#me: brain we have 10 seconds to do a reference for pressing down

[soryualeksi]

Taking a photo reference to know where the arms go when, well, pressing down on something that may or may not be someone’s head (I decided to make more smut lol).

Look at the photo, very pleased, this is gonna be useful. Look at the hand position.

I’m doing the CPR pose.

...

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 3)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 3 A tragedy 

So enraptured with Alastor, you forgot how you left work on Saturday. Tommy didn’t forget. And he made sure you remembered. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for you, your paramour made a habit of helping quicken karma’s balancing act.

「warnings/promises: immediate physical assault (let’s be up front about that), allusions to sexual assaults having happened in the past to non-reader characters, HumanAlastor x FemReader, penetrative sex, Protective Alastor, bruises, somewhat graphic descriptions of murder, mentions to coerced prostitution, sex near a corpse (words that have the FBI watching me), stabbing, knife, bad burlesque names, gambling, my own new HC for the Radio Demon’s origins, another deer reference thanks to @n-after-me , chin quivering, Tommy doesn’t know French and it shows, posted early for @jazzmasternot, wrath」

Minors DNI 🤺

You walked into the theatre for rehearsals with a pep in your step, body still humming. It was like the usual adrenaline rush Alastor brought couldn't fade this time.

But it did, when Tommy grabbed you by the hair out of your makeup chair and threw you into the wall. 

You couldn’t react, head ringing after it left a small indent in the drywall. Unlike before, you didn’t try to stand. Make him work for his second hit. And he did. Leaning down he yanked you off the ground by your arm and dragged you to your feet. 

“Do you think you’re funny?” He shook you, you were sure you could feel your brain jostle. It was rhetorical, but you replied anyway.

“No, Tommy.”

“No. Exactly.” He backed you up onto the make up table, head pressed into the mirror. “Mr. Wilson was not happy. He pulled his contribution. I know you don’t have that kind of money. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

His fingers dug into your cheeks, “No.” You genuinely didn’t. He was talking to you like you had been in the loop on whatever it was he had been doing on the side. All of this was as shocking to you as your actions were, apparently, to him. 

“You’re gonna take whatever meetings I make until that money is back.” He let go of you and turned to leave but changed his mind. Coming back, he swung his fist and clocked you on the left side of your face.

You didn’t see it, but you heard the other girls running and pulling Tommy off of you, yelling and pleading for him to calm down.

“I worked really hard for you!” He shouted, jerking his shoulders out from under the hands of the other performers. What was he talking about? You hadn’t discussed any of this, asked for any thing from him. “I waited for a high roller for you. Real classy guy. Just wanted a private show! That was it!” He spit, “No, every Tom, Dick, and Harry is welcome now to ask for your time.”

You just held your face, unsure if you had the right makeup to hide the bruise before stage call. 

“Well?! Say you’re sorry.”

You considered not saying anything. No response. When you looked at him, you could see the half a dozen other girls staring back at you, just say it. We have to rehearse.

“I’m sorry.” Eyes cast to the floor.

“For what?”

It hurt when you rolled your eyes, “For being ungrateful?” 

He shoulder checked a few girls on the way out. A couple came to you.

“He’s got some gambling debt, he’s just using us to get ahead.”

“I have some stuff to cover that up for tonight.”

“He usually cuts us in.”

Tears stung your eyes, you were angry and humiliated. You could work elsewhere, with a little luck. Take a job at a diner out of the area where no regulars would stir up trouble. Maybe leave until Tommy got his debts paid off or whatever was motivating this recent streak of cruelty. But you didn’t want to run away. No one applauded waitresses. Maybe if you made yourself as unattractive as possible, no one would request you. Dirty your teeth, talk about other men, speak crudely. 

“What exactly was he talking about?” you asked no one in particular. The girls were quiet for a beat.

“Well ya know, private shows for clients who can afford it.” High pitched and nasal, Florence spoke as she searched her make up station.

“That’s it?” Incredulous.

“Sometimes. You know how it is… woman left alone in a room with a man who has too much money or ego or drink. Doesn’t always stop at a dance.” Minnie had much more experience than you, “It isn’t our jobs. It isn’t normal. But, well, ya heard about New York right? They’re trying to make burlesque outright illegal…”

“Gotta enjoy the art while it’s just misunderstood.” Florence wiped down your mirror before setting her supplies down for you. “Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

By the time patrons began to stream in, you had blood staining the white of your left eye. Nothing you could do, but maybe at a distance it wouldn’t be noticeable. The bruise under your eye from his fist was easy enough to cover. The contusion from where your right cheek hit the wall was a little harder. 

Luckily, the stage offered a buffer of space and the rest of the room was dark. 

During your show, you tried to keep your eyes moving so the red sclera never stayed in one place too long. For the first time, the cheers did nothing for you. You felt your chin quiver, fighting back tears. You wanted to scream, to tell them to hate you and leave. Stop fucking clapping.

Ruth was naturally the first to come to you after your performance, “Want me to do the tour with you? Arm in arm around the hall.”

You took her up on the offer. It lightened the load, her taking charge of the conversation when people approached or bought you drinks. Luckily the bartender always poured the performers weak cocktails and watered down liquor to keep their heads on straight. 

Ruth’s companionship afforded you precious time to plan, to consider how quickly you could find new work or at least a way out of this.

“What a treat. Two for one. Can I buy you both a drink?” 

Ruth turned first to greet the customer, “Ooh yes sir! Gin and tonic, please and thank you. Autumn?” Your stage name drew your attention back to the world, turning finally.

“Alastor.” It fell from your mouth like a lead balloon.

He smiled down at you, his hand offering a little wave, “Hello. Surprise.” 

Your face fell, a frown pulling down your chin. It took you too long to recover, batting your eyelashes and turning the corners of your lips up unnaturally. 

“So you do have a beau!” Ruth slapped your arm, “I’m Skye, Skye Scraper. Pleasure to meet you, Alastor.” She extended her hand, Alastor planting a kiss on the back of it, concealing his smile at the name.

You tried to keep your eyes on the floor, head turned slightly away from him to obscure the neon sign of an eye shouting, ‘Weak!’

Unfortunately for you, Alastor wasn’t an oblivious man. Unless he was dancing or drunk. “May I have a moment alone with her?” Alastor asked Ruth. Ruth looked to you for your okay, and you just nodded. She gave a little nod of her own to Alastor and slinked away. 

“Are you unhappy to see me, dear? Did I overstep by coming by unannounced?” You hadn’t heard him worried before, it pained you. 

“No, no! I am… so happy to see you. I just had a long day.” You scanned the room for the darkest area to bring him. A booth would be best, you could keep him on one side of you. You gestured with a nod of your head.

“Ah, I kept you out too late.” Alastor didn’t move.

“Not at all, come on let’s sit down.” You reached back for his hand without looking at him, but when you pulled he still didn’t move. He remembered the way you pulled at the hand of that man in the alley the first night you met. Desperate to escape somewhere. 

“Is there a reason you won’t look at me?”

Lie. 

“Uh, no, I’m just embarrassed about this heavy stage makeup.” 

Alastor paused, hand slipping from yours to adjust his sleeves. It was a nervous action, an attempt to self soothe, but you didn’t know that. “I should have asked before coming.”

“Alastor, it’s not…,” you kept your eyes down at your hands.

“Then look at me.”

Would he think you were incapable of protecting yourself? His pity would kill you. Perhaps he would decide a second rate burlesquer wasn’t worth making time for anymore.

You could intentionally wound him, say you don’t want to see him so he leaves. But that sword was double edged and you weren’t sure you’d survive that either. You weren’t making it out of this.

You finally looked at him. He leaned in, “What happened to your eye?” A slender finger gently tilting your chin upward.

Lie. 

You thought too long for an answer. Why were you getting worse at lying? It used to be one of your best shields and swords but now you were so slow on the draw you were left defenseless. Vulnerable. His hand took yours, gently pulling you into the lobby and through the glass doors of the theatre.

Under the bright lights of the marquee and the street lamps, Alastor inspected your face. He reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, wetting it in his mouth before wiping the makeup off of your under eye.

“Alastor, people are staring.” 

His eyes fell down, soft hands lifting your arm where a bruise was already formed. You hadn’t noticed that one.

“What happened?” He wasn't looking at you when he said it, instead cautiously wiping the makeup off your cheeks in search of more marks.

“The truth or wh-“

“Always. Never give me anything else.”

You sighed, and explained, “Tommy, the manager, he’s been shifting tactics for bringing in money because he owes some big bads a lot of debt. Private shows with performers that sometimes get hands on…,” his hands stopped moving but his eyes didn’t meet yours, “I never asked to be included in it. I wouldn’t do it. I was rude to a man Tommy introduced me to and I ran off Saturday. Yada Yada. He got me as soon as I got to work.”

Alastor didn’t reply, just turned on his heels and marched back into the theater. You chased after him, “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” You tried to get in front of him but he walked right past you.

“Not about what you need, dear, it's about what he deserves.” 

Alastor asked the bartender for Tommy, who pointed to the short but stocky man talking to a group of guests. Alastor approached so quickly Tommy didn’t have time to greet him, instead just backing up until he fell ass first into a booth. Alastor boxed him in, one hand on the wall and one on the table, towering over Tommy as he sat.

“I hear you sell dancers by the night.”

You paced the lobby nervously. Would you be fired? What would Alastor say? Would Tommy hit him, too?

He re-emerged, “Come to my car, please.” He didn't stop walking as he said it. 

You followed a few blocks down to his car, parked on the street. He opened the passenger door for you and closed it behind you. You wanted to ask if you were going somewhere, but thought better of it. A tight u-turn, he pulled the car into the side street where you’d first met each other.

Wordlessly he got out of the car, you opening your door before he could. Popping the trunk, he set the folded canvas inside a paper bag. Checking first, he placed it inside one of the tin trash cans. 

You stood, waiting for an explanation.

Finally he stopped and made eye contact with you. “You have a date tomorrow, with me. Bring this to the apartment above the theater before Tommy and I arrive.” Opening your mouth to speak, he didn’t stop to let you add anything. “Preferably near the bed.” He closed the trunk, “Wear red, please.”

You searched his face for some kind of discernible emotion but found none. Those constricted pupils again, an animal staring back at you from behind a pair of glasses. There was no reason to ask him, it was obvious what was going to happen. Did you want to stop it? 

Did you want to see it? Alastor at work?

“Okay. On all the points.” You looked back at the trashcan, “Canvas hidden near the bed. Wear red.”

“The extra clothes can go anywhere out of sight.” He leaned down, kissing your forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your voice cracked a little, “Wait, you’re leaving already?”

He nodded, “I can’t stay here.” Before getting into his car he turned and added, “Don’t cover the bruises tomorrow. He should see them.”

You nodded in return, “Are you doing this for me?” So quiet you almost hoped he didn’t hear it.

He paused, one leg already in the car and his back to you, “No. I’m doing it for everyone.”

You watched his car light up and leave the alley.

It’s not that you felt abandoned, you felt…. Stranded. You had to go back in there, alone, and put on the normal act but under abnormal conditions. 

So it was happening. You hadn’t seen the first time. Just felt it. You didn’t see the second. You were going to actually see a man die. Not just a man, someone you knew. Someone you used to consider a friend of sorts. Before he got into whatever trouble was driving him to act like a flesh peddler. Could you do it? Could you watch a man be killed? Was that even what Alastor had planned?

Tommy found you the second you were back in the room, hand pressing too hard on the bruises he left on your arm. “You have a meeting tomorrow after your show. If you don’t show up,” he yanked you close, putrid breath of dead teeth you’d never been bothered by before this moment and bad booze assaulting your senses, “I will fucking kill you.”

You almost started laughing, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your smile. “Okay Tommy.” 

Fuck it. He was going to die anyway, might as well make it a date. 

Ruth saddled up beside you as soon as Tommy was out of earshot, “Look at that smile. Quickie in the alley?”

Disgust, “Jesus, Skye, I was gone like, 5 minutes.” She shrugged. “Why does everyone think — is everyone fucking their daddies* in the side street?” She nodded. “Well, I’m not.”

“Prude.” She joshed before linking your arm in hers again, “We’ve got at least another hour of schmoozing. Tits up!”

Your smile came effortlessly that night, a thrum of excitement keeping you light on your feet. Not excitement for death, but for the very concept of being closer to Alastor. Would you see it happen, in front of you? Or would he have you leave? Either way, you were an active participant with a task list.

He trusted you, even if in a small way. Trust was so rarely given from the people who mattered. Men trusted you often; to be sweet when they tell you they were embarrassed about something, to lie when they ask if you orgasmed, to not steal their cash when they blacked out with their pants still on. Pulling it from strangers was one of your greatest pleasures. But it was easy. You were skilled. 

Yet again, like so often now, Alastor was the exception. He didn’t toss himself at your feet. He stood tall in front of you and on his own terms offered you the things you wanted. You didn’t have to pretend to be demure, you didn’t have sit on his lap in silence and nod and laugh. Just yourself, as much as you could allow yourself to exist in the world. No tricks. If his trust was presented wrapped in a bloodied bow, well, you would thank him dearly and wear the ribbon round your neck like a trophy.

Many men spoke to you, but luckily your participation in conversation wasn’t something they really cared about. As they spoke, your eyes were looking past them and into the future. 

However there was a sense of dread when you lied in bed that night. The excitement of getting closer to Alastor had melted into the fear there was no going back from this. 

Something in your chest stung, a thorn growing from somewhere unknown. Three encounters (that he knew of) and already it seemed your thoughts were more Alastor than yourself. No person had ever made such an impression before. You didn’t like it, but it made you happy. Which is why you didn’t like it. Tying your happiness to another person was a reckless thing to do. You’d seen your mother and half sister both use a man’s attention as a replacement for being happy with themselves and it made them brittle and hollow.

Thinking of what would happen the following night, oddly, you were reminded of losing your virginity. You were a “late bloomer” and were terrified you’d never be you again after. Like something would be taken from you. You fell asleep to that thought, of what you’d lose.

Then you woke, uncharacteristically early, feeling none the bit rested. No dreams. No nightmares. A few seconds of darkness and suddenly it was morning. With the extra time you had you wandered into a department store before going to the theater.

When a sales woman approached you, asking what you were looking for, you were too tired lie.

“A red dress.” You didn’t have the makeup at home to cover your marks, and gave up being worried about it. 

Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t so odd of a sight; a woman with a black eye.

“What’s the occasion? Apology dinner?” The woman fidgeted with the hangers while looking at you.

You grimaced, “No, a murder.”

She howled, “You are a hoot! Don’t we wish, huh? Let me pull you some options.”

You put the dress on the top of the paper bag, having hidden it under your make up table the previous night. Your fingers were trembling, applying your makeup needing deep breaths and concentration.

“Ruth, can you do my lips?” You turned and handed her the brush. 

“The eye looks better.” She took your chin in her hand and painted your mouth a pretty shade of red.

“Thank you.” You offered her a smile but she didn't let go, “What?”

“You ever seen a cornered raccoon? Like one got in the house and your mom boxed it into a corner with a broom?”

A nod, yes, actually, you had.

“Who’s got the broom?” She asked. You knitted your brow, not understanding. “Who’s got you in a corner? Is it Tommy?”

You took your chin back, deep breaths. “No brooms. No corners. Just rattled still from last night.” Not a lie, surprisingly. “You thought of a raccoon? Really? Is it because of the eye?”

When you took your bow for the evening and turned to escape the stage lights for the darkness of backstage, you found Tommy leaning just outside the dressing room.

“Get changed, doors unlocked upstairs. Room 504.” 

Grabbing the paper bag you ran through your mental checklist. Wear red, take off your make up, hide the canvas by the bed. An odd to-do list for murder.

The theater had two floors of modest apartments above it, the owners keeping two of the open for the theater’s use. One was for the owners should they ever visit New Orleans, and the other was multi use. Storage and a crash pad for performers or Tommy when he worked late.

The bag crinkled as you hugged it, looking over the small apartment. Boxes, decorations, a modest kitchen and a bed. The bathroom was quite large, a tub and shower head. Was this where the other performers went?  

Why hadn’t anyone said anything sooner? Why didn’t anyone leave yet?

Taking a second, you got to work. You opened the canvas and slid it under the bed, the smallest bit of edge sticking out for easy retrieval. Dizzy with the quickly settling reality of what you were doing, you sat on the floor for a moment. Trying to calm your breathing, you closed your eyes.

The fear of the unknown was suffocating you. There was a possibility Alastor failed and ended up hurt. Or, that he changed his mind and Tommy left you two to just hold hands on the bed for a sex-appropriate amount of time.

You patted your thighs and stood up. No time now for a panic attack. Alastor had a change of clothes in the bag, neatly folded and tied in twine. They were set onto the shelf above the closet.

And finally, yourself. Your dress was on and you stopped to wipe the make up off your face in the bathroom mirror. Still bruised, still nasty. The dress was nice though, carrying some of the weight for your battered mug. Red cotton, sailor neck and little gold buttons down the front. Flashy, brighter than the dark number you usually wore.

Would he like it? Most men looked for how a dress accentuated your curves (or hid them) but you had a feeling Alastor didn’t care so much about that.

You took your seat at the edge of the bed, thin mattress sagging from your weight.

The clock ticked, until finally the door opened and you saw something you hadn’t seen before and knew you’d never see again. Tommy and Alastor.

“Here she is. Autumn, this is Mr. Cerf. He's asked I stay in the apartment, apparently word of your attitude already spread among the upperclass.” Tommy wagged his finger at you in a playful way that was entirely out of place.

“Look at her. Pouting. Not very excited, is she?” Alastor smiled at you, softly. You felt for a second that maybe you entirely misunderstood. He looked calm, normal. Even peaceful.

“It’s always nice when they fight a little. But she won’t cause you any trouble.” Tommy patted Alastor’s back, who immediately shirked away.

“Do you like it when women try to fight you off, Tommy?”

A dry laugh, “Ya know how it is. They gotta act like they don’t like it so people still respect ‘em.”

A hum. Alastor’s smile falling entirely. A shadow settled over his face. “I see. That does make things easier.” He slipped on his short black gloves. “I always tell her she looks lovely in red. She rarely listens to me, but I’m happy to see she did tonight. It’s a special occasion.” 

Once, you thought. You didn’t listen once. 

Tommy nervously chuckled, looking from Alastor then to you, “What?” Alastor grabbed him by the back of the neck, pushing him to the ground and onto his knees. Hand fisted in his hair, knife pressing across his throat. 

Alastor dug his knee into the small of Tommy’s back, “Tommy, I think you owe the lady an apology.” You let your feet find the edge of the canvas and slid it out with a kick. It glided across the wood and stopped where his knees met the floor. 

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry.” Tommy was staring at the waxed fabric in front of him. 

You felt your eyes sting with tears, a smile breaking out against your will. “For what?”

“I—,” his eyes searched the room for an answer, your words bringing a pulse of Deja Vu, “It’s about yesterday?” He seemed to relax a little, “Come on. I said sorry. ” Looking back to Alastor. “I didn’t know she had a guy.”

Alastor yanked his head back to look him squarely in his eyes, “Wrong answer.” He pushed him down onto his stomach, “Come on Tommy. I like when my victims fight a little, too.” Sensing the taller man towering over him with the knife, Tommy scrambled onto his back to look at Alastor. Tommy started shouting, “Hey!! Someone!” But there was no one to hear him. That was the beauty of the space he always brought his dates to; it was too loud to hear anyone scream. 

Funny how that works both ways.

Alastor shrugged, “Well that didn’t last long.” As Tommy backed up, trying to get traction on the slippery canvas and failing, Alastor straddled him. Tommy’s hands came up, one pushing against Alastor’s face, the other against the arm holding the knife. Alastor put both hands onto the knife’s handle, staring down into Tommy’s eyes as he inched closer to the man’s neck. “You look scared, Tommy. Are you scared?” 

