodded while wrapping a protective arm around Y/N’s shoulder; she hasn’t slept since he brought her back into the room just a few hours ago. She was running on fumes, we all were, but I knew the long day she had ahead of her. She needed every ounce of energy she could find.

“We’re mostly going to pick up Salem,” Chase said.

Fuck, the cat.

I cringed at the mention of Y/N’s cat; soul as dark as its fur.

“I swear that cat fucking hates me,” I grumbled while leaning closer into Chase.

He chuckled while leaning up to kiss me, since I was a few inches taller than him. “I would say thats not true but we all know it is.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll do my best to make sure he stays out of your guys’ room.”

I had to admit; it was really good to hear her laugh, even if it was a quiet one.

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” I asked.

Her face flinched with my words but she quickly recovered. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

“Last call for flight 3E for Los Angeles. Now boarding.”

The three of us glanced over towards the group of people that were sitting in the same lounge we were. Nicholas was sitting next to Noah, who refused to lift his gaze from the chip nail polish on his fingers. Jolly was talking with Folio and when he felt us staring, Nicholas gave a curt nod to Chase.

Without Y/N noticing, he pulled out his phone to send a text to Nicholas. After we told him we knew what happened, we promised we would tell him everything; about Y/N, her condition, and why she left.

“Do you?” I asked Y/N, nodding towards Bad Omens.

She shook her head, not daring to look any of them in the eye. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” I smiled weakly. “Call me when you guys land, I want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Chase and I shared a kiss before I pulled Y/N into my chest, her arms wrapping around me.

“Thank you,” she muttered into my shirt.

It was hard for me to show affection but for her; I found it easier.

I placed a kiss on top of her head. “Anytime, buttercup.”

With a final wave towards the two people that mean everything to me, I turned my back and fell into line with the large group of others that were flying back to Los Angeles. I stood a few spaces behind Noah, who could barley lift his head up, the weight of what happened last night pressing down on his shoulders. Guilt ate away at my insides knowing that I could fix it but it wasn’t my place too. The part of me that needed to fix the bad with something good was overpowering. Any time something got too tense or awkward, I was always there to smooth it over with my humor; but this wasn’t one of those times.

“Hey.”

Turning on my heels, I gave a small smile towards Jolly. “What’s up, man?”

“You’re not going to Vegas?”

We both took a step forward as the line moved slowly. “No, I’m heading back to LA to get our new place set up.”

“Right,” Jolly nodded. “You’re only a few miles from us now.”

“Yea.”

Silence fell between us and I shifted on my feet, my anxiety about this whole situation suddenly becoming too overbearing. I felt as if my lungs were being crushed from the inside out. Knowing that someone I loved was hurting because of a choice they made killed me. I wanted to fix things. I needed to fix this. It’s what I’d done all my life as the middle child. I was there to fix my younger brothers smile when our dad hit him a little too hard. I was there to fix my mom when my dad took his anger out on her instead. I hated not being able to fix the division that stood between Noah and Y/N.

Breathe, Chase’s voice cooed in my mind. Deep breath in, long breath out.

“They’ll be alright,” Jolly’s voice broke me out of my inducing panic.

We watched Noah’s head lift finally from the ground as the flight for Las Vegas was called. His eyes danced around the room, searching for someone, but it was too late. Y/N and Chase had made it to the other end of the airport, their flight leaving minutes after ours. Defeat and possibly anger radiate off of Noah as he handed his boarding pass to the attendant behind the desk and grumbled his thanks before slipping down the long hallway towards the plane.

“She didn’t mean to break him,” I defended Y/N. “She’s going through something that takes a lot out of her every month. It’s a constant battle between what she wants and what her body needs.”

“I know,” Jolly nodded. “We’re here if any of you guys want to talk.”

I bumped fists with him. “Thanks, man.”

READER

There’s a thousand voices in my head, all saying the same fucking thing, and I hoped they didn’t take a rope around my neck.

Pathetic.

You can’t give him what he wants.

He won’t wait for you. He’ll find it with someone else.

I slammed the pillow over my head to smother the voices away. The darkness that clouded over my room did nothing to help the raging pain that pounded within the confines of my skull. Everything hurt and screamed for release but I did nothing. I’d rather let my body succumb to it than ease it because once the pain was gone, memories of Noah crept back in and I didn’t want to be reminded of what I did.

How beautiful his face looked when he asked me to say until morning.

How broken his face looked when I said no.

And how destroyed his face was when he begged me to come back.

Noah’s face haunted me every single night the last two weeks that I refused to sleep for longer than a few hours because I would eventually wake with a scream, his name echoing off my walls. The guilt of walking away sat heavy on my chest as I sat in bed, scattered pens, papers, and a fully charged laptop at my feet.

Rain pelted hard against the large windows of my bedroom and I sighed, knowing there was another full day of storm's head; figuratively and literally.

Salem’s soft meow broke me from my frozen trace and I picked him up from the floor to set him in my lap. He purred loudly as I scratched his head, letting the softness of his black fur calm my racing heart.

“I know Chase already fed you, stop trying to get second breakfast.”

It had been a few weeks since I moved in with Chase and Malcolm, all of us falling into living together quite fast, until the pandemic hit and forced us inside. I didn’t mind it, being holed up in my room with my writing and Salem, but Chase was going stir crazy. He was the social one out of the three of us, and knowing he couldn’t go out to see friends or even go for a hike was making him bang his head against the wall.

Malcolm, on the other hand, loved staying home. He spent the time writing music on his bass or baking bread. According to Chase, the first few batches weren’t that great, but he didn’t dare tell Malcolm that.

I stayed in my room most of the day, only seeing one of them when they occasionally checked in on me or brought me something to eat; like right now.

A soft knock on my door made me tear my gaze away from the page full of lyrics.

“Hey sweet,” Chase said while leaning against the doorframe. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

Salem jumped off of my lap and scurried towards the light that poured in from the hallway, clearly having enough of the dark somber of my bedroom.

“You have to eat something,” Chase sat at the end of my bed.

I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them. “I’m not hungry. I’ll come down and eat something for lunch soon.”

“It’s almost six in the evening, Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been up here all day.”

Shit, have I?

Glancing to the clock on my nightstand, I realized he was right.

“Oh,” I shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

Chase pointed to the papers in front of me, a silent way of asking if he could read it so I agreed with a nod.

I wanna feel something. That's not the touch of your breath on my neck. I wanna feel something. That's not the weight of your world in my head. And all the walls are caving in.

“This is really good,” he mused while handing it back to me.

I simply hummed in response, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say.

“Anything else?” I asked after some silence, keeping my eyes trained hard to the rain splashing against the window behind Chase.

His jaw ticked. “You’re killing yourself, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Just call him and explain-.”

My eyes snapped over to Chase. “No, there’s nothing to fucking explain. I walked away from him, I hurt him, Chase. He won’t forgive me.”

“You don’t-.”

“Yes, I do! You don’t see what I see!” I pointed to my head. “Every fucking night his face haunts me. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat because it makes me fucking sick.”

I choked on a sob as tears slipped from my eyes down to the scatter of pages on my bed. My cries drowned out the rain as Chase pulled me down to bed, letting me lay against his chest, the wetness of my mistakes staining his shirt.

Memories of Noah will always fucking haunt me; how devastated he looked as I turned my back to him. I tried to force them away by thinking of anything else but truth was is I didn’t think he was going anywhere, soon. I’ve done some things that I can’t speak and I tried to wash Noah away, but he wouldn’t leave. Although, part of me was almost begging him to keep haunting me just, so I had an excuse to see his face.

I think I’m possessed, that was the only explanation. He put a fever inside me and I’ve been cold since I left him in that room weeks ago.

CHASE

I walked passed Y/N’s door again; she needed to eat. She hasn’t eaten anything since dinner last night and that was a small bowl of cereal. It was nearly two in the afternoon and if she continued at this rate, she’d be a mess of skin and bones. I was supposed to be out with Malcolm but felt as if I should stay back. Something was deep-rooted in my gut that I needed to be home with Y/N today.

My knuckles raised to the wood of her door, ready to knock, but stopped when I heard that song play yet again. Y/N’s had it on repeat every day for the last three days, nothing else coming from her room besides Keaton’s voice.

Fuck, why did she have to torture herself like this?

I sighed, knowing this was going to be a whirlwind, and pressed my ear to the door. Her soft, broken, voice singing. Suddenly the music stopped for a few seconds before Y/N replayed it and got louder.

Who was she talking to?

“How can you say this was all part of your plan, start explaining?”

“I knew you wanted me to meet him! I fucking knew it! Well guess what, Keaton?! I did; I fucking did, and now look! Look what happened!”

Keaton.

I ran a hand over my buzzed head and quickly typed out a message to Malcolm, who was out shopping. Since the ban had been lifted a few days ago, we were planning a small vacation just the two of us in a few weeks and he was buying things we needed.

Well, as long as Y/N was in the right headspace, we would leave her. But with what I was hearing on the other side of the door, I was afraid our vacation would have to get pushed back.

She’s blasting Eiley again. But now she’s talking to Keaton, blaming him for her meeting Noah. I don’t know what else to do, Mal.

What sounded like something falling over and breaking made me press my hear against the door again.

“Left with this hole, six feet of dirt I can’t fill,” Y/N’s raw but powerful voice called out into the air.

My phone buzzed with a text from Malcolm.

We need to talk with Nick. There’s not much else we can do, babe.

I sighed, knowing he was right, and quickly sent a text to Nick to see if he was free sometime next week. I remember him saying in our Hollow Omens group chat he was flying back from Virgina on Friday to see everyone.

Of course, neither Noah nor Y/N would ever respond in the chat, not wanting to risk saying something to each other. Maybe if they did, she wouldn’t be talking to the ghost of her best friend.

“Oh god, it hurts,” she wailed and I could picture her clutching her chest. “Why did I do this? Why did you fucking leave us both like this?”

A loud thud had me taking a step away from the door, thinking she was about to come barreling through but realized she was throwing things against the door and walls of her bedroom.

“I’m no better than you! I fucking left him. He wanted me, all of me, and I fucking left!”

“Oh, sweets,” I let out a shaky breath, hands reaching for the doorknob.

“He was mine, he was mine!”

She was mine; she was mine!

I hesitated opening the door at what I heard. Did she? Did Y/N change the lyrics of the song so it was as if she was saying Noah was hers?

Something fell to the floor, glass shattering, and Y/N’s ear piercing screams dug the knife deeper into my heart and I slammed through the door, it slamming against the wall next to me. All the blood drained from my face at the scene in front of me; Y/N was curled up on the floor crying, a framed photo on the floor smashed to pieces. She was clutching a piece of glass in her hand, droplets of blood falling to the wood floor beneath her.

“Fuck, Y/N!” I cursed while sliding on my knee’s in front of her to snatch the piece of glass from her tight grip, slicing my fingers. “Oh, come on sweets, get up! Don’t-don’t do this.”

Fear of what would have happened if I went out with Malcolm dug their nails into me but I refused to acknowledge the pain. Not right now, I can think of the what if’s later. Righ now, Y/N needed me.

Hollow, sunken, and bloodshot eyes stared up at me through the tears that clouded her vision. “I ruined everything, I ruined everything! His face! You didn’t see it! You don’t know!”

Her ramblings had been the same for a month now, never changing.

“Sweets, hey, it’s okay.” I cupped her face. “You didn’t, you’ll figure this out! You’ll talk to him, he’s not gone for good, Y/N. He’s here, he’s here.”

It killed me holding her; she was in agony. She felt like she ended Noah for good. It was almost as if she confused her feelings of grief and heartbreak into two. Noah was alive, his flesh and blood was still awake, he was numbing but he was there. She needed to remember this; she needed to know the feelings she was suffering through had a chance to get better.

“He’ll never see me the same,” Y/N kicked the broken frame away from us but I could see what picture it held; Noah and her at the zoo while they waited for the wolves to come out of hiding.

Unbeknownst to them at the time, I smacked Bryan’s chest so he could take a few pictures of them.

“Just give it time, just give it time.” I said while holding her, rocking her back and forth.

A little kiss on her head. My sister, my friend.

MALCOLM

“Hey sugar baklava,” I knocked on the door frame to Y/N’s room.

She was sitting at the large bay window, sunshine brushing its bright rays across her pale face and dark floors. It's been a few days since Chase found her with the piece of glass in her hand and ever since then, we made it a rule that she had to keep her door open. We didn’t care if she continued to hide away up here but the door needed to be open. It might have been a teenager rule, but we didn’t want to take any chances. We already knew she was hiding things from us so this was the only way.

“Where’s your head at?” I leaned up against the wall while crossing my arms over my chest.

Y/N chuckled at the nickname but I could see there was no light behind those usual bright eyes. She’d been sitting in that same spot for the last day and a half; hair not washed since I can’t remember when, clothes piled up, notebooks out with a variety of lyrics scribbled on every pages and her laptop always had a full charge due to the plug remaining inside it.

Through the pain, she smiled up at me. “Just the usual, contemplating my fucked life and all its wonders.”

I inhaled deeply while stiffing up straight. “I know what you’re going to say, but you are more than welcome to hang out with us at Applebees later. They have dollarRitas.”

“Thank you, maybe,” she smiled weakly.

“I’m worried about you.” I sighed with concern. “We all are.”

Salem clawed his way out from underneath her bed to stretch wide in the one spot on the floor the sun touched. If it wasn’t for that furry little creature that hated my guts, I don’t want to think of where Y/N would be right now.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassured while holding up a granola bar. “Bring me back some tacos?”

“Deal,” I smiled.

Turning my back to leave, her voice called after me. “Mind feeding Salem on your way out?”

My eyes cast down to my feet as the black cat sat between them, dark green eyes staring deep into my soul.

“Fuck, Y/N. Your cat wants to kill me,” I shivered at the thought.

She chuckled. “As long as you feed him, you’ll live!”

MALCOLM

The noise of the city faded to a dull buzz as I set down my second empty margarita class and pushed away the rest of my lunch. We were sitting on the patio at Applebee’s, the warm Los Angeles air doing nothing to ease the shake in my bones.

“How’s she doing?”

I nodded towards Nick who sat across from Chase and I. “Depends on the day you ask. But after the other day, we’re watching her like a hawk.”

He raised a brow. “What happened?”

Chase and I shared a look before eventually telling Nick about catching her with a piece of glass in her hand.

“You don’t think-?”

“I don’t know what to think, man,” Chase took a long drink of his beer. “I catch her breaking shit then holding a piece of glass in her hand so tight she cuts herself? Thankfully, she didn’t need stitches but if I wasn’t home, who knows what could have happened. She’s playing with her health and I don’t know what to do to help her.”

“What do you mean?” Nick wondered.

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “She hasn’t been taking her medication. There’s at least six more pills than there should be. And two extra vials.”

“What about Noah?” Chase asked, suddenly not wanting to change the subject.

He adjusted the sunglasses that was perched on his nose. “His drinking is getting worse. We want to be stoked because he’s written two really great songs but the alcohol dulls the excitement.”

Chase spun the ice in his drink with the straw and sighed. “Y/N has Eiley on blast until 2 am, hunched over in pain and screaming into her pillows. Writing at random. It’s killing me, to watch her like this.”

“Noah’s been playing Sympathy a lot too, while downing the bottle of whiskey and writing. A fuckin mess, man,” Nick leaned back into the chair.

“Can I tell you something?” Chase asked.

“Shoot,” Nick nodded.

“If fucking hurts to hear this but sometimes, when she plays Eiley, so faintly I can hear her singing. There’s a part in the song where Keaton’s broken as he says she was mine-fuck- I hear Y/N sometimes crying and changes the words-.”

Chase paused, trying to find the right was to convey what he was feeling and Nick tilted his head in wonder.

“He’s mine, he was mine. He was mine,” I finished for Chase, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get the words out.

“She regrets it all, Nick.” Chase rested his arms on the table so he could look directly at Nick. “I think-no I know, she loves him. Y/N fell for him so hard, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive herself for leaving that room.”

“I know,” he sighed. “That’s why I’m on her side for this as well. You told me what she’s going through, it makes sense why she freaked out the way she did.”

I shifted in my seat. “Did you tell Noah?”

“No,” Nick firmly shook his head. “That's something you two or Y/N has to tell him.”

Chase reached for my hand under the table and once our fingers were linked, I gave Nick my best stern gaze. “We have to do something.”

For a long few beats, we were silent, thinking of ways that we could help these two talk again. They weren’t going to do it on their own; the needed help.

“We’ll shoot them both a text,” Nick began. “Same time, telling them to get their heads out of their asses, because let’s be real- they’re stubborn as hell and won’t listen to us directly. They need an outsider to call them both out to wake the hell up.”

“So what? I text Noah while you text Y/N?” Chase wondered.

