#sleepwalk surprise

[104-days-of-gifs]

Another 104 Days of Phineas and Ferb GIFs: Day 77

[forgottenpnffacts]

The day “Sleepwalk Surprise” took place was two months and nine days after Candace and Jeremy started dating.

[ferbracket]

Doofenshmirtz Bracket Incorporated

Artist. ''I was up for three days straight gripped in glorious, artistic fever. Then finally, my masterpiece!''

Dream. ''Oh, man, this had better be a dream because I don't like where this is going. ''

[mysteriesofmilo]

[louderfade]

english needs a verb like the french verb ronger. i basically thought it meant to gnaw but apparently it's better than that.

[blankdblank]

You needed your hands, both of them. The disaster of an office you had walked into required some hard repairs, so the toddler you had been left custody of after your twin of a cousin’s passing out in Lothlorien was taken somewhere you knew might keep them secure and occupied for hours to come. Nonstop to counter his stories on Gimli he had shared to no end Gloin had shared of how Dis had left her sons often in the care of Thorin, even while he slept.

Sound sleepers all the same Dwarves were hard wired to care for their pebbles even in their sleep. Meaning should you lay an infant across one’s chest and fold their hands atop the child it will remain safe and the slightest of disturbance will switch the holder of said child into protection mode.

So that was where you left her.

Atop the chest of the Dwarf King, who sounded by his snores in a try to suck the very roof of the mountain down, tenderly the girl was nestled on her back, and on your toes his farthest arm was pulled by a pinch of his wrinkled sleeve to draw the hand to rest over her belly. It’s twin was soon added and almost instantly the entire body beneath the rag doll of a baby subtly adjusted itself and you gave the sight a satisfied and impressed nod.

“Back in a few hours,” you whispered and leaned in to kiss her tiny cheek then soundlessly scurried out of the apartment you quietly sealed shut to go hurry and see how much work you could get done.

*

“Mm,” wide open the eyes of the King snapped at the out of place noise inside his apartment that had his eyes and head on swivel of the surrounding room both for hint of danger and what time he was currently in. Both his nephews were fully grown and Dis had not given birth to her expected daughters so the child on his chest had his heart in a fight to thunder, had his body not known it would stir the sleeping child.

“Who are you?” He whispered breathlessly and simply laid his head down on his pillow to wonder of someone had left him with watch of a child or if he had taken a slumbering stroll and kidnapped one.

A move sure to put his reign down in infamy. His future Queen had gone on a trip to visit family amongst the small half Elf/Hobbit settlement within the Elven woodlands of Lothlorien. A prized settlement for those Elves as it kept the sound of children ever frequent and the boat craftsmen in business for ample barge themed events for their enchanted river encircled lands that helped to keep said prized citizens safe from intruders.

Just once he had shared a night and bed with her, and ever since his head raced with dreams of an heir he felt for decades now barred from possible. Eleven months to the day she had been gone with him to settle the worst of the wedding plans, the technical and political ones he had charged himself with to not worry her with the tragic news of a relative said to be on the verge of passing that just arrived. Now this child snatching predicament was literally upon him.

“Balin,” he whispered next hearing the telling knock and footfalls afterwards sounding until his excited cousin was stopped at the side of the bed to stare affectionately down at the child. “Balin, I might have stolen a child.” He whispered with a panic in his gaze that had his cousin chuckle softly, “You laugh,” Thorin managed to catch his disbelieving scoff to not rouse the child and he said, “I awoke to an infant upon my chest! And no trace of its origins! I can hear the other Dwarf Councilors now...”

“You should, when I open the door again, everyone is elated, our future Queen has returned, and with hold of a swaddled child in tow. Mahal shines upon our halls, the child will not inherit but the Durin line is extended and marks proof of a healthy heir once you are wedded in contract! The child now negates need for standard pomp and merely reduces the requirements to public coronation, proclamation and wedded bliss!” Balin lit up with cheeks puffing up to the squeaking yawn and grumble of the child who barely managed to stretch a leg then fell silent and still again aside from the noise of soft sound breaths.

“Cancel my meetings, I cannot move.”

“Already done, we had presumed the pair had come here but sight of our yet to be Queen in a blaze of her office to right it again I imagined I might arrive to find my newest related pebble added to our lineage and the name to properly record to our family ledgers.”

“I was asleep,” he whispered, and warmth seeped through his chest to the creep of tears into his eyes while he fought the urge to move in a try to nestle the child into his cheeks. “I have a child.” Frail and unthought of his happiness exploded every last morsel of grief and doubt these past decades and eleven months doled out on him.

*

“Thorin, I did not birth her..” you said softly to the Dwarf now humming a lullaby to the toddler being lowered into its crib loaned from Dis out of her own nursery while one was being crafted for the new recorded Princess.

“She has the Durin eyes,” he mused to her final shut of her eyes mid squeaking yawn and curl into the blanket palms righted around their small body. “And your hair.” Shaking your head you simply stretched your aching back and arms, soon to be taken to bed yourself to be massaged and shown oh so tenderly how much your now husband cherished you and your little girl.

Though not yours outside of adoption, sized against newborn Dwarf pebbles she was right on mark to have been born with enough of a grace period for your recovery prior to travel home to the mountain to show her off. Not the first heir born afar to spare travel on the mother until afterwards when elated second parent and child would meet. And for all the days of reminders to come of the ignored truth soon enough cousin to said beaming husband and King would be proven right with news to bellow through the halls of his kingdom another heir was underway to meet him and his kin soon.

@theincaprincess @lilith15000 @devilishminx328 @jesevans @deepestfirefun added you deep in case you wanted a cute story this morning. :)

[cinematic-literature]

Fear Street Part 1: 1994 (2021) by Leigh Janiak

Book title: four books by Robert Lawrence

The Sleepwalker, originally published in 1993 as part of the Fear Street series by R. L. Stine

Cheerleaders: The First Evil (1992)

The Surprise Party (1990)

The Wrong Number (1990)

[insomtiny]

GUYS IT'S LIKE 2AM AND I WAS JUST DRIVING HOME FROM MY DAD'S HOUSE AND THERE'S A PART OF THE ROAD THAT'S PITCH BLACK AT NIGHT CAUSE THERE'S TREE COVER AND I ROUNDED THE CORNER AND THERE WAS JUST THIS DUDE??? STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OTHER LANE NOT WALKING OR ANYTHING JUST STANDING THERE LIKE 🧍‍♂️IN THE DARKNESS STARING AT ME AND SOMETHING ABOUT IT FREAKED ME OUT SO BAD I ZOOMED HOME AND MY ANXIETY'S SO HIGH NOW 😭😭😭

[galactica-phantom]

got told today i helped someone make positive change in their life. neat

[forgottenpnffacts]

Doof often uses the word “crud” as an expletive.

[ferbracket]

Doofenshmirtz Bracket Incorporated

Dream. ''Oh, man, this had better be a dream because I don't like where this is going. ''

Inner Self. ''Yes, late at night, I was instructing you how to make the ultimate inator!''

[vanteguccir]

Sleepwalker in love | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Chris returns home after recording another car video with his brothers and finds his girlfriend sleepwalking in their living room.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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"Oh my God, I almost had a heart attack right now." Nick gasped, his right hand flying to his chest, above his heart.

Chris frowned, climbing the last few steps and looking over the oldest shoulder. He raised his eyebrows and opened an amused smile at the sight; Y/N was standing static, with her back to them and facing the living room windows.

Her body was protected from the cold by the warm pajamas set that the boy quickly recognized as his own. Her hair was slightly messy, and her feet were bare, making it obvious to the boys that she had been asleep in bed, probably just a few minutes before.

Chris knew that she had been in a deep sleep for hours now, as he was the one who put her to sleep before leaving with his brothers to record the car video that would be posted the next day, having repeated their daily routine of singing to her at bedtime, calming her mind and reducing any adrenaline that was still coursing through her veins from the busy day.

The triplets knew that Y/N was a sleepwalker; Matt having woken up many times to drink water just to find the girl in the kitchen, sitting on the table and staring into space or even trying to drink something from the fridge without having a glass in her hand. Or Nick, having woken up to sounds in his bathroom, finding Y/N messing with his skincare products as if she was in a Vogue Beauty Secrets video.

And, of course, Chris, who would wake up several times to his girlfriend getting out of bed - he usually followed her to see what she would do and to move dangerous objects out of her way -, or to sounds in their shared closet - she would pick up random clothes and act like she was in a GRWM -, or even with her standing in the middle of their room while talking to the air.

So, despite it being scary, it wasn't surprising to see Y/N standing there, staring into space, in the middle of the living room.

Chris shook his head as he let out a nasal laugh, passing Matt, who was next to him, and taking quick and silent steps towards his girlfriend.

"Hey baby. Let's go back to bed." He whispered, his voice barely noticeable. His hands lightly held Y/N's waist, ready to guide her down the stairs and back to their shared bedroom.

"Chris? This sounds like Chris." The girl responded with a tone equally low, her gaze blank but with a frown decorating it, her eyes still fixed on the windows.

"Yeah, it's Chris, baby." The boy murmured back, starting to take slow steps towards the stairs that went to their room, lightly pulling his girlfriend with him.

"Oh my God, do you know Chris? If he finds out another person is touching me, he'll be furious. He'll end you, you know?" Y/N whispered, frowning and trying to get out of Chris's weak grip, seeming to ignore the boy's previous response.

"Hey, no. He asked me to take you back to your room." Chris quickly intervened in her movements, quickly making up the excuse, feeling like an idiot for portraying himself in third person.

A laugh sounded in the background and Chris's eyes quickly traveled in the direction of the sound, finding Nick and Matt eating leftover food from the fridge, leaning on the table and looking at their interaction with amused looks. The boy rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore them.

"Oh, he did? Chris is so thoughtful, right? He's perfect, so sweet and kind to me." Y/N told it like it was a secret, finally following Chris's slow steps down the stairs.

"Oh yeah? Tell me more about him." The boy asked, a smirk appearing on his face as his cheeks turned slightly red. His hands firmly held Y/N's waist, preventing her from tripping or hitting the railing.

"He's so handsome. Oh, and he sings to me every day. He takes great care of me and gives me flowers every week! He combs my hair in the morning and makes my coffee just the way I like it." She was talking like a child who had been given a teddy bear, a smile adorning her face as she let herself descend the last few steps at the same speed as Chris.

