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day 29: apart.
#“help me”#if the style looks different its cos im away from home and have no access to my usual software and equipment :')#i get so stressed drawing on android. and idk how to use krita :') *implodes*#*insert this is fine meme*#*spontaneously combusts*#ill be back to my usual stuff in a few days#dca promptober#my art#moondrop#fnaf dca#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf moon#daycare attendant#dca fandom#fnaf sb#fnaf security breach#fnaf
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i kind of hate every single thing about my new job <3
#like i love the kids i work with but the facility staff and upper mgmt ….#like. we are well over capacity. we are understaffed and the staff all have insane beef with each other#the only people i trust there are the clinical staff and i don’t work directly with them#there is no structure or consistent scheduling#like bbg many of these kids should be at places with at least two higher security ratings#as a facility we aren’t even equipped to handle many of the pt types we have ?#i’ve only been here for a month and have almost cried in-house three times in the past week#i haven’t cried three times in two years#personal /#would love to specify that i work at a foster home for kids w severe trauma and psychiatric tx needs#not a fucking juvie or whatever the hell else that ^ could be interpreted as
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Top Five Benefits Of Getting A Security Camera For Your Home
Security cameras are incredibly beneficial as they can help deter criminals, keep an eye on your property, and ensure that your family stays safe. If you are interested in learning more about the benefits of having a security camera in your home, keep reading.
#security#safety#camera#home#familyprotection#property#wireless camera#wirelesssecuritycamera#security camera equipment#security camera installation#security camera
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The Importance of Choosing Reliable Packers and Movers in Dharamshala
Aryawarta Packers and Movers, a beacon of reliability in the bustling town of Dharamshala, stands out for its unwavering commitment to excellence in the realm of relocation services. With a steadfast dedication to customer satisfaction, Aryawarta goes above and beyond to ensure a seamless transition for individuals and businesses alike. Leveraging years of experience and expertise, the company employs a team of trained professionals who execute each task with precision and care. From meticulously packing belongings to navigating the intricacies of transportation, Aryawarta's meticulous attention to detail sets them apart as leaders in the industry.
At Aryawarta Packers and Movers, the pursuit of excellence extends beyond mere logistics to encompass a holistic approach to customer service. Recognizing the unique needs and concerns of each client, the company offers personalized solutions tailored to specific requirements. Whether it's providing additional packing materials for fragile items or accommodating last-minute changes to the relocation plan, Aryawarta prioritizes flexibility and adaptability. With a reputation built on trust, reliability, and integrity, Aryawarta Packers and Movers emerges as the premier choice for those seeking unparalleled service in Dharamshala's bustling relocation landscape.
How to Choose the Best Packers and Movers in Dharamshala
In the scenic town of Dharamshala, nestled in the picturesque Kangra Valley of Himachal Pradesh, the process of relocating can be both exhilarating and daunting. Amidst the breathtaking vistas of the Himalayas, one seeks the seamless transition of moving homes or offices, a task that necessitates the expertise of reliable packers and movers. In the quest for the best packers and movers in Dharamshala, meticulous selection becomes imperative. Understanding the nuances of this selection process, from evaluating reputations to assessing services, is crucial. Discerning individuals embark on a journey of research, weighing factors such as experience, customer feedback, and pricing structures. Equipped with this knowledge, they navigate through the myriad options, ensuring that their chosen movers align with their specific needs and expectations.
How to Pack and Move Efficiently with Packers and Movers in Dharamshala
Efficiency becomes paramount in the endeavor to pack and move belongings swiftly and securely. With the assistance of proficient packers and movers in Dharamshala, individuals embark on a journey of streamlined relocation. From meticulously packing fragile items to efficiently loading and transporting possessions, every step is orchestrated with precision. Techniques for optimizing space, safeguarding delicate items, and expediting the process are employed, ensuring a smooth transition to the new abode or workspace.
How Do Packers and Movers in Dharamshala Ensure Safe Relocation?
Central to the concerns of those entrusting their possessions to packers and movers in Dharamshala is the assurance of safety throughout the relocation process. These reputable service providers prioritize the protection of goods, employing stringent measures to safeguard against damage or loss. From employing trained professionals to utilizing high-quality packing materials, every precaution is taken to ensure the integrity of items during transit. With a commitment to excellence, packers and movers in Dharamshala adhere to industry standards and best practices, instilling confidence in their clientele.
What Services Do Packers and Movers in Dharamshala Offer?
The spectrum of services offered by packers and movers in Dharamshala encompasses a myriad of offerings tailored to meet diverse needs. From residential relocations to commercial moves, these versatile service providers cater to a broad clientele. Packing services range from basic to comprehensive, with options for customized solutions based on individual requirements. Loading, transportation, and unloading are executed with precision, utilizing specialized equipment and vehicles to facilitate the process. Additional services such as storage solutions, unpacking assistance, and furniture assembly further enhance the convenience offered by these professionals. With a commitment to customer satisfaction, packers and movers in Dharamshala strive to exceed expectations, ensuring a seamless transition to new beginnings.
