#‘uh huh. you know me.’ *texting el*

[sinclairstarz]

in my heart will byers is just slightly wallace wellsier

[fernandopiastri28]

tags: f2 alpine oscar x mark webber's daughter, all pics from pinterest

warnings: blood, partial self inflicted pain, bad father-daughter relationship, angst angst angst in this chapter + fluff at the end

Anyone but webber - Oscar Piastri

Rule 8: Don’t bleed for someone who never bandaged your wounds.

The next morning begins painfully with an eardrum-crushing ringtone blaring far too close to her head. Her whole body aches, her head fuzzy and vision splodgy as she opens her eyes to light bleeding through the curtains. Her phone buzzes itself off her bedside table, now vibrating against the floor—just out of reach when her arm hangs down the side off the bed. 

It forces her to try and wake up somewhat, properly get out of bed and answer whoever is ringing her at this obscene hour of the morning. She squints at the caller ID, reaching around aimlessly for her glasses simply because her contacts are too far away right now. 

Luckily for her though, Siri decides to read out and announce the message. 

Incoming call from Mark (Dad)

Oh. 

She rubs her face—maybe slightly too rough and nearly certain to leave weird dry-red marks, and swipes to answer the call. She puts her phone to her ear, finally finding her glasses to shove onto her face. “Hello?” Her voice is gravelly from sleep, barely a croak.

“Did I wake you?” Straight from the get go there is no sort of greeting, no apologiosing for waking her up at barely six in the morning, absolutely fuck all.

“Yeah.” She forces herself upright and coughs into her fist, clearly her throat. Someone, or maybe more, is talking right next to Mark about as loud as they possibly can. Every second word they say gets caught by Mark’s microphone, slipping in and out of their conversation. “Do you need something?”

She knows the answer to that already, Mark wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t.

Cutting across his staticky voice is the sound of papers being rustled, “Uh, yeah. I need you to go up to my office and grab the orange folder ontop of my printer, scan each page, and email them to me.” He pauses for a moment, a few actually. Part of her is hopeful for him to add a ‘Please’, or a ‘If you can’ onto the end, but that’s like expecting him to start speaking Russian.

It’s not gonna happen.

“Or do you need me to ask Oscar to come over and do it instead?”

Objectively, that’s much better than her getting a half assed attempt of him showing her any sense of manners. If he organises Oscar to come over to help with the folder situation, then if somehow he finds out that Oscar was here while he was away, they’ll have an excuse for it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea.” She chews at the corner of her nails, standing up to start getting ready for her day, and date most importantly, even though she’s got hours until Oscar arrives. “I can text him, I think I have his number.”

Think, does—what’s the difference anyways?

“Great.” Luckily he doesn’t question why she would have his number, given that they have near to no sense of a relationship whatsoever beyond speaking a few words to eachother when she’s caught off guard that he just happens to be at her house. 

Well, Mark’s never been particularly observant or inquisitive when it comes to anything involving her. “Can you text him sometime soon? It’s quite urgent.” 

She places her phone on the edge of her bathroom sink, leaning over said sink to struggle with putting in her contacts, “Uh huh, yeah, will do.” Her voice is strained, her concentration far more on her morning routine then helping her dad with sending photos. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go get ready for today. Talk soon,” 

Just as she’s about to hang up, her dad manages to get in three words sideways, “Alright, love you.” 

She’s already pressed end call before those last two words properly set in. 

Love you.

She can’t remember the last time she heard that from him. It doesn’t sound right coming out of his mouth, said in his voice. Maybe it more so feels like it should be directed towards someone else—Oscar, obviously comes to mind first. Her two fingers feel heavy on her cracked phone screen, now lingering over the lower half of her lockscreen instead of the red cross during a call. 

The grim taste of bile flods her mouth, a tight clench in her stomach accompanying it. She can’t even hear two simple, ordinary words, that most kids hear from their parents multiple times a day without wanting to emptying her stomach of anything possibly left in it. 

Part of her struggles to even attempt to just accept those words and move on. Take them how they are and keep going on with her day. She can’t, no amount of convincing herself that her relationship with Mark just is how it is helps feel better. Love you—how dare he. How dare he unravel all of the work she’s put in over these past weeks, months even.

Years, if she’s honest.

She blinks her contacts in, the stupid saline solution momentarily blinding her before allowing her to see everything too clearly. She immediately considers taking them out again and tossing them in the bin, forcing herself into a word where everything is just slightly blurry—-where colours bleed into eachother, forms mould into unrecognisable shapes, and absolutely nothing makes sense.

Her father makes no sense anyways, maybe it would feel more normal if everything was that confusing. 

She swallows down the bile rising in her throat, pressing the back of her hand to her lips as if that’ll stop the queasiness from spilling out. She grabs her toothbrush, slightly too aggressively that it sends the ceramic cup it rests in flying to the floor, smashing as it collides with the porcelain. 

“Fuck,” Tears of frustration pour down her cheeks as she kneels down, scooping up the pieces. She holds the sharp and jagged edged pieces tightly in her hands. She hates this feeling of a lack of control over her feelings, when she can’t hold it all in and just be brave. 

 It’s stupid—she knows it’s stupid—but there’s no escaping the feeling that Mark’s words weren’t really meant for her. He’s never been the type to throw around affection, atleast not when it’s directed toward her. She can’t remember a compliment he’s given her, a time he’s told her he’s proud of her, when he’s shown a genuine interest in her or anything she’s doing. She sees Oscar get all of that and more though, he gets every bit of affection from her dad that she’s spend her whole life chasing.

At first, she thought he was just closed off. Her mum left the house one day and never returned. As far as she knew, her mother never looked back, not for her or for her dad. At that point in time, she was too young to fully comprehend what had really happened. She was three at the time, and had always been a ‘daddy’s girl’ more than she’d ever been so connected to her mother.

So when her mum left, she was too young to even feel too sad about it. Mark on the other hand lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child. He was only 24 when she was born, and he was at the very beginning of his F1 career. When her mum left, he became her sole care taker, and there was no way he’d be able to take care of a toddler full time at tha point when he had to be travelling most weekends to go racing.