The other man shouted, eyes trembling as he watched the knife come down.

Alastor pushed through, metal sinking into Tommy’s throat. No pause, he withdrew and sank it again and again. Tommy’s hands fell from Alastor’s face, flailing slightly at his neck before slumping down. He was frenzied, stabbing at his chest and upward with wide eyes. You recognized those constricted pupils. They made sense in this setting. Alastor was panting, taking a second to split the skin from ear to ear in the middle of his melee. 

You brought your knees to your chest, watching the crime unfold. Was this anger for you or truly for everyone? No one ever got so angry for you before, if you could be so conceited as to say this was for you. Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, no filter. “You look like an angry God. A jazz demon of wrath.” You smiled, the morbidity not lost on you.

Alastor stopped, frozen as he stared at you. For a second, he had forgotten you were there. He was always alone during these hobbies of his. Until recently. You looked like an angel in red and gold. Had he dyed your heavenly robes crimson? Or had you been made that way?

He dropped the knife, peeling his gloves off and stepping over Tommy’s decimated torso before kicking off his shoes.

You scooted back onto the bed and opened your arms, welcoming a strange after-kill cuddle. Your reward.

Alastor took off his bowtie, then his shirt. It took you a second, not realizing what was happening until he began to unbuckle his belt. “Now?!” 

He nodded, “Yeah.”

“What the fuc— okay,” your hands flew to unclasp your stockings and roll down your panties. You mumbled to yourself, “Jesus Christ.”

As he crawled over you, warm gloveless hands tracing along your legs, hips, waist, you looked at up him with your now dilated pupils, “It’s murder? You need murder?”

He laughed, embarrassing you a little, “No it isn’t that.” His face nuzzled into your neck, “You’d go to hell? For me?” 

You froze, you hadn’t really seen it like that.

“You’d damn your eternal soul,” his hips pressed into you, an unfamiliar hardness there that made you gulp, “just to spend time with me?”

How were you so heated over an erection? A dime a dozen, men practically threw them at women who offered them the slightest smile. Yet feeling him so hard against you, something you had been practically praying for, made you weak. A trembling virgin all over again. 

Don’t lie, he always told you to be honest so you decided to try it out even if it made you feel at risk of harm. Your hands slid up and into his hair, gripping gently, enough to elicit a groan from him, “Well I was worried heaven wouldn’t have jazz, so… yeah.” You had to always say something a little in jest, to hide from the vulnerability of honesty, “This seemed like a better option.” The truth was, if you had to state it plainly, you would dive head first into hell in exchange for his smile. To hear his laugh. To feel his breath over your mouth. You were quite sure hell was more your scene, anyway.

“I’ll be sure to fill your afterlife with jazz every day, dear.” 

How could he make hell sound so sweet?

“It’s a deal.” Fingers playing with his hair, basking in the warmth of skin on skin. 

He leaned up, eyes scanning your face as he always seemed to do in these intimate moments. The feeling spreading down his chest was one wholly foreign to him, one he was struggling to put into his own words. You hadn’t run away. You opened your arms for him even still, welcoming your own damnation in exchange for… affection? Attention? Him? The reason didn’t matter, not to Alastor, and not now to his growing need. You didn’t even push him for more than he wanted to give, not yet needled him for details, secrets, sex. Could you really just be there for Alastor? Take him for what he was and what he wasn’t?

His mouth was salivating at the thought you’d give him anything. Reality was, you already had. His finger caressed the purple welt on your cheek. You were given pain and he returned it ten fold to its owner. A demon of wrath. He felt his cock twitching, underwear tented around him. 

You smiled up at him, wiping a little streak of blood from his jawline, “You look quite pretty in red yourself.”

His head came to rest on your collarbone with a shaky sigh.

Had you said something wrong? 

“Please, you’re already pushing me to my limit.”

Making a show of it, you zipped your mouth and pretended to toss the key. You wanted to reach down and pull off his remaining bit of clothing, to rub yourself against his manhood. But, you weren’t sure if that was something he would appreciate. You didn’t want to ruin his experience, to make him regret offering you something he so clearly didn’t need to give.

He removed his underwear, watching you unbutton your dress and pulling your arms free. Your bra, garter, and stockings were still on. Somehow he found it more scandalous than if you were completely naked.

Your breath was shaking, uneven as the excitement took control of you. There was a not totally unfounded fear you'd black out from hyperventilating.

Alastor lined himself up with your heat and pressed in, making a hard to decipher face as his brow knit up and he bit his lip. You were already so wet, not a hand or mouth needed from him. He wondered if you shared more than an acceptance of justified homicide; your body so relaxed and welcoming to him. 

With a few shallow thrusts, he was fully sunk into you. You may have let out a cry. An emptiness you hadn’t clocked was suddenly gone. Was this what Zeus meant when he said the two souled humans were too powerful and tore them apart to weaken them? 

Was this sex, or love? The word made you nervous. But—- if he offered it to you in both palms, you’d suffocate yourself in his hands.

He began to move in earnest, thrusting in and out slowly. You had expected the frantic moves of a horny virgin. Instead he was moving with control, hips rolling into you like waves gentle and steady where the lake met land, not slamming like many men before him. 

Had it been any other dick, you’d whine and begin moving yourself against it for that needed speed. This was Alastor. Dripping pleasure into your open mouth like a drought-breaking summer shower.

You didn’t recognize your own sounds, already panting and moaning as a warmth spread from the place where his cock was sliding around inside you.

Alastor tried to keep calm. Even when his body was sensitive, he wasn’t used to the mental work needed to fight off his orgasm. Usually he had the opposite issue, struggling to stay focused enough to finish. Mind wandering to more productive chores. 

But you were so wet, so accepting in body and mind. He watched your eyes close, one hand gently clawing at the blankets, the other reaching down to touch his lower stomach every time he thrust back in. For the first time in a very long time you really truly wanted to remember who was at the other end of the dick you were enjoying.

Languid moves. Swollen cockhead hitting the bottom of your walls, the top, the end, pushing still a little further.

“I’m sorry,” Alastor leaned down over you, kissing at your jawline, “For making you wait so long for so little.”

His rhythm picked up then, burying himself deeper into your sopping cunt and dragging out enough to pull back that quiver of his release.

You shook your head, lips tingling. “Nothing little here.”

He attempted a laugh, losing his breath. He wanted to last longer, to make the experience worth your while but he could feel you dripping down his balls and it weakened him with alarming efficiency. Finally the frenzied speed you witnessed earlier was turned to you, you brought your legs up, holding at his sides. “Darling I need to-,” he moaned into your ear.

“Please stay.” You clung to his neck, nails grazing at his shoulders.

Alastor’s voice was soft and sweet, a small moan and a gentle grunt. His legs spread more, trying to get every centimeter of himself into you. Hips now grinding in a small circle, but not losing any of the comfort of your warmth. You felt him still pumping that welcomed heat into you, and you tightened around him, drawing out your own moan. He hissed, “Sensitive.” Your legs were shaking like leaves in a storm, no orgasm but the pleasure nonetheless intoxicating.

The front of your brain felt like static, perhaps from the lack of oxygen as you had uncharacteristically lost your breath under Alastor. 

Like losing your virginity, after the fear faded and you were able to find a moment for introspection, you found yourself larger than before. The edges of your canvas expanded out, new parts of yourself unfurling for you to explore. Nothing had been lost, only gained.

Alastor kissed at the dark circle under your eye, at the bruise of your cheek, he lifted your arm and kissed gently at the purple and blue spots there too. He had lied, and he wasn’t sure why, but maybe he’d find the will to admit it to you someday.

He had left yesterday to keep from strangling Tommy in the center of the theater, finding himself in a rage. He rarely felt anger. His killings always about retribution, about karma, about righting the scales. He needed to leave to keep from losing his composure.

He lied to you in the alley, unable to look you in the eye when he did it for fear you’d see it. You always seemed to see him with a clarity others didn’t despite such a short time together. He struggled to hide from you and it was as exciting as it was frightening. A testament to your similarities.

He hadn’t done it for everyone. No. His personal moral code fell to pieces when he saw your bloodied eye and bruised skin. He would have killed Tommy even if he had been a good man, even if you’d been the instigator. None of his murderous rules mattered. And it scared him. 

(Next Part Next Week, orz)

*slang for boyfriend, often a rich one

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay /

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 10

*GIF for vibes only, not a depiction of reader's appearance*

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

A/N: Here we go :)

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is insecure, addiction references (reader feels addicted to Bucky, no drugs), SMUT, p in v, unprotected (glove before love people), creampie, p*ssy worship, foreplay, begging, teasing, one soft sp@nk, dom Bucky/sub reader dynamic and talk, Bucky is larger than reader, slight size kink, slight possessive behavior

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NSFW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

“Would you like to come home with me tonight?”

All breath exited your body. And all sense as well.

Well, almost.

One tiny corner of your brain screamed at you that you'd only know this man's real name for a little over an hour, that you'd really only known him for a week, and that he was a GODDAMN MAFIA DON. But your addiction to Bucky Barnes was screaming much, much louder. You tried to keep your cool and your composure as you casually took a sip of your wine.

"Are you looking to do a scene tonight?" you asked, your thighs pressing together at the mere mention of it. Bucky smiled that sinfully seductive smile back at you.

"No," he said softly. You felt a fleeting stab of disappointment, which of course showed on your face. He grinned at you. "Let me rephrase. I want to do anything and everything with you and to you. You have NO fucking clue. We will do scenes, but that's later. Right now, tonight...I just want you. Just you and me. No set ups, no scenarios, no accessories. Only you and me tonight."

You were so turned on by his erotic and intimate request that you couldn't help but shift a bit in your chair. His grin widened devilishly, and you thrust your chin in the air, trying to prove that you weren't as instantly readable as he seemed to think you were. "You and me only. I think that can be arranged," you said smoothly, patting yourself on the back for your chill.

Bucky snorted a low laugh, making you panic for a second. Had he been teasing you, just to let you down? But he leaned forward, clasping his hands together and looking you dead in the eye with that wicked smile. "Cut the Cool Hand Luke act," he teased gently. "What is it you really want to say to me?"

Well. Fine. Fuck that then. He asked.

You hurtled yourself off your chair and practically threw yourself into his lap, grasping his head in between your hands and smashing your mouth onto his. The second your lips connected, that absolute thrill shot through your veins like electricity again, feeding the burning, sparkling desire you felt for him. You moaned into his mouth as the feel of his lips both soothed and exacerbated every nerve in your body, setting you on fire.

He responded quickly after a second of freezing, surprised by your amorous onslaught, wrapping his right hand around you and pulling you in tightly to his chest while his left hand slid up your back and into your hair. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as your arms wound around his neck. The push and pull of your mouths was sinfully delicious. And then he opened his mouth and slipped his tongue between your lips.

With another soft exhaled exclamation, you gave him full access to explore, which he greedily took advantage of. The feel of his warm, wet tongue slipping in and out and all around made you desperately aware of your arousal downstairs. You couldn't help the needy whine that escaped. You felt his lips curve up, then he pulled away for a moment, causing you to exhaled in horny frustration. He smirked that damn challenging smirk of his at your impatience.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Bucky asked you. What the fuck?! You shared one of the deepest, most passionate kisses of your life and THAT'S what he stopped it to ask?! Instead of answering, you moved to press your lips back to his. He jerked back and gave you a soft spank instead, a look of warning on his face. That made you stop immediately, staring at him doe-eyed, your arms still around his neck.

"Uh uh," he admonished quietly. "Answer the question, now." You took a deep breath and gulped.

"Yes, sir," you said, before squirming again, unable to keep the neediness out of your voice as you felt his significant arousal as well. You needed another hit of your Bucky drug, knowing how turned on he was too, but somehow instinctively knew better than to challenge that look. You felt the thrill zip through him as you called him 'sir', but he wasn't quite ready to give in just yet. He obviously had more self control than you, the bastard.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Really?" he asked, giving you that look again, wanting a more satisfying answer. So you took another breath to rein your roaring libido in, looking behind you at your empty plate and half drunk wine. You reached across the table impatiently, snatched the glass, and drank in down in one. You felt more than saw his grin get wider and wider as you chugged. You slammed the glass down on the table and turned back to him, the look in your eye now wild.

"Really," you deadpanned back. He laughed in the back of his throat.

"Little brat," he teased affectionally, then his grin got wider when you gave him your own cheeky smile back. "Seems like you needed a little touch of the Dom tonight after all." He laughed again as you attacked his lips with a feral growl, then met you with the same enthusiasm.

You didn't entirely remember how you got back to the car, as Bucky half carried you through a back door exit, his lips never leaving yours. You suddenly realized you were outside only because of the abrupt temperature change. You heard a car door, and only opened your eyes because Bucky set you down.

"In," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. You scrambled in immediately and he followed, slamming the door shut and reaching for you again in the same fluid movement. "Home," he barked at Steve, before jamming his finger on button to slide the privacy divider between the front and back seat up. Before the divider was even halfway up, Bucky put his hand behind your head and dove into your mouth with his tongue again.

Panicking slightly, your eyes shot to the rearview mirror. Now that you knew Steve was Bucky's oldest and best friend, what did he think of you agreeing to go home with his buddy? Were you good enough for him? For his boss, the gangster?? Were you making a very dangerous man mad? But you caught the tiniest eye crinkle in the mirror right before it disappeared, that made you realize Steve was smiling, even if just a little bit.

And, to be honest, the next second that Bucky's tongue swept the roof of your mouth, you forgot what you had even been worried about.

You were so caught up in the spell that was Bucky Barnes, that squealed in surprise into Bucky's mouth when he suddenly yanked you sideways in your seat and out the door. You came to your senses enough to realize you were in a huge, cavernous garage, before Bucky literally hoisted you into his arms and started walking, carrying you like a koala. You didn't give a shit. You only wanted him and couldn't be bothered to think of anything else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself on your feet. You looked around and gasped in surprise. You were in his fucking bedroom.

The furniture in the room was all a rich, deep cherry color, all looking incredibly expensive and well cared for. The fabrics in the room were black with silver details, but every now and then a surprising pop of a soft dark purple color combined with the mahogany wood made it all feel warm and inviting, but slightly dangerous- a room worthy of a mafia king. The bed was huge, with a mahogany headboard woven with a black wrought iron detailing grate inlaid on it.

It suddenly hit home where you were. And what was about to happen. You took a deep breath, but a combination of nerves and anxiety smacked you back to reality all at once. And then Bucky put his hands on either side of your face and turned your gaze back to him.

The slow burn through your blood as you sank into his touch drove out everything else. He gently kissed your lips, leaning down over you possessively. Your hands grasped his sides, pulling yourself into him. His arousal was now more prominent than ever, making you feel like a fucking goddess.

"I've watched you take your clothes off for the last week," he said in a seductive tone. "You have no idea how jealous I've been...of you getting to do that. Now it's finally my turn."

He reached down, pulling on the silk wrap tie at your waist. He apparently understood how the dress worked, because as he slid his hand inside for the interior tie he also leaned down, pressing his lips softly to the crook of your neck. It felt so sinfully divine that your head tilted back and you let out a soft moan. You felt his lips curve up against your sin.

"Mmmm, you're so responsive," he murmured, tugging the tie open. "I'm gonna have fun with that." Once the tie came loose, he stood back up, slowly pushing the silk dress off your shoulders. It flowed down your arms in a fluttery wave to the floor. He stepped back and sharply inhaled as he took in your lingerie.

You were wearing a black silk plunge bra, and a matching black silk thong with the tiniest hint of purple lace trim. He growled in appreciation and went into remove them. You reciprocated by reaching for his shirt buttons (You didn't remember him losing his jacket, but fuck it, one less layer to deal with). The first time he felt your fingers on the button, he instantly snatched your wrists, holding them tight.

"Tsk tsk tsk," he said playfully, making you smirk. "Did I tell you you could do that?"

Since this wasn't a scene and you weren't sure you'd ever be able to get away with this again, you turned on the puppy dog eyes and gave him your biggest exaggerated pleading pout. He took one look at your face, and his entire demeanor changed to soft. Then he scowled.

"Goddammit, that's gonna be dangerous," he muttered, making you giggle as he yanked his cuffs open. You took that as permission to keep going, hurriedly undoing the buttons but trying to be cool. The more skin you revealed, the less cool you got, until finally you yanked his shirt tails out of his pants and over his shoulders. You exhaled as you took in his sculpted torso. There was no body hair save a fine line down beneath his waistline, but a plethora of scars. For some reason, the thrill of him zipped through you again, just looking at them. You wanted to run your fingers across every single one of them, but you wanted something else even more now.

You both grew frenzied, him reaching for your bra and you reaching for his zipper, your lips locking as you fervently raced to unclothe each other. Once the last garment dropped, you both stepped away as if on cue and looked at each other.

His blue eyes were glowing with a carnal appreciation and lust as he saw you, fully undressed, for the first time. You noted how his gaze lingered on you lower abdomen, your breasts, your neck. He'd seen almost all of that before at the club, but now it was complete and all only for him. You looked him over yourself, appreciating the fine specimen of abs, the cut hip bones, and his...

"Oh my god," you breathed out.

He grinned devilishly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He moved towards you, his cock at full attention, and pulled you into him again, slotting his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of skin on skin was indescribable, sending you into a lusty haze. You ran your hands up his back, feeling more scars, but feeling HIM. You could feel the warm, velvety flesh under your fingers and the moving muscles of his back. You felt more high than you'd ever been in your life.

He moved you closer to the bed, only pausing from kissing you to rip the covers back. You were surprised by the dark purple silk sheets. Somehow you'd managed to color coordinate with his bedroom.

Score one for you.

He gently laid you down on the bed, then positioned himself on your left, running his right hand up your arm, subtly moving you so that your hands went above your head. You were completely under his spell, moving exactly how he wanted you to with only the slightest nudging on his part. Nuzzling to your side, one of his legs thrown over and trapping both of yours, you felt his impressive manhood pressing into your hip, and without realizing it, you turned your whole body towards it, letting out a small whine of need. He let out an exhale of satisfaction as his right hand subtly took a hold of both of your wrists over your head, pinning them gently down.

"So gorgeous, my perfect Angel," he whispered hoarsely. He took his time, tracing the fingers of his left hand down your body, noting its response to the metal. It was shockingly warm yet electrifying. You were insanely aware of where those fingers were. You bit your lip to try to keep your moans inside, but he attacked your mouth with his the moment he saw that.

"Mm-mm," he scolded in his throat as he kept up his fiery assault on your lips. He broke away, leaving you gasping for air and for him. "Don't hold back. I want to hear every sound I pull out of your body. This room is sound-proofed; no one other than me will hear you. I want every single sound- only for me. You understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mmmmm ESPECIALLY that sound," he growled, before he began kissing down your body again, causing you to arch and bow and moan like you'd never done before. He ran his fingers along every part of you, taking his time, usually finishing with a kiss before he moved onto the next section. "Someday," he murmured against the soft skin under your right breast, his body draped over and touching yours, "I will have every inch of you in my mouth."

You groaned as those words stoked the blazing fire of need centering between your legs. You felt your pussy twitch as that mental image of having every part of your body in his talented mouth invaded your mind. Bucky smiled and licked a line under your breast, right where his lips had just been. You nearly screamed at the incredible feeling, your back arching involuntarily. "But I don't have the patience for that right now, not when I need you so badly," he whispered against your left nipple. Your eyes closed as your back bowed again.

"Bucky, please," you managed to gasp out. "Need you too."

"Do you now?"

"Yes, please! Please!"