#Aryawarta Packers and Movers#a beacon of reliability in the bustling town of Dharamshala#stands out for its unwavering commitment to excellence in the realm of relocation services. With a steadfast dedication to customer satisfa#Aryawarta goes above and beyond to ensure a seamless transition for individuals and businesses alike. Leveraging years of experience and ex#the company employs a team of trained professionals who execute each task with precision and care. From meticulously packing belongings to#Aryawarta's meticulous attention to detail sets them apart as leaders in the industry.#At Aryawarta Packers and Movers#the pursuit of excellence extends beyond mere logistics to encompass a holistic approach to customer service. Recognizing the unique needs#the company offers personalized solutions tailored to specific requirements. Whether it's providing additional packing materials for fragil#Aryawarta prioritizes flexibility and adaptability. With a reputation built on trust#reliability#and integrity#Aryawarta Packers and Movers emerges as the premier choice for those seeking unparalleled service in Dharamshala's bustling relocation land#How to Choose the Best Packers and Movers in Dharamshala#In the scenic town of Dharamshala#nestled in the picturesque Kangra Valley of Himachal Pradesh#the process of relocating can be both exhilarating and daunting. Amidst the breathtaking vistas of the Himalayas#one seeks the seamless transition of moving homes or offices#a task that necessitates the expertise of reliable packers and movers. In the quest for the best packers and movers in Dharamshala#meticulous selection becomes imperative. Understanding the nuances of this selection process#from evaluating reputations to assessing services#is crucial. Discerning individuals embark on a journey of research#weighing factors such as experience#customer feedback#and pricing structures. Equipped with this knowledge#they navigate through the myriad options#ensuring that their chosen movers align with their specific needs and expectations.#How to Pack and Move Efficiently with Packers and Movers in Dharamshala#Efficiency becomes paramount in the endeavor to pack and move belongings swiftly and securely. With the assistance of proficient packers an#individuals embark on a journey of streamlined relocation. From meticulously packing fragile items to efficiently loading and transporting
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Cyber TV Mounting & More | Audio Visual Equipment Supplier | Home Security in Austin TX
Cyber TV Mounting & More is a leading Audio Visual Equipment Supplier in Austin TX, dedicated to enhancing your entertainment experience. We ensure that every space is equipped with the latest technology, offering clients an immersive audio-visual journey. We work closely with clients to tailor solutions that fit their specific needs. In addition, we are also proficient in Home Security in Austin TX. Whether you need just one surveillance camera to cover the front door or multiple cameras that monitor an entire living space, we have you covered. Our team of experts provides comprehensive support, ensuring that your security needs are met with the utmost technical prowess. Choose us to uplift your home’s security and comfort.
#Audio Visual Equipment Supplier in Austin TX#Home Security in Austin TX#Security System Installation near me#Audio Visual Equipment Suppliers near me#Home Security Companies near me
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Piramal Revanta Eden
Experience contemporary metropolitan living at The Eden, settled in Mulund, the new social, monetary, and business center point of Mumbai. Offering a tranquil getaway from city life, The Edens skyscraper towers are roosted near the very edge of the tremendous 25,000-section of land Sanjay Gandhi Public Park, flaunting dazzling perspectives over the verdant Yeoor Slopes. The Eden Homes are masterfully created to improve regular light and outside air, with different 3-room lofts. Cycling and jogging paths, a free-play lawn for cricket and football, a badminton court, a well-equipped gym, swimming pools, and exclusive areas for yoga and meditation are just some of the top sports and amenities available to residents. Every loft is gotten with cutting edge security frameworks, offering adequate space for self-improvement and prospering ways of life. The Eden welcomes you to reclassify and customize your living involvement with this rich metropolitan safe-haven.
Piramal Realty has planned to enhance lives by setting highest quality levels for client centricity, compositional plan, quality and security. Piramal Gatherings tradition of dependable stewardship for individual and local area development, as well as the gatherings steady obligation to Information, Activity, Care, and Effect is reflected in our exercises as its improvement arm. Our compassionate commitment with clients, ensures that their necessities are ceaselessly met and surpassed, making Piramal Realty advancements, puts that offer chances to flourish.
Mulund is a distinguished suburb that has the advantage of being close to both Navi Mumbai and Thane. It is located just outside the hustle and bustle of the city. Perceived as Mumbais flawlessly arranged suburb, Mulund is settled at the lower regions of one of the universes biggest metropolitan save woods. With current framework projects in Mumbai, Mulund presently offers consistent network across the city, significantly chopping down movement times. Mulund is a sought-after location for residential, commercial, and recreational uses because it is home to some of the city's finest educational and healthcare facilities.