As a result, she spent the majority of her childhood living with friends and family of her dad, knowing her father solely from interviews on the tv screen and the few times he could manage to come back and visit. Her earliest memories of him are distant, fragmented—moments snatched in between races or fleeting phone calls filled with too much static and not enough warmth. 

It was everything to her nonetheless. She never had an overwhelming interest in cartoons or any type of kids shows, more often opting for rewatching the same 3 minute interview over and over, wrapped up in a princess blanket on the couch trying to reach out for him. 

Even when he came home, he was different then he was in the home videos she’d watch from years before she could properly understand what was ever going on. She just knew that unlike in those grainy homevideos of their family of three—there were no bedtime stories, no trips to the park, no beach trips. Just a man who showed up, exhausted, distracted, and buried in paperwork or phone calls. 

That’s not to say he was always switched off. When he would return home after a flight into Australia, if it was night, he would come into her room and tuck her in, leave her with a kiss on the forehead, regardless if she was asleep or not. Sometimes, she would intentionally stay up all night when she knew he’d be back in a few hours, just to be awake and see him for those brief few seconds he’d come into her room for.

Each time he’d be home for was fleeting and not even on the cusp of enough time. Before she could even begin to feel like her dad was home again, he’d leave again and she’d find herself back at someone else’s house, some other relative’s care. 

It was the only life she’d ever known, to be fair, and she knew of nothing other than it. She loved her dad, she loved watching him go racing. She loved talking about her dad in show and tell when she’d bring in an old helmet of his or a trophy. He was her greatest pride and joy, all she could ever dream to be.

Once she was old enough to understand why her dad was so distant unlike all the other dads of her friends at school, she formed a belief—a belief that as soon as he retired from F1, he’d be her dad again. A father first, a racecar driver second. 

At twelve years old, she finally got her wish. He announced his retirement from formula one to the world in 2013, and she found out at the same time as the rest of the world did. He came straight home to Australia the night of the Brazilian Grand Prix—the final race of his career—-and despite it being past one am when she heard the front door open and shut, she was still awake.

Her door opened and so did her eyes—-only very slightly though, maintaining a squint so it looked like she was aalseep. She didn’t want to get in trouble for staying up hours past her bedtime. She waited for the kiss, for him to tuck the corners of her sheets so tight into her bedframe that she’d have to use all the force of her arms to squirm out of, for him to whisper goodnight to her—-but it never came.

He just stood in her doorframe, his figure outlined by the dim hallway light behind him. He waited for about a minute at most, not making a noise except for the slight hum of his breathing, then he shut the door, leaving her room back in complete darkness. 

That signalled the end of her dad, and the beginning of Mark. 

And even eight years on, she still feels cold when she thinks about that night. She thinks about trying to tuck herself in as tightly as he always did, but not managing to make it stay, and she remembers pressing the mouth of her favoueite teddy bear to her forehead—a brown bear wearing a blue racesuit, fittingly called Dad—to mimic her return night kiss.

She also remembers crying until the sun came back up, and going downstairs in the following morning to see the door of her dad’s office shut and locked, basically flaunting a ‘do not disturb under any circumstances’ sign. She knew better to go against that, knew that even though she was a kid who just wanted to see her dad—-she knew to be a rule listener, rules were more important then want. 

Those barriers never broke down, only putting more distance between them. She’d waited for the end of 2013 like it was going to be the year her world would forever change. She imagined retirement would bring them closer together, mend any strange drift that him racing around the world would’ve caused. She pictured breakfast together—plates of freshly made pancakes, stacked tall, sopping with maple syrup, and oozing melted chocolate—going on bike rides as the sun warms up the horizon, singing along to radio in the car ride to school, trips to the beach when the weather was warm enough and the waves were strong enough to surf.

Instead, she made pancakes out of a bottled mix—almost always burnt or undercooked. She taught herself to ride a bike, far later than other kids, embarrassingly. She’d clean up her cuts when she’d fall off her training-wheel-less bike, wincing at the burn of antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet. She’d hum along to whatever songs she had saved on her iPhone 4 on the walk to school, and once she was confident enough in her ability, while she bike ride to school. 

There weren’t any beach near enough for her to get to by herself at the age of twelve without an adult bringing her, so she decided she would buy a beach house once she was old enough and spend near to every day either swimming, surfing, or making sand castles.

The first time she can remember him sitting down to talk to her, or at least saying something of actual substance beyond something meaningless and tossed out without a second thought, was him sitting down across from her at the dinner table, and immediately saying he would be racing in WEC the following year. 

She didn’t know what WEC was, she didn’t really care to know anyways. She knew it meant he was going to be gone again, just when she thought she had him back for good this time around. 

“Okay.” She’d looked down at her plate, piled with sausages and roast vegetables, both getting cold from how long she’d been waiting for him to join her for dinner. 

Neither of them said anything more that night, and she didn’t wait for him to give her a hug goodnight—he didn’t deserve it, just like he’d decided she didn’t deserve to be tucked in anymore.

Even then, it wasn’t until years later when she’d found out that he’d actually signed the contract with Porsche in Endurance racing all the way back in june that she truly ever let herself feel the pain of the betrayal that night. He was never retiring, never actually coming back for her—he would always love racing more than he’d ever love his own daughter.

She still feels like that little kid, crying in her bed back in 2013 over not getting a kiss. This time, it’s over getting a ‘love you’. Two opposite sides of a coin—a kid not getting the same display of affection they do, and a nineteen year old getting once when she hasn’t in years. Even though she’d felt so betrayed and alienated even back then, she’d never stopped trying to gain his approval. She was always convinced that maybe if she just tried hard enough, if she could do everything right, if she was perfect, then he’d notice her. He’d finally see her, finally be proud. 

She thought that after so many years, she would’ve outgrown it—left behind that little girl who just waited for the day her favourite person in the world felt the same about her.

“Fuck!” It’s the only word that’s managed to leave her mouth since she ended the call. It’s the only word that can begin to come close to how she’s feeling, but even then, it hardly does. She wants to scream, to throw the rest of the broken pieces across the room and watch them shatter even further. Instead, her hands clench tighter, her skin punctured by the rough corners of ceramic. 