"So pretty when you beg for me, Angel. Begging to be made a sinner."

"Bucky, please, please..."

Bucky moved his lips to your left ear. "I'm right here, baby," he whispered. Your entire body instantly went limp, reacting to the warmth and the sensuality of it. You felt his right hand let your wrists go, and him move to the end of the bed. Your eyes opened to find him kneeling at your feet, looking down on you like a predator, his huge dick fully at attention.

"Open yourself to me," he whispered. "I want to see you." His eyes dragged from your ankles to your core, where your thighs were pressed together.

A fear shot through you at his insanely intimate request. Why was he asking this? What if he didn't like what he saw? A lot of guys didn't want to look at a pussy, only pound into it. And could you actually bring yourself to spread your legs and let him...just look? And then he broke out his own secret weapon.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. You couldn't resist it. There was no way, not when you were already hooked on him so desperately. You slid your hands down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs, and carefully spread your legs open for him. Your eyes never left his face as he moved in closer, on his knees.

Bucky stared into your core with wonder, letting out a small exhale of delight. His eyes slid along your folds, seeing the glistening arousal there. "My god," he murmured. "You are exquisite." He reached down and gently pumped his huge cock a few times, even though there was clearly no need. He just wanted to touch himself at the sight of your beauty.

His carnal worshipping of your pussy was the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced in your life. To have this gorgeous powerful man look at the most secret part of your body and declare it exquisite was beyond anything you'd ever felt before. And he hadn't even touched it yet. You felt powerful, worshipped, and at once- pliant and ready for whatever he wanted to do to you.

With a bold move, you slipped your hand between your legs to gather up your slickness. You reached out, replacing his hand, and gave his cock a few pumps of your own. Jesus Christ it was like getting your hand on a paint roller holy FUCK. His feral growl of pleasure was enough to send a new wave of lust crashing through you.

"Touch me," he commanded you, as he positioned himself in between your legs. Your hands traced up his arms as he guided his cock to your entrance. He looked at you, just to make sure.

"Yes," you whispered back, not even recognizing your own voice in your need. He slowly sank into you, letting out a sensual moan as he did. He tried to take it slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You gasped and mewled as he took you, your hands suddenly clutching his back fervently.

"Nails," he said, and you knew what he meant. You raked your nails down his back, and he let out a guttural cry, pushing in even further, making you gasp harder.

"Fuck, you are so goddamn tight," he murmured, kissing your collarbone frantically, trying to hold himself back from plunging into you and splitting you in half. In response to that, you put your hands on his incredibly firm backside, pulling him into you even more, not giving a damn if he cracked you right down the middle because it felt so fucking GOOD.

He slid all the way in, and between that and the feeling of your bare chests touching, you nearly came on the spot. You both tried to catch your breath for a moment as you adjusted to the incredible feeling of connection. He looked deep into your eyes, and all you could do was return the wide-eyed stare of wonder, before he smiled that devilish, seductive grin.

"Let me hear you baby," he said, then began slowly thrusting. The shocked gasp and high pitched keen that you gave off at the first thrust was exactly what he wanted to hear. For your sake, he tried to move slowly, letting you feel him as he slowly stoked your desire. He drank in every sinful moan and cry from your mouth, letting it fuel his own passion.

His sensual strokes became quicker as he could feel you pulsing and tightening around him, groaning in pleasure himself. Your hands were on his back, pressing him into you, then running up his arms to his face, and pulling him in for a desperate kiss, then back down his arms as he really began pumping into you. The feeling of his lower abdomen pressing against yours, feeling the slight sprinkle of his hair moving against your smoothness, drove you absolutely insane. You pressed your hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust, holding onto his ass as he fucked you into the mattress.

You felt that slow burn, that spot of golden light between your legs grow and grow as he thrust harder and harder. The glow began to fill you, to take you over, to block out anything in the world but the two of you. The air was filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, the cries and moans out of the both of you, and the creaking of the bed. As it all got louder and louder, so did your passion and need for each other.

Your vision turned gold, and you just managed to get it out. "Bucky, I'm cumming, I-" before you exploded. You screamed to the heavens and all the angels, your back arching as the tremors passed through you. It went on and on, but somewhere in the midst of that you became aware that Bucky's thrusts were becoming more and more sloppy, and you felt him cum deep inside you, his warmth filling you. He cried out your name as he came, then partially collapsed on top of you, trying to make sure you were okay as you continued to press him into you, doing the same.

As you both came down from your insane high, gasping, muscles twitching, vision clearing as the moment passed, you couldn't think of anything else except one thing.

My whole life changes tonight.

Chapter 11

[thegayloragenda]

“I’ll tell you something right now / I’d rather burn my whole life down / than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning,”

“I’ll tell you something about my good name / It’s mine alone to disgrace / I don’t cater to all these vipers dressed in empath’s clothing.”

Hey Swifties — what do you think she’s referring to when she singing these lines? What is she burning down? What is disgracing her good name? According to the media narrative, she is straight billionaire in a heteronormative relationship with a star football player that the entire world is obsessed with. She is literally the American Dream.

What would be a disgrace to her name?

If you think it’s about her on-and-off again 10 year love affair with Matty then why would she choose Ice Spice over him to cover her ass in the press and then rebound with Travis immediately after? That’s not very full throttle through the fences of her.

Ohhhh I know!!!! Is it because she might have cheated on Joe with Matty? Oh wait. No y’all didn’t see that as bad either. She’s still god status.

Hmm…

Is it because she’s a 34 year old woman dropping the f-bomb in her songs? Is it because she’s wearing a sexy little bodysuit or giving a chair a lap dance? No because her “good girl” persona has pretty much stayed intact. I think we can all confidently say that she’s definitely still America’s sweetheart. After all, she’s never had much “edge”.

Maybe it’s because she pissed off some republicans. OH WAIT! They actually forgave her because she’s dating an NFL hero! There’s really only a few Christian conservatives who have dropped her but that’s barely made a ripple in her pond.

The only thing that *might* ruin her would be her political silence (after promising to speak up) and the possible queerbaiting / the use of historical queer flagging. Oh but guess what? She became a billionaire despite both of those possibilities. And what a fucking slap in the face to the queer community and the injustice that the world is currently facing to essentially say “I’m a bad girl because I lie to the public about the things I care about and the type of person that I am so go fuck yourself!” If that’s who you want to worship, be my guest.

I need y’all to put on your critical thinking caps for this one…

Could it possibly be that she’s preparing you for something?

That she’s much more intelligent and deeper than you are giving her credit for.

That she is Machiavellian.

That she resents putting on an act and (cue the tour visuals) is using her final era to put a nail in her own performance art coffin and burning her media reputation to the ground on her way out?

Perhaps, these songs — much like the songs on Midnights — will make sense to you as the clock ticks and more is revealed. After all, wasn’t it the Gaylors who said Midnights was a breakup album? Oh but we got crucified for it until the tour started and she dropped You’re Losing Me to make it all suddenly make sense. God bless the patience of Taylor Swift because having to spell it out for you dipshits when you don’t even fucking have enough brain cells to comprehend what she’s writing about is INSANE.

If it’s not about Joe and it’s not about Matty and it’s not about Travis then I wonder what it could possibly be about…

Well maybe, just maybe, you’ll discover that all along…you weren’t even listening.

[watchoutforthefanfics]

achievement unlocked 🔓 (part nineteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: cursing, talk of sex, mention of Eddie's mom, toxic parenting, emotional manipulation, crying, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: This one starts as a sad one, I apologize in advance. Also, for future reference, what kinda pet names are we feeling Eddie should call Richie? Like Im kinda feeling the 'sweetheart'/'honey' train, but I could definitely see like a 'babe' too. So let me know on that!!! There is both wafflehouse hype and hate in this chapter, you shall never know my true feelings. And there is also a lot to get through so like... sorry about that lmao. ALSO,,, I GOT MY FIRST TATTOO TODAY !!!!! Yay. Anyway. Enjoy :))]]

Richie woke up to a hand on his arm -shaking him. He blearily tried to blink away the blur of sleep in his eyes.

"Richie, hey," a voice whispered out, soft and maybe scratchy, "-wake up."

He hummed, scratching at the collar of his shirt and stretching his arms out.

"R-Rich," Eddie, he realized Eddie -my Eddie, spoke, and his voice was shaking.

Richie near immediately shot up, grabbing his glasses on pure instinct.

"Eds?" He slid them on the bridge of his nose, and snapped his eyes around the room (Eddie was distinctly not beside him in the bed), and then, they caught on him.

Eddie was beside the bed, standing with his arms wrapped around himself protectively. Defensive, protecting himself, Richie could see that much. Gnawing at his lip, his hair was ruffled (like he had run his hands through it a little too much), and his eyes were shiny like... like-

Richie pulled himself up, scooted to sit at the end of their bed, and slid onto his feet -in one fluid motion. So quick that it made him dizzy for a second, it didn't last for long though (Eddie instincts kicking into gear).

"Hey, woah," he slid his arms down Eddie's arms -moving his head slightly to catch his eyes, "-hey, what's going on?"

Eddie's breath hitched in his chest, eyes only shining brighter, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you up, but I just-"

"Eds, no," Richie cut him off instantly, hands moving to hold Eddie's face -so he couldn't look away, "-don't do that. No. Wake me up every time. Do you know how much I would fucking hate you going through something alone?"

Eddie stared at him for a second, something smoothing along his features.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke, shaky and quiet -tears slipping from his eyes (Richie felt his heart twist in his chest).

"Eddie baby, stop," Richie leveled, thumbs rubbing away at his eyes -diligently, "-Don't apologize for shit. There's no reason to, okay?"

Eddie let out a breath, slower, "Okay."

"Now," Richie kept his hands on Eddie's shoulders -ducking his head to catch his eyes, "-what's going on?"

Eddie pressed his lips into a thin line, and Richie's eyes flicked along his face in entirety. Trying to read anything. All he could get was... hurt, and it felt like a knife stabbed into his chest that he didn't know why-

"I don't know how-" Eddie started, and his breath was picking up, "-It doesn't make any sense, she shouldn't have fucking-"

"Eds, breathe," Richie tried to gain his attention, but Eddie kept going.

"-seen it. There was nothing but my fucking face, but she did. And Richie, she found me. She fucking found me-"

"Eds," Richie tried again, stepping to the side to try and gain his eye (his breaths were puffing through his lungs too quickly and his brain was burning with soothe, soothe, soothe).

"-I can't. I never wanted this to happen, Rich. I never fucking wanted to see her again-"

"Eddie," he finally pulled Eddie to face him -snapping his attention, "-breathe, baby."

Eddie blinked once, and swallowed -inhaling through his nose, sharply.

"Okay, now out," Richie hummed -gently, keeping Eddie's eyes on him, "-breathe out from your mouth."

The breath slunk out of Eddie's lips, catching just a little. Eddie frowned like he'd failed in some way.

"That's okay, Eddie baby, don't worry about it," Richie soothed, "-Let's do it again. In," he inhaled, "-out," he exhaled, "-in," he inhaled, "-out," he exhaled.

They stayed like that for a while, until Eddie's breaths evened out and the tension in his shoulders dropped. Richie watched, until he relaxed -as much as he could, anyway. He let his hands smooth down Eddie's arms and then back up -reassuring. He wasn't going to let go until Eddie told him to.

"Okay," Richie spoke, softly, "-now, talk to me."

Eddie took a deep breath in and just stared at Richie -big brown eyes swirling with things that made him want to scoop him into his arms forever. Protect him. Forever-

"My Mom."

Richie blinked once, a little confused. And then he remembered. The post. Fuck-

"She found the post?" Richie asked -cautiously (guilt sinking into his stomach).

Eddie nodded -lips into a tight frown. A real one, Richie wanted to see him smile.

"Fuck," Richie frowned, "-I'm sorry. I didn't think about that-"

"Richie, no," Eddie interrupted this time, voice rattling out of his throat (scared and shaky but also stubborn and certain), "-I want this. I want you. I just, I didn't fucking think of her seeing it. And it's... She won't stop messaging me-"

"What?" Richie furrowed his eyebrows.

"I told you, she found me, I don't-"

Richie extended his hand forward, "Can I see?"

Eddie pressed his lips together, thinking for a second. Richie patiently waited. (He'd probably wait forever for Eddie if he had to. For anything he wanted. He'd wait.)

With a shaky breath, Eddie unlocked it and placed it into Richie's waiting hand.

He held it there for a second, almost offering him an out (Eddie remained entirely certain), before pulling it to his eyes.

soniakaspbrak

Eddie, you don't know how hard it was to find you. My only son, do you understand?

You're my only child and you've left me. You ran away. You've left me helpless, Eddie.

I'm sick. The doctors say it's serious. Serious enough to be concerned. I can't take care of myself.

You're just going to let your own mother die alone? That's not my Eddie.

That's not my baby boy.

Think of your father, he'd want you here with me. Don't disappoint him.

Richie frowned. What the fuck-

soniakaspbrak

You can still come back. You can apologize and come back, I'm your mother, I'll forgive you.

You should be grateful that I still love you with what you've done to me. But I'm your mother, I'll always love you. Do you understand that, Eddie?

I love you much more than that boy ever could. You should know that. That boy will leave you alone, Eddie-bear. He won't care about you forever, not like I will.

Richie felt like he was burning alive, something biting up his throat. The messages kept piling up, one after another. What the fuck-

His eyes shot to Eddie (who was looking right back at him), fidgeting with his fingernails -picking at his cuticles. Richie immediately caught it, but he had to do something first.

"Eds," Richie leveled, "-Can I block her?"

Eddie gnawed at his lips.

"You don't need to hear this shit," Richie spoke, sturdily, "-but if you don't want me to, tell me, and I won't."

Eddie just stared at him, blinking. Looking at him like he was a little lost and Richie was the only thing he recognized. His bottom lip quivered, but Richie didn't move, not yet.

He took a deep, shaky breath in, "Yeah, do it."

Richie didn't hesitate, turning to the phone and blocking the account. With a quick motion, he turned off Eddie's phone -leaving it in his hand for a second.

"Can I hold onto this for now?" Richie asked, gently.

Eddie eyed it for a moment, before nodding, "Please."

Richie pocketed it, without a moment to waste. Stepping forward and gently extending his arms out, a question unspoken hanging in the air.

Eddie's eyes flicked between Richie's face and his chest (over and over). His lip quivered, and Richie watched his eyes start to get teary (something flared in Richie's stomach -god, he hated that Eddie had to deal with this). And then, he rushed forward into Richie -shoving his face into his chest and wrapping his arms tight around his body, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Richie near immediately wrapped him up in his arms -like a shell, protective.

"I just-" Eddie breathed into his chest -teary and shaky (Richie dropped his head to kiss his forehead), "-I actually fucking... feel guilty. Even though she hurt me, I still... I know I shouldn't-"

Richie cut him off, moving a hand up to rub up and down his back (gently scrape of his fingertips), "There's no shouldn't, Eddie baby. It just means you care. You care so fucking much and that's good. So fucking good."

Eddie didn't say a word.

"You have the biggest heart I've ever seen Eds," Richie hummed, before adding, "-Well, maybe except for Ben, but he's like a fucking... angel that fell to earth-"

Eddie laughed a little bit, and Richie felt it thrum though his chest. Good.

"-Other than that, you're the biggest heart I've ever seen. You chew people out because you care, and that's an odd fucking thing, yeah, but still good. Great, even."

Eddie sniffled, and burrowed himself further into him -Richie tightened his hold, ever-so-slightly at the movement (because it felt like he needed it, and Richie would give him anything he could).

"I don't think-" Eddie's words were soft, spoken into the fabric of his shirt, "-Even if I did what she asked, she'd still... I could never be enough, Rich, never. No matter how hard I try-"

He moved instinctively, pulling his hands back to gently pull Eddie's face to his.

"Don't say that, Eds," he leveled, and his big brown eyes blinked up at him, "-you are enough. You'll always be enough for the people that matter, okay?"

Eddie was just staring at him, in a way that Richie was slowly grasping. Like he was fucking stranded in the ocean, and Richie was the lighthouse that guided him back. Or really just like... like he needed him. Not wanted him, because he was going through something, no, he needed him.

The thought rattled through Richie's head (Eddie needs you), and something in him steeled. Imma take care of you, Eds. I promise.

Richie brushed one of his hands through the side of his hair -combing it down with a smooth motion (Eddie leaned into it and Richie wanted to cry a little), "Like Bev, and Ben, and Mike, and Bill, and even fucking Stan. They care so much about you, so fucking much, and that's not even counting me-"

Eddie sniffled once, but his lips were smoothing into a smile -Richie wanted to keep it there.

"-I love you and care about you more than you will ever know."

Eddie's eyes were teary again, but Richie thought it might be for a better reason now.

"So, maybe," Richie continued, eyes solid on Eddie's (with one hand wiping away tears and the other threading through his hair), "-you're not enough for her. But you are enough for the Losers. And you're more than fucking enough for me. I'm stoked every day that you're in my life, Eddie Kaspbrak, with your big doe-eyes, and your huge fucking heart, and your sexy ass legs-"

Eddie laughed then and brought up a hand to shove at him -not hard at all, but Richie still took it as a good sign.

"In all seriousness," Richie took a breath, and Eddie followed his every move, "-you're safe and away from her, but sometimes shit like this still comes back, and that's okay. Ya wanna know why?"

Eddie responded, slowly, "Why?"

"Because I'm going to be right fucking here to remind you that you are safe," Richie hummed, moving to press a kiss onto his forehead, "-and cared for-" his nose, "-and loved-" his lips (the simplest little peck, just to show he was here), "-and whatever other shit you need from me."

There was a pause, as Eddie looked up at him with a hazy, affectionate sort of gaze. And then, he gently raised his own hands, brush his fingertips along the sides of Richie's face. A little like he was marveling at a sculpture or something, just in awe. (In awe? Of me? Fuck-).

"Thanks," Eddie finally said after a moment.

"Don't even," Richie smiled, and Eddie followed with his own, "-You know I don't take that shit."

"Doesn't mean I can't say it," Eddie pointed out, dropping his hands and wiping at his eyes (not unlike how a toddler would when they're tired). Richie caught it near immediately.

"You wanna go back to sleep now?" He questioned, softly.

Eddie eyed him for a second, thoughtfully.

"Actually," he started, maybe a little flustered, "-I have a weird... fucking request, I guess."

"Kinky," Richie slipped out with a shit-eating grin.

Eddie frowned, puffing out his cheeks and swatting at his chest, "Not like that, asshole. Just fucking..."

He fell silent, and dropped his gaze.

Richie gently put a finger under his chin -tilting his face back up to look at him again, and Eddie did so. Blinking at him a few times.

"Eds, c'mon," Richie soothed, "-I'm not gonna fucking judge you, not really. I wanna do it, just tell me what I'm doing."

Eddie's lips pressed into a thin line, and he pulled Richie's hand down (like it was bothering him), "I can't think when you did shit like that."

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "Shit like what?"

"I don't know, just fucking-" Eddie huffed out, and Richie watched the red flame up his cheeks, "-that. Grabbing my chin between two fingers like that. It's just, I don't know, it's... like sly and smooth and fucking... confident, and that's..."

"Hot?" Richie asked, smirking.

"Stop it," Eddie pursed his lips together, eyes dropping to his lips for a split second, "-You're doing this shit on purpose, you asshole."

"Maybe a little," Richie confessed, before continuing, "-but seriously, Eds, what do you want me to do? No more funny business, I swear."

Eddie raised an questioning eyebrow.

Richie added, "Cross my heart and-"

"Don't," Eddie cut him off, sharply.

"Noted," Richie paused, before Eddie wiped at his eyes again, "-Eddie baby, come on, tell me what I need to do. You need to sleep. You're tired, I can tell."