Piramal Revanta Eden
#Piramal Revanta Eden#Experience contemporary metropolitan living at The Eden#settled in Mulund#the new social#monetary#and business center point of Mumbai. Offering a tranquil getaway from city life#The Edens skyscraper towers are roosted near the very edge of the tremendous 25#000-section of land Sanjay Gandhi Public Park#flaunting dazzling perspectives over the verdant Yeoor Slopes. The Eden Homes are masterfully created to improve regular light and outside#with different 3-room lofts. Cycling and jogging paths#a free-play lawn for cricket and football#a badminton court#a well-equipped gym#swimming pools#and exclusive areas for yoga and meditation are just some of the top sports and amenities available to residents. Every loft is gotten with#offering adequate space for self-improvement and prospering ways of life. The Eden welcomes you to reclassify and customize your living inv#Piramal Realty has planned to enhance lives by setting highest quality levels for client centricity#compositional plan#quality and security. Piramal Gatherings tradition of dependable stewardship for individual and local area development#as well as the gatherings steady obligation to Information#Activity#Care#and Effect is reflected in our exercises as its improvement arm. Our compassionate commitment with clients#ensures that their necessities are ceaselessly met and surpassed#making Piramal Realty advancements#puts that offer chances to flourish.#Mulund is a distinguished suburb that has the advantage of being close to both Navi Mumbai and Thane. It is located just outside the hustle#Mulund is settled at the lower regions of one of the universes biggest metropolitan save woods. With current framework projects in Mumbai#Mulund presently offers consistent network across the city#significantly chopping down movement times. Mulund is a sought-after location for residential
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Israeli Caterpillar bulldozers are so symbolic of settler violence and brutality towards Palestinians; they are literal death machines. D9 bulldozers are sold by Caterpillar Inc., based in the US, and are equipped with armor and can be fitted with machine guns and grenade launchers. The nickname for these machines in Israel is "Doobi" - meaning teddy bear.
In 2004, Human Rights Watch called on Caterpillar to suspend bulldozer sales to Israel because of their use in the demolition of Palestinian property and infrastructure. Caterpillar makes military specifications for the D9 and sells them to Israel as weapons under the U.S Foreign Military Sales program, upon arrival, they are armored by Israel Industries Ltd. Before Israel pulled out of the Gaza Strip in 2005, D9s were used to demolish over 2,500 Palestinian homes in Gaza, most being in Rafah where the Israeli Government tried to expand a "buffer zone" along the border with Egypt. This was almost 20 years ago.
During these demolitions within Gaza, Rachel Corrie, an American activist who had been protesting against these home demolitions across the occupied territories, was buried with dirt by an Israeli bulldozer and repeatedly run over. Israeli military sources blamed her and the other activists who were protesting the demolitions, the IDF investigations found themselves not to blame, and no charges were brought for her murder (In the aftermath of her death, Israeli soldiers made fun of her through Facebook communities called "Rachel Corrie Pancakes and Fun", so no justice, the IOF murdered her and then laughed about it).
A federal lawsuit was filed against (which was later dismissed) Caterpillar on behalf of Rachel Corrie's parents and four Palestinian families that had members who were either killed or injured by these bulldozers trying to demolish their homes (including children). The CCR's lawsuit was "on behalf of these families charges Caterpillar, Inc. with aiding and abetting war crimes and other serious human rights violations on the grounds that the company provided bulldozers to the Israeli military knowing they would be used unlawfully to demolish homes and endanger civilians in Palestine. "
And again in 2018, more human rights groups condemned international construction firms (Caterpillar, JCB, and Liugong) for their roles in the destruction of Palestinian villages - Khan al-Ahmar was a small bedouin village in the West Bank that was planned to be razed and bulldozed for a new road for Israeli settlements, but due to international outcry, postponed the eviction. However, in Sur Baher, several Palestinian homes were demolished by bulldozers after a long legal battle that ruled in favor of the IOF. Israel often uses the guise of 'security' as a justification for these demolitions, but ultimately they are used to make way for settlements.
Massafer Yatta is another Palestinian village that has been under threat of Israeli demolitions for years now and was greenlit for destruction. Bulldozers crushed the village's school and destroyed the homes of 121 families in the area. The Palestinians who had their homes crushed by the bulldozers were forced to live in caves (which they were forbidden to even renovate), it is a decision between leaving their land and community or trying to build a new home that will be demolished by Israelis.
Palestinians throughout the West Bank know that the arrival of a bulldozer means the same thing time and time again: "You have 24 hours to flee, or we will shoot you." There are countless towns/villages/communities that have faced demolitions by the IOF throughout the decades of Israel's existence, I couldn't even begin to name all of them here.