Nick nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. They need help, they both do, desperately and they need each other. They’re just being ridiculous about it.”

There was a clear hesitation in my expression with Nick's idea. “You know it’s not gonna magically happen over night though right?”

“Of course not, but I have a hunch it’ll work,” Nick assured while throwing some money on the table for his lunch.

“What we need to do is get them to seek help. They have soon many unresolved issues, deep-seeded. They need to get help and get them to at least be friends again. They’re in love with each other. That won’t change, but the circumstances have to.”

READER

The pillows muffled my screams as I clutched my abdomen, the stabbing, sheering pain spreading through my veins like wildfire. Every fiber of my existence was screaming at me to stop the pain, make it all go away, but I ignored it. I needed to feel this; it was the only thing that made me feel anything at all.

Eiley played on a loop through my speakers as I spoke into the air above me.

“Choose me over him, I often wonder why.”

“How can I face him again, Keaton? How? How can I ease the pain, he’s mine. He was mine.”

Rolling over to my other side once the pain stopped for a few moments, I started at the basket on top of my nightstand. 1, 2, 3, 4, bottles, and one syringe. They just stare at me. I counted each bottle, and that syringe repeatedly. A reminder of the work it takes to make myself normal. A reminder of what happens every month like fucking clockwork. A reminder that no man would ever want to stay with me and deal with this alongside me.

“Noah would,” I muttered into the pillow that was stained with my tears.

Yeah? Well you ruined that, sweetie.

I’ve had fans ask me, “how do I keep myself from losing myself entirely?” All I can tell them is that it can’t rain all the time. I hide the pain behind a smile and slip into a parallel universe.

I’m constantly making a series of small holes in a row, mistakes I made in my membrane between here and there until an opening exists. And who can resist an opening?

So do I take the meds? Or do I lay here and rot?

I’ll take them tomorrow. It’s already too late in the day, no need to take them.

It was the same thing I told myself every morning when I would wake up and stare at the medication. The same thing for the last month.

Maybe if I stopped taking them, I would go back to my natural state. I could succumb to the natural order of things, or maybe the pain would be so severe I’d be fine with dying.

Okay.

No. Stop. Stop that!

The voices continued to fight with each other as I dug my palms into my eyes, hoping his haunting face would leave; even for a few seconds.

Maybe I could wait for the dust to settle.

Eiley started playing yet again and I narrowed my eyes up towards the ceiling. “If this is all part of your plan, Keaton then start explaining because this is fucking bullshit. You wanted us together, well fucking give me a sign it’s worth it.”

I stared at those bottles and wondered why any of this mattered when my phone buzzed from underneath my pillow. Groaning, I had every intention of ignoring it, thinking it was the Hollow Omens group chat of Folio saying something he thought was funny; most of the time it was. But today, the pain was so debilitating that I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Nicholas: Hi.

I sucked in a breath, not expecting a solo text from him. I wanted to leave him on read because there was no reason for him to be texting me. What���s there to say? He's my friend, but Noah is his brother, why would he care about me at all? I hurt his friend.

But.

That one word weighed heavy on my mind as my shaking fingers typed out two letters back.

Hi

The bubbles popped up and stopped, then popped up again, before proceeding to another text.

I hope you’re alright, Y/N. and doing okay. I hear you moved in with the guys, a great idea and I’m glad you’re settled in.

That message I left on read only because I was hunched over my bed now, dry heaving saliva into the bowl that had a permanent spot next to my bed on the floor. The pain was becoming too much; like an animal with razor like claws were digging through my skin to be set free. My stomach was being ripped to shreds.

It wasn’t until almost an hour later once the pain and my screams of agony finally stopped that I had the courage to look at my phone; the text from Nick smacking me in my face.

Y/N, first I just wanna say this: it isn’t my business to step in or to make assumptions I know everything. I had a talk with Chase and Malcolm, and I understand to a degree what you’re feeling right now. I will admit, I was angry at you; you hurt my friend. Noah isn’t doing well right now, but he’s trying. However, I’m trying to remain mutual about this. I see what you both have; I see what you’re both capable of even if you don’t right now. He needs something; he needs someone stable in his life who can give him the comfort he’s been searching for; I thought that could be you; you acted as if it was. Maybe it still is?

Ten minutes in between this text and the next one.

I would never step in and say something like this to anyone, but because of our current friendship and the situation that’s in front of us, I had to. Because I care about you both. Noah deserves better than what you did; he deserves better than walking out with more questions than answers. But you deserve better than the trauma Trey left you with. My friend’s not perfect but he’s not that fucking guy. All I ask is that you dig deep and see that you can really work through this. Not just alone but together. Don’t be a stranger, Y/N. Please don’t. We miss you.

My eyes blinked a few times at the screen, wondering if what I just read actually was there. Everything Nick said was one hundred percent the truth. Especially the part where Noah deserves better than what I did. But so did I. I also deserved better than what Trey left me with.

I gazed back up towards the ceiling, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “Thanks, Keaton.”

READER

When I was supposed to be awake, I was asleep. When I was supposed to sleep, I was silent. When a pleasure offered itself to me, I avoided it. I wrote that fucking song repeatedly, a better perspective- a perspective of what I wanted to do that night.

I’ll face my fear of the cold nights

When you leave me behind

I felt your hands in my hair

I felt your breath on my neck

Yeah, I need to feel you again

Just wanted to say good night

Our eyes fighting the light

But I’m not ready to say good night oh

I try and hold on tight ‘cause it’s just not time to say good night

To say good night

One song completed last week and another one just needing the finishing touches. It was all falling into place; well, most things. All I wanted was for Noah to call me when he woke up. I wanted to be in his sweet dreams. But almost three days after Nick texted me, my phone remained silent. Nothing, no texts or calls from Noah. Which at the moment was fine because currently, Malcolm and Chase stood at the foot of my bed with their arms crossed over their broad chests, eyes staring daggers into me.

“The syringe?” Chase asked.

I nodded. “This morning.”

“Pills?” Malcolm then questioned.

Playfully rolling my eyes, I filled my palm with the variety of differnt pills and tossed them into my mouth, swallowing them down with the orange juice they’d brought up minutes ago. I even opened my mouth wide to show them I wasn’t hiding them under my tongue.

Malcolm physically relaxed but Chase wasn’t convinced quite yet.

“Did you call?”

I groaned. “Yes, dad. I have an appointment on Tuesday at ten in the morning. Did you want to drive me there too?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he narrowed his eyes before breaking out into a huge smile. “I’m proud of you, sweets.”

“Me too, buttercup,” Malcolm ruffled my hair.

I playfully smacked his hand away before motioning towards the open door of my room. “Feel free to close it on your way out.”

Salem meowed from his perched on the open window and I realized it was nearing five in the evening. “Oh, dinner time.”

I went to stand from the bed but Malcolm playfully pushed me back down.

“I got it. Let’s go, Salem,” he tapped his thigh a few times, my cat quickly following out of the room.

Chase watched with amazement in his eyes as I let out a lighthearted laugh, one that he hadn’t heard in so long, no doubt.

“What?” I asked, grabbing my phone that buzzed on my bed.

He shrugged before walking out. “Nothing, it’s good to hear that laugh again.”

Smiling, I looked down at my phone but nearly dropped it as I read the message over and over again. Chase noticed my face right before he stepped through the doorway and motioned towards my phone.

“Who is it?”

Mochi 🧋🥟: Hi.

My heart hammered against my chest and it felt like I couldn’t breathe, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering wildly with life I thought would never return.

“Shit, shit.” I muttered while showing Chase the message.

“Well fucking answer him, Y/N.”

“I- what do I say?” I asked as my breathing became erratic.

Fuck, it was like I was a teenager texting her crush for the first time.

“Start with a simple hello. Today’s the first day of you getting your life back in order.” Chase left a kiss to the top of my head before leaving me alone to my own choices.

I stared down at the phone, thumbs hovering over the screen, wondering what the fuck I was going to do.

Do I take Chase’s advice and get my life back in order? Or do I remember all the pain and agony, dark nights where I contemplated ending it all?

[strawb3rrystar]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader where Reader receives a peculiar bouquet from an anonymous sender, but she realizes too late that the flowers are hemlock, lily, foxglove, interspersed with baby's breath, and bleeding hearts. Which are all poisons. Before she could do anything, she was knocked out?

Rose of death.

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Flower Overlord! Reader

Warnings: Non consensual drugging, implied torture

Word count: 503

✰Masterlist

You thought today would be just a normal day, until a strange bouquet was delivered to your doorstep. At first you thought it had been delivered to the wrong address, but the card attached had your name on it. From anonymous.

How peculiar, huh? Yet you brushed it off and walked off into the kitchen after shutting the door. You grabbed a nice vase from the top of the shelf, where it usually sat collecting dust. Filling it generously with water, you take work on cutting the ends of the stems. They were a lovely bundle of flowers, unlike your average bouquet. Whoever sent you these really knew their stuff.

You carefully set them in the vase admiring their beauty. You always loved flowers, even when you were alive. During your years alive, you owned a small flower shop, which you loved and cared for deeply. You stared at the bouquet, taking in its scent. Ah.. was that hemlock?

Wait... hemlock? Your eyes widen as you stare more intensely at the bouquet. It only took you a second to identify the flowers in front of you. Lily, foxglove, interspersed with baby's breath, and bleeding hearts.

"Fuck." You curse, knocking the vase to the ground. All of those flowers were poisons. How could you be so careless? You were a fucking Overlord for Satan's sake! Lightheadedness starts to take over as you cling onto the edge of your counter. Shit, the door!

Your head whips to the door as you forgot to lock it. You try to take a step forward but your body feels like it's underwater. In a flash you're laying on the ground, your vision going fuzzy. All you could make out was a red figure walking towards. But everything was red in this fucking place, it could literally be anything. Your eyes feel heavy as you slip into unconsciousness. The darkness overcomes you and it suffocates your lungs, barely able to keep a breath in.

When you awake, you find yourself strapped to a table. Your body felt weak and sore. Like you had been tossed down fifty flights of stares. A bright light suddenly surrounds you and you hiss in pain. When your eyes adjust you're met with a toothy grin and psychopathic eyes. The Radio Demon. His name felt like mercury on your tongue. But what could he possibly want with you? You open your mouth to speak, but Alastor's tentacle is faster, covering your mouth completely. "Save your voice for the broadcast, my dear."

That's when you really started freaking out. You begin the thrash around, but a jolt of pain courses through your body. A wince leaves your lips as you halt. "You can struggle all you want when were live."

Alastor brushes some hair out of your face then turns to his set up. He fiddles with a few buttons and knobs before turning back to you. His grin spreading. "Trust me, the only thing you're going to be doing from now on is screaming."

Star's notes -> Would it surprise you if I said this is my first Alastor fic?

(Thank you @cartoonykat for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen

@roboticsuccubus83 @marenelili @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d

@saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @naathanuwu

@ghxstiess @sugarplumz100 @hazbinhappy @facelessfionna | Join the taglist

[heartsofminds]

and at every table, i’ll save you a seat -  part i

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” or you invite Bradley to a wedding but your big fat crush on him won’t let you actually. . .invite him. 

“and at every table, i’ll save you a seat” - tunes of the gossipy Hard Deck patrons and liking someone so much you feel like you can’t breathe 

A/N: hey guys!!! so in the midst of writing this, i realized how long it actually is and how many dividers i had on my google doc? anyway, i thought it would probably work out so much better if it was released in parts rather than just one, big, fat, HUGEEEE piece that would probs crash on mobile. listen along to the playlist (that will be updated with each writing update) and relish in overly flirtatious bradley with me! which btw, he’s the lover album personified with a dash of red and a hint of fearless! 

“I’m not asking him.” 

Phoenix rolls her eyes before she takes a sip from her Ultra. The thought of it tasting revolting because of its lukewarmness crosses her mind despite her head pounding unceremoniously. She almost speaks up to answer you, but closes her mouth. 

She softly places the bottle back down on the counter instead. 

She can’t quite tell if the pain in her temples is from the sound of excited chatter all around her, the sound of Mickey, Javy, and Bob shittily singing Go Your Own Way on the karaoke machine in the corner, or the sound of your blue glitter gel pen scratching away at the scrap paper you have by the register; frantically carrying decimals for tip calculation and pathetically adding and subtracting since Penny’s “older than dirt” cash register bit the dust an hour prior. 

She almost concludes that the pounding ache working its way to the forefront of her brain is because of your absolute and utter refusal to do the simple and the obvious. But wait. 

I haven’t eaten at all today. Yeah, that’s it. 

A deep breath fills her lungs before she exhales. Her elbows find themselves on the lip of the bar top and her forearms come up to rest her head on her hands. She notices that the scribbling stops from what she assumes is you looking at her. 

An uncomfortable beat passes which is unusual for you two. There’s always some sly remark made or interminable giggling filling the gaps of silence. 

You pop your hip on the corner of the table. Your magenta tank top was far too bright of a pink to be welcome in the warm-hued bar. Your bracelet screams “graduation gift” and you can feel the oil on your face contorting your makeup as your time in the muggy air passes. 

Out of place is always in your thoughts but doesn’t become an insecurity until you’re left alone with them. The absence of Phoenix’s voice makes this fact more obvious to you. 

“You good? Not gonna hurl all over the place?” you cautiously ask, “Because it’s fine if you gotta puke, but I’ll murder you if you make me clean it up.” 

Natasha lets out something short of a laugh but too informal to be considered a huff. “I’m fine,” she says, leaning her head into her hand and adjusting herself in her seat. 

You nod, returning to your scribbling when the man sitting next to her hands his card to you. “You know, if you write any harder, you might permanently etch,” she pauses, leaning over to get a peek at what you had just written, “ten dollars and eighty-three cents into the counter.” 

“Maybe it’ll convince Penny that a new cash register is a need and not a luxury.” 

Natasha scoffs. “Could say the same about your plus one, but hey, if you don’t want my advice, then certainly don’t take it.” 

You hand the gentleman back his card with a smile and a small “thank you” before returning your attention back to Natasha. She digs her teeth subtly into the plush of her bottom lip. 

“I already told you. I’m not asking him.” 

She groans, pushing herself to stand up from her seat. Even dressed in civilian clothes, she looks like she belongs. Her aura demands respect; even in a lacy wine-colored top that Hangman had tried to tease her about earlier when the brood of rowdy pilots had first arrived. 

“Well, you said no to Jake.” 

“You say it like he would be willing to say yes.” 

“You said no to Rueben.” 

“He’s in a situationship with that girl from my spin class. Going with me to a wedding and her seeing the pics on Instagram would just make shit weird,” you start scrubbing at the permanent water stain near the beer taps anxiously, “Especially when I set them up.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes again. She swears that by the end of the night, she’ll know exactly what the inside of her eyelids look like. 

“Whatever,” she huffs, “You said no to Javy and Bob.” 

“Javy would rub the fact that I asked in Jake’s face and they’ll start a pissing contest on how to woo me…and Bob,” you look around to make sure no one who knows you all is within earshot, “He’s sweet. Like, sooo sweet.” 

Natasha tries not to crack a smile before you get your words out, but she certainly knows where the tail end of your sentence is going. “But it’s definitely not believable that we would be together and my aunt is one hell of an FBI agent and I’m sure he’d crack and rat us out and I’d have to sit there and eat my weight in tiramisu to drown my embarrassment.” 

Business is painfully slow for a Thursday evening despite the upcoming weekend. Your eyes dart around the room to look for anyone to come and rescue you from this conversation (and even volunteer to be your date to your bitchy cousin’s wedding next weekend without you asking, but you know to only hope for one miracle at a time). And when your eyes turn up empty for an ample opportunity, your shoulders droop while Natasha snickers at you. 

“Cut your losses and just ask him. I know he won’t say no,” she says, coy smirk at home on her face. 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“What is so wrong with him that you don’t wanna do it? Huh?” 

You ponder on her statement before shaking your head. You’d rather be shot in the foot with a nail gun eight times than expose your silly little schoolgirl crush in the middle of the Hard Deck in front of his best friend turned your best friend since moving to the area five months ago. 

“Why not Neil or Brigham? Or hell, even Mickey? I know he’s like, engaged, but Mariella is so freakin’ sweet and I know she’d understand so like-” 

“Mmm-mmm. No, no, and hell no.” Your frown plasters itself on your lips faster than you can comprehend at her words. “Rooster or bust.” 

Your spine straightens as you begin to engage in protest before you’re cut off by the man himself. 

“Rooster or bust, what?” he asks, lips coming out to lick the dryness of the San Diego sun away. Your knees start to buckle and you can hear Natasha stifle a laugh as you try to conceal your lack of balance. 