Despite her enthusiasm and devotion to her words, her eyes remained unfocused and fixed on nothing.

The two finally arrived in front of the door to their shared room and Chris mentally thanked Y/N for letting it open when she left, not having to go through the trouble of reopening it for them.

"He seems really incredible." Chris's voice was wobbly with emotions, his previous smirk having been replaced by a big and truthful smile, as he felt his heart racing and his skin heat up. A sense of pride and love filling his body.

"He's the best, I really love Chris." She nodded, a proud smile on her face.

Chris kept her standing on his right side when they reached the bed, his arm around her waist keeping her still. He opened the duvet with his left hand, guiding her to lie down under it carefully, adjusting her head on the fluffy pillow and brushing her hair out of her face and neck, cradling her body like a burrito.

His hands quickly grabbed the teddy bears that were on the nightstand on her side of the bed - the ones he had gifted Y/N since the beginning of their relationship -, placing them around her body so that she wouldn't get up again or fall with any sudden movement.

The boy bent slightly over his girlfriend upper body, bringing his face closer to hers and exhaling the natural scent of her shampoo, sealing his lips on her forehead for a few seconds before moving away slightly.

"I'm sure he loves you even more." He whispered against Y/N's soft skin, watching as her eyes finally closed, and she completely succumbed to her dream world.

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 ♡

Carmy x afab!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Previous chapter || Main masterlist || ao3 || Next chapter

chapter summary: You and your neighbor share a cigarette, and you have an unexpected chat with his sister... Carmy kind of wants to strangle Richie.

word count: 7.4k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Language. Smoking. Food. Angst and fluff. Hurt/comfort. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Strangers to friends to lovers. The beef as found family. Set in season one.

a/n: This chapter was supposed to be about twice as long, but we are gonna wait with the rest till next chapter. this might mean that there will end up being an extra chapter in the end.

"I need some sleep It can't go on like this I tried counting sheep But there's one I always miss"

“I’m Carmen… Carmen Berzatto.” 

Oh… Now the pieces start to fall into place - the tattoos, the exhaustion, the haunted look in his eyes that felt so familiar. A mix of sadness and understanding washes over you.   

“But uh… Carmy is fine,” he adds, the tiniest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Nice to meet you, Carmy.” You smile at him before telling him your own name, feeling a little embarrassed you didn’t tell him earlier, and a short silence follows, before you gently clear your throat. “Well, shall we?” 

“Yeah.” Carmy responds with a small nod of his head as he follows you down the hallway towards your apartment.  The short walk feels oddly awkward and comforting at the same time. 

As you step inside, you gesture for Carmy to follow you into the kitchen. You turn on the cabinet lights and motion for him to take a seat or stand wherever he prefers before grabbing a couple of mugs from the cupboard. There is still hot water on the kettle for you to make a new cup of tea. 

“You want normal or decaf?” you ask, holding up the coffee canister. Carmen’s tired eyes light up a little at the mention of coffee.

“Normal, please, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anytime soon, and I have to leave for work in three hours” he lets out a soft, breathy sound, something between a sight and a chuckle, the sound weary but genuine, and a clear touch of gratitude in his voice. You put a filter in the coffee maker and pour the coffee grounds into it, the aroma slowly beginning to fill the air. As the coffee brews, you plop a tea bag into your own mug before pouring in the hot water. You take a moment to glance at him, his tired expression evident as he leans against the counter. 

You notice the way his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the small details of your kitchen that must be mirroring his own, before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes meet for a split second before you quickly look down at your steeping tea, feeling  how your pulse quickens slightly from getting caught staring.  

You clear your throat and decide to break the silence. “So, how does a chef end up starting a kitchen fire at 3 in the morning?” you say in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but you immediately cringe at yourself, it probably wasn’t the most tactful question to ask. You’re not normally this awkward, but you also don’t normally have strangers in your apartment in the middle of the night like this. 

“I-ehm… I was actually cooking in my sleep, I woke up to the fire alarm.” He confesses, sounding a little embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Oh,” is all you say, not really knowing what else to come up with. You take a moment to process Carmen’s response, trying not to let your surprise show on your face. Cooking in his sleep? That certainly wasn’t a typical explanation for starting a kitchen fire. “I guess sleepwalking and cooking don’t mix well,” you end up replying, feeling a bit silly for stating the obvious. 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding in agreement. “I suppose not.” his voice laced with exhaustion, and another long stretch of silence unfolds between you. You are just about to open your mouth to say something to break it - what, you don’t even know, but you are saved by the coffee machine beeping, indicating that the coffee is ready. You quickly pour the hot coffee into a mug, happy for the natural interruption of the awkward silence. 

“Cream and sugar?” you ask him, smiling politely. 

Carmy nods gratefully. “Just a little cream, please.” You carefully pour a dash of cream into the mug, watching as it swirls and mixes with the fragrant dark coffee before placing the mug in front of Carmen. He takes a sip, his tired eyes closing momentarily as he savors the warmth.

“Thank you,” he says softly, the gratitude evident in his voice. You just smile at him. Taking your tea, you lean against  the counter on the opposite side of him.  

The two of you fall into a now more comfortable silence, the only sound filling the room being the occasional sip of coffee or tea. You cannot help but glance over at him every now and then, taking in the tired lines of his face, the way his eyes seem to hold a thousand untold stories. 

After a few moments of sipping your tea in silence, Carmen breaks the silence, pointing at one of the pictures on your fridge. “Is that from Copenhagen?”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips as you look over at the picture. “Yeah, it is. I got a job offer here in Chicago and thought that it might be time to try something new, I moved here six months ago, but before that I lived in Copenhagen. I like it here, and I’m really enjoying my new job,  but I do miss it.” 

“Yeah, Copenhagen’s really beautiful,” he says, still looking at the picture. 

You lean forward, feeling a spark of conversation ignite between you and Carmen. “So, you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I actually lived there for a while, when I worked at Norma.” He says it so casually, but you can’t help but feel a surge of surprise at his casual mention of working at a renowned three-Michelin-star restaurant. 

“Wow, that’s really cool,” you say, genuinely impressed. “What was it like?” 

Carmy smiles softly, a nostalgic glint in his tired eyes. “It was intense, but also really… rewarding?” he says, his voice trailing off slightly as if lost in memories. “The chefs there pushed me to my limits,  I learned so much during my time there, but, yeah, it was definitely hectic...” He pauses, a hint of melancholy in his voice, he seems to be caught in his own thoughts for a moment before he lightly shakes his head and turns his attention back to you. “What about you, what do you work with?”

“I work in theater, I’m a scenographer,” you reply, feeling a sense of pride as you talk about your passion. “I design and create the visual aspects of the stage production, from the sets to the props and the costumes. It’s a lot of work, but I really love it.” 

Carmen’s tired eyes light up with interest. “that sounds really cool. It must be amazing to see your designs come to life on stage.”

“It is,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It can be really demanding sometimes, but seeing everything come together during a performance… It’s like the best feeling I know. To know that your hard work is helping give people an experience. I really like that feeling”  

He looks at you with a newfound glint in his eyes. You feel a warmth spreading through your chest from the way his eyes sparkle with genuine interest. “I think I know what you mean,” he responds, a sense of understanding passing between you. “It’s like when you create something with your hands and then see the final product, it’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.” 

“Exactly,” you nod in agreement, feeling a sense of understanding with Carmen in that moment that you haven’t felt in a long time. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, both lost in your own thoughts for a short moment before he breaks the quiet. 

“But, I’ll have to admit, I don’t really go to the theater that much,” he says, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Or like, at all.”

You chuckle softly, the conversation now flowing easily between you. “Well, don’t feel bad, most people don’t. And, I’ll also have to admit that I don’t really go to Michelin restaurants that often either… or at all.” This makes Carmy laugh – it’s soft and short lived, but genuine, and your heart sillily skips a beat by the gentle melody of it. 

“That’s fair, but I’m not working at Michelin places anymore,” he says, his voice losing a bit of its newfound bravado and his smile falters slightly, a shadow passing over his features. “My brother, Mikey…” Oh… Michael was his brother, you feel a pang of sadness wash over you as you piece together the connection. “He left me his restaurant, It’s an old shithole of a beef spot. I’m trying to get it back on its feet, but it’s been a struggle, you know?”  

You can see the weight of his words behind his tired eyes, the burden of responsibility and loss bearing down on him. 

“I was in New York… I was the Chef de Cuisine at the Eleven Madison Park, and now I’m back here, trying to revive this place that I can’t even believe is still standing,” Carmen’s voice fades a bit at the end of his sentence, a sense of resignation and disbelief evident in his words. “It’s fucking bullshit.” You can hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and you feel a surge of empathy for him. “But it also means fucking everything to me,” he adds, his eyes unfocused and tired as he gazes off into the distance before blinking and lightly shaking his head, his pale cheek redding a little.

He looks embarrassed at his little outburst, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his curls in frustration. “Sorry,” he murmurs, the word hanging in the air as he looks down at his coffee mug. You can see the conflicted emotions swirling in his eyes, the weight of his past and present struggles evident in his posture. 

“No need to apologize,” you reassure him, and another stretch of silence settles between you, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You don’t really know what else to say, so you don’t say anything, letting the quiet moment linger as you both sip your drinks, the only sound filling the room being the steady hum of the refrigerator. 

The atmosphere  hangs heavy with the weight of Carmen’s words, and you can sense how he is starting to shut down. So, instead of pushing for more conversation, you decide to take another approach. 

“Hey, uhm, can I bum one?” you ask, nodding towards the pack of cigarettes you had watched him put in his pants pocket when you had entered your apartment. You have your own, and you try not to smoke at night, but you make an exception, you crave the comfort of a cigarette and Carmen looks like he does too, and being able to offer you a cigarette might make him feel like he has something to offer and ease the tension.

Carmen’s tired eyes flicker for a second, like he is being pulled out of deep thoughts before looking back at you again.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket and handing you the entire pack. “I would have gone down on the street…” he begins to explain before trailing off. 

You shake your head, cutting him off with a smile. “No need, If you’re fine with the fire escape we can go out there,” you offer in a gentle tone.