Blood trickles down her palms, mixing with the tears that have long dripped down onto the smashed glass. Oscar would think she’s pathetic of he saw her right now, at least she wishes he would. In reality, she knows that Oscar would clean up the mess of the broken cup and then gently sit her down on the edge of her bed instead of having her crouched over in her bathroom. He’d clean up the bloody tears and the cuts—bandaging her hands up so gently. He’d hold her close, wipe away her tears while he says all the right things to make her feel even just the slightest bit better.

She wishes Oscar could just stop being so perfect for a second, wishes he could have a single flaw that she could pick on and belittle him for, make her dad see that Oscar isn’t as amazing as he seems to be.

But he is, and so she can’t even blame her dad for picking Oscar over her—she would too.  

The thought of Oscar is what gets her off the floor in the end. She deposits of the shattered cup and washes her hand clean, still wincing like she did on all those failed attempts of riding a bike. She brushes her teeth, she dries her hands off so the bandages will stay on, and she gets dressed for the day. Her hands shake slightly while she does her makeup, and her bottom lip quivers as she spreads a layer of lipgloss across it. 

But she holds it together. Two words aren’t worth crying over. She’s not that little girl anymore. She’s her own person, she’s more then just Mark’s daughter. She has her own life, her own world that’s separate from her father—sort of. She has Oscar who she loves, regardless of his involvement in racing. She has dreams to travel the world, to get that beach house, to swim every day. She has plans to go to university next year and to finally get out of the house that’s caused her so much heartbreak. 

She can’t grow in the same environment that once destroyed her.

The time on her phone hits 8:50, and she looks her reflection in the eyes. She’s not a little girl. She’s not that little girl. She’s never going to be that little girl again. Until she forces a smile, and it’s the same one she’s had her whole life. 

When the doorbell rings, she takes one last look at herself in the mirror, dragging her fingers through her hair one last time, making sure it lays over her shoulders nicely. Even though the girl staring back at her is completely shattered inside, her exterior is near perfection—her foundation covers the redness of her face, any lingering tears look just like the areas where she applied highlighter, her bitten and swollen lips just look plump with the addition of lipgloss. The bandages on her hands are neat and completely hide the cuts.

If she just keeps herself together a little longer, maybe no one will notice any cracks beneath her surface.

With a deep breath, she heads downstairs and to the front door. After a few moments of gathering up the strength to face someone in her current state—even when its her boyfriend who she loves more than anything—she opens the door. Oscar stands there, a white t-shirt and pair of pale blue jeans. His hair is awfully messy, clearly having had nothing done to it whatsoever. His eyes light up when he sees her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Hi, Osc”

“Hey, baby,” Her face cracks into a smile at the nickname, some of the awful tension finally loosening up. Luckily for her, he doesn’t seem to notice the way her hands are trembling or how glossy and red her eyes are—he’s as normal and warm as he always is.

“Breakfast?” He gestures outside, stepping aside for her. She gives him a small nod, stuffing her phone into the pocket of her darker wash jeans. “Hey, we matched,” He grins at her, getting a giggle out of her. He looks accomplished by that, just getting a small laugh out of his girlfriend. 

She hopes Oscar never feels at all like she feels right now, how she’s felt her whole life. Oscar deserves a life of pure and complete happiness, she believes that genuinely. “We did indeed,” She slips her fingers into intertwine with his. He shuts the door behind her, guiding her towards a cafe he’d found online that’s only a ten minute walk away. 

On the walk to the café, Oscar shoots off on a story from back in Monza about one of the team’s mechanics spilling a coffee on his race suit—an iced coffee luckily. Oscar right by her side paired with the bright sun, a pleasantly warm current temperature and the promise of croissants and doughnuts, she finds it hard to even be upset anymore.

They get a table for two outside, enough in the shade that there’s no painful glare as they try to look at eachother. The service is quick, their table quickly covered with a hot chocolate, a caramel latte, and far too many pastries and baked goods for only two people. Regardless, they dig in straight away, trading drinks and food every so often.

Time flies past them, their drinks grow cold and more food arrives to their table. She tears off a bit of a cinnamon roll and pops it into her mouth just as Oscar starts to talk. “I was thinking,” Oscar says. “Maybe we could drive down to the beach this weekend. Weather forecast is good, waves shouldn’t be too bad.”

The beach—the final, unfulfilled dream from the checklist. Back at twelve, she could manage to everything on her own that she wanted to do with her dad instead. She learned how to make pancakes, even if they were far from perfect. She rode bikes, though it took longer than it should have and resulted in a few too many grazed palms and scabbed knees. She sang along to the radio, filled the silence on her solitary walks instead of in the car. 

But the beach was always out of reach. She had no way to get there on her own, so she would just rely on the impossible hope that her dad would finally look up from his busy life and take her there, just like she’d always imagined they would every weekend. 

It’s not that she’s never been to a beach, of course. There were trips with friends or school excursions, moments that almost scratched the itch, but never quite hit the mark. The dream she had as a kid wasn’t just about the location—it was about being seen, being cared for, about sharing that simple and tender joy with someone who mattered. There was a kind of magic in the way she pictured it back then, in her childish daydreams: her and her dad running toward the water, splashing through the surf, him laughing in a way he never did at home.

The ‘someone’ who matters didn’t matter whether that was with her dad or just on her own. All she knew was that it couldn’t be someone else, either the two of them, or just her.

But with Oscar, everything is different. She doesn’t know how to put it into words, how to describe that Oscar isn’t like any other guy, how he’s just about the most importnant thing in the world to her.

Even the fact that without even knowing the weight behind it, he just offered that to her. Casually. Without hesitation. Without her needing to ask, or worse, beg. He doesn’t make it a whole big thing, doesn’t put her in the position of feeling guilty for wanting something simple, something that for once isn’t a compromise. 

“Yeah,” she smiles wide, nodding excitedly. Her voice is still soft though, probably incredibly adoring. “The beach sounds great.” Oscar smiles, content that he came up with an idea that she’s so taken with. To him, it’s no big deal, it’s just the beach. But to her, it is. It’s huge, it’s the final piece of her jigsaw. 