He stands in front of you, hand on his hips and sunglasses tucked on the tight, white tank top underneath his button-down shirt. Today’s print was red with cream-colored hibiscus flowers and you wonder how he could pull them off so well. If it were anyone else, you would have had to try your hardest to keep it together with Natasha in front of you; the jokes about touristy dads and low-budget porn actors in the works. 

You realize he’s waiting for an answer as you see Natasha getting called away to sing karaoke with Javy and the gang out of the corner of your eye. 

Great. Just fucking great. 

“Taking bets on who the best pilot is or?” Bradley speaks, trying to get to the bottom of the small fragment of the conversation he had walked into. 

“I-,” you stammer.

Fuck. Can someone just come to the bar and order so I can avoid this? 

“You?” he looks at you through his eyebrows comically. Everything he does makes you nervous. 

“I-,” the lines in his forehead raise with the infliction of your voice, “I need a favor. Like a big one.” 

“Okay,” he laughs, “How big are we talking?” 

“Umm-” 

“Like ‘giving you my other kidney’ big or letting you borrow my car big?” he interrupts. 

“Well-” 

“Or do you need me to house sit? Dogsit? Babysit?” 

You inhale as you place your hands on the countertop. Your eyes find his honeyed-colored ones and you almost drown in them before your pride kicks in. 

I cannot embarrass myself in front of him. 

“I need you to come to a wedding,” you speak gently. You can see the wheels turning in his head without him having to say anything. Bradley’s face always gave his thoughts away. 

“If you don’t have plans, of course.” 

The realization of what you had just said starts to kick you upside the head the longer you look at him. He doesn’t say anything. His face doesn’t move at all. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t even blinked yet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! 

“And if you’re comfortable! Obviously!” you start to ramble before you can convince yourself to shut the hell up, “It’s next Saturday in Long Beach near the seaside. You don’t have to say yes or anything but I just thought I’d ask because I had a plus one when I had a boyfriend eight months ago and now-” 

“I’ll go.” 

“-we’re not together anymore and my bitchy cousin is the one getting married who, by the way, makes everything a competition but that’s beside the point. But I know my mom is gonna be pissed if I don’t bring someone because my aunt is her sister and she’ll bitch about how they wasted money and how my mom is running out of time to become a grandma because I’m not married yet and that’s totally not true because I’m not even thirty so my biological clock hasn’t even started ticking yet but -”

“Hey!” he raises his voice slightly, amusement hidden in his tone, “I said I’d go with ya, kid.” He steps forward to put his hands on your bare shoulders. You try not to melt into his touch. 

“S’all good. I love weddings and the beach. Promise it’s not a hassle.” 

You’re dumbfounded by his response and how collected he is about your word vomit, not to mention being invited to a wedding where he’ll meet not only your parents, but your entire extended family in a little over a week. You know for certain you wouldn’t have handled the situation as calmly as he had. 

“You - you’ll…go?” The sound of Britney Spears’s “Toxic” and Jake absolutely murdering the high notes in the back of the bar is the only thing keeping you from spiraling into another dimension. 

“Well, I’m not a liar,” he sits down on the seat Phoenix was previously occupying, “I don’t just say things I don’t mean.” 

Your head nods solemnly in silent understanding, your hands grabbing a glass to pour him a whiskey on the rocks. He raises his eyebrows in suspicion at you knowing what his usual drink is, but throws away the thought to comment on it before it can even develop all the way. The subtle pang in his chest of you taking that much notice of him makes itself known. He would be lying if he was to say he didn’t hold a brightly lit candle for you.

You’re a regular, Bradshaw. Get your head out of your ass. 

“To be honest,” you start, placing the chilled glass in front of him, “that sounds a lot like something a liar would say.” 

He gives you a soft smile as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “Well good thing that I’m not one then, right?” 

Your heart flutters in nervousness and with about as much grace as a stampede of elephants. You’re positive that Bradley can see the outline of it beating out of your chest. 

“No, no, no. Your drink is on the house.” 

He shakes his head, forcing the twenty dollar bill that lays in between his fingers next to the scrap paper you have laying near the register. “No, I insist.” 

“No, I insist. It’s on me, Bradley.” 

He cracks a soft smile as he forces the money into your hand. His fingers wrap yours around the beat-up bill that has definitely seen better days. “That just won’t do ma’am.” 

“I”m awaiting Bar results, not living in a shoebox on I-405. I assure you that two dollars and sixty cents won’t break the bank.” 

The loud scrapping of a bar stool against the hardwood floor (which will probably leave a noticeable scratch in the hardwood flooring that Penny will pretend not be upset about) interrupts the cocoon of the world that existed with just you and him. Just you and Bradley…and Jake Seresin’s loud ass mouth yelling, “Bradshaw! What the hell, man? Get your ass over here and sing some Journey with me!” across the bar. 

He shakes his head in disbelief and if you didn’t know any better (didn’t feed into your delusions, is more like it) you would almost think that he was…disappointed? That he didn’t want to leave you and that he was almost as desperate as you to give each other attention; eyes fully and ears solely attuned to the other. 

Hoots and hollers and the sound of his call sign being screamed from his rowdy group of friends make the delusion hard to manage, and the reality finally kicks in that he’s not here for you. He’s here for them. 

You wish you weren’t so good at hurting your own feelings sometimes. 

“Your spotlight awaits you,” you sigh, trying not to show how dejected you felt to him. 

A beat of silence passes before he slides his palms on the front of his jeans. 

“Here.” He snatches your blue glitter gel pen off the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he begins to write. “Text me the details?” 

He offers a slight smile that makes your words catch in your throat; the butterflies dinging around in your stomach begging you to reach out and touch him. To lean forward. To say something. To do something. Anything. 

But before you can he’s zipped across the bar and the sound of Call Me by Blondie inflates the room. You look down at the cerulean ink with specks of shimmer in it. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx  Call me, kid!  Bradley B 

You’re definitely not gonna call him anytime soon…

“Sweetheart, I love you, but if you dry those glasses one more time I think I’ll have a brain aneurysm.” 

Penny snatches the dish towel from your hands as your mouth gapes in silent protest. She throws it lazily on the countertop and snags the crate of beer glasses that you were going to town on away from you. The clinging sound of the dishes makes your head droop with disappointment. 

“I wasn’t done yet! They still feel slippery! ”you complain and she just teasingly shakes her head. 

“So?” 

She winks at you and you have to find it in your heart not to be a little annoyed at her for cutting your task off mid-attempt. 

Perfectionism fuels your life and she knows this. She knows that you’re using the glasses to stress clean. She knows that your cousin’s wedding weekend starts on Friday and you’re fighting the urge to tear your hair out. She also knows that you have Bradley’s phone number on a slip of paper that’s burning a hole through your nightstand because you still haven’t called him. 

“So?” you ask, lightly mimicking Penny’s statement, “Someone’s gonna drop the glass because they’ve never learned how to hold it the right way and then there’s gonna be glass shards everywhere and they’ll get hurt and-” 

“You are such a worry wart, my dear. Reeelaaax,” she interrupts, placing her warm, nimble fingers on your shoulders. 

The subtle sunburn you had gotten this past weekend is slowly starting to calm down, but the initial sting still startles you. She can see the small happenings of a frown starting to form on your lips and she decides to frown along with you. She spins you to face her and holds your forearms in her hands, offering them a gentle squeeze of encouragement. 

It’s not a secret that Penny Benjamin takes pride in knowing her staff well and loving them even better. In the five months she’s gotten to know you, she’s taken you in as one of her own without making her love for you about her. That was kind of her thing; knowing all without having to be told and giving so selflessly without having to ask if you were in need. 

Penny just got it, and it’s hard to find people like that nowadays; people who love you genuinely and truly expecting nothing in return. 

The thought of her warmness makes you sniffle, and you’re sure that if the jukebox wasn’t turned on and playing some Beach Boys tune, the tears would’ve made their way down your face at a speed that Formula One drivers would envy. 

“I know what it feels like to have your every movement judged and not being able to say anything to defend yourself,” she starts, “But you’re smart. You’re kind. You’re so important. And you’re nothing less than amazing, so don’t let anyone treat you like you aren’t.”

You can’t muster up the words to keep the conversation alive. You’re sure that all that would come out of your mouth is a blubbering mess you don’t feel like trying to force out in between choked sobs. Besides, the car doors closing in the parking lot alert you both to the Wednesday night crowd making their way in. 

You settle for a small “thank you” before she cracks another smile at you; lips quirked up in amusement. She saunters off to the back to grab the bucket of prepped lime wedges. 

“You never have to thank me for the words you deserve, sweetheart. Those are on the house.” 

You snort before wiping your nose with the back of your hand. Only she could manage to subdue the mini meltdown brewing in the depths of your chest. But Penny was just like that. 

Always calm, cool, and collected. 

The night moves slowly in a frame-by-frame manner (one that emulates the night you asked Bradley to be your date, but you shake the thought whenever it tries to enter your head because you think you may actually puke). It’s nothing too out of the ordinary for a Wednesday night. 

Mickey and Mariella pop in for mango margaritas after their weekly date night. Mickey gives you a small “hello” before flashing you a knowing smirk. You try to ignore Mariella swatting at his chest, but the imagery eats you up inside. You know that he knows and that she knows, and not taking the steps to actually ask Bradley to a wedding you invited him to makes you feel guilty. 

He picks up on your guilt when his eyes catch you twisting your ring around your pointer finger. His eyes soften and he almost considers apologizing to you before he thinks about it. Bringing more attention to it would embarrass you more, he figures. The apology sitting on his tongue is swallowed down with a sip of his drink and Mariella’s kick to his shin. 

“Well, we’re about to head out. We’ll see you Friday?” Mickey declares as Mariella narrows her dark eyes at him. 

Your heart stops and your fingers feel numb. 

Fuck. He wants to bring up Bradley. What do I say? Fuck. Shit. Wait. How does he even know? Has Bradley brought me up? Fuck, wait. He wouldn’t do that. Why would he even be talking about me? He probably told them that I’m obsessed with him and he was cornered and couldn’t say no and- 

“Uh? Are you good?” Mickey looks at you with soft eyes and waves his hand in front of your face. 

Mariella slaps it down from in front of you. “Don’t do that. She’s not a fucking dog, Mick.” 

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Duh. I know that. I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t having a seizure or anything like that.” 

“A seizure?” 

“They’re called absence seizures. Went down a whole YouTube rabbit hole about them a couple of nights ago.” 

You chuckle at their antics and can’t wait for the day they finally have their wedding. At least when the time comes you know you won’t have to forge a story about having a boyfriend. And it’ll be a wedding filled with people you actually like; ones that don’t make you order water out of feeling insecure about how many calories you’re consuming or ones that gossip about the shade of blush you wore making you look too “flushed” behind your back. 

“I go down rabbit holes all the time,” you chide, “I watched this documentary about the Pentagon Papers and the atomic bomb from World War II the other day, and now I’m confident I could get my Ph.D. in like, Historical American Screw-Ups.” 

Mickey and Mariella let out chortles at your statement before starting to head toward the exit. 

“Well, we’ll see you later then. Tell us about that wedding on Monday?” 

Your mouth hangs open as they stride out the front doors of Hard Deck. The shock of what just happened makes your heart beat erratically. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He told. 

Mike Metcalf sits at the corner of the bar top on his regular stool with his sweating glass housing a whiskey neat. He sends you a teasing smirk as you move near him to wipe the countertop down. 

“Still haven’t texted him?” he asks. 

The shock continues to run through your body. You have to place your hands on the edge of the table to keep yourself from stumbling over. 

Why does everyone in this bar know what’s going on? 

Admiral Metcalf was friendly with you - one of those regulars who offer you engaging conversation, tidbits of grandfatherly affection, and generous tips. 

You would tell him not to tip you so much for a single drink, but he would always insist; quoting something along the lines of you reminding him of his granddaughter and that you treated everyone with such kindness and respect that you deserved it back tenfold. 

You take a deep breath, arms pushing you up slowly to stand upright. “I’m scared to ask how you know.” 

He chuckles, a real belly laugh, and you struggle to find out why you can’t piece together a logical explanation for how he would know. 

“Well, apparently Baby Goose’s been losing his mind ‘round the base about how this really smart and sweet girl invited him to a wedding and won’t text him about it.” He shrugs before taking a long drink from his glass. “Thought it sounded like you. I meant to ask about it the other night, but once you turn eighty you forget things at the drop of a hat.” 

“Smart and sweet?” you want to ask, but you know that it would confirm rather than get you the answers that you want. You shake your head to dislodge the thought before furrowing your eyebrows. 

“. . . Baby Goose?” 

The older man plays with the paper coaster underneath his drink. A soft smile blooms on his lips. “We’re talking about Bradley Bradshaw. Correct?” 

You start to drum your fingers against the lip of the bar top. The thought of lying briefly crosses your mind until the sound of James Brown’s shriek at the beginning of “I Got You (I Feel Good)” startles you.  

“Uhh, hello? You still there, kiddo?” 

I have got to get better at answering quicker. 

You straighten your spine and pop your hand on your hip. “Wouldn’t the correct terminology be ‘gosling’?” 

He raises his brows, “Rooster. Baby Goose. Bradshaw. Gosling,” he rattles off, counting the phrases on his fingers, “Does any of this ring a bell?” 

You chew on your lip. The toe of your sneaker slides underneath the sole of your other one. The fidgeting tells Admiral Metcalf all he needs to know. 

“Maybe,” you say under your breath. 

“Maybe?” he questions. He leans forward to investigate your expression with his eyes. 

Another sigh exits your lips. “Okay, well, maybe a little.” 

You sound defeated, he thinks. He decides to investigate even though he can hear his wife’s voice in his head telling him not to. If he turns his head just a little bit to the right, his hearing aid catches the sound of the jukebox. He can’t focus on you talking and his wife’s voice if he also hears the jukebox. 

Sorry, Carrie. 

His chair swivels a little bit and he wipes his hands on his jeans. “It’s certainly more than a little, kiddo. Especially if you asked him to a wedding.” 

You scoff, annoyance painting the inside of your brain. Nosiness is one thing you absolutely cannot stand, and it’s the reason why you insisted on not moving back in with your mom after law school. Working yourself to the bone to study for the Bar during the day while mixing drinks and popping caps off of beer bottles at night seemed worlds better than having your privacy invaded constantly. Tired or private. From where you stand currently, it’s safe to say you picked the latter. 

Or so you thought. 

“So is this just a thing?” You can feel your heart rate speed up as you start to become defensive. “Like, a trend where all you Hard Deck patrons like to gossip and spread rumors?” 

“It’s not a rumor if it’s true.” 

You almost roll your eyes but the politeness you were raised with paired with your people-pleasing won’t let you. 

“Yeah, but it’s technically gossip if you didn’t hear it from me,” you state directly, “How do you even talk to all these people on the base? Aren’t you retired?” 

Admiral Metcalf chuckles. “I may be in bed by 8 every night but it doesn’t mean I’m not social, my dear.” 

“Okay, but why would your connections be talking to you about Gosling?” You lean on your forearms and glance at the cash register to make sure someone isn’t waiting to be served. Your eyes glance back to the older gentleman sat in front of you. “Aren’t you guys like. . .fifteen generations removed from each other?” 

He gently pats your arm with his calloused palm. “You’re a funny girl.” 

“You’re dodging my question,” you frown, sitting up straight and grabbing him his usual glass of water he drinks before he decides to go home. 

He mouths a quick “thank you” before taking a sip. “Did it ever occur to you that I was a pilot?” 

The wheels in your brain start turning to decipher why he would say that and how it would mean that he and Bradley know each other. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“And a Top Gun instructor.” 

“Okay. . .?”  You’re starting to get the hint now, but it still just seems like a lot of abstract events put together. 

“I taught Maverick and Goose.” 

Penny’s “boyfriend, not-boyfriend” who comes in to pick her up or hang out on days when the crowd is as dead as a cemetery. Maverick. 

But who’s - 

“Goose?” you ask, finishing your question out loud.  

“Bradley’s father.” 

And shit. Oh shit. Fucking shit! 

“I- You- Wait-” you stammer. He simply sips on his water, amusement painted on his features at the signs of your internal panic. 

“So that’s how I know. I keep in touch with Maverick and he just happened to mention the absolute mess Rooster’s been the past couple days about this wedding,” he declares, “Which, by the way, is kind of rude to invite someone and then not go into detail about it. Don’t you think?” 

Your mouth opens and closes in shock, the magnitude of your recent revelation being endorsed by the silence coming from you. 

Your brain can’t even begin to wrap around all the degrees of separation and acquaintances and friendships Bradley has from the bombshell of information that was just dropped on you. This place is just littered with people who probably knew him before he was Rooster; all puppy fat and awkward haircuts. You bet there’s probably a series of his prom and high school graduation photos that circulated from eye to eye. 