Eddie huffed out a breath, "Are you going to make fun of me?"

"Not if you don't want me to," Richie answered -honestly.

There was a pause.

"Can you-" Eddie started, nervously, before sighing and starting again, "-Can you lay on top of me? Like with your head on my chest?"

Richie paused, rolling it over in his head -before carefully proceeding, "Why?"

"It's like... pressure or some shit," Eddie rambled a little -flustered, "-I think it might help me... calm down."

"Like a weighted blanket?" Richie asked -cocking his head to the side.

"Yeah, yes, exactly-" Eddie concurred, speaking a little anxiously (hand motions peeking their head out) "-I never... had one of those, but I've heard that it... that it helps. Is that... okay?"

Richie answered near instantly, soothing, "Of course, Eds. I said I'd do anything for you, I'm a man of my word, Spaghetti-"

"But if you don't want to-" Eddie tried.

"Eddie baby," Richie held onto his shoulders, "-I want to, okay?"

Eddie's eyes flickered along his face, maybe trying to see if he was lying (which he was not). Seriously, Richie was a clingy motherfucker and to sleep on top of Eddie? Sounds like fucking paradise-

"Okay," he finally said.

"Alright," Richie smiled, pushing him back slightly, "-you lay down while I put my shit up. Well, our shit up, because it's my glasses and your phone-"

"I know, Rich," Eddie laughed, pulling himself up onto the bed and laying there -more to the middle than anywhere else (Richie guessed he didn't have to worry much about space).

Pulling his glasses off, Richie placed the phone on the, now blurry, nightstand. After making sure it was not on the fucking edge, he slowly moved onto the bed.

He could virtually feel where Eddie was, but otherwise, he was a blur. A beautiful blur, Richie would say, but very much a blur.

"Are you sure I'm not gonna crush you?" Richie asked -somewhat genuinely.

"That's the whole point, dumbass," Eddie sighed, grabbing Richie's arms and tugging him forward with a huff, "-I have to do fucking everything-"

Richie let himself be guided, it was kinda easy with Eddie. He knew exactly what he wanted, and just fucking... took direction. So, he never really had to worry about 'what Eddie wants' because he always just... said that shit. Or, well, guided Richie to do it -such as now.

And he did so.

He pulled Richie up by the shoulders until his head landed right by Eddie's heartbeat -the thrum of it buzzing through his mind (it was so fucking calming). Richie could feel Eddie's jaw brush against his forehead, as he diligently moved Richie's arm -moving his hand to wrap over his shoulder. Finally, Eddie intertwined their legs. Like it was all perfectly pieced together, like he'd thought about this. And frankly, Richie wouldn't be surprised if he had-

"Are you comfortable?" Eddie asked, attentively (he loves me).

Richie (who was currently entranced by the smell of strawberries, the beat of Eddie's heart beneath his ear, and his body heat thrumming against his own) answered, "The most I think I have ever fucking been, Eds."

"Yeah?" Eddie laughed (it rumbled through Richie's head), but it broke into a yawn, "-Me too. I feel... I feel a lot calmer."

"Good," Richie hummed, moving his head to place a kiss on his chest (right onto his heart), before nuzzling back down.

Eddie giggled that time, the trademark 'tired Eddie' giggle. Richie was fucking pumped he got to hear it in person now, he was kinda in love with it honestly. All soft and sweet, and made Richie feel like he could fly to the moon.

"Goodnight, Eddie baby," Richie smiled, and he could feel Eddie's breaths slow -calm and routine.

"Night, Rich," he hummed, sleep-slurred and barely awake (it made Richie's heart sing), "-I love you."

Richie grinned, leaning up to leave a gentle kiss on his jaw, "I love you too, Eds. So much."

"So much," Eddie repeated, far away and distant -very much on his way to dream-central.

He waited until he heard his tiny snores before he dared to close his eyes. Just in case. But, when he finally did, Richie Tozier was out like a light.

The next morning, Richie, naturally, wanted to go all out. So, after a few minutes of playfully not moving when Eddie wanted him to (which ended up in a lot of bribery kisses, as planned), he finally pulled himself out of bed.

Before he could get very far, Eddie wrapped himself around Richie's middle. It made Richie stumble back a second, and he grinned.

"Ya need your Richie fill, Eds?" he laughed, but still moved his hands to wrap around him.

"You smell good," Eddie muttered, a little muffled into Richie's shirt.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "Do I?"

"Mhm," Eddie hummed, and it made Richie feel warm all over (love, love, love).

"I don't have any cologne or shit though," Richie explained, "-I just woke up, I'm probably fucking sweaty if anything-"

Eddie pulled back, looking at Richie -cheeks puffed up and a frown smoothed across his lips, "You're so fucking disgusting."

"Am I?" Richie teased, "-You seemed to fucking like the way my sweat smells, and I'm-"

"Shut up, asshole," Eddie shoved into him -hard, and Richie actually stumbled a bit (he was laughing his ass off at the current moment), "-I hate you."

"Wow, cool the dirty talk, Eds," Richie pretended to fan himself, suggestively raising his eyebrows, "-we may not make it out of this bedroom-"

"Shut up," Eddie repeated -shoving him again, but his lips were quirking up (so fucking beautiful).

"Hey," Richie shrugged it off, "-you're the one holding me hostage. I only get worse with time, you should definitely know that by now."

Eddie rolled his eyes, huffing out a breath. Doing a signature Kaspbrak move, he pulled Richie down by the collar and kissed him (the passionate, yearning, Eddie kind). For what reason? Richie couldn't tell you, but he wanted to know, personally, so he could do it again-

And then, he pulled back. Big brown eyes staring up at him -affectionate, soft, and syrupy, it made him want to scream. In a good way though, just so many emotions that all you can do is react. If that makes any sense.

Richie grinned, eyes lingering around Eddie's face, "Now we really aren't going to make it out of here."

"You're fucking infuriating," Eddie huffed out a breath, "-Let's just fucking go. What are we even doing?"

"I'm gonna feed you, my dear Eds," Richie hummed, kissing Eddie's cheek and guiding him into the kitchen (by intertwining their hands).

Eddie paused, asking somewhat genuinely, "You're going to cook?"

He pulled him onto the tile and turned to him, connecting their eyes -grinning, "You betcha."

"Can I-" Eddie started, before pausing -big brown eyes blinking up at him (they seriously could make him do literally fucking anything), "-Can I help you?"

Richie smiled, "'Course, Eds. I'd personally love to spend every waking minute with you. So, yes, we can cook together, obviously."

Eddie laughed (something twinkling in his eyes), before adding, maybe nervously, "I don't know how to do shit, so."

"No problem, Eddie baby," Richie soothed, immediately, "-I'm a great fucking teacher."

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"Okay, now," Richie clapped his hands, and spun on the tile for a second, "-What is your dream breakfast, Eddie my love?"

"That one's new," Eddie remarked, curiously (his head tilted, as he stared at Richie from the entrance to the kitchen).

"Yeah," Richie explained, "-I'm workshopping some shit. How do we feel about it, Spaghetti?"

"I like it," Eddie answered smiling, before pointing out, "-You also called me just baby last night too."

"Did I?" Richie furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember (well, there was honestly a lot to remember, good and bad).

"Mhm," Eddie confirmed, "-when you were calming me down."

Richie paused, something a little like worry stirred into his stomach, "Right, yeah, I remember that. Speaking of, you're doing okay, yeah?"

Eddie stepped toward him then with the cheesiest little smile that Richie's ever seen (he added it to his Eddie files, naturally). And then he smoothed his hands along Richie's shoulders, saying -simply, "Yeah, I'm... better than okay. Very fucking happy, if you're worried about it. Which you shouldn't be."

"Yeah?" Richie hummed, using one hand to smooth Eddie's hair down.

Eddie stepped onto his tippy-toes (Richie thought it was the cutest thing in the world), and kissed him once, "Yeah."

"Good," Richie responded, maybe a little too seriously but it was important. Richie wanted Eddie to be happy, because he deserved it. Happy and relaxed.

"I do like baby, by the way," Eddie brought the conversation back, "-but not more than any of the other ones. With my actual name. I like those the most."

Richie asked, "Do you think I can get an official ranking? So I know how to use them... strategically."

"Strategically?" Eddie raised an eyebrow, "-What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You've got your eyes, your big ass fucking... enchanting doe-eyes that I would end the fucking world for-" Richie pointed out, "-I've got to use what I've got."

Eddie paused, "You don't think you have any shit like that?"

"Um," Richie paused, suddenly uncertain, "-no...?"

Eddie frowned, "You do. You 100% do. You do shit that makes me want to physically attack anyone who has ever hurt you."

"Well," Richie smiled a little, "-it doesn't take much for you to want to physically attack someone-"

"Shut up, you get my point," Eddie interrupted, "-but I'm so fucking serious. You do."

"Really?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, before starting to explain, "You have this thing. Whenever I get sincere or say some sappy shit-"

Richie interrupted, "Crying?"

"I told you to shut up, dickweed," Eddie repeated with no bite (but definitely a little frustration), "-I'm trying to talk."

Richie raised his hands in surrender, Eddie was not amused.

"When I say sappy shit, and you aren't crying-" he clarified, and Richie laughed a little bit, "-you do this thing where you smile and tilt your head like a fucking... puppy. But it's not a regular smile... It's fucking goofy. Like you're tipsy on... me. My presence."

"Lovesick?" Richie supplied.

"Well, um..." Eddie paused for a second, seeming to run it through his head, "-yeah."

"You're into that?" Richie followed up.

Eddie responded -neatly, "Obviously."

"Well," Richie hummed, grinning, "-I'll keep that in my back pocket then."

"You're such a dick," Eddie shoved at him, and Richie stumbled on the tile -laughing, "-What the fuck were we talking about?"

"Breakfast," Richie answered, before repeating, "-'What is your dream breakfast, Eddie my love?'"

"Right," Eddie hummed, seeming to process for a minute -face turning a splotchy red, "-I really like that one."

"Eds, Spaghetti, Eddie baby, Eddie my love," Richie listed before dancing toward him on the tile (not unlike he was ice skating -one long stride after another), "-mon amour, light of my life, mi corazón-"

Eddie giggled, as Richie moved to him -stopping right in front of him. With a breath, he kissed his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyes (after they closed -almost like he was absorbing the affection), and then his lips. Short and sweet, but still like he was offering his heart up on a platter. Soft enough that Eddie sighed into his mouth, and it made something in Richie sing -Eddie's fingertips slowly threading up into his curls.

Bzzt, bzzt.

Richie parted then, and Eddie frowned -cutely. He leaned back in and kissed him one more time (a peck really), picking up his phone.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

I'm coming over for breakfast

and to help unpack

and to see Eddie

⚠️ just a warning ⚠️

Because I love you guys, but if I see your dick again Tozier, I will be pressing charges.

Richie snorted.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

don't worry bevvy

u shall not be scandalized, we are both decent

last night though 😏

"Who is it?" Eddie asked, hand absentmindedly scratching Richie's scalp (he kinda wanted to purr like a cat at the attention).

"Bev," he answered diligently, "-She's coming over for breakfast."

"Shit, right now?" Eddie shrieked, cheeks bubbling up a harsh red, "-I need to get dressed, and fix my hair-"

They both were, in fact, sleep-mussed. And well... sex-mussed too. So, they did have like messy hair and skewed collars -telling of the night before. Richie, personally, loved the way Eddie looked at the current moment -he was pretty biased though.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

TMI, babe

but also good for Eddie

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

why not me ?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

Please.

I know you're a service top.

"Eddie baby, relax," Richie laughed (at both the text and Eddie scrambling), hands coming to smooth down Eddie's arms, "-It's not a first date. Plus, she kinda already knows what to expect."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, and Richie raised his a few times -suggestively.

Eddie turned bright red, sputtering, "She doesn't know that-"

"We got home yesterday," Richie started listing, "-You're a germaphobe, so the trip back is out of the question. We've been in a long-distance relationship for months and that makes the tension fucking crazy-"

"Shut up," he hissed, before grabbing his hand and dragging him away, "-Let's go get dressed, dickhead."

"Round two?" Richie piped up, not fighting him at all.

Eddie spun back to meet him, cherry red -shoving at his chest, "I said shut up, asshole-"

It should be said that Eddie kissed him pretty hard in there though, maybe because he wouldn't want to do it as much with Bev around. Which was a little disappointing for Richie, but he'd get his fill later.

After re-entering the living space, Richie took the lead guiding him into kitchen again.

"Now, seriously, Eds," he leveled, holding his eye, "-what is your dream breakfast?"

Eddie paused a second, thinking maybe.

"There used to be this place nearby in New York," Eddie started, fidgeting with his hands (cute, cute, cute), "-It had chocolate chip pancakes, but I never let myself go in-"

"As a form of personal torture?"

Eddie rolled his eyes, ignoring him and continuing, "-but I always wanted to go in. Ma never let me have sweet stuff when I was little, so I really wanted to try it."

All Richie needed to hear was the first part, honestly, but upon hearing the second, he was nearly dying to make them. How fast could you physically make pancakes? Could Richie do it in minutes? Seconds? Well, they had to cook-

"Chocolate chip pancakes it is!" Richie clapped once, before scrambling around to the cabinets -peeking through one after the other.

"Do you have this shit organized?" Eddie asked, eyeing him from where he stood previously, "-At all?"

"No," Richie answered -diligently turning to face him, "-that's why you're perfect for me, dear Spaghetti."

Eddie frowned (but was definitely hiding a smile), Richie felt fucking giddy.

"Plus," Richie hummed, "-you'd probably do it anyway."

Eddie shrugged, before asking -carefully stepping toward the other side of the kitchen, "What are we looking for?"

"Eggs, flour, milk, baking powder, and-" Richie started listing casually, before grinning and grabbing a little bag, "-chocolate chips!"

Before Eddie could say anything, there was a noise.

Knock, knock.

Eddie blanched -face going pale. Richie frowned, dropping the bag onto the counter and moving to his side.

Gently, he pulled Eddie's face up to his, "It's just Bev, don't worry. And I'll be right here the whole time, okay?"

Eddie let out a shaky breath, seeming to relax.

"And I'll get it," Richie hummed, brushing a hand through his hair, "-so you can prepare yourself a little. That alright?"

"Yeah," Eddie started, taking a deep breath in and out, "-that's g-"

"Stop making out and answer me, Tozier! Let me in! You've kept Eddie to yourself for too long."

Richie laughed, and so did Eddie -tension lessening in his shoulders. Richie kissed his cheek once.

"Duty calls, Eddie baby," he grinned, "-Because she will definitely bust down the door."

Eddie laughed and shoved him toward the door -turning back to the cabinets.

Richie followed him for a second, just staring. Eddie Kaspbrak. In my apartment. In our apartment. Mine, my Eds, my Spaghetti-

He blinked and turned back toward the door.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he called out, quickly unlocking and opening it, "-don't get your panties in a-"

Bev pushing past him so hard that he almost fell backwards, Richie righted himself.

She spun to him, "Where is he?"

"In the kitchen," Richie answered, and before he could say anything else, she was off like a rocket.

He locked the door and scampered over to the kitchen. I promised Eds I'd be there, so I'm gonna fucking be there.

"Oh my god! Eddie!" Bev almost squealed, scooping him into a hug -Richie watched red dust along his cheeks (love, love, love), "-It is so nice to see you, what the fuck."

Eddie laughed, hugging her back -maybe a little flustered, "It's so nice to see you too, Bev."

"Ugh," she shot back, but not too far -Richie saw a flicker along his face that seemed almost overwhelmed (he took note of it), "-How are you? Is Richie treating you well? If not, you tell me, I'll kill him, I swear-"

"Jesus, Marsh," Richie laughed, gently moving her back slightly, "-let the guy breathe."

"Shit, sorry," she echoed out, taking a step back and letting out a breath, "-I'm just so happy to see you. Seriously."

"Me too," Eddie smiled, a soft genuine kind, "-and I'm very happy Bev. He's... good. He takes good care of me, I promise."

Richie nearly fucking preened. Happy, happy, happy-

Bev's face morphed into a grin, "I'm glad. You two deserve it."

Richie pulled Eddie into his side, and kissed his temple once. Like he couldn't help it. Which he couldn't so-

"What are we making?" Bev eyed the few ingredients pulled onto the counter (Eddie had somehow gotten all the dry ingredients out in that short amount of time -somehow, he wasn't surprised), and finally faced Richie.

He pulled away from Eddie, after squeezing his arm once (I love you), answering, "Chocolate chip pancakes. Or my dear Spaghetti's dream breakfast."

"Wow," Bev laughed, "-you really are treating him well, huh?"

"Yes ma'am," he chimed, pulling out the eggs and milk from the fridge -eyeing the expiration date for a second (because of the trip).

"I checked all that shit already," Bev interrupted (she had housesat while Richie was gone), clearly catching his gaze, "-Oh! Actually-"

Richie watched her.

"This," she dug into her pocket, and pulled out a shiny key -motioning to Eddie, "-is for you, Mr. Kaspbrak."

Eddie blinked, staring at it for a few seconds. Before very gently pulling it into his hands, careful and considerate -like it was precious. Richie eyed him, something odd about his reaction.

"Ya alright, Eds?" Richie bumped their shoulders, was that too much? Did he not want one yet?

"What, yeah," Eddie cleared his throat, eyes shooting up to match Richie's and then shooting to Bev's, "-It's just... I'm really here. With you guys. With you, Richie. I'm not in New York anymore and I'm... I'm staying. That’s… I’m not fucking gonna be miserable anymore.”

Richie grinned, but before he could say anything, Bev did.

"I'm so happy for you, Eddie," Bev chimed, smiling -wrapping him into a half hug (Eddie leaned his head into her shoulder). It made Richie want puke his heart out, he loved them so fucking much.

When they separated though-

"Close your eyes and cover your ears, Ms. Marsh," he chimed, big and bright.

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, as she scrunched up her nose, "I'll just go to the living room for a couple of minutes."

"What are you-"

Once Bev was out of the room, Richie crashed into him -pressing their lips together so quickly there was an audible click. Tipping Eddie backward until he was met with the counter, which he yelped a little at (it made Richie laugh). Eddie relaxed nearly instantly after that, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders as Richie's landed neatly on his waist. Eddie hummed into his lips -sweetly, and it made Richie's heart flip in his chest -he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life. And then, Eddie was pulling back, eyeing him a little like it was all a mystery but also with a look Richie could identify as fucking dizzying affection.

"What was that about?" Eddie breathed out, and the puffs smoothed along Richie's skin.

"Our apartment," Richie hummed, kissing along his jaw, "-You're finally fucking here and it's ours. You're mine. My fucking boyfriend, in our apartment-"

Eddie giggled.

"-and you're fucking happy, and I'm taking good care of you-"

"Okay, okay," Eddie pulled his face back, smiling, "-I think that's enough. For now."

"Okay," Richie stressed, "-but later?"

"All bets are off for later," Eddie chimed back, grinning. Richie wanted to sweep him off his feet and carry him away, and he almost did it-

"You guys aren't fucking, are you?"

Richie burst into laughter, and Eddie turned a new shade of red (that Richie filed away in the Eddie files, per usual).

"Tragically no, Bevvy," he hummed, and Eddie shoved into him -hard (he honestly almost fell on his ass), "-we are decent. Despite my best efforts-"

"Shut up," Eddie hissed out, punching his shoulder -Richie only laughed harder, folding in on himself, "-You're such an asshole. I fucking hate you."