In cases of public infrastructure, bulldozers were used to crush the main water pipelines of Al-Auja. The iof forced their way into the village and welded-shut the sole pipeline which supplies water to more than 1,200 people and used a bulldozer to crush it beneath the land. This is part of a larger history of Israeli oppression, specifically in regard to stolen water, which is supplied to Israeli settlements (it also forces Palestinians to buy water directly from Israel).
Outside of home and public infrastructure demolitions, the military bulldozers are also used in Israeli raids. In August this year (2023), the IOF raided Nablus in the Balata refugee camp, accompanied by a military bulldozer that destroyed several homes. I can't even pick a date for raids in Jenin refugee camp, which has been raided continuously this year and years before, but Israeli bulldozers have been filmed tearing up streets in Jenin and leaving them in rubble, making the roads unusable.
The Armenian quarter is not safe from settler encroachment either, as demolitions in the West Bank continue, real estate companies have sent in settlers and bulldozers to steal land belonging to Armenian Church property and Several Armenian families. Settler attacks have continued on the Armenian community and Palestinian Armenians have been getting arrested for defending themselves from these mobs.
And now, we have not only gotten the confirmation that these D9s will be used in Gaza but images, testimonies, and videos of them being used on Gazan homes and infrastructure. They are also being used to crush Palestinians to death just as Rachel Corrie had been in 2004, just as those Palestinian families had been in 2002-2004, and (extreme trigger warning for mutilation of a corpse) videos are circulating of Israelis flattening already deceased Palestinians with bulldozers out of pure contempt for us. Almost 20 years since Israel demolished thousands of homes in Gaza (not even including the genocidal bombings campaigns and the blockade Israel has placed on Gaza for years), now they're back destroying anything in their path.
I will repeat: these bulldozers are death machines and are designed to be so. Caterpillar is complicit, the US is complicit, and both are actively benefiting from the mass murder and displacement of Palestinians. Keep your eyes on Gaza but also remember the Armenian Quarter and the West Bank, all of Palestine is under threat of demolitions.
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Danny's found a way to dodge GIW trackers, as well as his parents.
Their equipment hunts ghosts, ghosts run on emotion; so as long as he keeps his under a tight lid and doesn't feel anything ever, they won't be able to track him.
It works!
He's able to run from them, and goes as far as New Jersey. The plan was to stow away on a ship, and go to literally any country that wasn't America. He goes to Gotham, which hosts the one harbor he knows where no one will ask any questions.
But because of how weird he acted (completely emotionless during a Joker attack), he was fingered by police immediately.
He's handed over to CPP. CPP doesn't know what to do with a teen literally so traumatized that they don't show any emotion at all, ever. He keeps just...walking out of his placements. Just leaves without a sound.
Luckily, he's always caught, due to those placement houses having quiet alarms and him refusing to run.
They call the one foster parent they know who does.
Bruce Wayne takes in the strange, nameless kid who refuses to talk.
On paper, they gave him the filler name of 'John Doe', for lack of anything better to do.
Bruce does everything he can to make the newest arrival feel at home. Damian, for as territorial as he is, actually breaks out of his shell sooner than expected just to try to get the new kid to speak. To emote. To do something. Duke tries the open approach, then tries the 'no one will ever know, everyone thinks I'm an innocent goody-two-shoes' approach. Nada.
Tim even tries to trick him into talking, but nothing works.
Enter Dick; Dick heard about Bruce's new ward, about the situation, and decided to see if he could get the kid to open up.
Danny though. Danny's in trouble.
The Wayne Manor is weirdly secure, and he can't just walk away like he did his other placements. He can't use ghost powers or the GIW and his parents will immediately know where he is.
He really, really wants to take Bruce up on his offer and just spend the day relaxing. Respond to Damian's attempts to provoke him. Overshare about space facts with Tim.
But most of all, he really, desperately wants to get in a Pun Competition with Dick. He wants to laugh at Dick's jokes, and learn coolass gymnastic tricks!
But he can't!
If he relaxes with Bruce, he'll be content, which is an emotion. If he argues with Damian, he'll get annoyed, which is an emotion. If he sneaks out with Duke and breaks the rules, he'll get happy, which, again, emotion. If he overshares with Tim, he'll get excited, which is, yet again, an emotion!
The worst sin of all, he can't even show proper appreciation of the food the Butler keeps making him!
And now there's even more people coming over!
There's a quiet girl who keeps reading his body language and trying to get him to dance ballet, a blonde girl who keeps trying to kidnap him to take him to BatBurger, a guy with a stripe of white who wants to take him to a shooting range, and it just...he really, really wants to!
He wants to do all these cool things with them!
But he fucking can't!