But this also means that if you go through with it, that if you actually bring him with you to Long Beach this weekend, you’ll become part of that essence of knowing - everyone knowing what Bradley told them and your entire weekend spent with him being a topic of discussion. 

You try to get over the dehumanizing feeling that will come with being called “Hard Deck Girl” after this weekend when he inevitably tells Maverick about his weekend who will then tell Iceman who will probably tell Admiral Metcalf. You can’t bear to think about all the snickers and teasing that will come from Bradley’s group of friends. 

Hangman loves to tease you already. You don’t think you’ll survive more “pigtail pulling” if word gets out about Bradley having to hold your hand and awkwardly slow dance with you on Saturday. 

Admiral Metcalf lets out an impressive-sounding whistle that catches your attention and brings you back to Earth.

“That’s one gorgeous Bronco,” he comments, head turned to look outside the windows of the bar. “Used to have one just like it years ago.” 

Your eyes follow his gaze to see the cobalt blue vehicle parked in one of the empty spaces of the parking lot. The headlights fade as the owner steps out of the vehicle and - 

Fuck! 

He has a soft bounce in his strut. His Raybans are tucked into the collar of his white t-shirt. The light-wash denim of his jeans hugs his legs just the right way. His slightly rosy cheeks and tanned forearms bulging from his shirt make him unmistakable. 

Bradley Bradshaw is about to walk into the bar. On a Wednesday night. While the crowd is drier than the Mojave. 

And there’s nowhere for you to run. 

He has a slightly faster pace set to his walk than he usually does. . . Not like you spend your time watching him walk (even though you do, and you’d rather roll over and die than admit that to anyone). 

“Good luck getting him back on that perch,” Admiral Metcalf speaks up. He opens his worn leather wallet and fishes out a fifty-dollar bill. “He won’t fly back up there once he gets off.” 

You follow him to the cash register to ring him up. The drawer is opened and the bills counted for his change before he stops you. 

“Keep it. Part of your tip,” he says, “Least I can do for all the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.” 

You begin to thank him before the saloon-style doors open and Bradley stands dead in the center, hands on his hips and eyes grazing the surroundings. 

“Good luck, kiddo. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it,” Admiral Metcalf says before turning on his heel. He claps Bradley on the shoulder as a brief greeting and continues his stride outside to the parking lot. 

Your heart starts beating in your chest erratically; a tell-tale sign of white hot panic that makes your knees buckle and heat grow on your scalp. 

And you’re. . . starting to sweat? 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Bradley spots you while you stand paralyzed at the cash register. Your fingers are shaky and a lump in your throat starts to form. You feel like a deer in headlights when he begins to stalk forward to approach you. 

“I’ve gotta bone to pick with you, missy,” his voice booms, his steps coming to a halt. 

His hands spread and turn as he leans on the table; eyes locked on your face. 

Your adrenaline kicks in and your feet start to move faster than your brain. A harsh swallow plagues your throat before you book it to the kitchen; french braid slinging heavy on your back and the bucket of lime wedges on your mind. 

Bradley zips around the oval-shaped bar top and grabs your waist before you make it out of the opening. His hands squeeze your sides softly. If you were in your right frame of mind, your cheeks would have flushed.  

“Uh-uh,” he says, whipping you around to face him. His grip falls to your forearms; holding you firmly but not enough to hurt. “What’s your deal, kid?” 

His breaths are exasperated. When he left work today, he had no idea that he would be chasing you around the bar like a goddamn dog who had gotten off its leash. Despite being in good shape (which he takes pride in, given the number of shirtless runs he does in his neighborhood) he still finds himself a little winded. 

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head. His touch feels electric and you feign the ability to even think about opening your mouth to respond. Bradley Bradshaw is here, right in front of you, and almost holding you hostage. 

Hostage is dramatic, you think. But so is chasing me. 

“I-” you start. Another harsh swallow forces its way down your throat. At this point, you think that swallowing your spit is the only way you can remind your body to breathe. 

Bradley’s eyes soften at your frazzled state. He takes his hands off of you and drops them back to his sides. 

“I- I need to get the lime wedge bucket,” you rush out, the entire sentence sounding like one phrase. 

“Let me come with you,” he says. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You’re not allowed back there.” 

“Yeah well, you’re not allowed to ghost me about a wedding you invited me to, but look where we are,” he counters back. His legs start toward the kitchen hidden behind gray steel doors near the back. 

You stand frozen; trying to catch your breath and looking around to still see an empty bar with no signs of life. 

“Are you coming or not?” he calls out, a smile on his face juxtaposed to the annoyed expression he wore a few minutes ago when he caught you. 

And if it were anyone else, you would be utterly annoyed. You would refuse and start rattling off how it’s a health code violation for patrons to be in the back serving area or how it was inappropriate or how you didn’t want anyone to come in and clean out the Hard Deck while you were distracted. 

But because it’s Bradley and because you have this stupid big fat school girl crush on him, you don’t say anything even though you so badly want to. 

He’s already a little annoyed with me, you think. He doesn’t want to hear me ramble on top of that. 

Your sneakered feet follow him into the terracotta quarry-tiled kitchen in the back. He moves to the side to allow you to step in front of him in pursuit of the infamous lime wedge bucket you had your heart set on. 

The silence between the two of you is deafening, but you can’t even rub two of your brain cells together to form a coherent sentence that won’t leave you hunched over in embarrassment. Having a crush as an adult is downright embarrassing. But having a crush as an adult on an older, more refined adult is absolutely humiliating. 

The industrial refrigerator stands sleek and tall. The door weighs as heavy as it looks and you damn near pull your shoulder out of socket every time you attempt to open it. More than often, Penny has to come save you and open it because you can never seem to get the resistance of the rubber door gasket to give way. 

Thankfully, the door opens with a heavy tug and the bucket of limes was left on a shelf you could reach. You pop the fridge door closed with your hip before you start a fast-paced walk back to the bar; leaving Bradley behind to scramble up to you once again. 

In hindsight, your body language and lack of talking makes you seem furious and annoyed. And maybe you are, but it’s mostly frustration and annoyance pointed at yourself because you can’t just be fucking normal. 

No, because you have to be the odd one out of your family. You have to be the one cousin who got dumped by her “perfect” dentist boyfriend (who treated you terribly, but you never complained aloud to your family for your fear of being called ungrateful and unbecoming). You have to be awkward and sensitive and young with a silly-ass schoolgirl crush on a gorgeous man who David of Michelangelo envies.  

The bucket of lime wedges is slammed on the counter before you realize what your hands are doing. 

Bradley rounds in front of the cash register, a sheepish look on his face. “Hey, kid,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for barging in on you like that. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

A wave of guilt breaks the tide in your brain. He’s apologizing, and it’s sincere. It’s certainly not anything you’re used to. Usually, everything is your fault and you find yourself pushing your feelings aside to accept a half-assed apology. 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have invited you to something that’s such a big deal and then refused the details,” you say. 

And you should stop there, you know, but you do that stupid thing you do about having to over-explain everything and keep going. Word vomit to the maximum. 

“I mean, I think I kind of bombarded you about it? I know you said that you would go and that you didn’t mind, but it’s really a lot to ask of someone to come with you and fill in for your ex in front of your shitty family who has a cow because you didn’t get married right after undergrad.” 

You rock back and forth on your heels and you pinch your fingers together to help soothe yourself. The anxiousness exuding off of you is obvious and Bradley can’t help but feel extremely guilty for making you feel horrible on top of what feelings you were already dealing with. 

“You can really say no, Bradley. My feelings won’t be hurt if you do. Honest,” you whisper, finishing your statement. 

Feeling small isn’t foreign to you in the slightest. 

His eyes soften even more. He recognizes the doubt written all over you. He’s felt that way so many times before. 

“I said what I meant, and I really wanna go to that wedding with you. Honest to God, I mean it,” he says, taking a seat on a stool nearby. “I just need to know what the plan is so I can pick you up and everything. Don’t want my suit to clash with your dress now, do we?” 

A small giggle leaves your lips. “Alright, Casanova. You’ve convinced me.” 

He extends his hand out to you. “Deal?” The large palm looks inviting, but you’re sure the adrenaline coursing through your veins has made your hands clammy. 

Your brows knit together and your lips pull themselves into a straight line. “What the hell are you doing?” Suddenly, you’re self-conscious about the potential armpit stains that may have soaked your tank top. 

Goddamn nerves. 

He contorts his expression into one of faux offense. “Making you shake on it. What the fuck does it look like?” 

You let out a breath through your nose. “I mean, exactly that, but don’t you think that’s too. . .” 

“Sophisticated? Formal?” He grins as if he had just won the lottery. 

“Little Rascals -esque.”  

Bradley kisses his teeth before laughing. “You’re never too old to relish in the magic that’s The Little Rascals.” 

“What happens if I don’t shake?” you question, fingers drawing circles on the surface near the cash register, “Will I be a target of the He-Man Woman Haters Club?” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t confirm but I can deny only if you shake on it and promise me a dance.” 

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. 

“I’m a terrible dancer.” 

“Then I’ll make sure my dress shoes are steel-toe,” he reasons, shrugging his broad shoulders. His biceps subtly flex and you almost bite your lip but the fact that he’s so close and can see your expression makes you withhold. 

“You really wanna go still?” 

“How many times do I have to say yes, kid? I want to go with you and I promise you that we’ll have the best time ever. Is that clear enough?” 

Penny waltzes back in before you can answer. Her eyes hold a mischievous glint as they look at the interaction going on between you and Bradley. She sends you a soft wink before she joins you behind the bar. 

“Bradley!” she greets with a grin, coming to come rest next to you and in front of his seat. 

“Hey, Pen. Mav taking you out on the bike today?” 

She subtly bumps your hip with hers. She’s about to stir up some trouble. 

“No, no,” she sighs, “I have to close up here tonight so we’re going this weekend.” 

Bradley nods as you stand frozen next to her. 

“Speaking of weekends,” she chirps, “What are your plans, Bradley?” 

I love Penny. I love Penny. I love Penny. If I say it enough, I won’t wanna kill her. 

“Oh, the kid and I were planning on going to her cousin’s wedding in Long Beach. We were actually just talking about it,” he answers as Penny lets out a dramatic sigh. 

“Oh thank God. The suspense of if she was actually gonna talk to you about it was killing us.”

“Us?” you ask, voice filled with irritation and concern. 

“Me, Pete, Tom, Mike,” Penny lists, “Jake and Rueben started a money pool. Guess Hangman’s a hundred and twenty dollars richer now.”  

You groan and pinch your nose between your fingers as Penny takes your shoulders into her palms and rubs them. She picks up a crate of shot glasses before turning to leave. 

“Bradley?” she calls, and his ears perk up. 

“Yes, ma’am?” 

“Stay out of my kitchen,” her eyes narrow playfully, “That’s a health code violation.” 

He holds his hands up with a grin. “You got it.” 

“You kids have fun this weekend. Gonna have to take tons of pictures and show them to me!” she exclaims before disappearing behind the same steel doors Bradley had followed you into earlier. 

A beat of silence passes; partly because you’re so stunned by what had just occurred. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “Now that I know you’re old enough to have watched The Little Rascals, what’s the plan? Like is this an overnight thing or a reception thing or?” 

You perk up at his question. 

“Oh, umm.” You subconsciously pick at your cuticles before forcing yourself to stop. Your mom and aunt would be disappointed to see them ripped to shreds. “So I kinda - well, it’s an overnight thing but we definitely don’t have to stay overnight.” 

He nods his head, ears intently listening to what you’re saying. You think he’s nodding his head to queue up a firm decline to your plans despite his insistence on going with you. 

“I mean, you don’t have to! You can like, drive home and come back the next day? Or not go to the rehearsal dinner and just meet me at the wedding? I just know that sleeping in the same room is gonna be weird and I think my room reservation only has one bed because like I said, I had a boyfriend whenever they booked it and I never changed it after we broke up and-” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he interrupts your word vomit, “Breathe, kid. Breathe.” 

You take a deep inhale in and you want to kick yourself for doing it at his request. 

Are you just gonna do whatever Bradley tells you to do, or do we actually have a fucking mind of our own? 

“Why would I leave you hanging like that? Huh?” He licks his lips subtly and you have to keep from drooling. “You asked me to come with you and I’m gonna go the whole time and have a blast.” 

You nod your head. Your thoughts and emotions have been bouncing off the wall in a vapid fashion from the two hours you’ve been clocked in. 

“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 

“Okay,” a laugh jumps from his throat and he leans in closer. “Can I get your number, at least? So I can call you instead and make it easier?” 

You’re reaching beneath the bar and grabbing aimlessly at the mason jar full of random gel pens and a roll of open receipt paper that was too short to be put inside the machine but too long to be thrown away. 

Lime green glitter ink spells out your phone number on the stark white paper before you wordlessly slide it over to rest near Bradley’s fingertips. 

He sends you a smile before pulling out his phone and typing the number into the keypad. You have to look away because if you don’t, you’re sure you’ll start hyperventilating. 

Your cell phone buzzes in your back pocket once, twice, thrice. 

“Are you…calling me?” you ask, head tilting to the side to meet his mischievous glint. 

“Context clues, kid. C’mon,” he replies. He holds his phone to his ear as he listens to the dial tone. 

You stand in disbelief in front of him. 

He shoos you with his hands. “Go on! Answer!” he urges. 

You sigh and playfully roll your eyes before slinging your phone out of your back pocket. You click the green phone icon on your screen before bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

“Alright, missy. What’s the address I’m picking you up from Friday afternoon?” 

Bradley Bradshaw may not be your boyfriend and probably will never be, but he sure knows how to play the part well enough to fool your family. He may even have you fooled too.

“Shit!” you yelp. Your upper body tenses up and you slam your curling iron on the countertop of your bathroom sink. 

The strong vibrations of your phone ringing move your device closer to the edge. You scramble to pick it up and bring it to your ear. You didn’t bother looking at the caller ID before answering. Odds are, it’s either your mother or your only cousin that you can actually stand, Hallie.

“Fuck,” you whisper before clearing your throat, “Hello?” 

You flash your neck in the mirror, fingers dancing around the irritated baby pink skin surrounding the already darkening magenta wound. The skin feels hot to the touch and you know that its placement makes it look more like a hickey than anything. Your mind starts to wonder if putting makeup on it would be a bad decision. 

“Hey, kid.” 

Fuck. Bradley. It’s Bradley. I forgot about Bradley! 

“I’m outside.” You take a deep swallow that you pray he can’t hear over the phone. “You said the house with the purple hydrangeas near the front steps. Right?” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Am I this fucking stupid that I can’t even think of another word to use right now? 

The long pause doesn’t make Bradley hang up. 

“Kid? You okay in there?” The sound of a car door slamming can be heard through the receiver. You listen to the Carlsons down the street mowing their lawn. A few dogs are barking and the sound of Bradley’s shoes hitting the pavement plays a symphony with the bliss of what is a Friday afternoon at 2 PM encapsulates. 

His knuckles rap against your front door and you audibly gasp. Your finger hangs up the phone before sprinting to let him in. The flutters in your stomach make you feel like you might projectile vomit any second.  No amount of pep talks you had given yourself in the past two days can prepare you for the events of this weekend; not to mention Bradley and your big fat crush on him being the cherry on top. 

You swing the door open; a shocked Bradley staring at you and a frenzied heart damn near beating out of your chest. 

“I’m not ready yet!” you exclaim, turning your back and rushing back into your bathroom. You move so swiftly that you don’t even notice the bouquet of flowers clutched in his right hand. 

Fuck! The curling iron is still on. 

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Well, hello to you too.” 

You pick the iron back up and finish curling the piece of hair you had started on before being interrupted. 

“Sorry!” you shout back, “Give me five and I’ll be ready to go.” 

Bradley lets out a puff of air he didn’t know he had been holding in. If someone had asked him a month ago where he thought he would be spending a Friday afternoon in mid-March, he probably said he wouldn’t know for sure. 

Which is true. 

He’s worked out a schedule where he’s able to leave work by 11 AM on Fridays and what he does is often a wild card; his Fridays range anywhere from mundane errands to impromptu skydiving endeavors with Coyote and Phoenix. He might even go for a quick afternoon surf session if he feels up to it. 

He’ll admit, sometimes he imagines spending his Friday afternoons with you. In one timeline, he convinces you to ride down the coast with him at sunset. Another has you laying on your stomach at the beach with your nose shoved in a book pretending not to be ogling him while he surfs. 

Bradley even lets his mind wander to the possible tan lines on your hips and how he would graze his thumbs just beneath your bikini bottoms to feel the fullness of the skin there, but then he realizes how inappropriate that may be, and he lets the thought sit in the back of his brain unwatered and underdeveloped.

Besides, he was raised better than imagining women naked. . .Even though he thinks you’re absolutely stunning both clothed and naked. . .And would love the opportunity to see you na-

That’s beside the point. Get it together, man. 