Carmen’s tired expression softens at your offer, and he nods in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

The two of you make your way to the window, cracking it open to let in some fresh air before climbing out onto the fire escape. The metal stairs creaking slightly with each step as the cool night air greets you as you both settle against the railing, the distant sound of the city humming below you. 

You pull out a cigarette and pop it between your lips before handing back the packet to Carmy. He takes one, lighting it with a flick of his lighter, the orange flame illuminating his tired face. He has a scar, you notice, on his right cheek, which you hadn’t noticed before. It looks like an old wound, faded and barely noticeable in the dim light of the night. You can’t help but wonder how he got it, but you are pulled out of your thoughts as he flickers on the lighter again, this time holding it out for you to light your cigarette. 

You lean in, the flame dancing before your eyes, casting a warm glow on your face. As you inhale, pulling life into the cigarette, the smoke swirls around you in the night air, the ember glowing brightly in the darkness. “Thanks,” you mumble, as you exhale, letting the smoke escape through your nose as you lean back again.  

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, the only sounds being the never-quiet ambience of Chicago  from the streets below. The night air is cool against your skin, but also somewhat refreshing, and the warmth of the cigarettes and the close proximity of Carmen keeps you feeling cozy and content.

The weight of the conversation from earlier still lingers, but as you gaze out at the city skyline, a sense of peace washes over you. You smoke the entire cigarette in silence before Carmen breaks the quiet. “Did you know Mikey?”

You take a moment to collect your thoughts before responding, the few memories you have of Michael flooding back to you. 

“I don’t know if I knew him. We weren’t close, but we were neighbors for a few months. He was always friendly whenever we crossed paths in the hallway,” you say, watching Carmen closely for any sign of emotion. “I had my couch delivered about a week after I moved in, and despite having ordered it to be brought up to my apartment, the delivery guys just left it down on the street. Michael came down. I think he was on his way to work, and this guy came to pick him up and after asking me what happened, they just picked it up and started carrying it up for me. I tried to stop them, I was so scared, they’d throw their backs out,” you chuckle softly at the memory. “He didn’t have to do that, but he did anyway. I tried to thank them afterwards, venmo them or something, but they just waved it off.” 

Carmen listens quietly, his eyes focused on some distant point in the night sky, a flicker of emotion passing through his expression before he clears his throat softly. “Sounds like him,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with memories as he lights another  smoke, silently handing the pack over to you.

You take one, grateful for the distraction as you light it and take a long drag, the smoke swirling around you as you exhale. The quiet moment lingers between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You can feel Carmen’s grief and exhaustion radiating off of him, the burden of loss and responsibility heavy on his shoulders. 

The silence stretches, and you start to worry that your story about the couch wasn’t the right thing to say, that maybe you had overstepped by bringing up memories of his brother. You rack your brain for something else to say, anything to lighten the mood or make him feel better, but you come up empty. Instead, you simply sit in silence, the only sounds being the gentle buzz of the city below and the occasional drag of your cigarettes. 

You can sense that Carmen is grappling with his own thoughts, his tired eyes gazing out at the twinkling lights below, lost in his own world. After a while, he breaks the silence, dumping his cigarette butt in the rusty tin can you have standing out here for the purpose. 

“I should probably get out of your hair and let you get some rest,” Carmen says, his voice resigned but appreciative. 

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. A part of you wants to tell him to stay, but you also understand that he probably needs some time to himself. “Yeah, of course,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and he gets up. 

The polite, well mannered side of you tells you to get up and follow him to the door, but your intuition tells you to stay. It seems like he needs some space to process his thoughts and feelings, and you don’t want to intrude on that. So, instead, you simply smile at him and nod towards the window. “Thanks for the company, Carmy. And hey, if you ever burn down your kitchen again, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, okay?” you tease, you want to say something deeper, but you hold back, not wanting to push too much.

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, his tired eyes lighting up with a hint of amusement. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the coffee and the chat,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips as he gives you a small wave before disappearing back into the apartment. A few seconds later you hear the click of the front door closing after him, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. 

You sit there for a while longer, the cigarette between your fingers slowly burning out. The weight of the night settles around you, the city’s hum a distant lullaby. You take one last drag of your cigarette, scrunching your nose at the light burn of your lips as you realize it had burned down to the filter.  

With a sigh you dispose of the butt in the tin can, letting it join the others, before standing, leaning against the railing and gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. The night air is crisp against your skin, the silence of the night wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You stand there for a little while longer, lost in your thoughts as your tired eyes capture the beauty of the cityscape below you. The events of the evening swirl around in your mind, the unexpected encounter with Carmy. You don’t know if you overstepped any boundaries, if you said the right things, or if you offered enough support. But you hope you did the right thing. 

With a final sigh, you step back inside, closing the window behind you and letting the night air dissipate. The apartment, that has felt empty since you moved in, feels even emptier now, and that is when you realize that Carmen had been the first person who you have invited into your home since you moved to Chicago. You can’t help but ponder over that as you head back to the kitchen to clean up and finish your tea. Maybe you should invite some of your coworkers over sometime, or actually start on trying to make some friends here. 

You go over to the coffee maker to pour out the leftover coffee in the pot, but you are surprised when you see that it has already been done, and the mug Carmen had used is hanging from the drying rack, along with the other dishes that had been sitting in the sink waiting for you to finally rack up the energy to wash, now cleaned. 

Maybe it’s just because you really, really hate washing dishes or maybe it’s the realization that you have been more lonely than you realized, but the sight makes a weird feeling settle in your chest, and it is too much for you to start processing right now, so you simply set down your mug on the counter and turn on your heel, leaving the kitchen and head to bed. Had you stayed in the dark kitchen for just a short while longer, you might have noticed the forgotten phone next to the sink. 

You make your way to your bedroom, peeling off your hoodie and sweatpants before sinking into the comfort of your bed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you, that you’re not ready to decipher. All you really want to do right now is to let all thoughts and feelings fade away into the peaceful void of sleep. You don’t have work tomorrow, thank god, so you allow yourself to drift off without setting an alarm, letting the warm duvet envelop you as the beating of your heart slowly lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

· · · · ·

Carmen is flipping through the pages of the folder, he’s barely registering the ideas and suggestions she had put together  for the restaurant.. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, really doesn’t want to, but all this is a lot  and he can’t really deal with a lot right now.

He can feel the beginning of the well-known pounding in his temples, another day, another headache. He wants to be able to fix this place, and he is happy that Sydney wants to help with that, but all he can focus on right now is to get through the day. There is three hours to opening, one of the fucking ballbreaker machines are broken, and he can’t find his fucking phone, he thinks he might have forgotten it at home, he was a bit of a zombie when he left this morning. Last night was something… he’ll probably need 3-5 business days to process, or even better repress it completely from his memory, despite it being difficult. 

“On page 27, randomly, there’s actually some pretty good layouts of just that,” Sydney says, clearly trying to sound casual, but her voice betrays  a hint of eagerness.   

“Page 27?” he asks, feeling overwhelmed by everything in front of him.  

“Yeah, it’s mostly graphics,” Syd replies.  

He knows Sydney’s right, she is smart and capable, and he is not doubting that she has a bunch of good ideas. She is probably way more qualified to run a business than he is, or ever will be, but he can’t see how any of this is realistic. She is right, they are sleeping on to-go’s, but there is no way they’ll be able to manage that right now. 

And, yeah, there is no doubt that they need to make some serious changes, but all Carmen can focus on right now is to keep his head above water. He has issues keeping vendors current, and even scraping enough together to actually pay the staff. 

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus voice calls out, interrupting them. Carmen hands the folder back to Sydney before stepping out of the little office to see what’s now going on. 

Following Marcus’s voice, Carmy swings the doors open to the front of the house where he finds the baker leaning against the front of the counter, and Richie standing behind it with a woman, probably around his mothers age, who Carmy’s never seen before.   

“Yo, what’s going on?” Carmy asks, trying to push aside the headache that is threatening to take over while trying to understand what’s going on with Sydney hot on his heels. 

“No. I can handle this myself, cousin. I got this,” Richie tells him, holding his hand up as Carmen steps into the room. “So… You’re not Ron…” Richie says, now addressing the woman. 

“Ron’s gone. Gone, gone,” she answers, which isn’t helping Carmen understand the situation in the slightest. 

“Ron’s dead?!” Marcus exclaims, leaning a little further over the counter. 

“Who is Ron?” Carmy asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.

The woman turns towards Carmen. “My partner Ron Pager. He passed away. I’m running his routes now.” 

“Everybody’s dying,” Richie says, annoyed, making a half turn in frustration. 

“Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health,” the woman introduces herself, offering an explanation to Carmen. “I’m here to inspect the property.” 

Of, course… An inspection, why the fuck not?! Just what this day needed… 

“Okay, Nancy, hi. I’m Carmen Berzatto,” he extends his hand, introducing himself. “I’m the owner.”

“He’s the owner’s brother actually. He’s also dead,” Richie says, causing a raised eyebrow from the older woman. 

“He doesn’t look dead.”

“No, no I’m not dead. My brother is dead.” Carmen clarifies, even though he feels a bit dead right now. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” the woman says with a sympathetic nod. 

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Richie says to the health inspector, not missing a beat as he continues. “Can I see some kind of identification?”

“Yeah,” the woman replies, holding out her very legit looking badge per Richie’s request. 

“Interesting,” the taller man says, his arms folded over his chest. 

“Is it? What’s interesting about that?” Carmen says, he can’t fucking deal with Richie’s antics right now, he just wants this inspection to be over as soon as possible. Carmy’s been trying to make everyone step up their game in the two weeks he’s been here. He, himself stayed until late last night to deep clean. There shouldn’t be any problems, and if Richie will just behave, everything should be going smoothly… Hopefully.         

“It’s an interesting logo on her badge,” Richie says defensively. 

Carmy decides to ignore him, turning his attention to the inspector. “Nancy, if you need anything, just find us. Make yourself at home. Okay?” He turns around to go back to the kitchen, he has a lot to do and he doesn’t have time to deal with Richie’s shenanigans right now. “Where’s Tina and Ebra!” he calls out as he makes it back to the kitchen with Sydney following him back again, seemingly not done with telling about her ideas to improve the restaurant.      

Carmen had hoped that the interruption would make her forget about it for a while, his head can’t hold any more right now, but he is also mildly curious to hear ideas, and he also doesn’t want to seem like an asshole, it is really nice of her to want to help, so he lets her follow him around as he makes it through the restaurant. 