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dp x dc#dc x dp#phanfic#story prompt#danny vibes with dick the most#not that anyone knows that#breaks his little ghost heart that he can't have that pun competition#meanwhile bruce absolutely is running facial recognition#and hitting government firewalls and keeps having to shake off digital tracers#trying to find out who wanted that information#he smells a mystery#and he wants those answer#if cannot get them from their resident Doe#then he'll get it from whoever tortured the boy into silence#sidenote Damian just called Danny Doe instead of John#and danny responded to it quicker because it started with a “D”#that was noticed#now everyone just calls him Doe until his name is found
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Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023
Top Home Server Rack Tips in 2023 @vexpert #vmwarecommunities #homelab #HomeServerRackGuide #RackUnitsExplained #BesthomeServerRack2023 #WallMountVsDesktopRacks #ServerRackFeatures #NetworkingEquipmentSetup #MountingSolutionsForServers #homeserverrack
Home labs have exploded in popularity as enthusiasts and IT professionals who also like to tinker take their day job into their passion at home with a home lab. Other than choosing a server and networking gear to cable everything up in your lab, as the home lab grows, so does the need to house everything efficiently. Once you get more than a server or two and maybe a couple of network switches…
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#Best Server Racks 2023#Home Server Rack Guide#Home Server Rack Tips#Mounting Solutions for Servers#Networking Equipment Setup#Rack Units Explained#ROHS Compliant Server Racks#Secure Server Rack Installations#Server Rack Features#Wall Mount vs Desktop Racks
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♡🎀
Simon Riley is the type to get his partner a dog, argue with the wall.
He maybe even pulls some strings to get them a retired K9, or maybe one that didn't make it all the way through training due to size, injury etc.
He literally cannot stand the thought of them alone when he's deployed for long periods of time, not just worried about them being lonely despite having loads of friends, a bookclub and a job. He also can't stand the thought of them unprotected in their home.
Their house is practically a safe house with the way Simon's done it up with help of the boys and some pretty fancy security equipment, but the fact that there's also a massive, scary looking dog in the house is just another layer of protection.
The dog is absolutely just the sweetest, most gentle thing, but after all those years of training, it's fiercely loyal to its owners, and won't hesitate to bare its teeth if they're threatened - much like Simon himself.
#cod mwii#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#tf 141#drabbles#fluff
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day 31: ???
there was no official prompt for the final day so i went freestyle! :D and with that, promptober is over! it was super fun to do and ty to the dca palooza for the great prompt list.
thank you to everyone for all the reblogs and nice comments/tags, they really kept me going :D
#have some silly sun moon shenanigans#still nerfed and only have a tablet to work on so i probably wont make anything ambitious till i get back home to my usual equipment#but happy i managed to finish the whole challenge :D#dca promptober#my art#sundrop#fnaf sun#fnaf dca#fnaf daycare attendant#daycare attendant#dca fandom#fnaf sb#fnaf security breach#fnaf#moondrop#fnaf moon#t
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Why the Newlywed's New Duty is Home Security?
A number of decisions are made by newlyweds jointly, such as whether to live in a home or a flat, have children, or not. However, have you brought up home security yet?
Newlyweds begin a new chapter of life together, one that has to be safeguarded. For instance, going on a honeymoon and travelling might put your house in danger of being burglarized because burglars seek vacant vacation houses. Investment in home security should be made early to avoid future lifestyle adjustments as newlyweds are at a greater risk.
Several Questions to Assess Your Needs
A crucial first step is assessing your needs. When shopping for a home security system that suits your lifestyle, ask yourself these questions:
What is the value of my house?
What are my greatest assets?
What is the level of crime where I live?
What's the weather like where I live?
What is the environment I'm in?
In the coming ten years, will I relocate?
Will I have children?
What to Consider When Purchasing Home Security Equipment?
Look for equipment that meets both your and your spouse's demands. You can choose home security equipment that completely secures your house based on your responses to the preceding questions:
Surveillance cameras outside that monitor suspicious activity and weak places in defense. To confirm or dismiss a potential threat, you may use your smartphone to see live video of your house.
Smart lighting to discourage burglars from trying to enter through dark areas. Smart lights might aid in illuminating hiding locations if you are in a densely forested or remote area.
You can be informed when an entrance point has been opened via door and window sensors. If one of you like letting in the fresh air, purchasing sensors may aid in preventing security lapses.
Notifications on your spouse's and your mobile devices. In this way, even if you have different schedules throughout the day, you can keep an eye on the house together.
The ability to detect environmental hazards is essential for avoiding fires or ruptured pipes. You and your spouse can be more vulnerable to environmental harm depending on where you and your spouse reside owing to dry air or chilly winters.
Make sure you pick Cove Smart for installation and monitoring. The top home security companies have a few traits, including Installation that maximizes your equipment and offers maximum protection; Fair policies on transferring equipment in case of the move; and 24/7 home monitoring to inform homeowners and deploy aid for proven threats.