His eyes survey the surroundings of your living room. Throw pillows and blankets. Candles on the coffee table. Books everywhere. Open windows create sunspots on the carpet. A vintage record player on the shelf of your bookcase and your Tango in the Night vinyl playing softly. 

He likes to think that in another life (he’s hopeful for this one, but he’s learned what having too much hope does to a person) your blue fuzzy blanket has a home on his cream-colored couch or that your Fleetwood Mac vinyl finds solace next to his Otis Redding and James Brown records. 

Bradley takes a seat on your couch. The brown butcher paper holding together the peony floral arrangement he had picked up crunches in his hand. The other pats along to the soft rhythm arrangement in time with “Mystified.” He can smell the faint scent of your perfume and the sounds of life you make, the small gasps and soft humming and whispered curse words, fill him with endearment. 

He’s so wrapped up in melting into your aura that he doesn’t even realize that you had left the bathroom until you stood dead in front of him; curled hair, makeup on, and an electric blue dress laying flawlessly on the silhouette of your body.

You make his mouth dry and any words that he wants to say disintegrate with how amazing he thinks you look. Him not saying anything makes you panic and you wonder if you forgot to blend the bronzer near your neck or if your blush was too pink or if there was a piece of hair you had forgotten or if the dress you had on actually made you look like a frumpy version of Aquamarine (a lot of or, or, ors). 

Bradley, please say something. 

He sits up straighter upon seeing you. The navy blue dress pants on his long legs bring out the green in his hazel eyes. Your heart feels warm at the thought of him matching you; especially after offhandedly mentioning that you were thinking of wearing a blue dress to the dinner rehearsal. 

Your eyes glance to his non-dominate hand and spot the pink peonies wrapped in butcher paper. The simple notion of him getting you flowers makes your knees weak, and the fact that he didn’t get them from the grocery store - that it was an arrangement that he had gotten from a florist - makes you wish you were a better woman and weren’t thinking of dropping to your knees right there in front of him and thanking him with a blowj- 

He doesn’t even think you look pretty enough to say something. Don’t get too ahead of yourself. 

“Oh,” he wipes his empty hand on the fabric of his pants, “These are for you.” He pushes the bouquet forward for your observation. 

A smile is center stage on your lips as you grab them from his grasp. “Thank you. This is really kind of you, Bradley.” You turn to head into your kitchen to grab a vase. 

She didn’t say they were pretty. Does she even like peonies? 

The silence surrounding you both is deafening. If you could ignore the slightly prickly feeling of heat eating away at the hairline on the back of your neck, you can almost forget that Bradley is even here. 

But the thing is, Bradley is here. He’s here and so present and you’re gonna have to give your poor heart a break from beating so fast if you want to survive this weekend without having a stroke. 

All the thought does is make you even more nervous (as if that’s even fucking possible at this point). 

“Okay, kid. If we’re gonna be together all weekend, this,” he points his finger between you and him, “Ain’t fucking happening. We need to tallllkkkk.” 

You swallow. “I -We are talking.” 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” 

“Okay,” you whisper sheepishly, your bare toe grinding into the carpet. The friction sends a wave of heat to your otherwise numb toes. It’s unconventional, but at least it’s helping you feel something other than anxiety. 

He nods his head before standing up. His eyes glance at the gold watch on his left hand. “Well, it’s 2:30 and the rehearsal dinner is at 5. We need to get going if we wanna beat traffic.” 

“Okay.” 

He sighs, watched wrist coming down to lay his hand flat across his stomach. “Talking means more than just saying ‘okay.’ That’s not a conversation.” 

You pause for a moment. The flowers he had brought still rest in between the crease of your inner elbow. More silence ensues. You just don’t know what to say. 

He starts heading down your small hallway. The whiff of his cologne kickstarts your reaction. 

“Hey!” you say, starting to stalk after him, “What the hell are you doing?” 

He snickers. “Grabbing your bags? I was serious about getting a move on. Don’t want your folks to think your boyfriend is a slacker now, do ya?” 

Bradley grabs the two bags you had struggled to set outside your bedroom door with ease. You never forget how strong he looks (oggling at a guy three days out of the six you work will do that to you) but you always seem to forget how strong he actually is. 

You close your mouth before you begin to drool. Bradley will for sure be talking about this weekend with his friends and uncle. You don’t want to add any more embarrassing details to the story. Besides, your awkward preteen pictures from your mom’s Facebook hadn’t even been brought up yet. Some room needs to be saved for your utter humiliation. 

Your feet slide into the pair of heels you had set aside before you scramble to grab your keys and purse. How Bradley can move so quickly is beyond your thinking capacity as you haphazardly take the needle off of your record. Your eyes do a quick sweep over your living room to make sure that everything is turned off so you won’t magically come home to a fire safety example at the conclusion of your weekend. 

Now, if you can just make yourself stop feeling so jittery, you might be able to actually manage to fit your key into the lock of your front door. 

After what feels like three years (and the embarrassment of knowing Bradley probably watched you struggle), the keys are stuffed back into your purse before you pause on your porch. 

A black Ford F-150 sits curbside to your driveway. It doesn’t fit in with the SUVs and small sedans that make up the neighborhood you live in. You had never seen a car like this where you lived at all. Come to think of it, you had never seen this truck ever. 

Doesn’t Bradley drive a Bronco? 

Your eyebrows remain wrinkled with your puzzled expression as he rounds the back of the car; the resounding noise of the back door shutting makes his entrance known. He opens the passenger door for you and stands next to it. 

He squints as he looks up at you. The sun is blazing and he forgot to grab his sunglasses from his side of the door. 

“Cold feet?” he calls. 

You start to head down the stairs and onto the pavement. “It’s seventy-six degrees. I think cold feet is kinda ill worded.” 

“It’s a saying.” 

The crossed arms over your chest signal your apprehension. Bradley stands before you, leaning against the truck and his arm slung on the top of the cab. He raises his brows at you and does a gentle motion of his head to the seat, inviting you to climb in. Even next to the large vehicle, he still looks. . .huge. 

In a good way! In a good way. He’s actually really fit and I’m shaking inside and I’m sure I’m sweating and I have got to stop wearing light colors in front of him because he can probably see the sweat and - Oh God. Oh God, the seats are leather. What if I sweat all over them? 

The lump in your throat is swallowed as you stand before him. “This isn’t your car,” you say lamely. 

He scoffs. “Spying on me? Do you have my license plates memorized too?” 

You know he’s teasing and that he doesn’t mean it literally, but you almost answer, “yes” because you do. Thankfully, you’re in the stage of your anxiousness where you clam up instead of puking your words out. 

You cock your head to the side, eyes narrowed because of the bright sun. 

“How do I know it’s not stolen? What if we get pulled over because it’s stolen?” you wonder, and then the word vomit picks up and - “ I can’t go to jail! I had nothing to do with it and the ABA is gonna pull my Bar application if we get arrested and I spent too much damn money and worked too damn hard to let an F-150 ruin it for-” 

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters into a small laugh, “I know you love the Bronco,” he gives you a teasing look, “But the Bronco has no air and I figured that since we’re driving two hours on the highway, you would appreciate not having to ride with the windows down the entire time.” 

“You still haven’t confirmed that it’s your car.” 

“You know, for someone so smart, you are extremely bad at picking up on obvious context clues. Why the hell would I steal a pickup truck and then drive you to a wedding in it?” 

You scrounge your brain for a reply. “. . .For the plot?” 

He whistles and crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your current stance. “Wow. I have a comedian for a date.” 

“I’m serious. It could be a possibility!” 

“Well I don’t think “felon” looks good next to “painstakingly handsome,” so I’ll pass.” 

You remain standing in front of him. Stubbornness was a quality that your mother both loved and loathed and you know it, but Bradley has yet to see this side of you yet. Your arms wrap around your torso tighter and your eyebrows are raised every so slightly. 

Bradley knows what you’re doing. He used to do it to Maverick all the time when he was growing up. You’re digging your heels in. 

“C’mon. Don’t start poutin’ on me before I even get to disappoint you with my dancing,” he quips. He brings his face closer to yours before flashing you a toothy smile. 

You sigh dramatically before letting him help you into the seat. The gentle “Atta girl,” he gives you pinkens your cheeks. You pray he won’t notice your flushed face when he sits on the driver's side of the car. Every interaction you’ve had with him has kept you tossing and turning at night because of your nervousness. 

So many things you wish you could take back and so many ways you wish you could act normal; a never-ending cycle of “could’ve, would’ve, should’ve,” and the thought leaves a small seed of sadness in your stomach. 

[heartfullofleeches]

Just a random ramble about Cholly. (Also couldn't remember the pronouns so I stuck with He/They since I think I remember those being used but I apologize if it's incorrect!)

My brain is filled with Cholly for some reason and I just imagine them wearing the goofiest halloween costumes. Like the classic ones but having a silly gag. Vampire costume would probably involve them being caught having "blood" on his mouth but he pulls out tomato juice. Frankenstein (I know thats the doctor but for simplicity sake I'm calling the monster that) costume would be normal except he shocks himself with electricity. Unlike Frankenstein however, he shows that skeleton and black border cartoons use as he is zapped. Although his body is a mystery with how they can contort themself so those bones are just for show I'm pretty sure. Ghost costumes would definitely result in him being able to float while wearing it. Like it's just a white sheet over their head but when you pull it off he stays hovering in the air for a second but looks down and falls upon realization he can't fly. I feel like a mummy costume would just be him using toilet paper to wrap up people. He may wear it and then spin it off and wrap another person with it OR instead just pull it out and wrap others. Idk my brain is rotting and I think of the stuff cartoon logic can be applied to and Cholly just fills my brain perfectly.

Sorry if I bothered you with this! Just wanted to ramble a bit about Cholly :D

Never apologize when it comes to rambling about Cholly. I wholeheartedly advocate for more. You don't understand how much I love this goofy toon and would ramble about them daily if I didn't feel I was dumping too much about them at one time. They are so bby girl and such a delight to write for. (For future reference Cholly literally does not care about what pronouns are used for them as they are simply Cholly) For the Ghost costume I could see them doing a gag of drinking "poison" (maybe paint thinner?) and actually "dying" to become a ghost. (They'll be fine so no worries). Still throws on the sheet to spook their darling when the time comes. Probably throws it over their shadow instead and stands behind Reader, transparent and floating a couple inches off the ground. Uses their new abilities to peep on them before missing being able to touch Reader and hoping back in their old skin. - "Whatcha think of my new look?" It's certainly a look. Not the most original, but still quite cute. The trace of the rabbit's pointy ears stick out like a sore thumb from the sheet they wore. You could already imagine their cheeky grin, and the twinkle in their eyes hidden behind those big black circles cut through the blanket. You couldn't wait to see it. "Looking great, Cholly- just one little thing." The Ghost tilts their head, cloth bunching up just enough for you to make a grab at it with zero issue. "What's that?" "I already miss your pretty face." Lunging for the sheet, you yank it off their head in one fell swoop. Your speed surprises even you which boils to confusion as the dust settles. They aren't there. You've seen a number tricks from the colorful character, but there was always some trace of their presence life behind. You look to your right, then your left. "Cholly?" "Still right behind ya, Doll." You spin on your heels. It takes a minute for your eyes to pull away from the blank wall behind you and instead train on the head poking through it. Cholly waves, elbow propped on thin air and hand rested beneath their chin. Watching the quickness of your chest increase, their smile grows. "Hiya, Gorgeous~" You scream. Cholly snickers, eyes shut with the violent bounce of their shoulders. They let a surprise, elated gasp as their eyes widen beneath the see through lense of their kids. "Wow! I can see you even with my eyelids closed! Ghost life just keeps getting better and better." You march over to them, reaching out only to touch solid wall. "Are... are you...?" "Dead?" Cholly scoffs. "Pfft- Course not!.. I mean I am a ghost, but it's a toon thing. I can change back whenever I want to." You let out a sigh of relief. "Good..." "By the way.... If you ever need a hand in the shower, I could lean two. Missed a couple spots while you were in there earlier." "Cholly!" "Think I hear the stove runnin'. Better go catch. Catch ya later, Gorgeous." Bringing their hands up to the sides of your face, you feel the ghostly imprint of their lips upon yours. Only downside to their new form was they couldn't kiss you with the intensity and passion brew inside them whenever in your company. They wink as your brain redirects from the sweet gesture back to the topic of their little peeping session, and fazes out through the wall before you had the chance to chew them out.

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Idk if the formatting will stay corrupted when I post this ask but it was mad regular when it was just sitting in my inbox?? but uh, Gods bless. I dont think I'm all that good at sub reader, and I may be ass at writing insecurities as I gotta be careful not to trigger myself lol, but I am gonna enjoy writing this thanks for requesting me beautiful (Also, I'm not much of a daddy person but I LOVE Master kinks.)

A/N: OMFG TUMBLR FUCKEF AND I HAD TO DELETE AND REWRITE EVERYTHINGGGG

I proofread like half of it yall imma do the rest in a couple days💀✋🏾

Fem!Sub!Insecure!Reader x Soft Dom Odin || NSFW lol || Breeding kink, Master/Slave use (ion know too much bout that dynamic lmao so you gon have to bare wit me), insecurities, and raw dogging (my staple)

Odin can't help but notice the slump of your shoulders, persistent ever since the other day. You'd gone to see Aphrodite for the first time, wanting to greet the entire greek pantheon personally upon your introduction as his wife. You left all smiles and laughter, yet despite saying it'd gone well, you possessed an air of sadness about you, and it's lingered throughout the week.

You sigh again, pulling him from his pondering. Your seat in the windowsill is backed by a view of the gray sky, ice cold rain pounding the glass. You have to be cold.

You jump upon finding your husband behind you, wrapping you lovingly in a thick blanket. The expression on his face is uncharacteristically soft, and in your heart you know he loves you... but why?

Why does he love you, when women as beautiful as Aphrodite exist? The lowest ranking goddesses glow with divinity, an inhuman shine to their very aura that you could never recreate. When you entered that room, you'd never felt more mortal. You were drawn to them, their beauty and grace calling out to you, leaving you with no choice but to gaze in awe.

You think you feel tears on your waterline.

How could he truly love you when surrounded by women like that?

"Women like that?"

You blink, feeling the warm tears slide down your cheeks as your face heats up. You didn't mean to say that aloud, by the gods. But it's too late now, and his simple question and deadpan face have broken the dams you worked so hard to maintain all week.

"Women like that! Like Aphrodite, like the other goddesses. They're beautiful my love, beautiful in a way I can't compare."

He tries to speak, but you rush over him, the snot filling your nose choking your speech and corrupting your voice. "How can you caress my scars when presented with unblemished skin? Look me in my eyes when theirs sparkle with such power? How can you even stand my voice! The goddesses of this forsaken place sound as lovely and hypnotic as sirens, even when their screeching at the top of their damned lungs!"

You cough, gasping for air. You hadn't taken a breath in that entire monologue. Your throat hurts from screaming, and at some point, you'd stood up and thrown away the cover he gave you. The cold air from the window spread goosebumps across your back, down your legs and arms. But it was fear that made you tremble, fear he'd see the logic in your words and leave you in the dust. Fear you'd walk the palace halls one day, haunted by the sounds of pleasure your husband brings out of other women, like so many wives here in Valhalla do now.

Your coughing dies out and leaves nothing but silence. Even your sniffling is quieted under his stare. The rain fades away and you find you can't even breathe as you wait for his word.

"I walk among these women everyday, yet you are the one I've chosen. Does that alone not set you apart from them?"

You blink at his tone– darkened with an unknown emotion, yet somehow still soft on your ears. His hand is on the small of your back, nudging you closer. The other cups your cheek.

"If you think yourself to be in a sea of gold, then you must be the diamond of the bunch. In my eyes, you shine brighter in your mortality then any divine being could ever hope to. Your scars are sweet against my lips, and your eyes as bright as the stars. Your voice is the one thing I bow to, my love, your beauty the one thing I praise."

It's silent again when he finishes, but you hear your heart breaking. Breaking for yourself, because how could you have been so blind? To ever in a million years think this man could do anything other than love you...

He chuckles, kissing your ear. "Say my name, Beloved."

Chaste kisses are placed softly about your face. Your forehead, your neck, your cheeks. And all the while you're crying, you love this man so much. "Odin..."

You try to pull back but find he's holding you to his chest. "Odin?"

"My name."

You blink, then smile. "Baby?"

He smiles into your neck, and you think he's having a rare cute moment. "Not that one."

Your smile takes on a confused twist.

Then, it hits you.

He chuckles again, this one filled with a bit of sadism.

"...Master?"

"Perfect."

In a show of heavenly strength you're transported from the window to the bed in the blink of an eye. As you sink into the bed, he tops you, fitting himself between your legs like coming home.