Richie made a kissy face, trying to land one on Eddie -Eddie pushed back on him, laughing, "You love me, Eds, don't lie-"

Eddie was pushing at his shoulders (not far enough to be out of his bubble, Richie noted), and laughing loud, "Get away from me, asshole-"

Richie huffed, jutting out his bottom lip (most definitely pouting), putting his hand on his head like he was a fainting damsel, "My beloved has left me stranded, without love, alone-"

Eddie was laughing harder -eyes scrunched closed, and Richie couldn't stop himself from laughing with him. And after a breath, Eddie grabbed his face and leveled it with his own -grinning so bright that Richie thought maybe he could fly.

"I love you, dickweed," Eddie laughed out, holding Richie's face so tenderly that he kinda wanted to cry.

Richie grinned, tilting his head to the side, "I love you too, Eds."

Eddie rolled his eyes, affectionately, and pulled him forward (close enough to kiss, Richie would say), "You're such a-"

"You guys are actually so sweet," Bev hummed, and they jumped in place -Eddie's hands tight on him (like he needed protecting, Richie wanted to cry his eyes out), "-it's a little disgusting."

"Awe, I'm sorry, Bev," Richie frowned, playfully, "-We can't accept a third, Eddie's territorial. Like a little chihuahua-"

"Shut up," Eddie shoved at him.

"I can tell," Bev smirked, motioning to Richie's neck (Richie's eyes dropped like he could see that shit himself), and popping a chocolate chip into her mouth, "-Tragically, I am too. So, it wouldn't work."

"Hey," Richie laughed, stepping away from Eddie but firmly wrapping an arm around his shoulders and dragging him over, "-those are our ingredients, Marsh."

"Because you were cooking, right?" she shot back but still put the bag down, "-On Eddie's face?"

"This is so embarrassing," Eddie flushed, trying to tuck himself into Richie's side even more.

"Don't be embarrassed, Eddie," Bev interrupted, soothingly, "-We're all adults here, and it's Richie. I've seen way worse."

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, "Worse?"

Bev leveled, seriously, "You don't wanna know."

Richie rolled his eyes, "She just saw me naked, Eds."

"She saw you naked?" Eddie pursed his lips.

"Indoor concert," Bev hummed, fidgeting with her nails, "-a naked indoor concert."

"I lived alone," Richie huffed out, defensive, "-I can be comfortable-"

"What song?" Eddie asked.

"I Will Survive," Bev answered, grinning a little, "-hairbrush, and off-key vocals and all."

Eddie snorted, and Richie flushed.

"Hey," he poked into Eddie's side, "-you're supposed to be on my side. Your boyfriend, remember?"

"It's funny," Eddie smiled, before leaning to pinch his cheek -nose scrunching up after a minute, "-plus, it sounds cute. Except for the naked part. Does that mean you've been naked like fucking... everywhere? That's disgusting-"

"That's not what you said last night-"

Eddie turned cherry red and frowned -the cute little one with puffed-up cheeks. Richie's fucking favorite. And then, he started swatting and shoving at Richie, and he burst into fucking laughter -dodging what he could.

"You're such a fucking dick-"

"You know you can't argue, Eds, because you were all about-"

"Boys," Bev spoke up, mid-laughter, but trying to cut it back, "-can we refocus? You guys can do your... thing, later. I'm fucking starving."

Eddie shot up, cheeks still so red (fuck, Richie loved him), and pursed his lips. Richie followed, wiping at his eyes, and shooting over to kiss his cheek once.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, Bev," Richie exhaled, shaking his hands a few times, "-Jesus, he's a funny motherfucker."

Bev grinned, flicking a chocolate chip right at his face -it bounced onto the counter and Richie picked it up and popped it in his mouth (he could almost hear Eddie’s nose scrunch), "You're stupid in love, Tozier."

"Fuck yeah, I am," he grinned, pulling out a bowl and moving like it was the most practiced thing in the world.

"You too, Kaspbrak," Bev pointed out, and Richie went to look at him -his big brown eyes already trained on him (Richie felt his heart flutter in his chest), "-You're not getting out of this scot-free."

Eddie rolled his eyes, cheeks still dusted with a red but moving to Richie's side -dragging Richie's free hand over his shoulder-. (He probably should've said that he needed that to cook, but you know what, he could deal.) And with a breath, Eddie leaned against him -cuddled into his side, and Richie got a whiff of strawberries.

"Yeah," he finally said after a moment, "-I know."

Richie grinned so brightly it hurt, but kept moving -Eddie trying to follow the movements. When he realized that, he started slowing and explaining himself -pulling up the measuring cups and letting Eddie fill them, answering all his questions, and letting him mix. It was all the-

"Disgusting, seriously," Bev pointed out, after a moment -both of their eyes shot to her, "-but I love it. You guys are freakishly perfect for each other."

Richie opened his mouth.

"Please," Bev swatted her hand, dismissively, "-don't let me interrupt, I've already got a picture for the groupchat, continue."

"Wait-"

reddy.bevvy ✔️

image

benny.boy.official✔️

they look so happy together ☺️

big.bill ✔️

Is that a hickey?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

yes

stan.the.man ✔️

Disgusting.

I'm happy for them.

Patty says to tell them come visit soon.

mike.me.up ✔️

I can't believe it

trashmouth is in a cute, healthy relationship

stan.the.man ✔️

Don't know if you should call it healthy, Mike.

Patty told me to apologize.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

we should really just add her, huh ?

big.bill ✔️

Why is Eddie so red?

stan.the.man ✔️

Richie 100% made a 'last night' dick joke.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

spot on, Stanley

mike.me.up ✔️

at least it's founded

like he actually does know that

big.bill ✔️

Ew, Mike.

I'm trying to eat my wafflehouse All-Star Special.

stan.the.man ✔️

I'm sorry, you're at wafflehouse right now?

big.bill ✔️

It's only 11 dollars, Stanley.

It's a great fucking deal.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

wow, Bill your life is sadder than Richie's rn

how does that make you feel?

big.bill ✔️

Fuck you guys.

Talk to me when you have, eggs, toast, hashbrowns, a waffle, and bacon for only 11 dollars, assholes.

mike.me.up ✔️

what the fuck is happening ?

benny.boy.official ✔️

where are Richie and Eddie?

reddy.bevvy ✔️

image

[It was a photo of the two cooking pancakes. The batter poured onto the griddle, and Richie lightly held onto the spatula, guiding Eddie to check the bottom. Eddie was entirely focused on the task at hand (so much so his tongue was stuck out), and Richie was completely wrapped around him -eyes set on his face. Just like maybe Bev had snapped the picture at just the right moment. Richie was grinning like an idiot. Well, even more of an idiot than usual. His eyes were fucking... twinkly. Happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time.]

mike.me.up ✔️

wow, rich is a goner huh

benny.boy.official ✔️

he looks at him like he's the sun

that's so sweet !

big.bill ✔️

Shit, he's like seriously in love.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

ohhhhh yeah

this is his favorite breakfast

and they've barely gone two minutes without touching

stan.the.man ✔️

I hate that I think they're cute.

mike.me.up ✔️

anyone who has eyes would, Stan

don't beat yourself up about it

big.bill ✔️

Damn, trashmouth Tozier in love.

That's fucking insane.

stan.the.man ✔️

What's insane is you eating at wafflehouse, willingly, by yourself, Bill.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

guys

big.bill ✔️

who said I was alone?

mike.me.up. ✔️

👀👀👀

stan.the.man ✔️

Please tell me you did not bring a date to wafflehouse, Bill.

big.bill ✔️

...

stan.the.man ✔️

Even Richie is MAKING his boyfriend breakfast, Bill.

Richie Tozier is showing you up.

mike.me.up ✔️

it is kinda pathetic, Bill

I have to be honest

big.bill ✔️

Audra is enjoying her All-Star Special, thanks.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

Audra?

the one with the moneybags dad ?

you took her to wafflehouse ???

big.bill ✔️

She's never been 🤷‍♂️

stan.the.man ✔️

I'm done with this conversation.

Bev, tell Richie to call me. Patty wants to talk to the two of them.

mike.me.up ✔️

no me too

there's only so much cute couple shit and Bill shenanigans I can take

I'm only a man

big.bill ✔️

🖕

reddy.bevvy ✔️

guyssss

don't leave me

what the fuck am I supposed to do ?

stan.the.man ✔️

Stare at them and wish it was you.

Like everybody else.

reddy.bevvy ✔️

you're literally married ???

stan.the.man ✔️

Not me.

Obviously.

benny.boy.official ✔️

I can still talk, Bev !

I don't have anything for an hour or so

reddy.bevvy ✔️

thx ben

you're my hero !!!

benny.boy.official ✔️

it's no big deal

It'll be nice talking to you :)

stan.the.man ✔️

Okay, now I'm really done with this conversation.

And then, hours later.

e.kaspbrak

Fuck all of you.

e.kaspbrak saved 2 photos from chat

[monstersoc]

Nightmarish Truths - Monster+Worm (Pt.2)

Summary: the second half to "gone". Part of the main storyline.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Worm whispered to himself as he entered the palace. He had made the safe decision to let Dottore have a 5-10 minute head start so he wouldn't have to sneak around and hide. He doubts there are hiding spots in the Fatui HQ anyway because why would they need hiding spots in their own safe haven?

He walked as quietly as he could to avoid alerting anyone who might be in the plenty of rooms which lined the hallways. He walked and walked and walked, turning corners whenever he met a dead end but everything seemed the same. He groaned in annoyance at the maze-like place before hearing voices growing louder meaning someone was coming towards him

Quickly, he opened a door behind him, sneaking in, and shutting the door quietly. He stayed quiet as the voices seemed to pass by the door and looked behind him with a breath of relief. Unfortunately, this relief was not long lasting as he turned around and looked in shock. "The rooms are- more hallways?!" he yelled and a small echo of his anger bounced around the room. He quickly started going down this new hallway and made more twists and turns, this time going through the doors as well, to no avail. 

It felt like he was going through rooms for hours, finding new hallways and not being able to know where he had already been. He sat down on the floor and leaned his head against the wall. There had to be some way to figure out this chaos- like a symbol or a pattern or- or a- "a keypad?". 

Worm stood up and walked to the door which had a keypad the same pattern as the wallpaper, as if to disguise it. It was pretty smart to be honest. If anyone made it this far they would be tired and confused at these never-ending hallways but Worm was observant and determined so he noticed. He started pressing buttons but nothing seemed to work. The odd thing about this keypad was the fact letters instead of numbers were used. This could be a name for someone- a way to show who's stuck in this room.

Worm pressed the buttons to spell out Monster and the door clicked signalling it was unlocked. He took in a deep breath and burst into the room. He looked around but saw no one. In fact it looked like the room hadnt been touched in decades with all the dust. However, there were all these pictures and books which piqued worm's curiosity. He walked up to a book lying on a desk and noticed a drawing on the front cover. At the top of the cover it said "Subject #7" and below was an illustration of Monster. Some small differences here and there but it definitely held resemblance to her. 

Worm flipped through the pages of the book and they were all written by Dottore. It was like a diary describing what happens everyday. Worm started to read the pages one by one, still confused at what he was seeing.

Diary Entry #1 Subject #7 is awake and successfully able to move around. They cannot speak yet and they do not understand me. There seems to be nothing defective at the moment and I hope it stays that way. I have measured her height and marked it on a wall. We will check again next month to see if she's grown taller. Hopefully she has otherwise we will have to scrap another subject.

Diary Entry #2 Subject #7 is being taught how to speak and understand others. She is a fast learner which means her brain is successful. So far so good. I've given her a journal and asked her to do whatever she wants in it. She immediately started to draw. I'm unsure what it is she has drawn as she was attempting to hide it from me. Other than that she is still running smoothly in our second week.

Diary Entry #3 Week three and subject #7 as requested to be called "Monster". She says it feels right to her so I will be referring to her as Monster from now on. She's also revealed the drawing. It was me. It was incredibly well done, meaning she already has intermediate level art skills without having to practise. This is by far our best subject. She has in fact requested to learn another language so I have agreed to do so. 

Diary Entry #4  She's grown taller. I don't need a wall to see that. She is a little higher than my shoulder. Her English is borderline perfect and the other language she is learning is going great. She has asked to see the world outside so I will be taking her next week. After all, she needs more appropriate clothing for the cold outside first. She seems very excited.

Diary Entry #5 I took her outside and she was overjoyed. We engaged in a snowball fight, built a snowman and played hide and seek. I admit I have grown fond of Monster. I pray to the tsaritsa that she continues to be as successful as she is. 

Diary Entry #6                                                            Monster disappeared. Thankfully, she had actually just been exploring the hallways. I warned her not to do that as it is not safe. The other harbingers aren't aware of her existance yet. I thought it would be more appropriate if she learned everything important first. Which is why I will be teaching her to fight. 

Diary Entry #7                                                              I have begun to train her and, as usual, she is catching on quickly. I plan to duel her sometime next week to see her strength and agility. I won't go too harsh of course. She needs to be trained accordingly.

Diary Entry #8                                                          She fought well but I have accidently injured her. It's severe but can be easily fixed. She is capable of crying tears it seems and I was tempted to bottle a tear to analyze but I thought better. I instead comforted her, which seemed to work. She will heal quickly.

Diary Entry #9                                                           The injury has completely healed but I noticed there was not even a scar left behind. When I questioned her she showed a hydro vision that she says appeared in front of her. I am amazed that the gods would give a vision to someone created by someone like me but also concerned on why. No God would give a vision because of a small injury. I'll be making sure she's safe.

Worm shut the book, wide-eyed and in disbelief, he did not want to read anymore. "But- she said she came from Fontaine-" he said to himself as he turned around and saw a photo of her hanging on the wall. Next to her was Dottore and they seemed incredibly happy. The more he looked around- the more things he noticed. For example the words "D&M". He recognized it as the words on her bracelet- "DAM". She said it meant "damn" but she couldn't find the letter N. Now Worm was coming to the conclusion that it actually meant Dottore and Monster and it was acting as a friend charm. She was friends with his abuser.

Worm quickly went back to the door and swung it open, ready to get out of here and get Monster. He looked around and immediately noticed everything had changed. Outside the door was the forest and he was confused. There was only one door in this room and it was definitely one which connected to the hallway.  He poked his head out and saw no one around. When he stepped out, he noticed the rest of the palace was no longer there. 

"What..?" Worm mumbled to himself confused, pacing back and forth. Suddenly, a familiar figure running into the forest caught Worm’s attention. He quickly ran towards it- trying to reach the familiar frame of Monster but the world around him started to disintegrate behind him and he looked back, confused and afraid. He started to slow his movements till he stilled and the world around him was gone. He felt a feeling of dread overcome him and he looked around tensely.

"Worm? Is that you?" He heard Monster say and he immediately faced the direction he heard the voice. He let out a sigh of relief upon seeing her and sprinted towards her, ready to embrace her. He wraps his arms around her tightly but starts to feel her figure morph into something taller. He slowly removed his hands and looked up to see someone he thought was Monster, change into him. The feeling of dread came back and Worms breathing halted.

"Well well.. look who came to save his dear friend" He says mockingly and Worm goes silent. A sinister laugh fills up the dark space they are in and Worm feels himself shiver at the sound. "Unfortunately for you, Monster is staying with me" he says and Worm gives a glare. "No, she isn't. She's coming with me" he says with a facade of bravery. Dottore smirks darkly and the world around them changes. "Then find her." He says as he disappears. Footsteps run behind him, getting further away, and he chases after them with some weak hope they belong to Monster. The footsteps seem to stay the same distance away as if not wanting him to lose them, but also not wanting him to catch them. 

Hes back in the hallways again but he has something to chase now so hes not endlessly wandering. The sound of a door slamming makes him quickly stop as he looks at the door. He walked over to it cautiously and opened it as a long creak from the door hinges creates an uncomfortable silence. Inside was Monster, chained up to the wall and he instinctively ran towards her. "Monster!" He yelled in panic as he used his cryo vision to freeze the area the chains were connected to. He broke them with a kick and helped her up before going to the door. He looked over at her and saw that she was staring at him with an unsettling smile. "Why are you looking at me like that.?" He asks and her face starts melting with an almost demonic scream. 

He jumps back in fear and watches as she melts away into a puddle of blood and organs. Soon after, the door slams shut and the room starts to shrink. He panics and tries to open the door but is unsuccessful. The room gets smaller and smaller and he starts to ram the door with his body in hopes it would be forced open. The door finally smashes open and he runs out, falling onto the floor, terrified. When he turns around he sees the room the same size and Monster back on the chains as if nothing had ever happened. He narrows his eyes and realises Dottore is trying to throw him off with illusions. Incredibly realistic illusions. Worm shakes the question on how dottore can create an illusion so realistic and decides to leave it for after he saves Monster.

He gets up and goes back to running down the hallway ignoring any door slams and screaming- his sole focus on getting out of this lie. He sees the end of the hallway and slows down. In front of him is a grand staircase leading up to another floor. Worm begins to walk up it and, the moment he touches the stairs, the world around him morphs again. He stops for a second and looks around. The staircase was still there and still grand but the hallways were not. He stepped off the stairs and the world morphed back to what it was previously. 

He stepped on the stairs again and he came to the conclusion that there was some sort of border placed here which was the end of the illusion. The entry to the castle must of been the other edge of the border. He felt a sense of relief that there would be no more mind tricks and began to walk up the stairs to search the second floor. The second floor was much more logical and not like the first floor which was just an elaborate web of lies. 

He looked at the doors and noticed names engraved on them, each having some sort of symbol. "These are the rooms of the harbingers" Worm whispered to himself as he walked past. The hallway of doors ended and turned into a room with two double doors at the end. Worm went up to the doors and peaked through the crack to see a few harbingers having a conversation. He saw dottore there as well and he quietly closed the door before walking to the room marked with the name "Dottore". He quietly opened the door and saw all kind of weird surgical tools, tools probably used for things unspeakable. He's broken out of his concentration when the sound of footsteps nearing reaches him. He quickly ducked into Dottore's room. A rather stupid decision but there wasn't anything else to do. 

Worm looked around and saw another door marked "Monster". He ran into it quickly, making sure to shut the door behind him, and slid under the bed to hide. Worm heard the sound of the door opening from the other room and held in a breath. Muffled voices spoke but Worm couldn’t make out any clear sentences. He could however recognise both Dottore and Monsters scent meaning they were the two conversing. Why Monster would be conversing with him is beyond any reason he could think of. Monster doesn’t smell afraid and Dottore doesn’t smell hostile but- they wouldn’t just be having a normal conversation, that's just stupid. There was the bracelet that said 'DAM' though maybe that wasn't just an illusion..

Worm shook off the thought as the door opened before being promptly closed again. He held his breath as the feet of whoever had come in approached the bed. A sigh filled the room as the person sat on the bed lazily. Worm immediately recognised the person as Monster and prepared to sneak out of his hiding spot. He quickly got out from under the bed and pounced onto Monster, pinning her to the bed, while covering her mouth so she wouldn’t yell and attract Dottore to the room. Her face morphed from one of fear to confusion before a look of happiness finally took over. She quickly took his hand away from her mouth and whisper-yelled his name in disbelief. 

“Worm! What are you doing here?? How did you get here? Are you okay? Wait!- you can’t be here! Dottore will definitely kill you!” she says, her whispers gradually getting louder and turning into yells. Worm quickly covered her mouth with his hand again and told her to keep it down. “If you talk too loud he’ll know I'm here!” he says and Monster slowly takes his hand back off before whispering a ‘sorry’. Worm sighs and looks around to see if there was any way they could escape and not die but was interrupted by Monster awkwardly coughing. “Are you going to get off?” she says and he looks at her confused before realising he still had her pinned to the bed. “Oh. ..OH. Yeah- sorry!-” he says while quickly getting off. There was an awkward silence between the two before Monster decided to break the silence. “So- uh- what’s the plan?” she asks and Worm laughs nervously. “I didn’t think I would actually make it this far so I don’t really have a plan..” he says and Monsters eyes widen. “You mean you just waltzed into THE palace of Zapolyarny filled with hundreds of fatui agents and the most feared harbingers of all time and didn’t make an escape plan?!” she says.