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TSCM Bug Sweep: Safeguard Your Corporate Privacy from Unsolicited Devices
Corporate companies must ensure that the company data is highly secured and protected. But there are some unfortunate moments when the data gets breached. Now such situations stir lots of problems in the corporate environment. Therefore to ensure the safety of the data and other personal information, it’s better to conduct TSCM Bug Sweep. So here in this blog, we will particularly talk about facts related to the scam bug sweep.
Insight into the Tscm Bug sweep
What exactly is the scam bug sweep? Then it’s high time to note that it’s a systematic surveillance method conducted in offices, homes or other places. These devices have attached audio bug cameras and different types of GPS-based trackers. Mainly the bug sweep process ensures that all the confidential data remains safe. And your privacy is never tampered with under any condition.
● To Recognise threats
Trained experts use high-end devices to identify and detect bugs at once. Note that you can come across these cutting-edge devices equipped with modern technology. The best thing about these bug detectors is that they can detect even discreet bugs at once. So as you call the experts, they will conduct a detailed scrutiny of the furniture, ceilings, and walls and make sure no hidden area gets slipped.
● Confidentiality of the case preserved
Any corporate company will reach the optimum limit to protect its data. Keeping privacy untouched is their solo goal. But conducting a tscm bug sweep increases the possibility of ending such threats. It will help you relax and discuss all the business policies or strategies with complete confidence.
● Prompt handling of any threats
Your privacy is your right, and you will take all the right measures to restore that. But if your privacy is invaded, don’t hesitate to call the team bug sweep professional.
Final Say
Thus, surveillance investigation is a must to conduct in areas where confidentiality has been compromised. Professional companies are there to conduct the scam bug sweep with complete potentiality and help you protect the information to the tee.
#TSCM Bug Sweep#Home Bug Sweep#Bug Sweep Services#Private Investigator Surveillance#Business Bug Sweep#confidential data remains safe#surveillance investigation#Private Investigators#tscm strategies with complete confidence#Bug Sweeping services#licensed Private Investigators#Bug Sweeping specialists#Bug Sweeping equipment#tactical security monitoring
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Best Friends [OP81]
Summary : You and Oscar are childhood best friends and maybe a little more but that's something the grid has missed
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Wife!Reader, Logan Sargeant x reader, F1 Grid x Reader
Warning/s: None
Word Count: 1.6 k
Masterlist
Oscar Piastri Masterlist
You and Oscar had started out as childhood best friends. You even moved to England with him because you just couldn’t be separated. As Oscar went through the different ranks of motorsport you decided to do a Sports Science degree and when Oscar got signed for Prema he made sure you were his personal trainer and you’d just follow him into his F1 career.
You and Oscar were now walking through the paddock with his arm around your shoulders. It started as a habit when he started his rookie season to calm his nerves with your warm body, and it gave you comfort at the same time. When he started his rookie season, you were still only best friends. Neither of you had confessed how you felt, but now you had yet, everyone still believed you were still only best friends.
It hadn’t been on the top of either of your lists to correct people when they called you best friends because even though you were more than dating now, he was still your best friend. Walking into the Mclaren garage, Oscar spoke to a few mechanics.
“Osc we’ve got to get you warmed up” You smiled, and you both walked through to his drivers room. As Oscar got changed into his fireproofs and race suit, you grabbed the equipment to get him warmed up. When you turned around, his race suit was resting on his waist before you talked him through some stretches. After Oscar warmed up, you moved out to the main garage with him. Mclaren had some guests in the garage that Zac wanted Oscar and Lando to talk to and maybe do some training in front of them.
“Let’s use the bands to stretch your arms” You smiled, handing him one of the bands, and he nodded. You grabbed your headphones, resting them around your neck. Your hands are coming up to his back a little bit for comfort and a little to correct his posture.
“You okay?” Oscar asked, and you smiled
“Yeah, just correcting your posture while doing this” you hummed, walking back around so you stood in front of him
“You’re gonna do great today. You’re starting in a great position, and the car is brilliant” You smiled, resting your hand on his chest. You and Oscar had always been touchy for as long as people knew you both. The only person knowing the truth about your relationship was Logan and maybe Arthur. He seemed to be good at finding out relationships between random people. Oscar took your hand, holding it in his own larger hand.
“I’m gonna do even better because you’re wearing this thing” He whispered, running his hand over your engagement and wedding ring.
“Well I’m fed up with watching random women flirt with my husband” you hummed, rubbing his shoulders as you walked behind him. He was stressed about today. His home race meant he wanted to do really well, and you could feel the stress in his shoulders
“Relax baby” you whispered, massaging the knots out of his shoulders and necks. Soon, Oscar was getting ready to get in the car. You smiled, standing next to him.