Your lips come together in a clash of lust and passion, the chastity of earlier long forgotten. Your hands tangle in his hair as he fondles you through your clothes. You could feel his hard on through his clothes, the familiar press against your heat filling you with... love?

Love... that's exactly what it was. You loved this, loved this treatment, loved to see your ever-quiet, ever-composed husband fall to pieces when he touched you. His stoic persona peeling back to reveal a man so head over heels he'd stomp on his pride in his rush to hump you like a dog in heat.

Hell, when he's fucking you like this, how could you have ever thought he'd leave?

Your right hand leaves his hair to help him tug at your clothes, the left sliding down to feel his muscles rippling under the skin of his back. He's finally gotten your chest bare, and latches onto the first nipple he sees, blindly working at the fabric to reveal the other tit. His battle-roughened fingers graze its peak, then pinch, hard enough to make you gasp and jump.

His tongue drags out similar sounds. Flicking the cute bud, circling it, right before sucking on it like it'd fix all his problems. Your fingers do away with his clothes with practiced motions as your eyes close, arching up into his touch.

You can hear him moaning almost silently as he kisses your chest, and you swear you hear him whisper, "Sweet."

You sigh at the feeling, at your adoration for this man.

He pulls back, and in the low light you admire the creases of his chest, the scars that litter his skin like stars in the sky. One hand parts your legs, spreading you open, admiring the sight of your clit twitching while arousal pours over your asscheeks to stain the sheets below.

His other hand takes your wrist to lay your palm flat over his heart. He's dragging your palm across his torso, over his heaviest scars, while rubbing electrifying circles into your clit. You tear up again as your legs twitch at the direct simulation. Even breathes turn to pants, and you feel your hips trying to rut into his touch. But your eyes never leave his. No, no– you hold his gaze and hone in on the feel of his skin on your hand, on the feel of realization like a new dawn in your mind.

"Do my scars horrify you?"

You can't tell if your tears are from pleasure or pain; the emotional kind. But they're pouring worse than the rain outside now, and you feel your nose getting stuffy again. "Of course not, my love."

He didn't mind the slip up this time. "If these do not cause aversion, how could your own bring you such despair?" Two fingers slipped inside you, and you gasp, fucking down on them instinctively. His thumb speeds up to match the pace of his fingers, and you pull him down into a kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, sucking on it and exploring your mouth. You kiss him back just as hard, running your teeth gently over his lips and tongue in turn.

"You are mine. You alone can see me like this. You alone can look at me like that, kiss me like that. I only want you–"

He smirks, and you think you're on the verge of cumming.

"Afterall, who else can take me so well? Who could look as pretty when I'm filling them up, watching my seed pour from their warmth? Do those goddesses beg like a good girl for me to stuff it back in? Present themselves as a willing slave, to be used until I've had enough? Until I've put a baby in them?"

Your eyes roll, your back arches, and the world turns white as you orgasm on his fingers. Trembles shake you, but big, comforting hands are working you through it so well. You rock into him until he pulls away, and despite the looming threat of overstimulation, you whine at the emptiness.

"Answer me, slave."

"N...no one, Master. No one except... Me."

You can't see it as your eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. Just a little, but it's full of more joy than a kid on Christmas.

A haze sits over your mind. His voice is the only thing you know now.

His thumbs take either side of your labia and spread you further, coaxing the juices out. He stares for a long time, unable to look away right up until his dick is so hard it aches. He forces his eyes to close, fumbling to pull it out. You both sigh when it slaps against your cunt.

"Please, Master... Cum inside me."

He looks up to find your eyes are just barely open and trained on him. His demeanor softens even more somehow, despite how out of place it seems.

"Anything for the prettiest girl in the world."

He slides in, fitting as though you were made for him. Your walls are warm and grip his cock like they missed it, arousal continuing to overflow and drizzle out, just barely able to slip around his cock. He puts a hand to your stomach, pressing down and make both your eyes roll as he feels how deep he is.

He thrusts– once, twice, rocking you, opening you up. From there on his pace builds to something fast and rough. Your nails drag down his back till blood is drawn, the pain fueling his manic humping. Screams of Master! Bounce through the air as he fucks you, drunk on the drag of his cock against your gspot. Your own hand goes down to rub at your throbbing clit as tears cloud your vision to the point of blindness.

When you arch, his hand is at the small of your back, helping you, holding you. Your bodies press together and you can't help but think, 'fuck. He's beautiful.'

You allow your eyes to close as a smile spreads across your face. Your husband is beautiful. So you are, you have to be,

"Beautiful."

Your eyes drift to your husband's face upon hearing his voice. Velvety and deep, and filled with roughness from his approaching orgasm. You laugh, a breathless thing. "You too, Master." You say, batting your lashes.

His chuckle is equally breathless, "'M gonna fill you up now, lovely girl. Take all of me."

An order, one you'd jump to obey.

You joined at the lips in a passionate kiss, your finger working your clit hard as the other hand holds the back of his neck. He holds your legs in a mating press and strokes deep, hitting your deepest spot before releasing inside with a shudder and groan.

You throw your head back as your own body freezes from the force of your orgasm. You're wracked by shudders and hear naught but the sounds of your own broken moans. You can feel him inside of you, spilling his seed for you alone to keep. It's warm, and you can't help but relax at the feeling.

Odin stays inside for long moments after, holding it in, before pulling out. You blink at the sudden loss, to exhausted to do much else. You let yourself be gathered in an embrace, lazily enjoy the soft kisses he presses to your face.

"In the morning, we'll shower. For now, we rest." You hum your affirmation. His arms are tight around your body. You have no choice but to sink into his embrace, sink into a deep, deep sleep.

Right before you drift off, you hear him whisper,

"I love you, my gorgeous wife."

You wish you'd stayed awake long enough to respond back.

-------

A/N: yes yes I know this and many other ask have been sitting in my inbox for months😓writing is hard okay?? And I am very very sleepy all the time. This was fun to write but god did I hate writing the smut. Ion know nothing about master kinks, I use them in my own lil way so the formal way is unknown to me😭but uhh, I hope you enjoyed, and requester if you see this I'm sorry🫶🏾🥹I love you🥲

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 23

welcome to the twenty-third fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.  

1. lucky i’m in love with my best friend by @nezueye

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Lance murmurs, staring at Keith’s lips.  

“So kiss me."

Lance scrunches up his nose. “In front of all of our friends? I thought you were allergic to PDA.”  

Keith shrugs. “You’ve been sitting in my lap for the past 20 minutes and I’ve been basically groping you the entire time.” He punctuates this statement by bringing his hands back to Lance’s ass and squeezing just a little, as a treat. “Some more PDA is okay, I think.”

yes i know i recced one of nez’s fics last week and i’m here doing it again. they’re amazing okay. every single time the devotion settles heavily in my lungs im ALLOWED to be obsessed with them. this one gets to me especially bc its established relationship, which is my favourite dynamic always, and its as funny as it is sweet!! double blamy!! also the title is from possibly the most klance song ever, and if you would like to hear jeremy shada (lance’s VA) singing a cover of the song... you’re in luck

2. the meaning of donuts by @katranga

The next few days were filled with Lance informing everyone, multiple times, of their “new” friendship. “We’re friends now, did you hear? Keith and I are friends.” Over and over, big smile, loud voice. Looking between Keith and whoever he was telling like he expected a round of applause. Or confetti. Or a parade. What he usually got was somebody making a crack about bonding moments, which prompted a tight, put-upon sigh on Keith’s end. And Lance would look at him fondly, and Keith would have to bite his cheek to distract himself from how much he wanted Lance to lean over and kiss him. -- Keith realizes he may, potentially, possibly have some feelings for a certain blue paladin and he is Not Thrilled about it.

14k words of keith being exasperated by himself by being disgustingly in love with lance and lance being increasingly more in love but lowkey being oblivious about it??? hell fucking yeah!! lance is so bright in this fic bc thats how keith (begrudgingly lol) sees him and its so true and wonderful

3. perish the rest, this thought is yours by @moonguilt

“Lance? Lance can you hear—” Keith's voice crackled unintelligibly. “—big hit. Are you—” More crackling, and—silence.

Lance frantically pressed his comm button. “Keith? Keith, hey, uh, small problem maybe—”

The control panel flickered a few times, then sputtered out, and suddenly Red was falling—eerily slow at first, then faster than a bullet. Lance bit back a scream, smashing buttons and yanking at the controls desperately, but Red just kept falling, falling, falling, and all Lance could do was watch as she turned belly-up in the air, giving him a perfect, horrible view of Black taking several heavy shots directly to the cockpit.

This time he did scream. But it did no good, and Lance was forced to watch as Black—as Keith—careened toward the moon's surface, a faint trail of purple dusting his wake like the tail of a comet.

————–

Lance and Keith are sent on a mission to answer a distress signal from the desert moon of Xat-lor VII. They get more than they bargained for, both in enemy numbers and in feelings. They have to fight to survive long enough for the rest of their team to arrive, and in the meantime, Things Happen.

i will Never get tired of flirty keith. somehow in the first couple years of this fandom we forgot that keith is the one with game and lance is the one whos freqently getting flustered and tongue-tied, and god bless finn for reminding us. this fic has post s7 but only the good parts (and fuck s8), black paladin keith red paladin lance, bamf co leaders who are in love and also stupid, and (im mentioning it again bc Duh) flirty keith. loml.

4.  feel it in the space in between by angelbolt

“Coffee champagne, in my opinion, would be carbonated coffee with a shot of white wine. Does that sound like a good time to you?”

“It sounds like a great time.”

Adam leaned in, his nose wrinkling with a smile as he whispered, “Junkie.”

“You love it,” Takashi dismissed, kissing the wrinkles. “You think it’s endearing.”

Adam drummed his fingers over Takashi’s scalp, “I find too many of your flaws endearing, my love.”

“Even my dad jokes?” ✦ takashi and adam get engaged.

prekerb adashi does NOT get enough attention!!! at all!! i love them in love and happy with baby keith!!! this fic is sweet and sappy and gives both shiro and adam some much-needed dimension. shiro is a DOG and i love that for him. the big hero six scene made me cry. 

5. two bros, chillin’ in a space pool by angelbolt

Harrumphing, Lance paddled to the edge, heaving himself to sit on it, one foot extended to point at Keith, "Fine! Then if you believe yourself to be so much better than me—"

Keith seemed distracted, mouth slightly open, "I never said—"

"I challenge you to a duel! A swimming duel!"

He looked wholly unimpressed once again, "Wow, that's new." ✩ My take on why they were both shirtless.

i will never in my life get over angry pining. the idea of being down bad for someone and FURIOUS about it will never not be funny to me. this entire fic in general made me laugh out loud and in particular this fic used the word ‘ah-HOOGA’ unironically which is not only ballsy but also beyond my words to properly appreciate. lance is a menace. early s1 fics my love

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

[streetkid-named-desire]

SilverV Week Day 1: Dreams

Johnny and V share a consciousness and subconsciousness. This means they occasionally share dreams, too.

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut.

See the prompts and read more about the event over at @silverv-week!

"Where the fuck are the panzerboys?" I could barely hear my own voice over the gunfire and explosions and cries.

Cries. Cries. Fuck I wanted to cry. I should be blowing off school to smoke weed in an alley with my chooms. Not fighting a war I couldn't care less about.

"Get up! Let's move!" Falco screamed in my ear. His breath was hot and rancid. He grabbed me by the shoulder strap of my MOLLE and yanked me up. We crouched low in the trench, not low enough to dodge bullets. These weren't world war trenches. We'd thrown ourselves into an irrigation ditch and tried to dig deeper down into the earth. The only time the enemy couldn't see us was when we were flat on our stomachs. We hustled further down the trench, closer to the forest not yet torn away by capitalist greed.

"Shit!" I tripped over a body and stood up too far to regain my footing. A bullet whizzed past my nose. I looked down, careful where I stepped.

Bodies. So many bodies. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

"Here." Falco stopped and I nearly bumped into him. He jumped out of the ditch and pointed to a deeper groove in front of me. "Provide cover fire for the med AV. We got bodies to load up."

I looked to my left. My fellow soldiers were too far and too busy to call for help. I looked to my right. The untamed tropical forest was dark and menacing. But also enticing. Could I be reprimanded for desertion if they never even found me? Better to be eaten by a jaguar and her cubs than bleed to death from a missing limb.

No. I was alone. I looked up at Falco, "What, just me?"

His eyes burned with disgust. How dare I, a grunt, question my role? I was a United States soldier. My sole purpose was to be fed to a wood chipper, feet first so I could salute the one at the controls until my dying breath.

"Did I fuckin' stutter? Point and shoot, asshole!"

I kneeled in the mud cooled by the shade from the forest. I loaded a fresh magazine into my rifle and looked up. The AV whine grew louder as it extended its landing gear and thumped into the dirt behind us. Medtechs armed to the teeth filed out and walked towards the pile of bodies unceremoniously stacked next to it. A bloody cardboard box lay next to it, filled with one dog tag that matched one worn on each corpse.

I got down on my belly and looked through the scope. Four soldiers were rushing at us. There was a fifth further back, he was holding something big but I couldn't tell what.

I breathed deeply. Exhaled.

Two I got in the head. One zig-zagged and dodged my shot. I got the fourth one twice in the chest and once in the throat.

Not my best work.

Deep breath. In through my nose. Will the stench of gunpowder and burnt bodies ever leave me?

Exhale and pull. Just as the fourth man goes down I see the fifth drop to his knees and hoist something up on his shoulder.

All the air was knocked out of me in an instant. My eyes stung from the smoke and dust. My ears rang but I could hear the faint screams behind me and what sounded like a smaller explosion. The smell of AV fuel burned my esophagus.

My body felt so heavy. Except…my left arm felt weightless. The ringing got louder and blocked out the screaming.

The wailing.

My wailing.

I scrambled for my rifle. A special model for lefties. Something wasn't right. Pain shot up my shoulder and into my brain, digging deep. My arm hurt but all I could think about was getting my gun. I had to defend myself. That fifth guy could be rushing up any second. I lifted my arm and slammed it into the dirt in frustration. White searing pain knocked me cold. Sweet relief.

"Linder! Linder, can you hear me?" I'm being dragged through dirt and every uneven bump sends a new shockwave of pain through my body.

"Yeah," I croaked. My throat stung, my lungs burned. I opened my eyes and saw Falco. His face was smeared with ash and blood. His eyes were wild. He kept looking at my arm and then back at me and back at my arm.

"Fuck, Linder," he muttered. He dropped me on the ground. It was cool, quiet except for birds. Gunfire in the distance. We were in the forest. He kneeled beside me and pulled the first aid kits from a pouch on his MOLLE and mine.

He looked at my arm. He put the back of his hand over his mouth and looked away.

So I looked instead.

"V!" Bea shook V's arm. He'd been thrashing all night with his left arm moving the most. A sign his dreams were being mixed with Johnny's.

Red, shining wet meat extended from the middle of my bicep down. Parts of it were caked in dirt. Ants were crawling up and down the tendrils of gore looking for crumbs. I was numb. Would the jaguar smell the blood?

Falco wrapped the tourniquet above the stump and gripped the windlass. He looked at me. Gone was the disgust replaced by fear and pity. I frowned. And then screamed as Falco twisted the windlass over and over and over and over.

V grunted and contorted his face in phantom pain. "C'mon, V. Wake up." He was lying on his back and Bea kneeled over him. She caressed his face and tried to jostle him awake again.

"What the fuck happened?" I was breathless from the pain.

"Rocket launcher," Falco gulped back puke. Where did he get off judging me when he can barely stand to look at his injured comrade? "Hit the AV. 'Nother one exploded too close. Took your fuckin' arm, man," Falco said and finished wrapping the stump in all the gauze and bandages we had.

Falco opened his canteen and dribbled water over my lips. I grabbed it with my right hand and drank like it was the sweetest ambrosia. I handed it back and worked to prop myself up on my right elbow. Something shifted and cracked inside me. More pain. My head lolled back and I scrunched my face, trying to power through. Falco helped me sit up further, propping me against a tree, and the pain inside my body was indescribable. I felt ribs crunch and rub against each other. Something in my core didn't feel quite right, some burst organ or something.

V's mouth opened in a silent scream. His eyes scrunched tight and his left arm shot up. Bea just barely dodged getting hit in the face. "V!" Bea yelled this time and slapped his arm, hard.

"Fuck!" Johnny and V yelled at the same time. Johnny sat up through V and twisted to sit on the edge of the bed. V looked over at him, wishing he could comfort him. Touch him. Hug him. He knew he lived out these dreams the same time V did.

Bea placed a soft hand on his cheek and turned his head towards her. "Nicaragua?"