“I also noted on the prog that it’s not necessarily flour that is expensive, but shipping, so we could just have somebody go and pick it up.” Sydney says as they make it back into his office. 

 “Yeah, Marcus,” Carmen agrees. He can definitely see the logic in that. It’s a good, and actually feasible, idea.

“Okay, sure. Marcus. Great,” she says a little confused. 

“No, it can only be Marcus,” Carmy explains. 

Sydney makes a face of befuddlement. “Why can it only be Marcus?”

“Sweeps, Tina and Ebra don’t drive,” he clarifies. .

“Uh, well, what about Richie?” she asks questioningly.   

“Suspended license.” 

“I saw him drive in this morning,” she points out. 

Carmy just shrugs, he is not sending a man with a suspended license out driving doing work hours, if Richie wants to risk it on his own time then that’s his business. 

Sydney shakes her head lightly, getting back on track. “The point is, it’s one of hundreds of things we can be doing to save costs!” 

“Sydney. Sydney. Sydney,” Carmy interrupts her. “Look, I’m sure this is all correct, but it’s a lot. The job you’re describing goes way outside what I can afford to pay a sous, which I can barely afford already. But I hear you. Okay? I have every intention of turning this into an efficient, respectable place of business run by adults…”

He can see that she is about to say something, but before she can get to it she gets interrupted by an outburst from the front of the house. “That’s a fucking ass of shit!” Richie’s voice bellows.   

“Eventually…” Carmy sighs, stepping out of the office once again to see what’s happening.  “Yo, yo, what’s going on?!” He yells as he pushes through the door to the front again, seeing that most of the staff are already there. A pressing feeling of uneasiness, starting to form in his chest as he steps around the counter to get to where Richie and Ms. Chore is standing, who he had almost forgotten was here. 

“Look… It wasn’t dangerous, Ms. Chore…” Richie says defensively, immediately making alarm bells go off in Carmy’s head.  

“What’s dangerous?!” Carmy demands to know.  

“I discovered a large hole in the tile. Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and proxied over it with some kind of plastic. Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became unproxied.” Ms. Chore explains, sounding less than pleased. 

“So what does that mean?” Carmy can feel how fury is starting to slowly simmer in his stomach, threatening to soon be brought to a boil.

“A potential cross contaminate. Additionally, no hot water in the hand station.” The older woman explains. 

The last part makes both Richie and Syd erupt in protest, their voices overlapping and echoing through the room as they try to explain that the hot water does work, the water just has to run for a little while, which Ms. Chore doesn’t seem to be satisfied with. “Health code states any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water to prevent the spread of bacteria.”  

Carmen can feel how his headache is now blooming into a full-blown migraine as the chaos unfolds around him. The sound of the voices mixing with the sound of the broken arcade game is starting to feel like an alarm going off in his head. It is like the piercing sound is stabbing through his temples and into his brain. He rubs his forehead, while grabbing the counter with his other hand, trying to ground himself as he tries to push back the throbbing pain. A health code vialation is literally the last fucking thing they need right now.  

“I haven’t even delivered the big one yet.” The health inspector continues and Carmen feels how his stomach drops at her words.   

“There’s a big one?” Fak says from his seat at the counter.   

“And what is the big one?” Carmen asks, breathing through his nose. richie

The woman pulls out a packet of smokes, ‘King Size Sapphire’, Carmen’s eyes immediately looks over at Richie. “Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stovetop near the burners. Not only very dangerous, but also a potential contaminant.”  

“Motherfucker…” Carmy let’s out. The migraine is now pounding behind his eyes. 

“You can say that again,” Ms. Chore 

“Motherfucker!” Richie echoes, making Carmy’s blood fucking boil .

“Don’t actually say that again, you fucking idiot!” He yells at the taller man, feeling like he could strangle him in this moment.   

“Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a C.” Miss Chore holds the cardstock with a giant orange C out to hand over to Carmy, but he doesn’t take it. He can feel the anger and frustration boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The orange letter on the paper mocking him.    

A choir of protests fills the room as the staff tries to defend themselves, but Carmy can hardly hear them over the pounding in his head. 

“You know what, I’m going to caulk that shit right now, okay?” Richie states, trying to plead with Ms. Chore.  

“Oh, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it. I can’t come back to test for 30 days,” Ms Chore says, not missing a beat. 

“It’ll take five minutes, okay?! It’ll take five minutes to caulk.” Richie tries to bargain. “I can caulk! Let me fucking CAULK!” 

“There’s no caulk in the house, dude,” Fak chimes, making Richie yell at him to shut up and Ms. Chore hands over the review paper to Carmy before leaving. 

Carmy thinks he might actually strangle Richie, his head now not only throbbing with pain but with red hot fury as well. 

“You’re bitching me? You wanna run this place?!” Carmen seethes, his voice dripping with anger as he pushes Richie in the chest, his frustration finally boiling over.   

“How do you know they’re not your cigarettes?!” Richie pushes back, making Carmy stumble back a step. 

“Cause I’m not a fucking dipshit!” Carmy yells, seething with a mix of anger and frustration as he is about to push Richie again, but Sydney steps in between before he gets the chance, trying to keep the two men from each other as they yell at each other. Cursing and yelling fill the room as tensions escalate, the staff trying to intervene and the review paper falls to the floor in the commotion. 

“Let’s not do this,” Sydney says, her voice breaking through to Carmy, making him regain his senses. 

“All right. All right,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, trying to calm himself down before turning to Richie. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You are gonna go to the hardware store, you’re gonna get some joint compound. You’re gonna get some caulk and you’re gonna caulk that shit,” he says, his tone firm like he’s giving instructions to a child, despite him saying it with much more anger than he would ever use toward a kid.    

“Okay, well, FYI…” Richie cuts in, as if he’s about to argue, making Carmy wanna punch him. “I’m not your fucking gofer.”

“FYI?! FYI!” Carmen can’t believe he is having this discussion with a grown man. “FYI, you cocked it up, you’re gonna caulk it out!”

“Okay, well, I would love to, but my license is expired, FYI!” Richie retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I saw you drive in this morning,” Sydney points out, making Carmen turn towards her.

“Sydney, you wanna help, you can take him.”

This makes Richie protest. “No. Time out. I’ll Uber. Thank you.”  

“Surge rates, fucko!” Carmy reminds him, his voice dripping with annoyance. 

“Fine,” Richie says in defeat before looking at Sydney. “But we’re taking my car.”

“I don’t care…” she says, shaking her head. 

Carmen is just glad that they’re leaving. Glad Richie’s leaving because he is fucking angry at him, and glad that Sydney is leaving, because it is clear to everyone that she is far too good for this place, and it makes him feel bad and kind of embarrassed that she has to put up with all the bullshit that happens here.

He just needs a break from annoying pseudo-cousins and over-ambitious sous chefs for a little while. Although Sydney is not officially his sous yet, but he is going to hire her – he’d be an idiot not to, she is probably the best this shitty place will ever see, if she still wants to work here after today, that is…

Carmy picks up the fallen review paper from the floor with slightly trembling hands as the giant orange C is staring back at him. The image burns into his mind, a symbol of failure and inadequacy. He knows that this place is shit and that he needs to make changes, but this is a whole new low.  His head feels like it is about to explode, the pounding in his temples now so unbearable he almost feels nauseous, the ballbreaker jingle of the broken machine, like nails on a chalkboard, echoing in his tired head.  

“Fix that fucking sound. Please fix that fucking sound!” He spits at Fak, half commanding, half pleading.  

“I will fix it. Fak always fixes it. Kids come in, break it, and what happens? I fix the balls. Fak fixes the balls.”

“FIX IT!” Carmy just yells. He wonders if it’s actually happened, after all these years in nightmarishly stressful kitchens, two weeks at The Beef  is what’s finally driven him completely insane as he goes back through the doors to the kitchen.   

Taking a breath and clenching his fists he tries to gather his thoughts. If he changes the plans so that Tina takes over Sydney’s stations while she is gone and he makes family, they shouldn’t get too behind while Sydney and Richie are gone.    

“Yo, Tina! I need you to help me out, chef,” he calls out to Tina, trying to regain a sense of control amidst the chaos. “I need you to take over Sydney’s stations while she’s gone. We need to keep things running smoothly, I’ll make family and help out with prep,” Carmen instructs, his voice firm but tinged with the underlying stress and frustration he’s feeling. 

“Got it, Jeff,” the shorter woman says, retying the strings of her ‘Mrs. Always Right’ apron.   

“Thank you, chef,” Carmy says, really meaning it. He knows she’s having a hard time with all the new changes he has made around the kitchen, and with Sydney coming in and things changing up, but she has been here for a long time and there is a reason for that.  

As they start working and tackling the tasks at hand, Carmen feels how his anger slowly disappears, something else inside him taking over. 

He has no idea how to manage, let alone fix, a failing business, but he knows how to cook. He knows what he’s doing when he’s in the kitchen and he knows that he can rely on his skills and can get into that magical state where he can shut his brain of for a little while, and just fully concentrates on the task at hand – which in this point of his life probably is the closest he comes to relaxing.  

· · · · ·     

You are pulled out of your slumber by the ringing of your phone, the shrill sound cutting through the peaceful silence of your bedroom. Groggily, you reach out to the nightstand where your phone is resting, fumbling for it in the darkness before finally grabbing hold of it. But  as you squint at the screen to see the caller ID, you see that there is none, it isn’t even your phone that is ringing. 

Confusion clouds your mind as you slide out of bed, and it is now clear to you that the sound isn’t coming from your bedroom. You stumble out of the room, trying to locate the source of the ringing, but it stops before you get a chance to pinpoint it. 

“What the…” you mumble before the ringing starts once again, realizing that the sound is coming from the kitchen. You feel a sense of unease wash over you as you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of the shrill ringing growing louder with each step. You enter the room and coming into view is the telephone on your kitchen counter. Confusion wells up inside you for a split second, your groggy mind still in a half fogged state of sleep, before the events of  last night come back to you. Carmen must have forgotten his phone last night. 

You look over at the oven, the digital clock, shocked by how late it is, you can’t remember the last time you woke up this late.  