She can already imagine it so vividly—the two of them driving down the coast, windows down with the salty breeze whipping through her hair. She can feel the sun hot on her skin, hear the soft rush of the waves as they crash against the shore, can smell the heavy salt of the sea. 

It’s going to be the best weekend of her life, even better than she imagined it would be back when she was twelve.

y/n.webber

liked by lilymhe, zhouguanyu and 2,879 others

y/n.webber best kinda pick me up

user32 where's the top from?

-> y/n.webber na-kd!!

-> user32 thank u omg!

user17 those pastries omggg

-> y/n.webber they were literally to die for, so good 😙🤌

user21 i need a hair tut frrr

y/n.priv (private account)

liked by l.sarge, osc.priv, and 1 other

y/n.priv seen better days

l.sarge oscar cambailsm

-> osc.priv what word is that

-> l.sarge eating your own kind

-> geo.6arge3 pastry on pastry crime

-> l.sarge ????? who r u

-> l.sarge omg its george sorry im a big fan lol

bsf/n love u baby <3 take care of yourself :(

-> y/n.priv miss u sm </3

osc.priv ❤️🥰

last chapter, next chapter

oooofff, rough chapter. honestly, motivation has been nonexistent recently but honestly, writing this chapter felt so easy and enjoyable, it that makes any sense 🥲

anyways, fun beach times in the next chapter + more oscar centric, i promiseeee:)

taglist: @prettiest-at-the-party, @forza-charles, @sltwins, @sweetwh0re, @lucktales, @ellen3101, @nxlx96, @notantou, @cloud-55, @wisestarfishbouquet, @zupercoolgirl

[elsweetheart]

texts with dealer!ellie part 3

🎀 a couple of ppl requested this so here’s another one,, just a day in the life of reader n dealer!ellies text messages …. very random n domesticish. as usual, r is reader e is ellie bc duh.

10:02AM

r: els

r: ellieeee

e: Yes baby sorry I was doing a deal

r: can we go and see the babie movie:)

r: barbie*

e: Fuck yeah. When does it come out?

r: july ☀️

e: Oh .

e: Why are you asking me this in April babe .

r: booking u in advance <3

e: Okay weirdo, mark it in your calendar

r: yay

__

12:43PM

r: ellie guess what

e: What

r: i don’t like the way you said what. do you still love me

e: Sorry my perfect angel. Tell me what is on your beautiful amazing mind.

e: Yes I still love you.

r: I SAW A DOG ON MY WAY TO CLASS AND THE OWNER LET ME STROKE IT

e: That’s great babe

e: What breed of dog was it

r: umm it was brown

e: Right

e: Well I’m happy for you ❤️

__

03:20PM

r: ellie >:(

e: Uh oh what’s with the face

r: you have been gone all day!!!!!! i miss you!!!!! and i’m mad

e: Sorry baby

e: The people need their weed

e: I’ll try and be back soon…ish. I’m off campus right now sitting in my car waiting for this pick up and they’re taking their sweet time. Gonna throw this baggie at their head when they arrive.

r: hehe

r: you’re off the hook bc you called me baby

e: Noted 📝

r: don’t u miss meeee :’(

e: You KNOW I miss you pretty girl.

r: oh rllyyy

r: can u show me how much u miss me when u come home ?? :(

e: Oh?? It’s like that huh

e: Yes I can

e: Did you have anything particular in mind?

r: nooo

r: i just think that i have been a good girl today and i should be bent over the desk <3

e: I think you’re ALWAYS a good girl.

e: Your wish is my command

r: ellie u can’t say your wish is my command when i’m trying to be sexy

r: i’m mad at you again

e: Sorry fuck

e: Genie roleplay

r: ellie >:(

e: Alright alright hold on my guys coming I can see him. I’ll deal with you in a second

r: >:(

03:32PM

e: Pick up done

e: You want the good news or bad news first?

r: …………. good news >:(

e: Well the good news

e: Is that I love you

r: what’s the bad news ellie >:(

e: Bad news is that I got another call and I’m gonna do one last drop off before I come home and stop answering calls for the night

r: fine

e: Don’t be mad baby I’m making money to buy you pretty things ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

e: Pretty things for my pretty thing 🤑

r: okayy

e: No but seriously babe

e: U have been my patient good girl today

e: Proud of you okay?

r: 😠

e: Alright sweet girl gotta drive now

e: But I’ll be back in 30 minutes to fuck that pout off your pretty face

e: Okay?

r: okay els :)

e: That’s my girl. Be back soon ❤️

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🧜🏼🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

YEAH ANNIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Two fics for you!!! Plus an ocean photo to set the vibes:

57 for 🧜🏼:

---

So Eddie has gotten pretty good at hiding it. Why would this guy fucking know?

Eddie tries to dismiss his concern as paranoia. He’s gotten a lot less paranoid in the past five years or so. Back after his body got back to where he was comfortable with it. But that fear, he thinks, will never entirely be gone. He can acknowledge that that’s a him problem. Not necessarily a damning statement about his new coworker Buck. So he doesn’t give the concern any fuel in his brain. Buck doesn’t know about him. Even if the old trauma in his brain says that’s the only reason he’s so brooding and unhappy with Eddie’s presence. 

“So, a medal of valor, huh?” His new coworker, Chimney, asks on the way to their first call. 

Eddie shifts uncomfortably - he didn’t really want to talk about this. 

“Yeah,” he confirms. “Back in El Paso.”

“What did you do?” Chimney presses.

“Same stuff you guys do every day,” Eddie shrugs. “Just saved someone.”

Really, not a story he wants to get into. 

Buck rolls his eyes at this response. Fuck him?

“Who?” Chimney asks. “From what?”

“My former captain and another firefighter on our team,” Eddie says. He took a piece of shrapnel to the leg doing it, too. Not that that’s why he doesn’t want to discuss it. 

“Eddie,” Hen pipes in, clearly sensing his desire to change the subject. “Uh, have you heard about the hot firefighter calendar?”

Buck shoots Hen a sour little glare. What is his problem?

“Sorry, the what?” Eddie asks. 

“It’s for charity!” Hen grins. Captain Nash erupts with laughter. Eddie feels a little in the dark. 