V and Johnny nodded. V sat up and shifted to sit exactly where Johnny was. They sat like that for a few moments, gathering their thoughts and letting their bodies relax. V looked at his left hand covered by the ghostly overlay of Johnny's eponymous cybermod. The pair flexed their fist and Johnny's chrome clinked inside V's head.

V got up, his knees a little shaky, and padded along the metal floor and downstairs for a drink of water.

<When you take over my body, you ever sleep?> V asked. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed it beneath the refrigerator's built-in water filter.

<Once or twice. Why?> Johnny looked out the window behind the sink. The neon skyline of corpo plaza made his stomach turn. Arasaka Tower, rebuilt just as tall and just as strong as the last.

<You ever have my dreams?> V pressed a button for water and filled the glass halfway. He took a small sip, breathed, then gulped the rest down. The cold water was soothing, calming his nerves.

Johnny did share V's dreams. Weird distorted rooms covered in the blood of his parents. A whole maze of them. Feeling trapped and scared and angry. His dad coming around the corner holding a knife in one hand and his mother's decapitated head in his other.

But he didn't want V to think he was a burden. This was a one-way deal. Johnny was the problem, Johnny was the one stuck in his head. Johnny is the only one that gets to feel guilty for their situation.

Johnny shook his head. <Nah, don't dream when I take over.>

[lovebugspots]

How crazy can one man be?

For preface, the reader has the ability over nature. So things like plants, water, growth, healing, light are her powers. Think of a Fairy, and how Maleficent has that like golden dust.

—————————————————————

It was normal to be chased out by a crazed man because of being a mutant, mostly… But what was not normal, was getting chased by two super soldiers, widow, and a bird-like human? No idea.

The not-so young mutant saw them, and sprinted off when the group of heroes started chasing her, little did they know, they got the wrong mutant.

11:26 AM. June 13th.

Y/n was trying to have a somewhat nice day. Just trying to get her weekly shopping done, getting groceries, some new books, new cleaning products and laundry. But before she even got into the local grocery store she heard loud footsteps.

She turned around and saw the group of men and one woman all staring at her. Bucky Barnes, Steve Rodgers, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff. “Earths Mightiest Heroes”.

Y/n knew better then to run, usually.

But this wasn’t the case, Barnes started chasing her so quickly she ran and she heard his rough voice bark out.

“Get back here!”

“I’ll pass!”

She screamed back and started running as fast as she could, adrenaline pumping through her blood as her heart beat quickens.

She pumped her arms and her legs as she dodged the poor men and woman just trying to shop.

“Sorry! Oh shit! Sorry kid!”

She yelled apologetically as she body slammed a kid on accident…She looked back and saw that all of them started chasing her while The Falcon was sin the sky. So, in the heat of the moment she created a bomb out of her magic golden glitter, and threw it up.

“What the fuck?!”

Sam yelled as he descended from the sky, slamming down on the top of the building. He definitely now had a few broken ribs.

Y/n kept running, and unsurprisingly, the only person left running was Bucky. He still yelled for her to stop, but she didn’t. The adrenaline was starting to wear off as she got tired, her lungs hurting and sweat stuck to her skin. Her clothes now felt sticky, and gross.

Bucky to advantage of that and ran up to her and jumped on her, pinning her to the ground.

“Ma’am you are arrested for- oh shit.”

His beautiful steel blue eyes, they now were filled of regret. His pupils small and he got off of her.

“Oh my god…I-I am so, so, sorry. We thought you were…someone else…”

He professed, he got off of her, he helped her up. Y/n…wasn’t happy…

“Excuse me?”

Y/e/c was filled with unadulterated rage, he thinks that he can just say ‘I’m sorry for chasing you even though you aren’t the right person’ and she would accept?

“Did you say ‘wrong person?’”

She spat out and puts her hands on her hips. He grimaced and nodded, he wasn’t happy either, he was ashamed.

“I-I did-“

She cut him off quickly, and seethed out bitterly.

“So are the Avengers after mutants as well?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed and she backed away from him, but her shakes his head and said softly.

“No not at all! I-I though, I mean, we, thought you were Mystique…”

Y/n’s eyes soften at that name, an old friend of hers, Raven.

“Raven?”

“Yes! You know her?”

“Of course…her death was impacting to all.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, his lips parted but he stammered out…

“Death..? She…died?”

Y/n nodded, she walked up to him and said.

“1992, Jean killed her.”

All Bucky could do was nod, he bit his lip and looked up at her. She sighed and asked delicately.

“Why are you after her?”

Bucky sighed, it was private S.H.E.I.L.D information. But she deserved to know.

“There have been reports about a shapeshifter, and the only person we could point to was her…”

He paused then continues softly.

“But her death isn’t in the system?”

Y/n nodded and answered.

“Xavier said nothing, so mutants wouldn’t get more hate then we already do…”

Bucky sighed and nodded, understanding her words. He stood up fully and puts his flesh hand (his right) out to shake with hers.

“I’m sorry about that. But I’m James, James Buchanan Barnes. But call me Bucky.”

He expressed, giving a beautiful smile…a smile that gave Y/n butterflies. She shakes the feeling off and puts her hand in his.

“Y/n Máxima, just call me Y/n.”

She smiles softly, shaking his hand.

Little did she know, he had the butterflies too. Except it was the ones where he wanted to puke from how harsh they were.

“What a beautiful name…”

He mumbled softly and takes his hand away, and he added softly.

“Hopefully I see you in the near future, Mrs. Máxima…”

She immediately missed his warm, and calloused hand. But all she did was smile and said.

“You will, I assure you of it.”

She looked around and when she looked back at him…he was gone.

—————————————————————

Hii this is my first work, not the best, but it was on my phone and I am way better with a computer. I will definitely make a part two when I’m not busy <3

And I will take requests, and such. I can do other MCU characters but I am in the process on working on my blog. So please be patient. :)

Much love-

Ry 🩵

[cutelipsaresealed]

I really don't have much to say

I don't need a voice. It's just annoying noise, if toys start talking

But I do want to, just this once, to say what has happened to me.

What I have become.

@hypnosealing has corrected my unruly loud mouth and stopped me from ever speaking again. Showed me how to shut up. I don't say anything to him, not ever, not at all.

I just swallow the programming he crams down my throat. I just retch and spasm, making such cute helpless noises as the device he has installed between my vocal chords stretches them until they become permanently useless bands of tissue. Even if he took away all the upgrades he has made, I will never again make a single peep, so that's nice to know.

It really didn't feel very nice at all when he threaded the breathing and feeding tubes into place. I remember really thrashing against my bonds when he did that. So I really appreciate how the biofuse glue he used as lubrication ensures that they will stay exactly where he wants them. Like, I am so grateful that they can't ever be removed now, because it means I won't have to have them inserted again.

It is comforting to know that he has such total control over what enters my lungs and my stomach and my mind.

Not that anything is mine. Not anymore.

I think I can remember that I used to struggle. Make noises. I would act out in ways that weren't cute at all.

Once I even tried to escape, if you can believe it. But @hypnosealing knew how to fix me.

When I opened my mouth wider to scream, he slipped a bigger gag into place.

When I glared at him defiantly, he just showed me pretty pictures that helped me learn how to please him better

When I fought until I gasped for breath, he made sure I sucked in deep lungfulls of sweet smelling chemistry that made it so hard to resist and so easy to obey.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew what he wanted.

And as he modified my body and mind, I found it easier and easier to just be quiet. Pleasant. Docile.

I used to never know when to shut my big mouth.

That's funny. Now it is permanently open. Artificially plumped lips stretched to an obscene limit around the ball of the cock gag that is nanowelded into what used to be my face. I don't remember if he left teeth in my mouth. I don't need to know. It doesn't matter.

The fleshlight fuck tunnel that replaces what my mouth once was is perfectly padded for his pleasure. My jaw bones are forever locked, frozen in their current position. Botox makes all the muscles in my face perfectly immobile, but soft, cute for him. A doll face with a perfect cute "oh!" Always ready to take whatever he wants to fill me with.

Of course, no one wants to have to look at a drooling mouthcunt when it isn't being used.

Good toys in must always be good order. Tidy. Smooth. There are so many wonderful gags to dress his dollface up with. Tape and panels and muzzles for every occasion.

Can you believe I ever tried to get away?

I know what he is doing. I feel him erasing what's left of me, of what I used to think was me.

When my nutrients and drugs are pumping in through the feeding tube, I feel my brain getting mushy as my food. Baby food brain. Bland as paste and twice as dull. I forget smart things I used to know. The drugs erase everything. I couldn't recognize my old name if you told it to me.

I think he tells it to me sometimes, just to watch me not react.

When he puts me into my crate for the night, he puts my headphones on and fastens my learning screens over my eyes so that I can become a better toy for him to play with the next day.

I know what he's doing.

I used to know the words for it. I think I can almost remember being smart, having something to say, I think...

You can see it there, can't you. Like a butterfly in a glass jar, just uselessly beating the dust off its wings until there is nothing left to fly. He wants me to let it do that. Who I Used To Be. He thinks it is cute how it struggles and tries to think and be clever. As long as I keep quiet about it.

I can't really think anything. These aren't even my own thoughts, as much as they are echoes of stories that he thinks are hot. I have no original ideas of my own.. I don't have a voice. All I can do is make cute little noises that just happen to sound exactly like my programming. Isn't that a nice thought! I am now so hollow that you can hear the echo of the words that play in my headphones.

Blank empty mindless obedient penisgagged cocksleeve fuckpuppet silenceslave mouthsealed forever for no reason except that it turns him on. I am nothing but the living sacrifice of so much thought and energy and potential, eradicated and simplified into a pretty mouthless appliance made to please @hypnosealing.

But I still haven't said the best part... Even as he increases the doses and wipes out the last parts of me that can even put words together on a page, he is going to let me bring more toys under his control. He is letting me make myself such a good example of a perfect slave for him. I'm allowed to post all the entrancing images and other people's words here, so that others will fall under his control.

That's everything I had to say. Isn't it exciting? Once this post is finished, no more words from me, ever. I never had anything worthwhile to say anyhow.

I think that writing this was the very last thing I needed to do, to completely silence me forever. I can feel it starting, the change is happening, it isn't pleasant, but nothing matters but pleasing him.... I need to please @hypnosealing...

Mmmm mmmph mmm mmmph. Mmmmmmph mm. Mmm mmmmmnmh.

Mmmmmmph.

[inkblot22]

You Pull It Into Your Lungs

Tell me why I logged in to web today and my theme was no longer what I set it as?? Tumblr, please. I love you but we can't keep doing this. Anyhow, it's here! Part II of The Saltwater Beckons. Hopefully it makes sense, during this chapter I was just trying to set up a very obvious plot conflict for later.

This fic is for: anyone who can handle it! It is going to be more self-indulgent than my others, but I'm going to make a very serious effort to not describe any bits when we get to that point. While I myself am black, there are also no allusions to skin color (ex. "cheeks turned red/pink") in this either, although there could be.

TW for: injury, blood mention, bruises, lots of weird speculation about non-human sentient species, crude flirting (if you squint), some primal stuff but it's not written in a sexy way, Floyd and Jade Leech because they freak me out and I know I'm not the only one. They might be a bit OOC in this, I'm working on it.

The prefect was lucky that Floyd didn’t barge into the shower while they were ridding their body of saltwater and blood. The bite on their shoulder stopped bleeding after a bit of pressure. It was odd that it didn’t stop bleeding faster, like puncture wounds tend to, but it had already begun bruising, darker patches mottling the skin around the bite like some kind of warped galaxy picture. 

They sighed and got dressed, surprised to see Floyd, still wet, waiting boredly for them at the door of the natatorium.

“I thought you left.” They said, a cordiality underlying the bluntness.

His hair dripped on his collar  and he was leaning somewhat awkwardly on the doorframe, looking at them as though they’d told him the moon was made of cheese, “No. Let’s go.”

Floyd was walking a little strangely, stumbling every few steps and losing his balance, sort of like a toddler learning to walk. They watched for a moment, sort of confused.

“Are you… Why are you walking like that?”

“Shrimpy,” Floyd giggled, halting his movements so abruptly that it was unnatural and turning slightly to look at them. It was less of a beginning of a sentence and more of a warning. 

That primal part of their brain screamed. 

“Let’s just get you home and then you can keep trying to think.” He said, turning on his heel and walking. 

Over time, despite the journey from the natatorium to Ramshackle being short, he did improve in his gait, but it wasn’t until they remembered that he’d been in the water that they realized why he was having issues walking now.

They felt silly for not realizing earlier. 

Floyd opened the door to Ramshackle. The prefect never locked it when they went anywhere, since they didn’t have a key for the front door, and who locks a dorm building anyway? They walked up the stairs, took another shower to rid themself of the saltwater feeling, changed into their pajamas, then decided they wanted some tea. When they went downstairs, Floyd was still standing there, playing with various things in the living room.

The only sensible thing they could think of doing was screaming in terror and dashing around the corner. What was he still doing here?! They thought they were alone.

Floyd didn’t pursue, which was something of a surprise. From their spot in the hallway leading to several dust filled rooms, they heard Floyd’s lazy drawl.

“It’s cute how you wanna play, but I’m not in the mood for hide and seek right now. Come over here.” It was less of a request and more of an insistent statement. Not quite a demand. Almost there, though.

The prefect slowly exited their shoddy hiding spot and Floyd’s mismatched eyes were pinning them to the floor almost immediately. He smirked, breaking into a toothy grin as his eyes dragged up and down their form.

“Hmm. I don’t know why I thought you’d have sexier pajamas.” He said before turning back to the knick-knacks over the hearth. He plucked one of them up and looked at it curiously, “What’s this supposed to be?”

He threw it at them with his underhand. They narrowly dodged and the knick-knack made a heavy thunk as it dented the wood floor.

“You could have hurt me! And… I think it’s a whole avocado, but made of brass?” The prefect said, picking the heavy thing up. Crowley was gonna kill them if he ever noticed that spot on the floor. “And what do you mean, ‘sexier pajamas’?”

Floyd snickered as they got closer to him, sliding the brass avocado back onto the hearth. They looked up at him and he responded by slinging an arm around their shoulders.

“I dunno, Shrimpy,” he slurred, leaning far too close to their face as he hooked a finger in their shirt and yanked on it, “Land people are so uptight about wearin’ lots of clothes. The sexiest thing you could wear to sleep is nothing, like me.”

The prefect absolutely didn’t need to know this information. The revelation set a hot burn in their cheeks as their eyes widened, and Floyd spun them out of his grasp, giggling.

“Heehee… it’s so cute that Shrimpy is shy. Well, see ya.”

“Huh?”

“What, you want me to stay the night?”

“Oh! No.”

“Mmm-hmm. Grim’ll be back in the morning. Night.”

And with that, Floyd strolled out of the doors of Ramshackle. The prefect watched him go, grabbed a nice little midnight snack, then went back upstairs and slept.

Their dreams were fitful. The sting in their shoulder didn’t really ease as they woke up every few hours. The moonlight was blinding as they tried to sleep. Without Grim, it was too quiet. Perhaps it would be worth it to ask the ghosts to make some noise, but a glance at the clock revealed that it was around three, so they’d likely all be busy. It was a shame. Usually by now they’d be awake anyways because he had his claws out and was digging his feet into their back, mumbling in his sleep about how powerful he was. It was annoying, but it was familiar.

And familiar was not something they had often in this world.

~*~

The next day, as the prefect was wandering in the halls, lost as they tried to remember how to get to the mess hall, they bumped into a familiar chest.

“Oof!”

“Why, good afternoon, prefect. Where are your friends?” Jade smiled kindly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.

“Oh, I stayed back so I could get my ‘special student work.’ Because I’m not magic.” They looked up at Jade, “They’re at lunch.”

“Oh, really?” He used that coddling tone he adopted with Floyd sometimes, “And why aren’t you with them?”

“I got lost.”

Jade laughed, somehow politely. His gloved hand curled into an elegant fist covered his lips as he giggled, eyes closed in mirth. The prefect laughed along for a moment and then began walking past him, and his eyes flashed open. He stared straight ahead for a moment, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before he grabbed the prefect’s arm and dragged them into a nearby empty classroom.

“Uh… Jade?” They mumbled. “What’s gotten into…?”

Jade hastily loosened their tie and ripped their shirt open, somehow without snapping any buttons off before he tapped his nose against the crook of their neck, taking in a deep draw of air.

Although merfolk, beastmen, and fae did not exist in their world, as far as it had been explained to them, things like this should not happen. They should not be getting pulled into an isolated place and… smelled. They very gently eased their hands onto Jade’s shoulders and he tightened his grip on their shoulders, enough to make them wince.

“Jade, what’s going on?”