You step over to the sink, looking down at the phone, the caller ID lighting up on the screen saying ‘Sugar’. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should answer or not. It feels pretty invasive to pick up another person’s phone, someone you don’t really know,  and you have no idea who this Sugar is, maybe a girlfriend? In that case you don’t want to intrude on their personal business, and you’re definitely not in the mood to be interrogated by some angry girlfriend.   

But it could be important, or maybe it is Carmen calling his own phone to figure out where it’s at. You contemplate what to do, but before you can make a decision the phone stops again, the ringing coming to an abrupt halt. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but after a few seconds the phone lights up again. With a fast beating heart you swipe across the screen before picking it up to your ear, bracing yourself for whatever may come. 

“God damn it, Carm!” A female voice crackles through the speaker, frustration and annoyance evident in her tone. “Listen I know-” 

“Hello,” you croak out, interrupting the woman, not wanting to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The voice on the other end goes silent for a moment, and you can almost hear the confusion through the phone. 

“Uh, hi…” the voice says, the frustration in her tone melting away, being replaced with puzzlement. “Is Carmen there?”

You clear your throat, a little embarrassed by the mix-up. “Uh, no, he isn’t.” You cringe internally at the awkwardness of the situation. “He, uh, left his phone here last night.” And you only cringe even more. “I’m his neighbor, we had some coffee last night.” You quickly add, mentally cursing yourself for sounding so awkward, but you push through. 

“Oh..” the woman responds, her voice softening. “I’m Natalie, I’m Carmen’s sister.”

Relief floods through you, feeling a way more at ease now that you know who you’re talking to as you tell her your own name. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Natalie says, genuine remorse in her voice. “I’ve been trying to talk to him for a few days now, and I was starting to worry, but I think he’s just ignoring me.”

You feel a sense of understanding wash over you, having seen the exhaustion and turmoil in Carmen’s eyes the night before, and knowing about what had happened with Michael you can’t help but feel for her. “It’s okay,” you reassure her. “But, yeah, I saw him last night, we had coffee and he must have left his phone here by accident.” You offer, hoping to ease some of Natalie’s worry

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” she replies, relief evident in her tone. “He can be a bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. I know he’s been dealing with a lot lately, so I appreciate you looking out for him.” 

You nod, feeling a sense of connection with Natalie, despite never having met her. “Of course, happy to help out.” 

You contemplate whether to offer any more information about your interaction with Carmy, but you ultimately decide to keep it to yourself. It’s really none of your business, but you can’t shake off the urge to help somehow. 

“Hey, uhm, if you give me the address I can swing by the restaurant and drop off his phone. I know I would be fucked without mine.” It’s not like you have any plans and you would probably not leave your apartment today if you don’t have a reason to. “I can tell Carmen to give you a call when he gets the chance,” you continue, hoping to be of some use and to ease Natalie’s worries.

“You’d do that?” 

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. Just let me know where to go and I’ll drop it off,” you offer, genuine in your willingness to help out. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Natalie says, her voice softens even further, with a sense of genuine gratitude. She gives you the address to the restaurant, and you jot it down on a post-it note. The call ends with a warm goodbye from both of you. 

Forty minutes later, after a quick shower and getting dressed and ready, you’re on your way to the train station, the music in your headphones filling your ears as you step out onto the platform. Luckily you don’t have to wait long before the gray train pulls up, you board and find a spot to stand, not feeling the need to sit. The gentle rock of the train lulling you into a sense of calm, as you let your brain disconnect and enter the weird, cathartic state of introspection that you often seem to get in on public transportation while you watch Chicago pass by in a blur of buildings and colors.  

As the train comes to a stop at the station near the restaurant, you step out onto the platform and make your way towards the address Natalie had given you, it’s just a simple eight minute walk and you’re are there a lot quicker than you would have preferred, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you try to push through it, reminding yourself that you are just dropping off a phone and there’s no need to overthink things.

The restaurant is easy to spot, a worn sign hanging above the entrance with the name ‘The Original Beef of Chicagoland.’ You take a deep breath before pushing open the door and step inside.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡

@wittyno @eternallyvenus @eddioto

[riotlain]

Could I request the Batfam (Batman and the Batboys) separately reacting to you falling asleep on them?

wompwompwomp

guess whos sick. meee

im sorry if this is short (duke thomas is here hooray🎉🎉)

THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI

Bruce Wayne

Depends on what hes doing

If hes working at home and youre leaning against him/on his lap? He'll probably carry you to bed.

Cant have your spine being fucked up💀💀

If you 2 are on your way home from a gala, meeting, ect and fall asleep on him in the limo he'll ask Alfred to drive slower and make sure the ride is smooth

(As smooth as it gets. Gotham roads arent the best)

He overall finds you falling asleep on him endearing (and a bit concerning. Are you not getting enough sleep??)

Dick Grayson

Im surprised you managed to fall asleep on him😭💀 like mans cannot sit still

Unless youre asleep on him ofc

Def the type to stroke your hair and take pictures of you (with filters at times)

"When did you take these??" "When you were asleep😊"

Has drawn on your face

He dont mean to be creepy bro😭😭

Will attempt to carry you to bed 💪💪

Or put his head on yours (maybe fall asleep if he can)

Goodluck napping by a napping Dick. He snores

Jason Todd

Not used to ppl falling asleep on him and he's all alert when he feels your head on his shoulder

Calms down when he sees you though

He probably takes you to bed the soonest bc that position cannot be comfy 💀

Denies he carried you if he did

"I didnt fall asleep here." "You.. sleepwalked."

If youre one of those people who stop breathing in your sleep he will freak the fuck out💀💀

Tim Drake

You probably try to stay up with him and fall asleep on him after a while

Normal occurrence

He usually keeps you there for a bit and then wakes you up to go sleep on the bed

(Sometimes he goes to bed with you but like💀💀)

If hes too lazy he'll probably just keep working with you drooling on his shoulder

Has taken atleast 1 picture of yall

Damian Wayne

Not used to people being so comfortable around him to be honest. Well people other than Dick I guess

Like when he feels your head lean against his shoulder he'll slowly turn over (bro frozen ngl)

Yea he doesn't know what to do tbh

Very flustered

He thinks you trusting him and being comfortable enough to fall asleep on him is nice tho

Gets lowkey (highkeyish) upset when someone wakes you up (Especially if its TIM)

Duke Thomas

Sees this as an opportunity to cuddle with you more

Like mf will lay his head ontop of your or reposition so yall comfy

Doesnt care if you drool (he prolly does too)

Has probably pranked you atleast oncee but anyways

[lustspren]

Darkbloom ft Arin.

length: 7k words✦

Arin & Male Reader

genres: succubus¡ (or maybe something else) dom¡ Arin, femdom, cum denial, hard sex, bdsm, diabolical breeding (?, blowjob, overstimulation, thriller, horror attempt (?

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Skepticism is a double-edged sword. You learned that in a way that you wouldn't wish even on your worst enemy.

You were always told to take care of your stress, keep it at a healthy level so that it didn't affect other aspects of your life and your physique, but life events weren't exactly working in your favor. Quite the opposite.

Abusive boss at work, parents who do nothing but trample all your achievements and point you out for what you could be but aren't yet, a completely brainless roommate, a landlord who made your life miserable with the rent, and if all that wasn't enough, you were a complete failure in love. Things seemed impossible to get worse, but you were very wrong.

All the accumulated stress began to take its toll on you one by one. The mildest thing was the constant headaches and chest pains, but as the days went by your face began to stain, it wasn't acne, but you had more pimples and blackheads than normal. You didn't worry too much about it, you just bought a few skin care products and the problem went away.

Until anxiety arrived. And for that there were no products you could buy.

It wasn't something pleasant at all, especially considering that they were random episodes when you least expected it. Knots in the pit of your stomach, panic attacks in high-stress situations, a constant layer of nerves wherever you go, lack of appetite, etc. You lived with it every day, but that didn't stop you from staying strong and continuing to fight life with your head held high.

But since there were never enough misfortunes, something happened to you that, in your 22 years of life, had never happened to you. Sleep disorders. They weren't a big deal at first, from 3 nights you could suffer from insomnia in 2, and it wasn't even anything severe, it just delayed your usual bedtime a little, however, everything went downhill very quickly. The insomnia had almost completely disappeared, but now every time you woke up you felt as if an African elephant had walked over you several times. You slept, but you didn't rest. And that led to the damn narcolepsy.

Just like anxiety, it came at the most unexpected times and in the most inopportune situations. You got more than one scolding at work because of that, and your boss, as asshole as always, didn't even bother to try to understand you or find a solution to your problem no matter how much you explained it to him. Of course you never told him that he was part of the problem.

Everything accumulated, and as if living with anxiety problems, headaches, narcolepsy, and poor sleep wasn't enough, strange things began to happen.

One night you went to bed early, it had been an extremely exhausting day and you had a migraine that was going to kill you at any moment. You thought that valerian tea would help you sleep peacefully that night, and surprisingly you were right, but when you woke up in the morning you felt an intense burning on the right side of your body that went from your ribs to the mid of your thigh. You thought it was due to a bad sleeping position, surely the fabric of your pajamas had been making some kind of harmful friction, but when you undressed to take a shower you froze when you realized that what was burning on you was a large mark of red-hot scratch with a little blood seeping from several of the wounds that, you didn't have to be very smart to know were from a hand. You would associate it with something caused by sleepwalking issues, and taking into account your recent history it wouldn’t have surprised you, but those were nail marks. And your nails were neither long, nor sharp.

You were never a believer in paranormal things, you looked for a logical explanation for everything or left it as a mystery, no matter how incredible it was. But with the incident that night, no matter how much you turned it over in your head and discussed it with one of your close friends, you couldn't come to any coherent conclusion. Something had given you that scratch. Something big.

However, being the skeptic that you were, you didn't let that affect your bedtime —which was already screwed up enough. You continued to sleep every night with the same false optimism, thinking that it was only a matter of time before the insomnia and all your sleep problems would disappear. Much to your misfortune, this time you were wrong. And not only that, the worst was yet to come.

One day you couldn't stop tossing and turning in bed, looking for a comfortable position to sleep for about an hour. Finally you were just on your back, with one leg drawn up towards your body, your left arm on your chest and the other on your  head. You did your best to relax with breathing exercises, and after a few minutes you fell asleep.