“Yes, that would be correct” Worm responds and Monster groans in annoyance. “I didn’t think I was even going to find you! I mean DOTTORE kidnapped you, the chances of survival are slim and there was this whole illusion thingy and he messed with my head and made me believe that you were friends with him! I really thought it was over-” he stopped his words when he saw the look on Monster's face. “What? Why do you look so scared?” he asked and Monster looked at the floor before looking back at him. “What exactly did you see in this- um- illusion?” she asks and Worm looks at her confused. “Just some things of you being like an experiment and basically the opposite of everything you’ve told me. Why would you want to know anyway? It’s not like it's true, right?” he responds and Monster silently gulps. “..Monster?” he says with a concerned look on his face. “I’m sorry.” she suddenly says and Worm feels his heart drop. "Y-your friends with him? but- you know what he's done to me- to others!" Worm says with a hurt tone.

"I'm sorry but he raised me! He created me! When I saw him in Fontaine I- I decided to say hello! He invited me to some fancy fatui ball and how could I say no!" She says with her voice getting louder. "'How could I say no'?! What do you mean 'how could I say no'?! He tortured me for years he's a terrible person and your going to a ball with him?! No. That's not happening! Your coming with me right now! This is clearly Stockholm syndrome! He's manipulated you!" Worm yells while grabbing her arm. She yanks it away. "I'm not going anywhere! At least not now" she says with a glare and Worm pauses. "Your- Your going to stay here.. with him." He says in disbelief. She nods her head firmly before speaking. "Just for the ball, he's my friend and I haven't seen him for years" she says and Worm looks at her hurt and shocked. Just as he was about to speak, the door opens and they both look over to see Dottore standing in the door frame.

"You actually made it this far"

[fruitcoops]

So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

[bbysamu]

It ain’t Me - a series   

✎ Featuring: KUROO Tetsurou x you 

✎ Now Playing:  It Ain’t Me by Kygo & Selena Gomez 

✎ Genre: Angst 

✎ Word Count: 1,573 

✎ Preview: You and Kuroo are high school sweethearts, you thought your love was as strong as whiskey, burning and sweet. What happens when adult Kuroo develops a bad habit of clubbing too frequently and you find it harder and harder to reach him? 

Ch. I 

Ch. II

Ch. III

Ch. IV

Ch. V

Epilogue

a/n: no underage drinking please, don’t hinder your brain growth

♫I had a dream We were sipping whiskey neat Highest floor, The Bowery And I was high enough♫ 

“shhh, you have to be quiet babe, we’re not exactly allowed up here”, your boyfriend whispered as he pulled you up, guiding you to the rooftop. You nodded, slowly steadying your breath. 

The dark sky was empty with the exception of the half covered moon and some stray stars. Today was you and Kuroo’s second anniversary, your relationship lasting much longer than typical high school romances. Kuroo had texted you today saying he had a surprise for you. 

And the said surprise was a late night picnic on the school’s rooftop surrounded by big fluffy pillows and dimly lit candles. 

“when did you have time to organize all these?” 

Kuroo smiled proudly, “I had the boys bring over some spare pillows and Lev and Kenma hauled them up here during their free period”. You smiled at the image of the two boys bringing up pillows to the roof, giggling at the thought of Kenma complaining as he climbed the stairs to the roof. You made a mental note to thank the two tomorrow. 

Kuroo gingerly picked up your hand and led you over to the picnic blanket. The two of you quickly settled down, his arms around your waist, as you laid your head on his shoulder, talking about both everything and nothing. 

Kuroo suddenly brought out a bottle of light honey liquid. 

“Happy 2 years to the love of my life.” He said, delicately pouring the golden liquid into a small glass.

“only one glass?” You raised your eyebrows.

“of course, you’re not 18 yet!” 

“I’m literally turning 18 next week and you just turned last week!” 

“exactly! no underage drinking in this relationship.” He smiled cheekily at you before taking a swing at the liquid. You laughed out loud at his expression.

“ew people actually like this stuff? my throat is literally on fire.”

“wait, let me try!” 

“okay.” 

And instead of handing you the glass, Kuroo leaned in. 

You smiled as his tongue met yours, giving you a taste of the sweet whiskey. 

And that’s how the both of you will always remember your second anniversary, the empty night sky and the sweet, burning taste of whiskey. 

In the years since high school graduation, the two of you have settled into a comfortable pace, no longer the young teenagers, but hardworking adults in a cruel society. The honeymoon period was a distant phase, but that didn’t mean the love between the two of you dwindled. 

You shot a quick text to Kuroo. His lack of response brought a frown to your face. You tried to call him for the third time, this time directly reaching his voicemail. You sighed at the thought of him pressed up against another body and glared at the laptop in front of you. 

Halfway across the town, Kuroo stepped into the dimly lit club in a pressed black button up and some black pants. He lived for nights like these, the mingled bodies on the dance floor and the beautiful ladies. 

Kuroo loves you and he’s been warned by Kenma a bunch of times but he just couldn’t help himself. Kuroo knew you hated the club but he could never bring himself to stop coming. Week after week, especially since you started being asked to work overtime, Kuroo found himself and some of the boys at the club, drinking and dancing with the girls in the short skirts and bodycon dresses. 

Yamamoto wolf-whistled at the sight of the girls walking by, “dang, look at that girl in the black mini”. 

Kuroo whipped his head around and checked out her long legs and low-cut dress before turning to Yamamoto, “I need a drink first”. 

Yamamoto shook his head knowing what this meant. A drink then another was what Kuroo needed to numb himself from the growing guilt eating him away every time he was at the club. With enough alcohol, Kuroo was always able to convince himself he did nothing wrong as he gripped the waist of another woman, his lips on hers. 

He winked at the bartender and a shot was served up. The burning, sweet liquid brought him back to that picnic on the rooftop. He shook his head, chasing away the memory and shot a smile at the girl in the back dress, before making his way over to her. 

♫Somewhere along the lines We stopped seeing eye to eye You were staying out all night And I had enough♫

It was a little past midnight when you made your way over to Kuroo’s apartment, spare key in hand. You knew he was probably at the club, but he promised he’d be home around midnight. Things have been tense between the two of you lately. You sighed at the memory of your fight last week. 

“What do you mean it was nothing?” You shouted, exasperated at the man sitting across from you. “She was all over you!” You sighed internally, tired of always fighting with Kuroo about his clubbing behavior. 

Kuroo shook his head, “babe, I told you, I literally pushed her away, but the video caught the seconds she came on to me before I could even react. I love you, you know that. Why would I ever want someone else?” Kuroo knew he had you by the way your eyes softened, he mentally winced at his lie, memories of making out with the woman fleeted by in his mind. He quickly pushed them away, the guilt barely lingering. Kuroo notices he’s better at doing that.  

“you’re the only one for me” He said pulling you into a hug, his words trying to convince himself more than you. Tired of fighting, you chose to believe him, after all who would you believe, your boyfriend of five years or a 10 second video? 

The turn of the knob brought you back to reality. You smiled at the thought of his surprised face when he comes home to you later. You quickly changed into one of his spare t-shirts and settled down in his bed. “12:30 am” your phone read before you drifted off to sleep. 

♫ No, I don't wanna know Where you been or where you're goin' But I know I won't be home And you'll be on your own ♫ 

The soft light of sunrise woke you up earlier than your alarm. Your body feeling unexpectedly light as you turn to face the empty space. You thought you would wake up to a Kuroo cuddling you. 

“6:27 am” and no notifications on your phone. You got up, unable to sleep anymore, anger and frustration bubbling at the lack of communication from your boyfriend. 

You look in his fridge, empty except for some leftover boxes. Despite your feelings of anger towards Kuroo, you made a mental note to bring over some groceries next time. You decided to make some tea, mindlessly scrolling through the news. 

A sudden click of the door got you looking up from your phone to see two figures, one unfamiliar, the other as familiar as the back of your hand. 

“You know we could just stay at my place. Why’d you have to insist on this weird coffee?” 

You knew exactly what coffee the female voice was referring to. It was the same one you got him from Vienna that time you studied abroad and he’s been hooked on Viennese coffee ever since. 

You heard his voice, “once you taste it, you won’t ever be able to go back I’m telling you”. 

“where’d you get it from?” 

The two figures stepped into the living room just as Kuroo answered, “oh, just from a frie...” he trailed off as you entered into his field of vision. 

The colors draining from his face, the same look of shock mirrored on your features. 

The woman came into view a second after, confused, “wait, who’s this?” 

The look on both of your faces and the tension in the air got her scrambling to the door embarrassed, mumbling a quick apology on her way out. 

Smart woman, you thought. 

You looked at each other in silence. You took him all in. The ruffled hair, the faint hickey on the side of his jaw, the same black button-ups he wore to the club yesterday. 

Kuroo did the same. You standing across the room, dwarfed in a shirt he bought at nationals, a thousand hurts and emotions in your big tired eyes. 

You broke the silence first, too shocked and hurt to even register what had happened five minutes again. 

“I’m leaving.” 

“Y/N wait...” he reached for your hand and pulled you close. You recoiled as soon as you smelled the cheap perfume intertwined with the same whiskey he’s taken a like to after high school. 

“please I can explain.” He search your eyes desperately. 

You shook his hands off yours and quickly gathered your stuff. 

“I’m leaving...”

He cut you off before you could finish, “yeah I heard the first time, please just give me a chance to explain.” 

“you.” 

The shook on his face made it hard to look at him. You cleared your throat. 

“I’m leaving you”. 

You rushed past him, but not before he caught the glimpse of tears running down your cheeks. 

You realized Kuroo was like a bad shot of whiskey, burning, yet all signs of the sweet aftertaste disappearing. 

[andreafmn]

Running In Circles - Chapter 3

Word Count: 1,854

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 3/?

A/N: This is a short one. Just fully domestic fluff and it makes me very happy, but letting ya’ll know this happiness will be kinda short lived. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 3

“Okay, buddy, let’s see.” I looked at the instructions in my hands from the fort kit I had purchased. It seemed simple enough and something Jack would enjoy inmmensly. “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed. Hotch laughed from the kitchen, insisting he had to at least cook some dinner. In the oven were the batch of brownies I had put in 10 minutes ago. It took about 30 minutes to finish the fort and the look on Jack’s face was priceless. Then he spent 10 minutes perusing my movie collection until he finally landed on Toy Story, once again. 

“Well, dinner’s ready,” Hotch announced, bringing a tray with three plates of spaghetti to the fort.

“Daddy, daddy! Look at the fort!” Jack jumped up and down. It was a simple square base, big enough for three people and a triangle top. We covered it with thin sheets and hung wire twinkle lights on the top. Jack had run to my linen closet and gotten a thick comforter to lay on the floor, as well as most of the pillow that laid on my couch. He also arranged a couple of his plush toys in there to keep us company, as he put it. 

“I see it, buddy. It looks great!” Hotch smiled brightly. “Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you, (Y/N)!”

“No problem, little man,” I smiled. “How about you invite your dad inside so we can eat some spaghetti?”

“Yes! Come on, dad!”

Hotch sat down next to me and passed a plate to Jack and me, putting a napkin on his son’s collar. The small kid smiled at his dad and dug into his plate without another thought, the sound of the movie filling in the background. 

“You know,” I mused. “It was pretty bold of you to cook spaghetti for an Italian.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, I hope it’s good.”

I smiled and took a bite of the noodles. Hotch stared expectantly to see if he passed the Italian test. I chewed slowly, dragging the process along, until finally giving him a thumbs up. Hotch sighed and smiled before digging into his own plate.

After finishing the pasta, I took the three plates to the kitchen and served three plates of brownie with ice cream for me and the Hotchner duo. When those plates were empty, Jack laid his head on my lap and his feet on his dad’s and watched the movie. An hour and a half later, the blonde boy was softly snoring and peacefully sleeping.

“Looks like the little man ran out of juice,” I said as I ran my hand through his soft hair. “I think we should take him up to the guest room.”

Hotch softly placed his hand under Jack’s arms and carried him up the stairs to the first door on the right, careful not to wake the tired child. I pulled the sheets away and Hotch laid the kid on the bed. I left the room to let Hotch change Jack into his pajamas and went downstairs to clean up and pack away the fort for Jack to take home.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” I jumped at the sound of Hotch’s voice and he laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay, and don’t mention it.” I sat down next to him on the island. “Whatever you need, seriously, I’m here.”

He smiled and engulfed me in a hug; time slowed down. For a moment, just for a moment, it was only us. There was no hurting, no unspoken emotions, nothing. I breathed in his scent and took in the warmth coming from the closeness of his body to mine. He relaxed into me and let himself be human for a change. 

All good things come to an end.

“Well, it’s getting late,” I said breaking the hug and clearing my throat. “Um, there’s towels in the guest bedroom closet and extra blankets just in case it gets too cold during the night.”

“Great, I’ll see you in the morning, then. Good night, (y/n).”

“Good night, Hotch.” I smiled and waited for his figure to disappear in the stairs before opening the doors leading to my backyard. I breathed in deeply and tried to easy my heartbeat.

“What are you doing, (Y/N)?” I whispered to myself.

I spent the night tossing and turning, trying my best to not think that the man I liked was sleeping just a hallway away. Before I knew it, the sun was peeking in through my bedroom window, announcing that I had wasted a whole night of sleep inside my head. 

So, I got up and went downstairs to work on breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, the works. I put a pot of coffee to brew and took out some toppings for the pancakes. As I was finishing with the bacon, I heard tiny feet running down the staircase.

“Morning, (Y/N)!” Jack exclaimed, hugging my waist since it was as high as he could reach. 

“Hey, little man,” I said ruffling his hair. “Wanna help me set the table?”

He nodded and grabbed the forks I was holding, placing them rapidly next to the three plates that were already on the round table.

“Jack, where’s dad?” I questioned.

“He’s still sleeping.” He shrugged.

“I have an idea, little man. How about we wake him up with some silly string?”

“What’s silly string?” My mouth dropped. I headed to the hallway closet and took out two cans of silly string.

“This, buddy, is silly string,” I presented the can. “You press the button here down and string comes out.”

“Like this?” Jack asked as a string of green plastic was expelled from the can. He shrieked gleefully and his excitement grew as he saw the grin on my face.

“Just like that, bud. Let’s go wake up dad.” 

He nodded excitedly and we walked up the stairs quietly. Once we reached the door, I turned the doorknob slowly and instructed Jack to go jump on the bed to surprise his dad. He smiled at me and when the door was completely open, he ran up to the bed and jumped.

When Hotch’s eyes shot open, Jack and I pressed the cans and shot silly string all over Hotch.

“Good morning, daddy!” Jack screamed as he flung the can around. Definitely a mess I’d have to clean later but very worth it at the moment.

“Morning, Jack!” The older man said as he brought his kid down tickling him slightly. “Is it safe to assume this was your idea, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, sir. It is,” I responded between laughs. “We have a very strict protocol in this household when it comes to wake up calls.” 

“That’s a very effective wake up call.” Hotch smiled.

“Well, now that we’re all up, we can eat some breakfast,” I said. “There’s some chocolate chip pancakes for you, little man.”

“Yes!” He excitedly left the room and ran downstairs.

“And there’s coffee, too.” I smiled and Hotch got up to join us downstairs.

“(Y/N), thank you.” Hotch said as he stood on the doorstep ready to go home. “This is exactly what Jack and I needed, and I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

“Hotch, there’s absolutely no need.” I laid a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze for reassurance. “I meant it when I said I’d always be here for you both. Whatever it is you need.”

Hotch smiled and left with an ‘I’ll see you at work’, and a Jack frantically waving from the backseat.

And that’s how our sleepovers started. Most of the times we had days off Hotch would come over and we’d build a fort with Jack and watch movies or played games. On hot days, we’d play around in the pool. Sometimes with the squad, but more often than not, just the three of us. If ever he needed it, I would take care of Jack so he could have a day to himself. These nights were happening so often, I transformed one of the guest rooms into a room for Jack. Hotch started leaving some of Jack’s clothes and toys. My house started becoming a second home for the Hotchner boys.

Slowly we grew closer and closer as friends, even if I wanted more. His friendship was too important for me to lose what we already had.

Back at work, it was business as usual. The team was none the wiser, but they could see that our relationship had gotten closer. JJ would always give me a smirk when she saw us hugging in his office, Derek would wiggle his eyebrows at me, and Penelope would silently squeal and flail her arms whenever she saw us in proximity.

Today was no different. Reid, Emily, Derek, and I were in the briefing room each stirring their wanted sugars and creams into the coffees I had brought in the morning. Reid quickly examining the box of donuts I had also brought along to pick the best one.

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled. “What’s going on between you and the boss man?”

“Well, Derek, if you must know,” I played along. The trio closed in as I pretended to look around for any eavesdropping ears. “Absolutely nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Come on, (Y/N),” Emily responded annoyed. “There has to be something. Friends don’t look at each other the way you both do.”

“My dearest Emily, I’m serious. I’ve just tried to be there for him in these very difficult times.” I sipped my coffee. “And I very much enjoy Jack’s company.”

“You know,” Spencer chimed in. “Oxytocin and dopamine, which are often referred to as the love hormones, affect pupil size. The brain gets a surge of these chemicals when you’re sexually or romantically attracted to someone. This boost of hormones causes pupils to dilate. So, really, if we wanted to know if something was happening all we have to do is pay attention to their eyes.”

“Thank you, Spence.” I laughed. “Now I’m gonna have to use sunglasses everywhere.”

“So that means there is something to look out for!” Emily chirped.

“No,” I cleared my throat. “It means that I don’t want to be stared at all the time by profilers, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say, (Y/N), whatever you say.” Emily laughed.

After that, playful side eyes and nudges were implemented to our daily routine. They’d smirk whenever Hotch praised me and stared whenever he was even remotely close to me. At first it was funny, but it made me extremely nervous to think that Hotch could catch on. Although, it had been a couple of months with this behavior and thankfully, the unit chief had yet to figure it out, as oblivious to our teammates’ behavior as he was to my feelings for him.

Our friendship continued to flourish and strengthen as I pushed my feelings down in an effort to forget about them. It did not do me any good but, if this was the only way to keep him close, I would endure it.

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Tag: @ssamorganhotchner

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around,  “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13​ @kaitlyn2907​ @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals​ @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

[ramp-it-up]

Baby

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Minors DNI, Wordsmith Daveed, descriptions of masturbation, references to breath play, manual sex, explicit laguage, oral sex (male receiving), love fluff. All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from the 100 smut prompts ask list. What have I done? Smut level building with each story and y’all don’t even know.

BTW: This is in the Acceptance/Valentine’s Daveed AU. Short Stack x D.

You were so nervous that you surprised yourself.

It had only been 10 days since you’d seen him after three weeks of getting reacquainted and all the mind blowing sex on the regular.

You’d told yourself, and him, that you wanted to take it slow this time, but you weren’t prepared for him leaving.

You tried to go to sleep right after you got home from the second show on Sunday night because you wanted to get up early to pick up Daveed from the red eye Monday morning.

Your mind would not quit spinning, though, and you’d slept very lightly.

You hopped out of bed at 5 am, hyped to see your Daveed again. You decided to park and wait inside the baggage claim area.

You felt like a teenager when you saw D’s text come through that he’d landed. You texted back a cool, “K,” then freaked the fuck out. 

Who were you? Certainly not the one who’d left Daveed and pretended he didn’t exist for a year. 

Well, you’d tried it.