“So, is your full name Eduardo?” Buck jumps in. 

Eddie tenses. His brain swaps back to that paranoid place. Does he know? Is he trying to figure out Eddie’s deadname? In front of everyone? What the fuck?

“No,” he responds. “Just Eddie.”

“People ever call you Diaz?” Buck continues. 

Wait… Okay. Not the direction he was thinking. 

“Not if they want me to respond,” Eddie says. 

Chimney and Hen exchange an amused glance. Eddie doesn’t understand what about any of this is funny. 

---

57 for 🌲:

---

Whatever. Buck will take care of him. He’s going to help him figure this out. Because if he doesn’t, how can they fix the Christopher shit? And they have to fix that, too. 

Enough is enough. 

iii. 

Over the next two days, nothing much happens. At least, nothing big and catastrophic like growing a tail or making leaves and wind appear in your bedroom. For that, at least, Eddie is relieved. He doesn’t think he can handle things getting worse. 

Eddie manages to convince the free telehealth psychologist provided to first responders of Los Angeles that he is suffering from a strange combination of burnout and depression. It’s actually absurdly easy to do. He doesn’t even really have to try. She just sort of… Believes everything he says? Replies with affirmatives. Tells him he is so justified in his feelings. Agrees to put him on indefinite mental health leave without many follow up questions. 

“Just tell me when you’re ready to come back and I’ll sign off on that too,” she assures him. 

It’s sort of freaky, actually, how easy that was. 

So they’re both out of work for the foreseeable future. They get some questions about it on the next day they’re supposed to work. Chim and Hen accuse them of leaving them with Gerrard. Chim is especially annoyed, considering that Buck’s leaving now that Buck isn’t Gerrard’s target. Buck is able to take the heat off by explaining his actual situation. Though Eddie sees the discomfort in his expression as he sends the text. Eddie thinks Maddie is more than likely going to show up inquiring about his well being, and Eddie will just have to hide. Eddie does what Buck says when it comes to him to offer an explanation. Sends out a sad, sort of pathetic message, about everything that’s happened lately really getting to him. He doesn’t feel fit to work. The worst part? It doesn’t feel like a lie. The ears and tail and teeth are just… Part of it. 

“Do you think they actually buy it?” Eddie asks anyway. “Or do they think the timing is suspicious?”

Buck sighs. “I don’t know. I can send them updates after my next appointment to sell it more.”

Eddie nods. “I feel bad.”

Buck’s mouth twitches. “Me too, a little. But… We have to figure this out, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbles. “We do.”

Figuring it out isn’t easy though. Any searches related to spontaneous foxtail growth only yields results about cannabis. Eddie wishes this was all a drug induced shared hallucination. He doesn’t think weed is that strong. Maybe he could use some anyway. 

Likewise, any of their searches about leaves and wind are sort of fruitless. There are some certifiably crazy Reddit posts. Some hokey online guides for manifesting spirits. 

[crechi]

[♥♣} 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗢𝗦𝗧/𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 𝚘𝚏 𝚊❲𝚗❳ ABSURDIST(s) {♠♦]

for reasons of psychological turmoil.

. 𓀬

. |=||̆̑̆̑̆̑̆̑̆̑̆̑̆=|| || 𝄙 ||| 𝄙||| ||||||| 𝄚 |||||| 𝄙 ||||| |||||||||||| 𝄚𝄚 ||||||||| 𝄚 ||||||| |||||||||||||| 𝄚𝄚𝄚𝄚𝄚 ||||||||||| 𝄚𝄚||||| ———————————————————————

...and when you stand under the striped fabric, you're home.

Links/Masterposts regarding support for the palestinian genocide:

🪄🎠

^^daily click[s]

🪁💮

^^palestine relief funds

🎈📽️📣

^^＠el-shab-hassein's masterpost of verified fundraisers, as well as a timeline documenting the events of three baseless hate campaigns

🎪🎡

^^google spreadsheet of vetted fundraisers ［organized by ＠el-shab-hassein ＆ ＠nabulsi］

🎭🎞️🔪

^^israeli/palestine history resources

🌈🍭🫧

^^simple masterdoc of helpful links

🧸🪡🧶

^^masterdoc of information and support links for palestine and other countries

⚠cw!! : SWEARING; HEAVILY COLORED TEXT; NOT ALL CONTENT WITHIN THE CIRCUS IS SUITABLE FOR ALL PATRONS, SOME ACTS ARE NSFW

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢⛤⛧⛥

!!c: /ooh! i'm so excited; our very own shitshow! i've always wanted a circus! ?s: /petal, does this really coun- >#m: /stuff it, ringtoy. a'course it does, when we have a clown of a screwup like you here. [>#s: ... •/ check a mirror first next time, humourfreak.]

* ♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢⛤⛧⛥

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦◇◆◇◆◇◆✦

申し訳無い；一人にしてほしいのかどうか、わからない。

―人生そのものに関するメモ　【Personal Journal】

One-shots for my OCs:

• sleep-laced tears｡soft angst；soul monitor

• time was sweet to us, today｡bullet-train type angst；tied to death

• M｡O｡S｡ getting bullied；soul monitor

𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜:

• struggling empath v. reader(v tiny)

• to take comfort in mortality

𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 + 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

• cauterization carnival

• getting attached: a speedrun[x reader]: ver. 01 ; ver. 02

• what is yours, was always mine；x reader [major toxic relationship warning]

• ♥

~*c: my personal clusterfuck ‹ß

♥𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒♠

🂠🂡...ᵐᵃⁿ. ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᶜˡᵘᵇˢ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ. :[

𝟶𝟶𝟷: :] = [Hi hi! My name's crechi! it's good to know you're here, now we can get to the fun part of the act! Ooh, we're gonna have such a good time together!]

pronouns n' shit

僕の三人称代名詞と諧謔〜

🂠🃑ᶠᴵˡᵗʰʸ wₐⁿdˢ, ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑!