Mclaren social media team had a camera recording Oscar so they could post some behind the scenes of the garage. Oscar handed you his hoodie, and you folded it up, placing it upon the pile of his clothes. Oscar pulled his race suit up and onto his shoulders, turning to you so that you could zip it up something that you’ve been doing since you first became friends all those years ago.
Handing Oscar his balaclava, he pulled it on his head and tucked his hair into it, sending you one last smile as he stepped out of frame to press a kiss to your lips. He took his helmet, placing the HANS device around his neck before pulling his helmet over his head. You secured his helmet strap and corrected the HANS device before tapping his helmet and walking over to the car with him.
“Be safe out there” You smiled, holding his hands, and he nodded
“I’m gonna get a podium so we can continue that celebration from last time” You smiled, looking up at him. The celebration was you, Oscar, and Logan finishing the movie while you helped their aches and pains from the race, although Logan was talking about going out with a couple of other drivers depending on the outcome.
Oscar did get on the podium, and you couldn’t have been more proud of him. Making your way out of the garage with the rest of the Mclaren team. Lando got P2, and Oscar got P3. It was the best result anyone could have asked for. You stood at the front of the barricades, and after Oscar got weighed, he walked over to the team.
The difference between Oscar and Lando when celebrating was quite funny to watch. Lando jumped into the team's arms as he celebrated with pats on the back, shoulder, and helmet as Oscar just thanked everyone before stopping next to you and wrapping you into a hug. Your arms rested around his neck as he rested around your waist.
He had left his helmet on the stand for it, looking into his eyes with a smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss as the cameras flashes up
“I love you so much wife” He whispered against your lips
“I love you too” You smiled as Lando cheered from next to you. You laughed
“Go get your trophy. I’ll be watching” You pushed Oscar away as Logan walked over
“Movie night or drinking?” He asked, wrapping you in a side hug
“Movie night. Well done on the points” You smiled, turning to watch the podium with him. You were so proud of him. A podium at his home race is something he’d been wanting for a long time, and he’s finally achieved it. After the podium, you walked back to the garage, collecting all of Oscar’s belongings and taking them to his drivers room.
As Oscar did his post race interviews and debrief, you decided to stretch yourself, having sat tense watching the whole race, and there was nothing else to do while sitting waiting. Logan was sending you random tweets and tiktok videos as you sat a lot of them about the fact you and Oscar were finally together, causing you to laugh. A set of arms tackled you onto the beanbag in Oscars' drivers room as your neck was covered with kisses, causing you to giggle, knowing it was Oscar.
“I did it! I got a podium” He cheered, and you laughed, turning your head to kiss him
“I’m so proud of you, baby. I knew you could do it. You’ll always be a winner in my heart” You smiled, and he kissed you again.
“Come on, I want to go celebrate” He pulled you up
“Baby you need to get changed” you giggled, pushing his helmet hair out his face
“Okay right yeah, I’ll do that” He nodded
“Logan keeps sending me tweets and TikToks about us revealing our relationship. They’re quite funny, to be honest” You giggled
“Our son” He chuckled, and you nodded
“He really acts like it sometimes. His mum messages me every so often to make sure he’s actually doing how he says he is” Oscar nodded, taking your hand
“How does he say he is?” He asked
“He’s struggling with the fans for obvious reasons. I’ve been told that he greatly enjoys our movie nights and they allow him to relax with people he fully trusts” Oscar nodded, kissing your head
“Then we never stop those. Maybe we should start inviting him for dinner when we’re not racing?” He suggested
“I think that sounds like a good idea but as your trainer I’ve got to remind you to stick to your diet plan” You giggled while jogging through the garage as he chased after you for that comment. Picking you up and spinning you around. You smiled, pressing your lips to his as he placed you back on the ground. Walking out of the paddock, Oscar had his hand rested around your waist, but you were soon stopped by a grid of drivers standing at the paddock exit with their arms crossed.
“Hey everyone” You smiled, looking between the eighteen other drivers standing in front of you
“Hey everyone” Lando mocked, and you frowned now, very confused about what you had done wrong
“What’s going on?” Oscar asked, also confused. Charles pointed between the two of you, and you looked up at Oscar
“What?” You whispered, and he shrugged
“Can someone use their words and explain what you mean?” You asked as Logan wrapped his arms around you both
“They’ve only just realised that you’re together after your kiss” He explained, and you frowned, turning back to the crowd of people
“Want to explain then?” Max asked
“We’ve been married for four months. Dating for nine before that” you explained, still really confused
“What?!” They chorused, and you looked between them all. Oscar is now holding your hand up
“She’s been wearing these for the last three months around you lot" He exclaimed as you both laughed, turning to Logan
“You going back to your hotel room before movie night?” You asked, and he nodded
“If you two don’t mind waiting a little to start?” He asked, and you shook your head
“Gives me time to cook some dinner” You smiled, walking past the rest of the grid, leaving them all standing shocked at your announcement.