Hours later you woke up with a start, agitated and in a cold sweat. Your chest inflated and deflated as if moments ago something had been cutting off your breath to an almost fatal point. You didn't remember anything at all, you hadn't even had a nightmare as such, everything just went from deep black to sitting in your bed, at 3 in the morning, with the strange feeling that you were being watched. Everything seemed in order, but the aura in the bedroom was heavy, as if you were at a high latitude where oxygen became more difficult to breathe. You looked to the left, towards the door whose lower frame let in the light from your hallway, and then to the right, staring out through the translucent curtains that covered the exit to your balcony. The deep silence was overwhelming even though you were used to it, but the wind began to howl, shaking the branches and leaves of the tree that was right in front of your residential building. It was normal at that time, but it started to blow harder, to the point where you thought the tree was going to fall. Your anxiety attacked the pit of your stomach, and as panic began to take over your body, you heard a feminine laugh in the distance that gave you goosebumps.

Despite being several meters away from your window you could hear it clearly. It was creepy, high pitched and uncontrolled, like those you heard coming from witches in the movies, but she didn't sound like an old, dilapidated and crazy woman, she sounded like a whole and upright young woman. It could have been your suggestion at the time, but you felt as if the echo of laughter was resonating within your walls. You soon realized that wasn't the case, but rather the laughter was getting closer and closer. Until he was inside your room.

The noise came from all directions, from the floor, from the ceiling, from the corners and from the walls. It felt like a powerful sound system installed inside the concrete, playing the unbearable sound over and over again. You desperately covered your ears with your pillow, but the noise was so loud it was useless. You had an uncontrolled urge to cry, but just when a tear was about to run down your cheek everything stopped. Sudden silence, once again.

Distrustful, you slowly removed the pillow from your ears, looking at every corner of your room in case the macabre woman appeared, but nothing happened. Everything was still in deep silence, even the wind had stopped blowing, and when you decided to lie down with your heart still in your throat, something started trying to open your door.

With a scream you turned and stared at the door, the knob was moving violently, and the entire door seemed about to fall out of the frame because of how hard it shook. You looked through the frame below, expecting to see the shadow of whoever was trying to break in, but there was nothing. Whatever it was, it was doing it from inside. You were immersed in a deep dread that led you to hide under your covers like a little child, just waiting for everything to stop. A few seconds passed in which you simply stayed in the fetal position, did breathing exercises to counteract the panic, and clung to your pillow as if it were going to protect you. That thing would come in any second, you were already resigned, but everything stopped. Sepulchral silence.

You didn't want to get out from under the covers, the fear that something was still out there not letting you move. The notion of time became blurry for you, it could have been 10 minutes or an hour until you gathered the courage to peek over the top edge of your blanket. There was nothing in your room, everything was still perfectly in order.

Your phone served as a distraction for a few minutes. You scrolled through every social network non-stop, looking for stimuli that would make you relax and forget about what just happened. However, the funny posts did not make you laugh, the tender things did not move you, and the news did not produce the slightest emotion in you. And even though you were still terrified, your body demanded you sleep again, so you put the phone aside and turned to your natural side, turning your back to the door.

But looking there made your blood run cold. The glass door that led to the balcony, which you locked every night without fail, opened.

You couldn't sleep the rest of the night.

From that day on you decided to finally try to make a change in your life. You had a small savings fund that was going to help you survive for at least a month, so you quit your job. Your parents reproached you for this, but you cut off communication with them in absolutely every way. Two stress sources less. Thanks to that you had several days of peaceful rest. You believed that everything would get better for you, however, you had the feeling that it was already too late.

Everything had disappeared, your anxiety, your stress problems, your insomnia and your narcolepsy, but now there was one last big problem that was the icing on the cake. Sleep paralysis.

Same as always, it started in an almost harmless way. The paralysis lasted less than a minute, nothing comparable to those that followed. It got worse and worse with each day, you heard whispers, voices, shadows where before there was nothing, dark silhouettes that looked at you from outside the balcony, and worst of all, you woke up with random scratches and bruises on parts of your body that you would never have hurt yourself.

That was not an impediment for you to continue living your life normally, it was going too well for the first time in a long time for something that happened only once during the night to ruin it, so you decided to focus on the good part that life offered you. Exercise and good nutrition became part of your daily routine, as well as normal interpersonal relationships. Many toxic friendships that did not bring you anything good were also put aside, and you felt like a fuller human being since then. Your life was going so well that sleep paralysis seemed like a rather small price to pay compared to what you got after overcoming it.

But you remember when I said the worst was yet to come, right? Yeah, yes you do.

The worst night of your life. At that moment you thought it would be the last.

That night you had your valerian tea as you always did, an hour before your bedtime. It had been a productive day for you, in the morning you went to the gym, you came home and then you went out to lunch with a girl you met at one of your training sessions, and when you got home you dedicated yourself to building a Lego set that you had saved  for a long time, but you left it halfway because you got distracted and got busy with other things.

When you put on your pajamas and got under the blanket you were more than ready to face whatever you were hallucinating when you woke up in the middle of the night. That had become a habit for you, and you already knew how to get out of it quickly. But this time you noticed strange things again, none of them were especially strange as such, but things that hadn't happened months ago and that were now all coming together. To begin with, the wind was blowing much stronger, just like that traumatic night, and a light drizzle disturbed the previously profound silence that characterized the street where you lived. It was not unpleasant for you, the sound of the drops falling in a certain way contributed to your tranquility and relaxation.

One of the dogs on your street was howling repeatedly, and no matter how much Mrs. Yvonne told him to shut up, he just wouldn't stop. The last time he had done that it was because someone who lived in that house had died, but earlier that day you had greeted Mrs. Yvonne's daughter on the way to the gym and everything seemed in order. The howl could be heard far away and was covered by the sound of the drizzle, so it didn't bother you either. Maybe the booming music just a few apartments away could have been a little annoying, but you could perfectly fall asleep that way. After a while looking at your social networks you were ready to close your eyes, and when you turned to your side you saw something that you wanted to never see again. The damn door was open again, just like that night.

Not wanting to give in to panic, you got out of bed as quickly as you could and closed the door again, but not before taking a look at the long street in front of your balcony. Everything looked as usual, only now the asphalt shone from the reflection of the lights in the puddles that the drizzle was beginning to form. You could see the dog howling at the window of the third floor apartment at the end of the street. You noticed that in his pauses between howling he was looking in your direction. A chill ran down your spine, but you wanted to think it was just a coincidence. You turned to go back to your bed, but first you looked at the Eiffel Tower behind the Paris buildings, hoping that perhaps its light would protect you from the night. How deluded.

As you settled back into your bed you thought about the door, this time trying to fool yourself that it would surely have a logical explanation this time. Maybe this time you did forget, or maybe the wind had shaken it in such a way that the lock came out of place. Whatever it was, you weren't about to ruin your night, so you just turned your back on the balcony, hugged your second pillow and closed your eyes.

You opened your eyes and you were in the most terrifying, atrocious and colossally brutal place you could imagine. The glare of the gurgling river of lava just meters from your feet blinded you and prevented you from seeing the entire scene. You took a few hasty steps backwards, tripping over a rock that made you fall on your butt to the ground, the dark, hot reddish sand staining your hands. When your eyes got used to that light you felt like your soul was leaving your body. Hundreds of people of all ages and ethnicities, chained one behind the other by rusty metal hooks stuck in their empty eye sockets, slowly walking along the river of lava that stretched from up the hill, winding through large rocks of all shapes, most of them with sharp peaks and whose foundations fell off to fall into the lava with big splashes.

The line of people moved forward at slow, tortuous steps, their decomposed and burned bodies somehow still standing. Their feet were scorched up to the fibula thanks to the lava, and their hands were cut off so that they couldn't remove the hooks from where there used to be eyes. But they still had a mouth with which to scream in deep agony and suffering, in a way so heartbreaking that it penetrated your bones and managed to convey to you what they felt. You wanted to look where they were going, but your stupor didn't let you take your eyes off what was watching those people.

Humanoid-looking figures, as tall as a four-story building, with spindly limbs and glossy skin as black as the night itself. They were not wearing any clothes, so their thin, almost bony physique was completely exposed. They also had no facial features, just slight depressions where their eyes should be and a line that ran from their chin to the middle of their neck. Their heads were completely bald, and the fingers of their hands were long and pointed, reminding you of the legs of a spider. They did not interfere in any way with those condemned to torture, they only limited themselves to watching while they prowled around in an apparently intelligent manner. Detailing them, you realized that they did not walk, they floated just centimeters off the ground. All looked exactly the same, some flew away into the air and disappeared in the smoke, others stayed to watch with interest what was happening there.

You looked away for a second, and as you looked further the river became thinner and thinner and the rocks much bigger, now looking more like small mountains. Behind them, a flaming lava fall that came from so high the smoke prevented you from seeing the origin. It was like a huge hellish cave with no roof, a cave in which you were trapped with those things.

You tried to run, but when you tried to turn around, something kept you pinned in place. You didn't feel anything touching you, it was as if your entire body was inside an intangible prison that made your paralyzed muscles vibrate and feel outside that plane. You would soon discover the horrible reason. One of those things was facing your direction. No, in fact it was looking at you. The thing had no eyes, but you knew it, you knew that you had attracted its attention. Not exactly for the better.

You were terrified, you wanted with all your might for that horrible nightmare to end. The humanoid thing, however, had other plans. If it had any plan. The vibrating feeling in your body disappeared, that was a good thing. But you no longer felt your body at all. The next thing you knew, you were levitating very slowly away from the ground, and that damn thing was coming towards you. It wasn't until it was in front of you and you were level with its non-existent face that you really realized the colossal magnitude of that thing. Its head was easily larger than your entire entire body.

You levitated in the air in front of the thing for a few seconds that felt like hours. You didn't know for sure if looking at the slits that it had instead of eyes was the right thing to do, but you couldn't do anything else, in fear even your eyes were paralyzed.

After a while of just floating you started moving again, this time forward. The line that ran down to its neck, which from that distance you noticed looked like a stitched scar with hundreds of small interlocking stitches, opened wide to either side. There was nothing inside, and that was the scary thing. It was pure black in there, not a hint of shadow, or light, or anything. Pure emptiness that you didn't know why, but you had the feeling that it wasn't emptiness itself. There was something in there, something that perhaps escaped your understanding as well as that of the human being.