𝟶𝟶𝟸: ¶: = ｛Greetings, patron! You can call me Mentally̷̡̠̝̦̜̣̲̟̔̓́̓̔̊̑�̷̬͉̤͑̋̄͝�̴̰̤̰͉̤̖̒̇̈́̉́̚̚͜�̴̡̗͎̝̼̥̹̯̫̐̆͋͒̓̀̅͘ͅ�̷̡̠̝̦̜̣̲̟̔̓́̓̔̊̑�! It's always lovely to see a new face. Why don't you stay a while? I can guarantee you it'll be fun⁓｝

🂠🃁ᵒᵘʰ! ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵖᵃʳᵏˡᵉ ᵇᵒʸ!

𝟶𝟶𝟸-𝚊: :} = 〔My name is ̷̡̠̝̦̜̣̲̟̔̓́̓̔̊̑�̷̬͉̤͑̋̄͝�̴̰̤̰͉̤̖̒̇̈́̉́̚̚͜�̴̡̗͎̝̼̥̹̯̫̐̆͋͒̓̀̅͘ͅ�̷̡̠̝̦̜̣̲̟̔̓́̓̔̊̑�̷̬͉̤͑̋̄͝�̴̰̤̰͉̤̖̒̇̈́̉́̚̚͜�̴̡̗͎̝̼̥̹̯̫̐̆͋͒̓̀̅͘ͅ�Blind. Don't worry too much about me. I'm not supposed to be here⁓ Shh! Don't tell the others!〕

pronouns page: null{unfinished}

🂠🂱ᶜˡⁱᶜʰᵉ ᵇᵘˡˡˢʰⁱᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ!ᴵ'ˡˡ ᶠᵘᶜᵏ ʷ/ ⁱᵗ

𝟶𝟶𝟹: :/ = ⟨I'm Syva. Welcome. Don't mind the other two ‹three-ish›. They're,,, chill. Sure. Trust me. _`~ Rest with us a while. Please. You know you wanna~_＿You know you should.⟩

pronouns page: null⟨it's hard when your answer to everything is ❝uh huh, sure❞⟩

𝙋𝙀𝙊𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙊𝙒𝙀𝘿 𝙊𝙉 𝘾𝙄𝙍𝘾𝙐𝙎 𝙂𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙎 [𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝘽𝘼𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘿𝙎]:

× ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴘʜᴏʙᴇꜱ

× ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙᴇꜱ

× ʀᴀᴄɪꜱᴛꜱ

× ᴀʙʟᴇɪꜱᴛꜱ[ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ]

× ʙᴏᴅʏ-ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʀꜱ

× ᴀɴᴛɪ-ᴠᴀxxᴇʀꜱ

× ᴀɴᴛɪ-ᴀʙᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴇʀꜱ

× ᴀɴᴛɪꜰᴜʀʀɪᴇꜱ

× ꜰᴀɪᴛʜ ᴘᴜꜱʜᴇʀꜱ

× ᴋɪɴᴋ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʀꜱ

× ᴀɪ ᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛᴇʀꜱ/ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛꜱ

× ꜱᴘᴀᴍ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛꜱ

× ᴘᴏʀɴ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴜɴᴛꜱ

^list subject to expansion

｛"pushing faith" can get a lil blurry, so to be specific, we aren't talking about anyone that openly practices or writes about religion on their blog, just people who try to tell you you're wrong for not practicing their religion｝

will this stop any of them? no, not at all.

should it help the welcome guests of the tent to report them? absolutely! what helpful visitors you are ♥️.

if we find any of you inside, count your now precious seconds. if they manage to exceed eight, thank your god and agrise.

★★

when you exist under the marquee lights of the tent,

and waltz and laugh with the fire dancers and acrobats and oddmen,

and eat at the dinner table or couch sourounded by playful faces,

and dream with the lullaby of the ballerina music box as background noise,

and when you're cared about, criss-cross applesauce beneath the concealing cloak of the striped fabric, you're home. and you're safe. And you always will be so.

★★

[manicpixiedgoblin]

Nervous Young Inhumans

Masterpost

Chapter Eight.

“So, uh, you remember when Mr. White didn’t want to let us be partners in chem?” Jesse chuckled between waffle bites.

Ellie laughed, “he said I’d let you do nothing all year. Which was true. I just wanted to sit next to you.”

“I got so lucky you liked that class,” he poured more maple syrup on his plate.

“God, if we’d been seeing Biochemistry I would’ve actually enjoyed it. Inorganic chemistry was never my thing.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You know,” she took a bite of his waffles and he took some of her pancakes, “one’s concerned with four elements mainly, and with organic processes. The other’s a mess only Walter White enjoys.”

He laughed.

“Ugh, and he wanted to pair me with that girl, what was her name?” El asked.

“Rachel,” Jesse laughed, “and you hated her because you thought we’d slept together.”

“C’mon! It’s been years now, admit it! It was before me!”

“Ellie-“ he shook his head, took a sip from his orange juice, “El, you were my first.”

She was genuinely confused. Her face showed disbelief, but Jesse nodded.

“You said-“

“I wanted to impress you, we were sixteen.”

She nodded, smiling.

“Well you know you were my first,” she shrugged, “actually, you’ve been my only.”

He looked at her wide eyed.

“No way.”

She nodded.

“I don’t know,” she took another bite of food, “everyone else I always pictured you there and I knew we’d make fun of them together. I never met anyone that made me feel that way. Like we were laughing at the same part of the joke.”

He smiled.

“Yeah, but it’s just sex, right?”

“It’s okay, I don’t expect you to say you also stayed chaste. I should sleep around more.”

He shook his head, furrowed his brow and made a disgusted face. He mouthed a no.

They ate breakfast, like he wanted.

Then she dropped him off at his aunt’s house and went back to work, thinking, hey, maybe we can be friends and one day we’ll laugh about being each other’s firsts.

Then laughing at that thought alone, knowing there was no damn way she’d ever stop feeling something this intense for him.

***

They kept texting, but they didn’t see each other for the next few days.

Ellie focused on work, which wasn’t hard, considering how demanding it was. Your life had to be pretty chaotic to be relevant besides a medical career.

Jesse was getting kicked out of his aunt’s house, trying to figure out what was next and refusing to tell El - he knew she’d agree to let him stay with her, but what good would that do? She’d not only worry about him then, but also see no way to justify what he’d been doing if he was fucking homeless.