You watched as the crowds from the planes came down to baggage claim. You saw Daveed’s Oakland hat and curls above most of the rest of the passengers.

The rest of the crowd faded from focus as your eyes were riveted to Daveed. He had the biggest smile on his face. He looked so unreal. And so fucking good.

You felt the heat rise to your face. You were sprung, dickmatized, ruined.  You felt hot, cold, emotional and about to cry.

Shit.

You were in love.

---

Daveed had spotted you before you spotted him. 

He had that eagle eye for you. You were sitting down scrolling on your phone, your legs crossed. 

Damn, those legs tho. Even though you were short, those legs went on forever to a succulent promised land that he hoped to visit real soon.  

He licked his lips and recalled what you tasted like. 10 days was too long.

You stood up and searched the crowd. Your eyes locked and he could see that you were flustered. 

You hadn’t said you loved him back since you got back together, but he was almost certain. You wanted the same thing he did. He smiled as he came after you.

----

You felt like you couldn't move as you stared at Daveed. He finally reached you and dropped his bags on the floor. 

He didn't say a word, but bent down, wrapped his arms around your waist, picked you up, and kissed you, hard. 

You took off his hat, fisted his hair and groaned through the kiss. You had to get out of there.

"I missed the hell outta you," he told you when he finally put you down. 

He smiled down at your upturned face, took his hat out of your hand and smashed down your nice fluffy curls with it. 

You pouted, only pretending to be mad.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you. I missed you too, Diggs." You were so happy he was back.

"Finally! You admit you missed me. Maybe you really do like me and are not just using me for my body!" He laughed at you. "Not that I care at this moment."

"Yeah, I like you. And I will take you up on that usage agreement." 

You leaned up to kiss him again before leading him out to the parking lot.

“Your place?”

It wasn’t even really a question since he let go the place he had been renting. It didn’t make sense for him to stay somewhere else.

You couldn’t even front as you nodded eagerly. He rewarded you with another smile, then looked at you and bit his lip as you stood outside your car.

You cocked your head at him, mesmerized. Your body was feening for his. 

"You wanna drive?" Your voice was husky and full of desire.

Daveed put his lips close to your ear. You shivered. 

"Hell yeah, but I want you to get us there. I wanna look at you."

 He opened the driver's side door for you.

You stared for a minute and climbed in. Daveed looked at you in the driver's seat, leaned over and kissed your lips softly and let his hand travel down your body from your neck to your thighs. 

Damn, he thought as he shook his head and went around to the passenger seat. I'm this close to the promised land! He was excited but cool.

You tried to collect your thoughts but your brain was short circuiting with him so close and his spicy coconut scent filling your nostrils.

Daveed sat in the passenger seat, looked at you and put his infamous left hand on you. He was tracing patterns on your leg.

The sensation traveled to your core, the fabric of your leggings somehow a sensual conductor. 

“Tell me this. Did you touch yourself when I was gone?”

“W-what do you mean?” 

Daveed caught the stutter, and smiled, but he kept his eyes down as his hand moved up higher, stopping the tracing and now clasping the expanse of your thigh and squeezing just a bit, long fingers embedded between your lush legs.

“You know what I mean. I mean did you finger your pussy, circle your clit after licking your fingers and then pulling them out to taste them again?” 

His eyes held yours now. You couldn’t breathe.

“I mean, did you shove your fingers inside you as deep as you could and then did you curl them until you hit that special spot while still pressing your button?”

You gasped for breath and Daveed’s eyes went to your lips and tongue. He leaned forward to kiss you, but stopped himself with a small moan.

“Did you play in your sopping wet slit and let your fingers slip down to feel your other hole, accidentally of course, until you were sliding over the sheets in your own wetness?”

He was leaning toward you now, looking into your eyes as if he really wanted to know.

“Because that’s all I’ve wanted to do for 10 gotdamn days.”

And then he took your mouth, supple lips covering yours and tongue making you remember it’s past transgressions.

"You're trying to get me to fuck in this airport parking lot aren't you?"  

You could only say it after you caught your breath. You were actually trembling in this man's arms. Damn.

"Now why would you want to do that?" 

Daveed asked his question as he moved his hand up your face into your hair and gave a gentle but firm tug, making you gasp again and getting him harder than he already was. 

You moaned. "You know why...."

He loved to hear you struggle and made a mental note to show you more about breath play at your place.  

He forced your head back and marked your neck, turning places your skin a deep purple. So beautiful. Damn, he wanted to do demented things to you right now. 

“Fuck, Daveed. No marks!” 

He knew why you were protesting and it irritated him. He pulled your hair again. 

“That’s what the fuck makeup artists are for.”

He practically growled. That and his full beard made you ready to go right now.

His hand moved down your neck to your collarbone tracing it over to your chest and there it rested for a minute, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric of your hoodie. 

Which was really his hoodie.

Daveed moved his hand underneath, squeezing your breast gently in his hand.

 "No, I don’t know why..." He wanted to hear you.

"Because you are making me so fucking wet, that's why." 

Your needy whine threatened to take him out right then.  

"Word? That's what's up. Let me see.”  

Daveed raised his eyebrow at you.

You were past the point of denying him anything at this moment.

"Y-yes. Please." 

That was the green light.

He trailed his hand down your stomach to the waistband of your leggings. He slipped his hand in, his long fingers caressing your pearl. He could feel it swell right away. 

"Jesus!" 

He couldn't stand it. 

"You are wet.”

He plunged two fingers in your goodness and could feel your body grip them. 

"Damn, how are you so tight.!?!" 

He started pumping in and out of you, doing what he’d described earlier. He needed to be inside you, and soon.

"The dancing....always... keeps ....the core ....tight.... Oh...My....Damn..." 

Your eyes were closed as you felt your body quicken. Daveed leaned over, pulled the hoodie up and gently bit your nipple, playing with it with his tongue while it was still trapped between his teeth.

He could feel you start to pound around his fingers. 

As you started to moan, Daveed covered your mouth with his. You came on the palm of his hand. D was as hard as a rock and leaking in his jeans.

He watched as you came, wanting to bust himself. He had to do something.

"Are you sure you can drive?" He asked with an evil grin. "I think you should go ahead and get into the passenger seat so I can."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, confused.

"Just climb over me and I’ll shift into the driver's seat."

Your heart skipped a beat as you shifted up and over the car’s gear shift and onto Daveed’s own.

You came down relatively hard on his lap and he groaned. 

"Are you gonna drive?" You leaned forward and whispered in his ear. 

Daveed was gripping your ass while you rode him. He couldn’t speak.

"Let me get you off.... so you can move." 

You got on your knees on the floorboard of the car in front of him. You watched him watch you as you unzipped his pants and uncover the throbbing mass.

You smiled and kissed it lightly. 

"I've missed you." 

You looked up at him. “What do you want me to do?"

Daveed just stared at you, put his fingers in his mouth, and pulled them out slowly. He closed his eyes as he tasted you. You grinned and went to work. 

You licked his tip as you gently squeezed his balls. Then, you lowered your wet mouth around him, causing him to piston his hips up toward your face. 

You took his cock down your throat and moaned. 

“Damn, I’ve missed the sight of you letting me fuck your face. Such a good, good, good, good girl.”

He trusted into your mouth with every good and the praise made you want to live up to your title. You took what he gave you. And gladly.

After he came, and you swallowed, he looked around. 

"Let's get out of here before we get arrested."

You laughed and kissed him as you shifted around and he got in the driver's seat and fixed his clothing. 

You adjusted yourself as well. Satisfied for the moment, but anticipating more to come. 

He smirked at you as he put the car into gear. You dozed slightly as he drove back to the city, finally relaxed enough to rest.

As he pulled into your space in the parking garage, he gently shook you awake.

“As much as I want to I can’t carry you and my bags upstairs.”

You smiled and stretched, Daveed watching appreciatively.

“My big strong Baby. You can do anything.”

You took his face in your hands and kissed his forehead, nose and lips.

“Baby?”  Daveed’s eyes glowed as he grinned at you. “I’m ‘Baby’ now?” 

Your stomach and back were fluttering like crazy. But you sucked it up and smiled back at him. It was time out for games.

“Yeah, as in Baby, bring me something to eat? Baby, are you really playing that game right now? Baby, I need that dick.” 

You looked down and back up at him. “And as in, Baby, I missed you and I love you. So much.”

Daveed’s smile got bigger, impossibly so, and he kissed you back lightly.

“You know I love you too. Short Stack.”  He got serious for a minute. “I promise you I wont hurt you…”

You silenced him with a kiss. “Let’s just keep moving.  No take backs, no regrets.” Another kiss. “Now let’s get upstairs.”

Daveed agreed, and you got out and Daveed gathered his bags.  On the elevator ride up, Daveed held you in front of him, his arm wrapped around your ribcage as you leaned back against him.

You could feel his erection get bigger the higher you climbed.  Him nuzzling your neck almost made you forget that he probably was exhausted and hungry.

“Hmmmm. Baby? You hungry?” 

You smiled down at the elevator floor, anticipating his answer. He didn't reply, just walking out of elevator as the doors opened on your floor.

When you got inside and his bags discarded, he finally answered you. Walking toward the bedroom.

“I’m starving Short Stack. I need to eat. Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you."

You practically skipped into the bedroom behind him.

---- 

Tagging: @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @peaches-and-mangoes @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @einfachniemand

[theroomofreq]

bemused friendship

Wishing the happiest birthday to the love of my life, @mppmaraudergirl !! I cannot express how grateful I am for your friendship and kindness.

here is a snippet of the fic I am writing for you and will hopefully finish soon. love you dearly xx

Lily slammed her bookbag down onto a desk, the sound reverberated loudly inside her head. She hoped the noise ricocheted purposefully into the chest of her desk mate. Lily Evans wanted the person next to her to know she was hell-bent on living up to a challenge.

What challenge, you ask?

A challenge presented to her by two incredibly frustrating Gryffindors, two Gryffindors who didn’t realize the precarious situation of going against Lily Evans and her intensely stubborn personality.

Did Lily know what class this was? No, and it was completely irrelevant to the task at hand. Did she remember anything from the time it took her to storm into the classroom? Very little, which shouldn’t be of much concern to anyone, thank you very much. Was she here with a very firm mindset on what was to be done? Absolutely.

Rather than setting anything out on the desk, Lily simply grabbed the end of her bag and shook out the contents. Her inkwell, quills, parchment, books, and chapstick clattered along the desk, ringing like the blood in her ears. Lily planted herself unceremoniously in her seat and pushed her bookbag off the edge of the table and onto the floor where it laid in a crumpled heap.

“Always wonderful to have such a happy desk mate.” James quipped, his voice dripped with sarcastic charm.

“Do not start with me, Potter.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, especially as you are already having such a wonderful morning.”

“I was until very recently, thank you.”

“Evans, might I remind you. You were the one to grace me with your cheery disposition this fine morning.”

Lily turned to face him and rolled her eyes as far back in her head as humanly possible. “I know. But I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

James furrowed his brows and looked around the room where half the class had yet to show up. He nodded and spoke again, “hmm, yes, slim pickings.”

The way he smiled sent her stomach rolling. Merlin. She really was running short on patience, wasn’t she? Lily dropped her head down on the table, her face pressing into the objects haphazardly strewn across the desk. As her inkwell crushed into her cheekbone Lily wondered how exactly she got herself into this disaster.

Oh. That’s right. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

approximately 10 minutes earlier.

“You know, I will hate myself later for saying this, but - really you’d get along great.”

Lily’s gaped like a pureblood Slytherin who’d just been told his cherished family pedigree was fabricated.

“Are we still talking about the same bloke here?”

“Tall specky git, with his hand permanently stuck in his hair? James Potter, my best mate? Yeah, I think we are.”

“Potter and I would not make good friends, Sirius.”

“Trust me, love. If you only gave the poor boy a chance.”

“A chance? A chance for what exactly?”

Sirius’ lips curled into a charming smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Lily rolled her eyes at the way Sirius leaned back against the wall, eyes bright with mischief after his little question. The busy halls of Hogwarts before the first morning class were a dull buzz behind her. At the moment all she could be bothered with was her classmates who called her over to chat. Unfortunately, their little discussion had turned into complete nonsense about Potter. And now it seemed her fellow Gryffindor was pleased as punch to kick back against the tall castle walls and press her buttons. Buttons that immediately bristled at any mention of James Potter. Lily let her eyes dance over to the second boy who folded and unfolded a rough piece of parchment in his hands.

“Translate please?”

Remus sighed like an older man who spent most of his days kicking teenagers off his lawn. He pushed the sleeves of his off-white collared shirt up onto his scarred forearms. His eyes connected with Lily’s and his lips twitched, but only barely.

“Why, Lily. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might be curious about our James.”

Sirius released a bark of laughter before he stepped forward and clapped Remus on the shoulder. “It seems that way, doesn’t it, Moony?”

“The only thing I am curious about is how his neck can support all that ego knocking around his head.”

“You’ll have to get up close and personal to see that, Lils.”

“Think that might be the point, Moony.”

Lily placed her hands on her hips in the way that one commonly does when dealing with 16-year-old boys who refuse to cooperate with any type of logic.

“The point being that Potter and I will not become friends.”

“Perhaps you are right this round,” Sirius said with an air of nonchalance.

“Lily is always right, Sirius.”

“Think of it, Moony. If they spent one day of classes together-”

“Lily would absolutely hex Prongs by the end of it.”

“We’ve all been there of course.”

“The two of you are headed into hexing territory as well.” Lily snapped.

Sirius and Remus smirked wickedly at each other. One smirk was bright and daring, the other was small, subtle, and calculated. Lily couldn’t be sure which one was most dangerous, but she had a feeling that the two combined were far worse than just one.

“Well, Padfoot.” Remus quipped, eyes trained on Lily. “Really, anyone could tough through one day of classes with James. But, who could last a whole week?”

“By my count? Only three.” Sirius said as he propped an elbow on Remus’s shoulder. “Not counting you, Evans.”

“I’m not falling for this. I know what you two are plotting. And stop winking at me, Sirius Black.” Lily said.

“Regardless of whether you know what we are doing, the offer stands.” Sirius retorted quickly.

“A week with Potter? Sounds like less of an offer and more of a death sentence.”

“Would you rather it be a bet? Perhaps a dare?”

“I’d rather you waste someone else’s time with your ‘marauding’ nonsense.” Lily wondered if the quotation marks she made in the air gave off enough sass to show her overall distaste for her situation.

Sirius stepped away from Remus and resumed his original position against the wall, his leg propped up behind him and his arms crossed over his body. His words bounced their way through her brain as his stance created a deeper sense of annoyance in her chest.

“Of course it’s nonsense. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are curious about our James. Or that you desperately want to prove us wrong.”

The glint in Sirius’s eyes paired with Remus’ raised eyebrows sent Lily over the edge. The edge referring to the completely mad way she stormed out of their presence and tearing off to class.

Death sentence, bet, dare, and challenge aside, Lily absolutely could not be friends with James Potter.

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

[tamlinsbedroom]

Chapter 17: Elrin’s Demolition

When the rogue soldier was done, he slid me off of his bed and onto the hard floor. He must have gone to sleep, because he didn’t say a word and his breathing became deep and fluid.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I only had memories of my mates, flooding my brain like a river as I lay there sobbing quietly. I had to do something…anything. Bargain with him, or something to see them again. At this rate, if this is how my life would be, I would end it myself.

❥❥❥

Morning came sooner than later, and the rogue soldier threw bread down at me, while he feasted on breakfast meats, eggs, and booze. I still didn’t know his name, that was until I heard someone come in his tent.

“Elrin,” A low voice began. “I have a note from the Spring Court.” Hope filled my chest. Tamlin and Rhysand must have figured out something to threaten him with, somehow. I tried to make myself invisible, aware of my nakedness as the low voiced soldier handed the note to the rogue soldier who was apparently named Elrin. He caught me, smirking down at my nudity. I shut my eyes tightly, hugging me knees to my chest.

I heard a growl above me and she sound of paper being crumbled as Elrin got off the bed. He strode over to me, snatching me by my hair and leading me out of the tent. Males watched me walk, not trying to hide their peering glances down. I was led into a tent, a woman sitting at a vanity. She had long, brown hair, and fair, beautiful skin.

“Rhianna,” Elrin started, “I need you to pretty her up. Put her in a gown, make her look less sickly. We have a show to put on.” He chuckled, throwing me down on the ground again as her gaze met mine.

I swore I saw a look of pity in her eyes as she surveyed me, my body brutalized and feature sunken from lack of nutrients. She walked to me, reaching a hand down to help me. I took it, hesitantly, and walked with her to the wardrobe.

“Alanna, is it?” She asked, trying to strike conversation as if the situation wasn’t awkward at all. I nodded briefly.

“Well, Alanna, first you need a bath.” She led me out to another tent that connected to hers, where a metal tub stood. It was already filled with water as I got into it.

She sat next to me, taking a sponge and soap that smelled like almonds as she washed me.

“I can help you, you know. For a favor of sorts.” She whispered, as if she was afraid other soldiers would hear. I quirked my eyebrow, signaling for her to continue.

“I hate it here. I was sold to them by my father, to act as a pretty face to gather allies for the mess that Elrin started.” She started on my hair. “I had a lover back in the Autumn court that I would secretly meet. He was a nobody, which was why my father sold me. Said it would be better to gain nobility this way versus staying in his kingdom. I want out…it’s awful here. For reasons you know of, by the looks of it.” She was referring to being taken advantage of… “I will help you return to your mates if you help get me out with you.”

“How?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ll keep Elrin busy enough so that you can write to your mates. I’m in charge of gathering the postage, so I can get it sent easily.” She explained.

“How did you know of my mates?” I asked.

“Elrin has been bragging to all the other males about taking you away from two high lords. He’s so obnoxious about it, it’s hard not to hear.” She whispered that last sentence more than the other, understandably.

“Okay. It’s a deal.” I said. Tamlin and Rhys warned me about making deals with fae, but what other choice did I have?

Rhianna held out her hand for me to take, and without a second thought, I did. The bond traveled between us, marking me behind my ear. Smart, I thought. That way Elrin wouldn’t see it…

For the remainder of the time I spent with her, she dressed and dolled me up. I still didn’t know why I was, but I would find out soon.

❥❥❥

Once done, I was led out by Elrin himself. Rhianna winked at me, smiling softly. I returned the wink, trying not to stumble from being practically dragged by the male. He stopped me suddenly, grabbing my throat and pulling me to him.

“This is what’s about to happen.” He began. “Your two little mates are coming to see you. You’re to tell them that you’re being well taken care of, treated like a Queen, and that you do not wish to return.” He instructed. I almost laughed at how stupid he sounded.

“But I’m their mate. They wouldn’t believe that for a—“

“You will do as you’re told.” He snapped, his grip on my throat tightening. I gulped, nodding at him as he led me out of the camp, right into the wood.

We reached a clearing, and there stood my mates with at least 10 guards all around them. My throat swelled and tears threatened to fall when I locked eyes with them. First, Rhysand. Then, Tamlin. They looked shocked at me, probably not expecting to see me so well dressed. I looked at them with fear in my eyes, a silent plea. They understood.

“High lords, here is your female.” He gestured to me. “Well, now my female.” He chuckled. “As you can see, she is well taken care of. Happy, even.” He looked at me expectantly to play my part.

“It’s true.” I said. Trying to make my voice be as steady as possible. “He treats me like a queen. Far better than you two ever treated me.” It pained me to say it. They looked at me in faked shock, seeing right through it. “No need to worry about me anymore.”

Elrin pressed his lips to mine, biting my bottom one to make me kiss back. I did, and resisted the vomit that threatened to come out.

“No more threats, unless, of course you want to see her guts spilled beneath your noses.” Elrin casually said, picking at his nails as if he were bored.