You floated slowly in there, unable to scream or move a single muscle. Your limbs disappeared into nothingness, and the only thing your peripheral vision saw was pure black. The sound was completely suppressed, similar to when you went underwater. And when you noticed the scar closing behind you, you woke up with such a start that your chest hurt.

You tried to scream with all your might, but nothing came out of your mouth. You also tried to move without any success. Another damn sleep paralysis. You closed your eyes, already used to the sensation and knowing how to get out. However, no matter how much you closed your eyes, the paralysis did not go away. Resigned, you opened your eyes again, thinking that maybe it was a matter of time, but looking around your room you realized that something was not right.

A shadow in the upper corner of your room. It shouldn't be there, there was absolutely nothing to project it, much less when your entire room was dark and the only light in it came from outside. You stared in that direction, and then you heard that damn laugh again, only this time it was within your four walls. It came from the darkness. You were coming from a horrifying nightmare worthy of the most disturbing horror movies, the last thing you needed to hear that maniacal laugh again. The shadow seemed to pulsate with a life of its own with each laugh, and spread in all directions until it broke away from the corner. A speck of pure blackness floated slowly through your room, and after a few turns around each corner, it came down to you. You shouldn't have, but you felt weight on your body. Not the typical feeling that there was something on top of you like in all sleep paralysis. No, there was something on top of you.

The darkness had materialized into a physical object. More specifically a person, who was straddling you and who you could see. She was a woman, but not just any woman, possibly one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen in your entire life. She looked dark due to the lack of light, yet you could make out a faint shine in the dark brown hair that passed behind her ears and fell free down her back. You would have been somewhat turned on by the fact that she had two pretty small breasts exposed, if it weren't for the two enormous horns protruding from either side of her head, curving back and then forward in a hooked shape. Her horns weren't the only thing different about her, so was the strange artificial fabric that seemed to cover every part of her body except for her torso, neck, crotch, and apparently her buttocks. Detailing it, you realized that it looked exactly like the skin of those things in your nightmare, and that it was part of her body, not some kind of suit. A symbiotic relationship between woman and... something.

Dread invaded your body again.

"What's wrong, little boy?" the woman asked with a giggle that you knew more than well. She leaned forward, and you delved into her delicate, princely features. Completely contrasting with the two shiny black irises in her eyes, "Oh... right, you can't talk," her voice sounded like any girl's, even sweet.

She raised a hand and brought a long, sharp nail to your mouth. The nail didn't touch you, but it seemed to tear something in the air around your lips. You were finally able to scream in terror.

"What are you?!! What's going on?!!" you whimpered, trying to move even a single muscle in vain.

"You humans are too stupid to understand," she leaned in even closer, her breasts now pressed against your chest, her face inches from yours, "But I think you saw something very similar to me in that nightmare of yours," Her smile gave you chills. She didn't have teeth, she had blades.

"A-are you one of those things?!"

"See? You're too much of an idiot," she remarked, "I'm one of those things... but at the same time I'm not. If I were, you'd already be dead inside the void."

"The w-...what?"

"In your nightmare one of my kind swallowed you, right? Inside you cease to exist. Your body leaves the physical plane, and your soul is sent into nothingness. Nothing pleasant of course. But luckily for you..." she pressed her nail in the middle of your chest and moved down past your navel, tearing your t-shirt along the way, "I'm not here to do that."

"Please leave me alone... I haven't hurt anyone! I'm a good person!!" Despair grew more and more inside you, and with it, fear.

"I don't care if you're a good person or a bad person," she laughed again, "I just care about what's right here..." her hand moved down to your crotch to cup it against your cock.

"Don't touch me, god, please don't," you wanted to cry, but your eyes didn't even produce tears, "Don't hurt me!"

"Aw..." she straightened, "but I'm not going to hurt you! At least... not too much," her macabre smile spread from ear to ear, and her eyes looked at you before she transformed back into a shadow

The speck of darkness, smaller and more concentrated this time, fluttered throughout your entire body. You tried to follow her with your eyes, but the only thing you saw was how all your clothes were torn to pieces by what you knew were her nails. Once again you tried to scream, but nothing. When you were practically naked she materialized again on top of you, and your body began to burn everywhere. When you looked at yourself you noticed that your entire body was scratched and red hot, some wounds were even bleeding a bit.

"Stop trying to yell, you're annoying," she rolled her eyes, "and don't make me stop you from talking again."

"What are you going to do with me?! Why me?!"

"Because you used to be a little ball of negative emotions... you lured me here. And there's no turning back, not until you give me your darkbloom seed," you didn't have to be a genius to understand what she meant by that.

"But I'm not one of yours!!"

"I know. But I'm not looking to create one of my own..." her devilish smile terrified you again. On the other hand, you weren't completely in control of your body, and her thighs even covered in that fabric felt pleasant on either side of your hip, "You wouldn't understand. You're a stupid, primitive human."

"Y-You're not a demon, aren't you?"

"Demons don't exist, fool. Stop asking questions, you wouldn't want your little brain to explode with information it can't understand... wouldn't you?" She brought her hand closer to your cock, you feared thinking she would rip it off, but she just subtly grabbed it and started rubbing it. You hated that it felt good, but you hated more how you went rock hard in a matter of seconds.

She kept moving her hand on your cock, maybe a little too hard, but it felt like any other girl's hand—clearly none of those girls were half of a species unknown to you. At first she did it slowly, and you enjoyed it. In a normal circumstance you would have let out a small moan, but you couldn't produce any sound other than words.

"Just… don't kill me," you pleaded, looking into her eyes. The fear in you didn't go away, but you weren't going to let it control you. It's not like you could do anything anyway, you just didn't want to give in to panic and test the patience of a supernatural being.

"No one said anything about killing you. But I hope your body can withstand what I'll do to it."

The woman got off you and lay down on one side of you, with her head above yours, so that what was on your right were her pair of pretty tits. You didn't know why, but you wanted them in your mouth. She raised a thigh on top of yours, the artificial fabric covering her body feeling soft and warm against your skin. Her body pressed against the side of yours, her pussy—seemingly as normal as her tits—rubbing against your pubic bone.

"Suck my tits. You humans love that, don't you?" she ordered over your head. Her hand gradually moved faster on your hard cock.

"To human women... yes," you believed what you were saying, but those tits and she looked like a human, "I-I can't move anyway."

"I'd let you move and take control. But I don't think you want to suffer the side effects of touching me with your hands," she moved her hand faster, and suddenly you were able to gasp.

"And they are?"

"You could become addicted to me. Dependent on my body. And believe me, you wouldn't want that," was what she said before covering your view with her chest and putting one of her tits in your mouth.

You expected a different taste, maybe a pungent or rotten taste, but it tasted like skin, normal skin. You started moving your tongue and lips. Her chest felt soft, like a small cotton cloud inside your mouth. You still felt a little uncomfortable and strange with what was happening, but when the hand on your cock started to feel that good you had no choice but to give in to your carnal impulses. Now every time she switched from one mound to another inside your mouth you ate it as good as you could, sucking and licking both nipples as if your life depended on it—maybe it did.

"You seem really good at that," you never thought she would moan, but she did, "what else is that mouth good for other than asking questions you don't want to know the answers to?"

Without stopping moving her hand, she sat up and climbed on top of you again. This time she turned her back on you, which she also had uncovered. At that moment the moon came out of the clouds, and illuminated both her "normal" skin and her other skin. One looked beautiful and pale, the other looked smooth and shiny despite being a deep black. Just like those damn things in your nightmare. Her hair looked normal too, a deep brown and with a shine that looked like hair gel, but you couldn't be sure. Anyway, you stopped seeing both her back and her hair, as she leaned back until her unexpectedly beautiful ass was planted against your face.

Her pair of thighs pressed on either side of your head, as you felt them you realized that the closest thing to what that second skin felt like was the tightest latex. But it wasn't latex, there were no seams or edges anywhere, both skins fused together naturally. Of course that wasn't the important thing at the time. Your face was buried between her ass cheeks, and your mouth met a very dangerously delicious pussy.

You were going to put your mouth in motion, but you felt a tingling in your lower abdomen. She had not stopped moving her hand for a single second, she moved it in a frantic and tireless manner. You were about to explode, and just as you were going to release your load—or your darkbloom seed, as she called it—she stopped. Now you could scream and complain, but it was no use being smothered against tender, warm flesh. You couldn't squirm in protest either. It was a desperate feeling.

"Stop complaining and eat, you damn scum, eat!" it could have been a figment of your imagination, but you almost felt her voice distort a little as she said that.

You ate. You ate as well as you could, imagining that she was a normal woman—in a way she was. Passionate kisses, licking, sucking, everything necessary to make her moan more and more, and louder. You wondered if the neighbors would hear any of it through the walls. It was quite late, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning. If so, you were going to get a good scolding later.

In an unexpected act she collapsed forward, and with one hand grabbed your cock to put it in her mouth. You had to make a mental archive, but you were sure it was the best that had ever housed your cock ever. It was a feeling impossible to describe in words, but it made sense for you to attribute it to her simply not being human. She bobbed her head up and down expertly, as if it were the most exciting sport for her. You just ate, tasting the most delicious pussy you had ever felt against your lips.

Her mouth took every inch of your cock without any problem, making it clear that her gag reflex was non-existent. With each pump you felt her nose touch your balls and her chin touch your pubes. You moaned against her pussy, and she moaned even louder. Her thighs pressed on either side of your head tensed, and you felt that if she wanted to, she would have crushed it like a watermelon. She ground her ass against your face, rubbing her extremely wet pussy against your mouth and nose. That didn't make much sense to you, if she wasn't human, how could she secrete fluids?

Your cock vibrated with her moans, and her pussy vibrated with yours. You knew she wasn't going to let you cum unless she did first, so you doubled your efforts. These paid off faster than you expected, as she seemed to orgasm with a ragged, uncontrolled scream that made her pull your cock out of her mouth.

"Oh yes! YES!" Once again, her voice seemed to distort as she screamed and writhed on your face, but you were no longer sure if it was your imagination, "now you let me see that seed!"

She didn't reintroduce your cock into her mouth, but rather she went back to what she was originally doing. She grabbed your cock with both hands, and she started moving them aggressively up and down. Without any care or kindness. It hurt you a little the way she did it, but apparently that point of ecstasy brought her to a state where she didn't care about you—she never did in fact—but about her own pleasure and desires. You didn't mind this at all, you were already too close, and this time it really seemed like your lucky moment.