Even when Walt suggested it, he just snapped harder at him.

Those days she was more actively involved in work than she’d been since she’d seen Jesse again.

Meanwhile, Jesse was touring through all his contacts trying to find a place to stay or a way to make his life work without making it obvious how much he needed El.

The messes that boy went through to avoid calling.

***

Jesse called her after a few days of ambiguous texting. She picked up in the hall of the hospital.

“Hey,” his voice came, “so, uh, how are you?”

“How are you? I drove by your aunt’s house,” she hesitated, “you’re really selling it, huh?”

“Oh, uh, yeah - figured it was time to get my own place.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m in my new crib,” she heard him moving around in the background, “it’s actually sick, yo.”

“So you found a place! That’s so great, Jess!”

“Yeah, yeah, uh,” he hesitated, “uh, so - would you like to see it?”

“Yes,” she knew he could hear her smile on the other side, “I’d love to see it.”

“Come over, yeah, we can uh, cook or,” she heard something fall, “shit…”

“Jess?”

“Yeah, or maybe takeout. I need to buy like furniture and kitchen shit still.”

“Takeout’s good.”

“Tonight at eight?”

“Hmm, I finish really late. Does tomorrow work?”

“Yeah! Yes, tomorrow works.”

“See you then. I gotta get back to work.”

“Same, same. Keeping busy, yo. I’ll see you later! Bye!”

He hung up.

***

Shit. He looked at the broken bong on the ground he’d dropped while playing with it, distracted by talking to El.

Jesse sighed, sweeping up the glass with his bare hands.

***

He was taking off his white hoodie when he opened the door.

“You found it!” he called, throwing it behind him and walking out to give Ellie a hug.

“Is this your car?” she asked, pointing.

“Yeah, uh,” he shrugged, “not the bouncing wonder but it gets me there.”

She smirked playfully.

“Ahhh,” he shook his head and laughed, “c’mon let’s get inside.”

There was no furniture anywhere, but the place was nice. Like decent-people nice.

“How’d you get this? Did you fake credit scores?”

“I, uhh, just talked to them. The owners renting the place.”

“Huh,” she looked around, taking her jacket off and finding nowhere to put it, dropping it on top of his on the ground. “It’s nice. Really nice, Jess. I’m happy for you.”

“Hell yeah,” he gave her another half hug.

“So what d’you wanna order?” he asked.

“Pizza?”

“Let’s do that.”

***

They were eating on the edge of his mattress on the floor, pages strewn around.

“How’d the last one turn out?”

“Check it,” he showed her the drawing, the edges stained with pizza grease. In it Ellie was wearing the bottom half of her scrubs and a sports bra, holding a gun towards the viewer.

She burst out laughing. “I love it,” she pointed to the gun with her pinkie while holding a pizza slice, “but I wouldn’t know how to use that.”

“Yeah, well, you learn.”

They smiled at each other.

She wiped her hands on a napkin and leaned back on the mattress.

“We need to get you a couch,” she said.

“I have a whole plan, feng shui, you’ll see,” he leaned back with her.

They stared at the ceiling, but she felt him turning every few seconds to look at her. It lasted almost thirty seconds.

Ellie turned to face him. Jesse turned and stared into her eyes, down at her lips, than back at her eyes again. They stayed that way for a moment.

“You want a beer?” she snapped out of it, standing up.

“Uhh, yeah,” he sat up and rested his arm on his knee, “sure yeah.”

“‘kay. Be right back.”

[buckevantommy]

Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

*

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

[negasonicimagines]

Afraid / Part 5: A Chance Encounter

Wade reunites you with an old friend. The two of you cross paths with another.

“I brought donuts!” Wade cheered, waking you from your fitful sleep. You sat up, rolling your neck and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Ellie, meet our fearless leader!”

Eloise chuckled that same chuckle she always did. 

“We’ve met. We were roommates in school. This is what you’ve been up to, huh?” 

You stare blankly. What the fuck has he done? What is he trying to do? What in the absolute-

“Earth to Y/N!” Wade coos. “I remembered what you said about not being as tech-savvy as Datamine, and I figured maybe Negasonic could take over for you so you can focus on what you’re good at. More boots on the ground!”

“Give her a second. She always was a slow riser. Do you still need at least an hour or so on your phone before you get outta bed?” 

“I’ve gotten it down to half an hour on a normal morning,” you admit sheepishly. “Uh, look, I appreciate you being so willing, but I doubt Wade gave you the full breakdown. This position is… Traumatizing, to the uninitiated.”

“I mean, a lot of Weapon X footage has leaked online. Most people think it’s fake, but… yeah. I’ve seen some videos of that and some other stuff. I’ve always had a weird interest in that kind of thing, I guess. Hard to explain. So, you found him. I know we were never close, but that’s the sort of thing that warrants a text. I would’ve been nicer to this jackass if I knew he was your dad.”

“Sorry,” you reply. “I just figured you were busy with work and Yukio and all that.”

“Not too busy to hear that there was a happy ending to that whole saga. But I guess that would make me a hypocrite. When I heard about Theodore, I thought about reaching out and didn’t. I’m sorry. You could’ve used a friend then, with Logan being MIA. I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me, since it had been so long.”

“Always beating yourself up more than anyone else ever could. It’s fine, El- Ellie. I think going through that alone helped me grow as a person, anyways… If you’re sure, though, we can get started now. I have the perfect exemplar for you, actually. Come on.”

You make your way to the multi-monitor setup, sitting while Eloise stands next to you, crouched down to view the monitors. A respectable distance, but still uncomfortably close. You pull up your browser, file explorer, and a hacked version of the Weapon X file sharing program. 

“Okay, so I think this guy might’ve gotten out due to recent sightings, I’ve got this Google Alert set up here like this… If you don’t have enough details on him in our files, try looking him up by his number in the program. Figure out if he has any triggers, who might offer the best approach. In this case, he’s got a misogynistic streak, so Deadpool’s probably gonna be your best option. Determine what he needs to know and what you should keep to yourself. He’s staying in a 20-mile radius, so you’re not necessarily going to need to look into surveillance, but if you do, then you’d just go into this program here, feed it the picture and type in some identifying info… There he is at a Kwik Trip. And just prepare a memo, keep it vague in case it falls into the wrong hands. Never refer to a survivor as a package, though. Weapon X does that – we’re not them.”