Suddenly, Rhys’s darkness exploded. He shielded me as the soldiers around him turned into a bloody mist. Elrin snarled, using his own magic to knock Rhy’s and Tamlin down. When he did so, I noticed something shining on his neck. I looked closer, to see a red gem flashing with power. Before he could stop me, too focused on my mates, I snatched the gem from around his neck, the cord breaking. He looked at me with fury, pulling out his sword before Tamlin turned into his beastly form, part wolf and bear as he pounced on him, tearing his throat out. I shielded my eyes, stumbling into Rhysand’s chest.

I sobbed, the gem still in my hand as he held me.

“Shh. We’re here, Alanna. You’re safe now.” He pulled back. “Let’s go home—“

“Wait!” I shouted, remembering Rhianna. “There’s someone that needs help.”

I took off, heading toward her tent. She sat there, turning around in shock, looking at the gem in my hand.

“Did you—“

“Let’s go! Now’s you’re chance.” I said, grabbing her hand as I ran with her back to Rhys and Tamlin. She kept up with me, shaking her head in disbelief.

“How did you get that thing off his neck? Do you know how many before you have tried?” I shook my head, now seeing my mates before me.

I held Rhys’s hand as he winnowed all of us back to the Spring Court.

We arrived in the front door of the manor, Rhianna stunned.

“I really got out…” She mused, shaking her head as if she thought she were dreaming.

“You’re out. You’re free.” I said, hugging her.

“The bargain, it’s still open on my end.” I stopped her.

“Don’t worry about it. Tamlin’s emissary, Lucien, is from Autumn court. He can—“

“Did you say Lucien?” Her eyes widened, and Lucien came down the stairs, locking eyes with her. He nearly fell down the steps as that russet eye filled with tears, stumbling to get her in his arms.

“Rhianna…” He said, hugging her tightly. “I thought I’d never see you again…” Tamlin arched a brow. Lucien held her hand in his, turning to his high lord.

“This is Rhianna. I never told you about her because I thought…” He sighed, not wanting to finish the sentence.

“Excuse us.” He said, leading her out of the manor, arm in arm.

I sighed, unable to believe what I just had witnessed. Two lovers reuniting was almost as good as three, I thought as I looked at my high lords.

I looked at the gem in my hand, it’s power still contained. Rhys noticed, silently gesturing for me to give it to him.

“What is it?” I asked, curious.

“I’ve never seen it before. Whatever it is, it was made by dark magic. It’s how he was able to do what he did, having no actual magic of his own.” Rhys explained, taking it and vanishing it. I looked at him, shocked.

“Don’t worry. It’s in a safe place for my second, Amren, to find.” I nodded, recalling Amren from Velaris.

“Alanna darling…” Rhys picked me up, walking me upstairs, Tamlin following next to us. Silently, Tamlin undressed me, putting me in one of his shirts and a pair of Rhys’s boxers as he sighted the littering of bruises and cuts that laid beneath the dress that covered me so well.

“Rhys.” Tamlin called, his tone dark. He spun around, looking at all the marks with hate and anger in his eyes.

“We felt it…down the bond…but this, this…” He was truly at loss for words. Tears silently spilled down both sets of eyes as they kissed the marks on me, as if it healed them. Healed me.

“I am so, so sorry. This should have never even happened I am beyond—“ I pressed a finger to Rhys’s lips, shaking my head.

“I did it. It’s my fault, I left of my own free will. I thought that if I didn’t then you and all of Prythian would be in danger.” I explained, hating how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tamlin put a hand on my cheek. “It’s not your fault. You’re so selfless…so brave.” He looked at Rhysand. “Our beautiful, brave girl.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “No one’s going to hurt you ever again.”

My mates tucked me in, sliding in bed beside me. And though it had not been more than a couple days that I was without them, I missed them holding me close at night. I knew they would be there for me, stitching up the lingering scars.

I slept safely on their arms that night, wanting to forget everything that had happened until tomorrow.

[medical-gal]

Death by a thousand cuts

I have been thinking about writing this for months now. Even before I decided to quit the residency at my previous job.

COVID has been kicking our ass, true, but that was (is) true for most healthcare providers all around the world.

No, my struggle started a bit before that actually.

First some background, I have been working at one of the biggest most famous ID clinics in central Europe. The clinic is in a different country than I am originally from so there was a bit of cultural accommodating at the begging. But we were a big group of ID interns/residents/fellows and specialists.

I don't actually remember that much from my first year working there. And I couldn't figure out why, but then I read in some study that when u experience a high dose of stress and/or sleep deprivation for a long time, your brain kinda stopps being able to transcribe short term memory into a long term.

I was working 100hours/week, sometimes less, sometimes more. After a year and a half, when the last half I worked in the ID ER for five months, I always stayed after working 24 hours, sometimes over 36hours, and I would see and treat 70ish patients. Nobody from the older docs would help me out, nobody from other interns either bc usually they would have their own kind of hell to take care of.

The fact that basically, inexperienced doctors are taking care of patients never really phased my ex-boss. Her mantra was that if there was a problem that you cannot resolve, you can call her and she would advise you. Which most of the time was true, I must say that.

But we all have been young docs, barely out of our medical school garments, and sometimes as it happened, we could not recognize there IS a problem that maybe needs a more experienced opinion.

I am often confronted with this idea or more like a culture, of pretending that once you are an MD you don't need help and asking for it is a kind of weakness and that then you are forever on the list of WEAKLINGS.

And let me say this only once.

That's absolute bullshit.

Anyway, the first time I decided to quit I worked there for about a year and a half, I went for a long-expected holiday, I took three weeks off, had interviews and talked with my bf about my options.

Second thing...my man, bless his beard, would support me no matter what. He is almost 10 years older than me, so he has more work experience and I find it reassuring to discuss stuff like this with him bc I know he will not sugarcoat it. He said that I should dig my heels in and last at least one more year till the end of my "internship". As a "resident" who worked at this specific department, I wouldn't have a problem finding another job. We r basically the equivalent of a french legion of medical professionals (when u work in this specific department and everyone knows it, I will come back to that later).

So I took his advice. Thankfully as a part of our training, one of those parts is a year-long internship at the internal medicine department, which I did shortly after we had that conversation and guys, that was a revelation of how medicine and just...work and life can be experienced. There were enough docs for a floor, an attending who had the time to manage and advise us. I´ve grown that year as a doc so much. Other internships were mandatory so I could have become (equivalent of) a resident, and it was a general surgery, anesthesiology, radiology, microbiology etc. But I did them all and became a resident.

The moment I came back to our clinic, my boss would put me in our outpatient department. Which I have never worked on before. The head of the department has quit a few months before, and I had no idea what to do there, bc it's a very different type work. The only thing my boss told me when I spoke of my concerns were "you will learn".

Thankfully the previous head of the department was a good friend of mine and she would always answer my questions and requests. Suddenly I no longer had to deal with the hectic life of an ID floor or ER, no sepsis, meningitis, etc.

Most of my patients were the chronic type...Lyme, chlamydia, mycoplasma... let's say it literally drained the life out of me. But I managed. Also, I started to work for their outpatient office which takes care of patients with chronic hepatatis. That I enjoyed more.

I also started to dip my toes in vaccinology, either planned like for travel but I started to be more interested in preventive care in the immunocompromised and my own phantasmagoria was to make a palliative care team in our hospital. Bc, we had none. And then a wonderful thing happened, other docs, older experienced, great at their work, started to refer their patients to me specifically.

There were more examples of the utter a complete FUCK U(s) which were kindly provided either by the system or by the head of the department or the hospital.

Then covid hit and the shit hit the interstellar space.

I still can't make myself remember the first few months bc it actually causes me to go into a rage fit, and honestly, I am done with that kind of negativity.

I hold out for a year. Year of such shitty treatment from the chief and our hospital head. No thank you- s or you are doing a good job or we r all on the same ship.

No.

People will say that I quit bc of the money. And that's not true, tho it did irk me a bit. All the other ID specialists working at different hospitals would get covid bonuses every month. We got jack shit. Again, the best biggest most know ID clinic. We were the first and oftern the ONLY ones who would test for/diagnose/hospitalize/treat a patient who had covid FOR MONTHS in the beginning.

I mean, the medical community is small, the ID community even smaller so yes, we were able to compare and contrast the work at different ID departments in other hospitals bc our friends worked there. And all of them would go speechless when they would hear from us what we were living thru.

At one point at the beginning of the pandemic, ALL the ambulances would go thru our ER department and we were supposed to decide where the patient should go.

AN EXAMPLE

Ambulance with a woman who has known colon cancer, had a fever, stomach as a rock and is projectile vomiting. I was supposed to decide where she should go and the surgeon would be super pissed when I said that I don't think she has COVID but without PCR I can't be sure but I think there is a bigger pressing issue. I remember him saying:

"well if anyone else gets infected at our department and dies, it's on you."

fun.

There were other examples of seriously stressful episodes which I and my coworkers lived thru, for which we were not trained for, advised, or properly supervised. At a certain point, I started to take anxiolytics before and during my all-nighters bc I didn't know what I would do with all that stress which was so callously shat on me and my coworkers.

For a few months, I stopped working nights, only thru the mercy of my coworkers who saw how exhausted I was and would take my shifts.

Anyway, after only two months I had to start working nights bc I needed the money. The basic pay for docs was just not enough without the extra from night shifts. Talk about exploiting.

The moment however when I decided to QUIT, when I was DONE, when I actually heard my heart break, was the moment at the end of the previous year. They decided to start vaccinating in our tiny small vaccination centre. Let's say a "shit storm" brewing is the light version of events that ensued.

But basically, as I was trying to discuss with my boss that we are all exhausted, that this wave is not slowing down and that throwing more work at us, the docs and nurses and other staff, who are overworked, is not a good idea,

What she basically said to me is that who says things like that is lazy and that if she can handle it everyone must be also.

The thing is..most of us were at the bring. Some would handle it with casual and calous sex, drugs (legal or not), a bottle of wine before sleep. A coworker ended up with antipsychotics.

But u know,

we were all lazy apperently.

I realized there is no way out of this other than quitting. I could not continue being so tired and sad all the time. I took two weeks off, really thought about it. Had diarrhoea and nausea for a week as I realized I will have to quit :D

On a Monday I came back, handed in my notice. Basically what she told me and how she reacted made me realized how right the decision was.

I had to stay there for another three months bc that's the law, but my mood changed significantly.

I got another job in a smaller ID department, working with amazingly kind people, but that's another story.

But that was the only interview I actually looked for and did. I, however, did get several job offers from different types of medicine. From heads of different departments in my old hospital to smaller general medicine chain offices who are looking for ID specialists, to insurance companies.

Like I said, french legion.

Or Runway and your boss is Miranda Pristley. Once u survive that, u survive anything.

But at my old work they would keep hitting you with wave after wave of passive agressive comments about how if u quit, u wont be able to find anything as"prestigious" as this.

There were many other exmaples of a shitty and questionable situations which were treated as "normal" but there is not point on getting on that rage train.

Contrary as it might seem, I am greatful I got to live thru this, good and bad, bc now I know what I am and am not willing to sacrifice for a job. No matter how much I might love it.

[catdadeddie]

I’m so happy for you, Nova‼️ I really am 🥺 can I request a fic, for buddie. I don’t really have a prompt besides anything this quote inspires. “You made falling in love with you easy that I never realized I was falling.”

Thank you, Sunny!! I adore this line and I hope you like the fic!!

The Love We Hold - 1.7k 

Feelings realization, fluff and angst, love confessions, some character introspection. - minor mention of events from season 4

(read on ao3) - link to celebration event 

Looking back, Eddie should’ve known. He shouldn’t be surprised by the realization that he’s in love with Buck, yet here he is, watching Buck sit on Chimney’s couch with Christopher as he helps him hold Maddie and Chimney’s newborn, Charlotte. Here he is wondering how Christopher would be as a big brother and how Buck would be as a dad. It all rings in his mind in the tone of “Oh” as he realizes the meaning to that thought. He looks at two of his favorite people in the world and everything he hasn’t paid attention to over the years hits him. He loves Buck.

“He’s a natural,” Maddie whispers to him, shaking him from the sudden shift in his world. He’s not even sure which one she’s referring to and that screams to him too. Too much is moving through his brain right now, but it all equates to love. He glances at Maddie where she anxiously is watching next to him. This is the first time he’s seen her in weeks and she seems to be taking motherhood like most new moms. There’s bags under her eyes and her movements are slow and sleepy, even resting a hand on the back of the living room chair for support, but the grin on her face as she watches Chim return from the bathroom and walks over to the couch. He stands behind it and leans over Christopher to watch as the newborn starts falling asleep with Buck’s finger in her little grasp.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie answers as he subconsciously stares for a minute. He shakes himself from it though and turns his attention to Maddie. “How’s it been going? I remember the first week home with Christopher. I swear Shannon and I didn’t sleep at all.”

“If I felt okay leaving her with anyone right now, I’d have you and Buck babysit while I took a nap,” she answers with a soft smile.

“You totally could,” Eddie teases knowing the new mother wouldn’t dare leave her newborn with anyone besides Chimney and that would be a stretch.

“Don’t tempt me,” she grins before leaving him to his thoughts as she joins the group. Eddie debates joining them. Buck is looking up at Maddie now with a fond look that someone would relate to a golden retriever, as she pulls one of the chairs to be as close to Christopher as possible. Buck laughs softly as Christopher and Maddie start talking about the baby. Chimney and Buck add in every once in a while. It makes Eddie feel like an outsider looking in and that’s what makes him finally decide to walk over and take the seat next to Buck, who turns to him and grins as he whispers about how Christopher seems to like the baby.

Eddie just nods and gives a soft smile as he watches Christopher cradle the baby. His heart melts at Christopher, so focused on her. He’s keeping his arm against the arm of the couch so he can keep supporting the head. He does really seem to like it all and Eddie’s not really sure what to do with that information as well. He feels Buck’s elbow push into his ribs making him shake his head and refocus. He looks up at Buck, whose eyebrows are pulled together in a show of concern. Eddie sighs and goes to find something to express why he’s acting this way, but he’s saved by Chimney calling his name.

“Eddie! You wanna take your turn?” He asks as Maddie eases Charlotte out of Christopher’s arms.

“I’d love to,” he grins as he gets handed the newborn. She’s unbelievably light in his arms as he adjusts her to sit more comfortably in his arms. He can’t help but notice that her little nose looks just like Maddie’s and the so-brown-they’re-black eyes staring up at him are almost identical to Chimney’s. 

“She’s beautiful. Happy and healthy. You both are doing great,” he whispers, looking up at where Chimney has moved to stand behind Maddie’s chair. His hand on her shoulder as they both gaze lovingly at their daughter. Maddie nods and says a thank you as tears fill her eyes.

It’s not long before Eddie decides to leave and give the couple some more time alone with their newest source of happiness. 

---

Eddie hasn’t left his spot on the couch since Christopher went to bed. He’s been staring aimlessly at the tv with no recollection of what’s been on it as his mind is just full of Buck. Buck, who has become a staple in his and Christopher’s lives. Buck, who has always been there for Christopher. Buck, who is there for Eddie. Buck, who he loves.

All the game nights, trips together, the three of them just having fun echoes through Eddie’s mind. If there’s anyone out there that should join him and Christopher, it’s Buck and in reality, he’s already joined them. He’s already linked to all that they are. He’s right there with them and the thought scares Eddie in all honesty. Buck got this close to them without Eddie even being aware.

His thoughts get interrupted again with the flash of headlights through the window in his living room. He glances up to see Buck’s Jeep pulling into the spot behind his truck. Eddie watches as he turns off the car and before deciding to stand up. He sighs as he rubs his hands against his jeans before standing up to see why Buck’s here at 10 o’clock at night. He’s leaning against the wall on the outskirts of his entryway when the sound of keys jingling plays on the other side of the door. He debates just going and opening it but he needs the couple seconds it takes Buck to twist the key and push open the door to compose himself.

When Buck does step through the door, he jumps at the sight of Eddie. “Eddie! What the fuck are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” He scolds as he tries to catch his breath while closing the door.

“Says the one who just let himself into my house this late at night,” Eddie shrugs, making Buck roll his eyes and mumble a “Touché.”

“I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… distant at Maddie and Chimney’s,” Buck adds with his own shrug after stuffing his hands in his pockets. Eddie lets his eyes flicker across Buck’s face in the dark room. He has this fleeting concern that screams of course he noticed. How couldn’t he notice how Eddie was acting. Maybe this was easier when Eddie just didn’t know.

“I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking. Nothing to be worried about,” Eddie tries reassuring him while escaping the topic. Buck seems to pick up on his attempt at running away from this and just sighs before teasing Eddie in a way that loosens the tension between them. “That’s an awfully dangerous thing for you to be doing, Eds.”

Eddie lets out a breathy laugh before grinning at his best friend. His best friend. If that isn’t a reason enough to keep this to himself, Eddie’s never had a friend like Buck and he isn’t ready to jeopardize that over feelings he didn’t know he had until 5 hours ago.

“Eddie, you’re doing it. Again,” Buck says, stepping closer to him. He’s right in front of Eddie before Eddie has anytime to process what’s going on. 

“I thought we were working on communication,” Buck quips with a bit of a teasing tone. “We’ve been doing great at talking out our issues. What’s so bad that you’re hiding this?”

Eddie feels the deep swallow that goes through his throat as he has to look up at Buck due to the close proximity. “What’s going on, Eddie?” He basically begs, making Eddie’s heart tug and before he even knows what’s happened the words escape his mouth.

“I love you.”

Both of them still as they process what Eddie just said. Eddie tries studying Buck’s face for some kind of reaction and when nothing but surprise is shown back to him, he just closes his eyes and wills it all to go away. He admits it's cliché but his heart is pounding and he just wants to open his eyes and this all has been a dream.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes out in a raspy whisper as he tries to side step away from Buck. His efforts are stopped by Buck’s hand grabbing his wrist and his voice following Eddie’s in the silence. “Why are you sorry?”

Eddie opens his eyes and blinks, stunned at the man in front of him. Buck’s face is only inches from his with a furrowed brow. Eddie looks down at where Buck’s hand is still on his wrist as he responds. “I’m sorry that I said that.”

“Did you mean it?” Buck asks quietly as his grip tightens before letting go completely. His demeanor has shrunk and he’s inching a step back and Eddie’s realized a whole other side of this coming out. Maybe Buck loves him too.

“Of course, I do,” He adds as softly as his nerves let him. It's too late to go back so he’s just gonna try to see where this goes as he reaches out for Buck’s hand. Buck meets his eyes again with a hopeful look tied into his features. A soft grin spread across his face.

“You do? You love me?” Buck echoes in insecurity that Eddie hates to see. It’s been something he knows Buck’s been working on, especially since his parent’s visit, but it's still something he sees haunt Buck.

“Buck, you made falling in love with you easy that I never realized I was falling,” Eddie promises, as he hopes Buck recognizes the value and truth to the words. He watches as Buck’s grin grows and Eddie can‘t help but pull Buck forward and into his arms. He feels Buck’s arms wrap tightly around him as something wet starts pooling on his shoulder. Eddie squeezes him before pulling back enough to see his face.

“They’re happy tears,” Buck laughs as Eddie reaches up and wipes under his eyes. “I promise.”

Eddie nods and whispers a “I know,” before leaning up the little bit of distance to press his lips to Buck’s. The kiss is far from perfect with Buck’s tears leaving a salty taste to the mess and they’re more focused on the connection and feeling of just being together like this than anything else. When they do part, Buck lets his forehead rest against Eddie’s. Eddie just reaches out to hold him as Buck whispers “I love you, too,” between them.