Her thin hands rubbed your cock up and down so hard and fast that you felt like it was going to catch on fire any second. You let out a loud muffled moan against her pussy, and in the midst of rapid movements of her wrist you came.

"That's it, give it to me!" She grunted as you shot jets of hot cum into the air, and then she squeezed your balls so hard that you screamed in pain, "More, give me more!"

She didn't stop moving one of her hands, nor did she slow down even though you kept shooting cum everywhere. The overstimulation and the grip on your balls continued to bring uncontrolled screams from your throat. Your cock ached, and you didn't think it was possible, but as soon as you stopped cumming, less than five seconds passed until you had another spike of pleasure. More cum shot everywhere, more screams of pain.

"So hot, so thick… so delicious!" This time you confirmed that, indeed, her voice did distort when she felt sexual arousal.

You were starting to feel too much pain, but she stopped right then and got off of you. When you saw her she was all covered in your cum, from her face to her tits and her abdomen. You also noticed that she had eaten some, as it was between her lips. Her dilated eyes seemed to have a glow coming from within, a sparkling white glow.

"Now you're going to give me your seed..." her tone of voice was normal again, but it sounded menacing and malevolent, "you're going to fill me with that magnificent piece of meat, and you're going to make my dark womb awaken."

"I don't want to put anything inside you… just leave me alone," it wasn't unusual to say that you felt drained during sex, but this time you felt literally drained of your vitality. You even felt dizzy.

"YOU DON'T CHOOSE THAT!" she screamed again with her voice distorted, so much that it didn't sound like her. Then she swiped your cheek with her nails, which sharpness you felt piercing your skin. As you felt the liquid run down your cheek you knew you were bleeding, and not a little.

Dread took over you again, and you began to hyperventilate.

She straddled you and then planted both feet on the mattress, adopting a squat form. She then took your still sore cock in one hand and started to stroke it until in some mysterious way it was hard again. She looked into your eyes, and after putting your cock straight, she impaled herself completely on it. She let out a squeak in her throat and threw her head back.

If her mouth felt good, her pussy felt like a transcendental experience for you. It was a mixture of overwhelming sensations, it felt wet, extremely soft, and extremely tight. You felt it throb around your shaft, producing tickling sensations that made you shudder. It would have felt better if it weren't for the fact that your cock felt like it was going to melt and you felt on the verge of throwing up and passing out.

Of course she wouldn't be nice to you at first, she started jumping on your cock with all the strength she had. You felt her ass bump against you so aggressively that you thought she was going to split you open. It felt wonderful, your cock sliding in and out of an unearthly pussy entirely, the non-existent friction making you moan with what little energy you had left. She dug her nails from each hand into your ribs, and you whimpered in pain. She didn't dig those blades deep, but enough to make you bleed there too.

"YES YES YES! IT FEELS DELICIOUS, YES!" she moaned between growls of pleasure, jumping on top of your cock again and again.

Your room was filled with violent sounds of flesh hitting flesh. You would have worried about the neighbors—not just your building, the entire street—but you were in the middle of a situation that you felt was close to literally killing you with pleasure. Her tight pussy wouldn't stop throbbing and working wonders on your cock. You also started to feel that her walls were feeling warmer than normal. Hot, not enough to cause burns, but hotter than a normal pussy could be.

Inevitably that led to you cumming again. You felt pleasure, and a lot. But you also felt pain, proportional to the amount of pleasure. A bittersweet feeling that made you want to cry. You shot much more cum into her, and felt her walls squeeze your shaft with the force of a hydraulic press.

"GIVE IT ALL TO ME, MGHHH!!!" distorted voice. This time she terrified you.

She had another orgasm while you filled her with thick liquid, but that didn't stop her. On the contrary, she looked even more excited. She didn't seem to look overstimulated, yet you were dying of pain.

"Stop it, please! It hurts a lot! STOP!!" you pleaded desperately, your jaw tense as well as your teeth. You closed your eyes, hoping that everything was just another horrible nightmare and that it would be over. This one didn't.

"SHUT UP, YOU PIECE OF SCUM, YOU'RE MINE!!" The distorted and terrifying voice not only echoed in your ears, but also the walls of your room. Just like that night.

In the blink of an eye she turned into a ball of shadow again, and in a matter of milliseconds she was now bouncing on your cock but with her back turned to you. Now you could see her beautiful ass bounce against your pubes and your cock continually appear and disappear between her butt cheeks. She knew it was going to turn you on. The bitch knew it, and that penetrated your bones with anger.

Her nails dug in again, but now in your calves. Same thing, you felt the burning of her tips digging in. You began to feel pleasure and the tingling in your lower abdomen again. You were close, but you also started to feel terribly bad, as if you had caught a sudden fever that made your body ache all over. Your head hurt too, and your eyes felt heavy. You were fainting.

"GIVE ME MORE!!" With that last evil scream from her you came.

The last thing you saw was your cum spilling between her folds and staining all over your cock. This time she did move slower, and the moment she got up from your cock, her second skin began to crawl with a life of its own to cover her entire body in black. Your cum stayed inside that bodysuit, and your vision went black.

The last thing you heard was that damn maniacal laugh.

--------------------------------

Spren Notes:

Well, this is certainly radically different than anything I've written before lol. I hope I did well and didn't embarrass myself.

[blingblong55]

Happiness-Simon "Ghost" Riley

photo credits: @ave661

Part 1

---- F!Reader, angst, divorce, ex-husband!Simon, dad!Simon, happy ending ----

A/N: I owe it to heal you so...here it is, second/final part

It's been two years. Two years of missing his laugh, the warm blanket he would cover you in, the little whispers when he was sick and you were there to baby him. If you see him pass his new girlfriend, you see yourself kissing him. Does she whisper sweet nothings when he is anxious? Does she make herself a fool just to see him smile? There is happiness after him, yes but there was happiness because of him. Happiness, what a cruel world.

"Where is Daddy taking you?" "Daddy wants to surprise…" your son says her name and each time you hear it, your heart and mind block her. "…so he is taking us to the park," your son is so innocent.

By noon, the girl that you swear you're kind to arrives holding his hand. "Ready, buddy?" Simon asks and carries his son. Why must they look like a perfect family? Did you and him ever look like that?

"Bye mummy!" your son waving as he walks out with his father. "Bye, sweets," you fake that smile.

As the door closes again, there it is, that funny feeling and all you can do is drink wine and look at old photos. That white dress, the same one he swore vows to, the same one you wore as you two danced in an empty kitchen. Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny played as he whispered how in this life, you were his person. If only then your heart knew the lie those words held.

You tried to move on, but every guy that you talked to or were set up with was compared to him. No smiley face after the text? Simon would do it. The new date didn't hold your hand when crossing the street? Simon made sure to hold it and went past that, Simon parked close to the restaurant, just so your heels wouldn't hurt you.

Dirty dancing in crowded kitchens, whispers during dinner with friends and kisses that felt like renaissance paintings, that is what Simon gave you and now, he gives it to her.

"Marry me, marry me for all I've got and I swear this world is yours, my world and heart are all yours," his desperation presents. "I'll marry you if you marry me," you smile and he laughs. His strong arms wrap around you as he spins you around the room. "Oh my love," he says when he kisses you.

Ten at night, Simon and your son at the door, "We're home!" your son runs to hug you and you smile, hugging him back.

A flashback runs to you.

It's a secret ceremony, two people, one backyard, two rings and two vows. "I always asked myself why me? I met you in a crowded street, a busy lane and there you were. Two years of understanding you, all your problems, all the nightmares, understanding that heart of yours and….here I am. I swear on all I've got that no one will ever replace you, no one can." You wipe tears away as you read. "I have no idea what the future holds, I'm a mess and…you love me. It must be a curse to love me and you bit the apple. You're a mess, I love you and it's a blessing to love you, I'll kiss you to wake you up."

In those pale brown eyes of his, Simon finds tears that run down. "I want to be the girl you always dreamed of and every day, that's what I'll try to be." ---

"Mummy?"

"Huh, oh yeah. How was it?" You ask Simon. "Not long enough," he kisses your cheek as he walks inside. "Where is she?" "Home, I dropped her off." He answers and walks upstairs. Simon Riley, the same man who has you looking for all the poisoned apples, waiting to give that kiss his lips need.

Eleven at night, little one asleep, Simon hugging you goodbye and as he pulls away, you keep him there. "Don't leave, I'm tired of playing strong," you whisper and his heart shatters.

Was this not what you wanted? He forced himself to love someone new and yet, you were there, begging with those eyes of yours for him to listen to the silence of pleas. Those big arms of his, wrapping you in a blanket of home.

"…I broke up with her, that's why she didn't come with us," he confesses and in that moment, that tunnel with the light at the end appears again. "What?" you pull away and he nods. "I can't love her like I do you. I feel like I'm cheatin' on her each time my mind wanders to you. I compare her to you. She doesn't make me laugh, she can't do it."

"Simon-"

"It's not like I dated her for long and she understood, that and she also wants her ex-husband back," he laughs at the irony.

"I'm not asking that you take me back, that all goes back to how it was before but what I am asking is that you give me Friday at 6 pm, dinner at our favourite place, on me." There it is, that smile of his. His dimples show when he sees your eyes go wide.

"I don't know-" "Dinner on Friday, 6 pm and I swear you'll love me until we are old and grey," a young Simon Riley once told you. You were just 23 and he 26. Looking at it now, it's funny how life works. Date nights, always at the same shitty restaurant you both grew to love, always a Friday at 6 pm, always tulips, always a kiss on your hand because he loved how you blushed.

He hated change, he hated how he never saw himself celebrate your 12th anniversary and he hated how he missed you dancing in the kitchen, that white dress on you and how he kissed your body on every anniversary since the first time he called you his wife.

Traditions, those never seem to end.

2 years later, one secret renewal of vows, one backyard, two rings, two vows and three hearts, four if you included that baby girl in your belly.

Simon Joseph Riley and the obvious beauty of his missus R/N Riley. Spring, flowers, the giggles from your son and the warm laughter of your husband and you serving lunch with that big belly of yours. "Boys!" you call out.

He bit the apple, you kissed the poisoned lips and now live in a dream with the perfect little family.

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