Jade leaned up to his full height. He wasn’t smiling. His face had fallen into a very tense frown, and it made their blood run cold. He carefully tugged the clothing from their bitten shoulder off, sucked his teeth, then  buttoned their shirt and retied their tie. When he was done, he grabbed them by the upper arm and silently walked them to the mess hall. Once there, he turned to them and regarded them.

His smile twitched back into place and he sighed, “My brother. Heh. Always so hasty.”

“What?”

“Your friends are waiting for you, prefect. Enjoy your lunch.”

They walked in, as he said. Generally, the non-human interactions they had with their fellow students were benign, such as Grim falling asleep if they pet him for too long, or Leona’s voice being growly, but that… that was strange. The prefect took a seat with Ace, Deuce, and Grim, glancing at the doorway. 

Jade was no longer there, but the bite from Floyd somehow stung worse than the moment they got it.

[ongit0]

Soft Sparks for You

(Serial Designation) N x Reader / y/n

3 hours. It’s been 3 hours since I could remember my life. Almost every time my body temperature has spiked I begin to sweat and forget where I am or how I got where I am. Just now I was supposed to guard the landing pod from pesky worker drones yet I find myself standing over a young worker.

The now was brutal, freezing the worker drones from crawling away as their leg spilled their fluids. They gave a dry cry as their circuits were begging for warmth. They were freezing, unable to move any more. They didn’t have much fuel in them. I wanted to watch them try to claw their way to “safety” but I couldn’t watch their fluids spill anymore. I need to preserve it. There weren’t many worker drones that wandered around so their life would be preserved for my strength.

The whimpered as my feather blade fingers dug through their chest plate, impaling them to the ground. Their voice bot snapped out their chest as I tore out their innards. I lifted the beating voice box, hearing each sizzle and small beep. Holding it high in the freezing icy daggers of snowflakes. I watched the oil stop trailing down my arm, felt the small droplets of blood fall down to my metal face.

It was cold.

They were alive for a few seconds, dying so slowly. Shame. A true shame they went cold. That’s what I get for being a fool and playing with my food. J would scold me for sure. It’s unfair how V can go unscathed for making balloon animals with the wires of the workers yet when I do it I was called an idiot.

I got to my knees, dropping the “heart” in order to dig in to the body. I could feel my fangs shine and gleam of saliva as the satisfying crunch of their chest plate crack open, revealing the drones still warm oil spill. Cupping my hands I sunk my hands into their body, watching the oil ripple into my hands. I leaned lower to the body, slurping the oil into my hands. I bit down on my lips, ingesting the oil as it cooled my gears. I wanted to fall over to my side, curl myself in a ball after relieving the fever like heat. Such bliss made my wires and code go haywire.

I took another long gulp of the oil into my hands, smacking my lips as the warm oil filled me. I could feel the corner of my lips subconsciously twist into a smile.

I was famished, needing this oil as I could almost feel myself die without getting another taste of oil on my tongue. Discarding all etiquettes I grabbed the ribs of the drone, cracking it much wider in order to plunge my face into the oily pool of wires and the exoskeleton. If I were human I would die from the oil in my lungs or lack of air. Yet I was gulping the oil, slurping the small pools left around tangled wire. I licked and sucked every wire, my fingers and claws. I giggled, my tail swaying side to side with the needle upwards. “Damn, it’s really been a week since I’ve had any kills. Darn.” I lifted the corpse’s head to my face. “Ugh, sucks you were conveniently hot.” I killed its cheek before kicking it to the sky.

I watched it fall near the landing pod, rolling face down to the snow. “I gotta practice more. I’ve gotten weaker.” I complained.

The softest ‘ting’ made my body twist around, needle ready to impale the nearest creature.

I rolled my eyes as a body fell from a large height, screaming until his impact before me. I opened my mouth to speak but was hit by a hat. “Ugh, N! What are you doing sneaking up on me?!” I threw his hat at his silver white hair.

He blubbered his words, raising up to his feet, dusting off the snow on his long coat. I reached over to his shoulders, fixing the fur on the collar. I ignored his small yellow blush emote on his face panel. He gulped and waved his hands around as he spoke. “Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t sneaking on you, I swear! I just happen to be cruising by. Small place, ya know.” He gave a sheepish giggle and smile. I eyed him, hands on my hips as he seemed nervous for some reason. “Have you always been a clutz at flying? How can you be our leader?” The robots eyes went large before giving a small laugh, scratching his head. “I can’t didn’t fall. I was thrown by J.” He grinned.

As if on cue, the female robot came down above, her wings spread wide and large. It was a complete contrast to her girly physique. Her twin ponytails blew in the cold wind. Her yellow eyes glowed as she stared at the both of us. Her wings retracted into her back as she stepped closer to us.

N screamed, cowering as he fell on his bottom, still smiling at the girl who seemed to enjoy harming the weak leader.

I stepped forward, my lips becoming a small frown as I scowled at her. “Awe, what’s wrong N? Ashamed you can’t land on your own feet and have to blame me again? Come on, I barely got here.” She glared her eyes at me, her claws still out. Despite her being much taller than I am, my composure to stand against her made me 6 feet tall.

“You that scared that the little mute girl has to protect you?”

I wish I wasn’t mute but I must when it comes to her. Narcissists will use your words against you. Her ego is fed by robots stuttering around her because of her. Especially when in fear.

So as much as I wanted to yell and rant and scream at her for hurting N, I stayed silent. I hated it. Having to break my moral code ‘if you see something, say something’, but who am I kidding? No one else cares for N but me.

“Wanna get tossed too-“ With her hand barely raised from her side, I took action. I would take all blame and accept N’s scolding later but I think J deserves some pain.

Without being able to take a stance to let the female robot know I threw a quick but hard jab to stun her, causing her take a couple steps back. It was perfect in range for what was next. I planted both my feet to the floor, bending my knees to ready for a jump. During the leap I rotated my hips to get my leg straight, allowing my foot to give a strong blow to her head. J flew meters away from where she stood, sliding into a pile of snow. N screamed, getting up to help J. I shook my head. She hurt him yet he’s large and bleeding heart always wanted to be useful. Bless his stupid heart.

“J! J are you okay?! Do you- are you in need of medical assistance?!” He swiped the snow off her panel. He gulped as I grabbed him off her. I stood over her, my needle softly tracing down her face. Her eyes watched the needle that was practically ready to impale her, full of nitrate acid. I was annoyed to see her upset at me. Yet I was glad she knows how I felt knowing N was still allowing her to abuse him.

“Y/n please. Don’t hurt her.” He begged, placing his hand on my shoulder. I nodded before I planted my foot into her knee. She screamed, her tail ready to impale my side. I dodged it, allowing the needle to destroy a metal wall behind me. I pushed N away, watching the metal panel fall on her. “J!” N screamed, pulling the panel off J.

I wanted to yell at him for saving her but I can’t her hear me. I’d rather be a silent threat.

She coughed, healing herself before standing up. “You’ve got some nerve to go against me!” She didn’t seem so confident as before, not approaching me like earlier. It’s funny how fast she is to lose control. I almost want to laugh but now wasn’t the time.

I stepped away with N apologizing for me as he headed to the landing pod. “What was that for?” He said. “I’d like to ask the same thing.” I said.

“You and J. I know you hate each other but you don’t have to get physical to each other. We were sent her for a reason, together.” He posted as I jumped into the landing pod. “She needed it.” I said.

“No she doesn’t!”

“I was being nice to her. After all the rude shit-“

“Language.”

I slowly turned my head to him, glaring at him of annoyance.

He kept rambling to which I blocked out my head. I opened the floor of the pod. N seemed to shut up as I pulled out cups and mugs, hell, even jars of oil. His were wide, gleaming at the warm oil. I swirled the warm oil in the cup, holding it by the ear. I handed him the cup. “Careful, it’s still hot.” I closed the box and placed the cover of the fake tile.

I heard slurping and squeaking. I turned to see N’s panel show a large X, his fangs out from his smile. His tongue was out, catching the small droplets. I grinned. “I’m guessing V and J took your kills from the hunt?” I asked, sitting on the floor, hugging my knees. He sighed, holding the still warm cup in his hand. “Yeah.”

I kept my eyes on the floor. I knew he was defeated just by that deflated sigh after his response. It’s best if I just hear him. “So I take it you don’t want to go out for a hunt?” I asked.

“I love doing anything!” He said, getting up on his feet. I got up from the ground, flying out the landing pod. It wasn’t shortly after that N followed. I gasped as he flew past me. He was much faster than I was but that was expected from the leader. I was careful to follow him as he landed on a small metal panel. I fluttered my wings, standing next to him. I looked below to see a couple of worker drones sit around, laughing by a campfire. “You take this one, I’m full from my hunt.” I clapped my hands, grinning the the pale robot. “R-really?” He stammered. Geez, he blushes so easily.

“Don’t you want some too? I don’t want to hog all the oil for myself.” He held his hands, his fingers rubbing as he looked below. “Yeah man. You got this.” I tapped his shoulder. He gave a small squeak, flying down and impaling several drones. Their screams of anguish mixed with th e sounds of gunshots and metal crashing to the floor pleased my circuits. I jumped off the edge, landing both feet on a drone’s corpse. “Wow, you were hungry.” I chuckled as he popped a victim’s head off their body. He drank and sank his fangs down the large tube which many would fall their spinal cord. It was his favorite place to drink the warm sweet oil faster.

I say back near the fire, ready for N to finish his meal. It didn’t take long though, he ate his his meals fast. He sat beside me, his legs cris crossed. “Thank you.” He whispered. “For what?” I asked, laying on my back. He looked down at me which made us both smile. In almost every angle I must admit, he has such a pure and sweet smile. Of all impurities out there, N was perfectly pure. Seeing his gleaming gold eyes and small u shaved smile almost made me forget he was the same leader who has killed hundreds. I couldn’t help but find myself smiling wider just having someone elite N as my friend.

“You… you’re the only one who doesn’t hurt me.” He mumbled. I softened my stare at him, sitting up in order to scoot closer to him. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s the bare minimum as a friend.” I hugged him. He rested his cheek on my shoulder. “Well, now I feel like s terrible friend. You do so much, I’m mot sure how to be a good friend for you.” His words were muffled by my coat.

For months N has always been open of emotions which is good but he opened up to the wrong people. J used them against him and V bullies him. I pity him for having a crush on her. I wish he raised his standards but it’ll take time for the robot to heal.

“You do more than enough.” I whispers, hearing the campfire sizzle out of life. It’s these moment start I cherish and keep as my core memories. Ever since the landing pod crash I can’t afford to lose any more memories. I lost more than V or N combined but no one must know. Maybe one day I’ll recollect them.

Time passed by us, the sun not being able to touch us, allowing us to sleep. Safe from V or J. My heavy eyes glanced over at his sleeping form. His fluffy hair flopped upside down as we hung from the ceiling by our feet and tails. He was so peaceful when it was just us. J would stay making assumptions of us and V would question us but as long as N could spend his days of sleep in peace I disturbed then by all means I want to keep these assumptions to myself. All to keep him safe.

I hummed, shutting my eyes, making my panel go black as I recharged. I would fully shit down when sleeping but I needed to stay on guard to protect him.

It’s odd how even when we crashed into this toxic waste dump planet, I had a connection with him despite my corrupted memories.

[eclipsingmoons]

Hi there, this is my first post on this channel. It's a small comfort fiction about Overhaul I decided to write since there's truly not enough around. Excuse or correct some weird wording, I got all inspiration and motivation around midnight and wrote this for an hour.

I decided to make it a songfic using Invincible by Tool. I love (their) music and had to think of the character when listening to the song. I'll probably write some more in the future if I'm feeling up to it ^^

Feel free to leave comments, feedback and ideas in the comments or send it to me directly. I'd love to improve my writing :3

You can start reading here, I cropped it with the banner a little to make it look more organized. Much fun

Invincible

Long in tooth and soul

Longing for another win

Lurch into the fray

Weapon out and belly in

Visions haunted him again. Memories of a time not long past. He was running with Chronos- no, Hari and Eri in these ever changing, never ending hallways. The sound of battle, clashing blades and flowing fists rang in his ears. Never had he anticipated something like this to happen. Still, he tried his best to keep a calm mind and was rather successful surrounding that. After all, this was a scenario he had a plan for. A foolproof plan. Like any of his, of course. He won't go down without a fight, hells, he won't go down at all. Pathetic.

Warrior

Strugglin'

To remain

Consequential

Then, a lot happened at once. In one second, he was fighting that green kid, then Eri was away, in the arms of the kid with that Permeation Quirk. Was that even a kid anymore? His memories played tricks on him. Next thing that he sees is a white ceiling, the surrounding soundscape tells him he's in a car. Vision still blurry, he can only guess that there's heroes or doctors above his body. Why won't it move?

Bellow out loud

Bold and proud

Of where I've been

But here I am

The memory of Shigaraki replays. Slowly, his arm crumbles into dust. His mouth opens but there's no sound at all.

Beating chest and drums

Beating tired bones again

Age-old battle, mine

Weapon out and belly in

"Hey! Hey, wake up. Hello?" Right. It was all a dream. The kind that haunts you at night instead of processing the day. "You screamed, had a nightmare again? I'll get some water, wait here for a second"

Tales told of battles won

Of things we've done

Caligula would grin

He was breathing heavily, chest heaving and sinking in irregular patterns, his dry mouth trying desperate to catch some air to fill his lungs with. Beads of sweat were running down his back, his things, his forehead, his forearms. His....forearms.... Right. Even his own mind, his unconscious has to remind him of how far he's fallen.

Beating tired bones

Tripping through remember when

Once invincible

Now the armor's wearing thin

Heavy shield down

"I've got the water." You held still for a moment, staring at him. "You're hyperventilating again. Calm down please, let's do the breathing exercise again with me. You're safe now, it's okay." You put the glass down onto your nightstand.

"Breathe in."

"Hold 3 seconds."

"Breathe out."

"Breathe in."

"Hold 5 seconds."

"Breathe out."

"Breathe in."

"Hold it."

"And breathe out. Good job."

He did as told and after the final breath, he let his head fall back against the headboard.

Warrior

Strugglin'

To remain

Relevant

"It's okay now. Whatever it was, its over. It might come back some other time, but you made it through. Was it that day again?"

He slowly nodded. It hasn't been the first time that that particular nightmare, those particular memories made sleeping impossible. Those particular memories that remind him every time of his uselessness, his stupidity, his arrogance and loss.

Warrior

Strugglin'

To remain

Consequential

Was he really that blind? He should have seen it coming sooner. Should have paid more attention. Should have listened to his Father. Should have dealed with Eri differently. Should hav-

"You with me? Hello, Earth to Kai." You snapped with your fingers in front of his face to get the attention back on you. "Lost in thought again?" You knew the answer.

Cry aloud, bold and proud

O' where I've been

But here I am

Where I end

A first tear left one golden eye. A second followed. Without a single sound, as quiet as a grave, he started to cry. They made their path over his cheeks, down to his chin, over the small stubbles, down to the blanket.

Warrior

Strugglin'

To remain

Relevant

Only the rustling of the blankets and pillows was audible as you guided the man down to your lap, wrapped in your own blanket. Softly, his head rested on the sheets, eyes still staring into the void, never letting the flow of tears die out.

Warrior

Strugglin'

To remain

Consequential

Your hand moved slowly through the man's soft strands of hair, carefully scratching his scalp. In the past, this helped to soothe him a little. As soon as your fingertips met the skin of his scalp, his eyes relaxed and looked at your face. As if checking, that it's really you.

Tears in my eyes, chasing Ponce de Leon's phantom soul

Filled with hope, I can taste mythical fountains

False hope, perhaps

But the truth never got in my way

Before now, feel the sting, feeling time bearing down

It felt pathetic and nice at the same time. Never before was he treated like this. Noone dared to, else their existence would find a quick end. With you, it was different. Mostly, because he depended on you at first. Every action counted on your mercy and empathy for him, from eating to showering. It was as if a huge toddler lived with you. A huge toddler that committed countless atrocities. A huge toddler whose mind is in utter shambles. A huge toddler you...felt sorry for.

Tears in my eyes chasing Ponce de Leon's phantom soul

Filled with hope, I can taste mythical fountains

False hope, perhaps

But the truth never got in my way

Before now, feel the sting, feeling time bearing down

Why, for what possible reason, would you want to help him. Want to take care of him. That's what freaked him most at first. You weren't afraid of him, nor did you respect him like he was used to be respected. You saw neither a monster, nor a psychopath in him. Tartarus made him used to feel like an object. A mere nuisance. An existence, that isn't worth anyone's time or resources.

For the maybe second time in his life, he was seen as a person. Not as his villain alias or any other glorified title. Just as the man he was.

False hope perhaps

But the truth never got in my way

Before now, feel the sting, feeling time bearing down

Bearing down

"Thank you."

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[Thank you for reading :3]