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vi. deer dolly
see all chapters here
tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)
˚୨୧₊♱
You never really liked cars.
The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.
It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.
As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.
Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.
Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.
Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.
Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.
After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.
"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"
You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.
"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"
He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.
Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.
"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."
His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.
"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."
With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.
Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.
Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.
Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.
Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.
Oh, how you wished you could do the same.
Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.
Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.
Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.
"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.
Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.
"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."
"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.
You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.
"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.
"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."
With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.
As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.
Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.
With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.
"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.
"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.
But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.
"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.
To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.
The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.
"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?
"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."
"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."
"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.
With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.
Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."
You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.
"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"
Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.
"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."
With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.
"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.
With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.
Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.
Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.
As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.
Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.
The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.
He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.
Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?
With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.
As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.
˚୨୧₊♱
Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.
Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"
You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.
"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.
With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.
Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.
As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.
Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.
"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.
Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.
Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.
Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.
"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."
You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.
"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"
You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.
"Words, cher. Use your words."
"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.
Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.
Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.
Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.
Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.
Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.
In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.
"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."
With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.
Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.
All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.
More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.
Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.
All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.
With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.
And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.
You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.
With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.
Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.
Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.
As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.
Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.
There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.
Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.
The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.
You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.
You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.
What have you done?
˚୨୧₊♱
"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!
That's right, folks, he's dead!
Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"
You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.
Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.
"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."
The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.
Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.
As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.
The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.
Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.
You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.
Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.
The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.
˚୨୧₊♱
There was screaming.
Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.
You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.
Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.
Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.
Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.
The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.
Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.
Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.
Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.
Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.
Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.
As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.
"Well, look who it is."
The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.
"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.
"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"
"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"
"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"
"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"
"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.
Hello, Dolly!
Well, hello, Dolly!
It's so nice to have you back where you belong~
"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"
You're lookin' swell, Dolly
I can tell, Dolly
You're still glowin', you're still crowin'
You're still goin' strong
"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"
"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.
We feel the room swayin'
While the band's playin'
One of your old favourite songs from way back when
"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.
Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."
Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.
Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.
"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"
"Dolly'll never go away again~"
You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.
"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"
"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.
"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.
"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.
"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.
"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.
Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."
"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."
"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."
The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"
Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.
"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"
"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.
Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"
"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."
With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.
'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'
"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.
With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.
"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"
You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.
"You shot him?"
"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"
At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.
"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"
"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.
After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.
"I know something you don't know~" she sings.
"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.
"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."
Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"
"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.
"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."
You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.
"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."
You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"
Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."
"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.
Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.
"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.
A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.
"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."
Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."
With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.
"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"
"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."
With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"
You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.
"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.
Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"
"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.
Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.
Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."
"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.
"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"
Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.
"It's a deal."
#sephiewrites#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#hazbin x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel velvette
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play fake | part one
masterlist
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a girlfriend in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.
content series, 18+, eventual smut, angst, jealousy, fake dating trope, ward cameron being a bad father, rafe and sarah rivalry
— reader type hyper-independent, people pleaser, smart mouth, stands on business, mysterious past
— rafe's characterization insecure, possessive + jealous person, asshole, mood swings
Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?
Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.
But it's very rare to have a Kook.
It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.
Locals don't tip.
Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.
Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.
Why?
Because he's an asshole.
"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."
You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.
"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."
Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.
But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.
Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.
"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"
His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.
You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.
He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."
You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.
Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"
You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."
You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.
"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"
"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."
"What's so funny?"
"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."
Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.
"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"
From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?
"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"
Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.
He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.
"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."
"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."
You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.
Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.
"What the fuck?"
"I think it's time for you to leave."
He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"
"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."
Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.
Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"
—
That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.
But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.
You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.
You didn't care.
Your coworker can get his tips.
As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.
"Rafe wants to talk to you."
You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.
"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.
"He said he's willing to wait."
That means he was expecting you to say no.
You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."
"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."
You smile at that. "Exactly."
Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.
Then another.
You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.
He remained until he was the very last customer.
You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.
With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.
"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."
"You finally ready to talk to me?"
"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"
For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.
But, you were too hopeful.
"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.
"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.
"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."
"I remember."
"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."
"And old-fashioned, but continue."
His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."
You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.
"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."
You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."
"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.
"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"
You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.
"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."
Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.
"Pretend?" You repeat.
"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."
"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.
He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."
You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."
It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.
But, he never employed you again.
"Do you see where I'm going now?"
You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.
"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."
His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."
That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.
"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."
"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."
You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."
You turn your back to him but he stops you.
"I'll pay you."
You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."
"I don't want someone else."
He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.
You were serious.
"I'm sorry, I truly am."
Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.
With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.
You thought it would be the end of it.
Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.
★ part two ★
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