“Right, okay… That was a lot, but it seems pretty simple.”

“And Y/N is always available for questions,” Wade adds. 

“I won’t bug you,” Ellie quickly responds. “But, uh… Why do you call him Deadpool?”

“Oh, I call him Wade sometimes.”

“Uh, yeah, okay… But he’s your dad.”

“That’s a very recent development,” you inform her, and she scoffs. 

“You always had the funniest way of phrasing things. I’m sorry I was such a jerk back then. We probably would’ve been better friends if I wasn’t.”

“I knew better than to take it personally,” you assure her. 

“Cool. Uh, so, just like this?” she asks, reaching over you to type a summary of the information in a Word Doc. You lean back, trying to avoid physical contact by all means. She’s as warm as ever, her mutation making her radiate a supernatural aura of heat.

When she’s upright again, you look it over. 

“Yep, perfect. Oh, but let’s nix that part. You know what an ass he can make of himself as well as I do,” you remark. “For right now, I’m avoiding telling Wade who’s personnel and who’s a survivor until he brings them here. I’d suggest you do the same.”

“Right, that makes sense. Can I tell you?”

“I’ve combed through that database about a million times. You might not even stick with us long enough for me to not know.” 

“I don’t know, I kinda like this. Keeps Deadpool out of trouble, you’re getting to work with a team that respects you instead of fearing you, it’s cool. I guess I’m just wondering why I’ve been invited.”

“Well, between you and me, I think Deadpool kinda has a thing for you. You’ve seen Vanessa, right? He likes girls with big brown eyes and attitude.”

“What the-?!”

“Y/N, gross! That is so gross!” Wade cuts her off as you cackle. 

“I’m kidding. I don’t know. Maybe he thinks I don’t have enough friends.”

“Dude, I’ve seen you at Ultraviolet before. You’ve got plenty of friends,” she remarks. 

“Yowch! Slut-shaming from the infamous feminist crusader herself. Maybe I should straighten up my act.”

Eloise snickers. 

“You make so much sense now. But honestly, maybe he was trying to force me to make a friend other than Yukio. You’re not terrible.”

“Not terrible! That’s high praise from you. I should go get properly dressed and all that. You two have fun.” 

You head out, making a beeline for your room. You’re not sure how you accomplished that. Sure, it’s been years, but the second she gave you that ghost of a smile, it felt like yesterday. Tears well up in your cheeks as you try to catch your breath. 

You get dressed in your usual garb, something dark and somewhat professional but comfortable and not too intimidating. You do your makeup, careful not to wipe your tears and smear it. Even if it leads to a greater time investment in the morning, it’s a lot easier to do your makeup and not worry about projecting the image to others. 

You step out and you’re immediately confronted by him. 

“What the hell was that?!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” you argue. 

“You were supposed to tell her!”

“What?!” you ask, laughing in shock. “No! She’s-!” You lower your voice: “She’s happy, okay? There’s no need to ruin that.”

“Whatever. But I’m gonna get my revenge for that fucked-up joke you made.”

“Hey now, you made the most fucked-up joke of all,” you retort, snickering. 

“What? When?”

“Roughly nine months before B/D, a couple of decades or so ago.”

“Hey!” he protests. “Wait, you’re not teaching today?”

“Nah, extracurriculars are on a mixed schedule. There’ll be an after-school session for the team, but my schedule’s open until around 3:30. I’m gonna head back to the office and check on El- Ellie,” you inform him. He trots alongside you. 

“You think she noticed that you stumbled over her name earlier?”

“I know she didn’t,” you remind him. 

“You’re scary,” he playfully commends you. “No wonder she had the hots for you, all spooky and mysteriously powerful. Like one of those paranormal romance novels!”

“No, things were different back then. I was so enthusiastic about… Everything. I swam, played the piano, heck, I was even on the cheer squad for a year, but it wasn’t really my thing. Not a fan of the uniforms – royal blue and gold, ick. Theatre was fun, Ellie and I were actually in a few musicals together.”

“No kidding! What I wouldn’t give for footage of that to lord over her.”

“It exists, but I wouldn’t. If she revisits her memories with me too much, there’s a chance she’ll realize they’ve been altered. She’s smart.”

Halfway there, your path is blocked by a pale, imposing figure. 

“Miss Levi, it’s been a while.”

“Miss Frost,” you reply curtly. “Has it been long enough?”

“Holy shit…” Wade whispers.

“Don’t be that way,” she hums. “It has been long enough. I’ve… Grown. I wanted to apologize to you for the way I handled things when you were younger. And by the way, those glasses really do suit you. They always did. If you need a new pair, my wallet is always open.”

You touch the frames. Shit, you didn’t even realize you were still wearing them. Why didn’t Wade or Eloise say anything?!

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Of course. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Wilson. I may have some work for you, if you’re interested. Oh! Didn’t like that, did you? I meant actual work; calm down. Considering how well the last private investigator I hired did, I thought you’d be happy to hear that I’m looking for someone else.”

“I’m not a private investigator,” Wade clarifies. 

“You’re a mercenary. You’ll do anything for the right price.”

“And you’ll be respectful. They’re not toys,” you grumble, feeling the icy pinpricks of her cold power on your skin. The way you engage with other telepaths is uniquely strange. You can feel the sensation of their power in a physical way, and the same goes from you to them. You’re guessing Emma felt an ocean wave roll through her and nearly knock her off her feet before. 

Miss Frost sighs. 

“You think you’re better than me just because you treat them like chess pieces instead of dolls. It’s a game either way. Yours just has higher stakes, ones that are mostly self-imposed. It’s nice to see that you’re doing well all the same. We should go out for lunch sometime. My treat, of course.” Miss Frost brushes past you before turning her head and waving goodbye, adding: “Congratulations on securing the king!”

“What the hell was that?”

“My former academic advisor. Mine and Ellie’s, but Ellie got switched over to Colossus after freshman year.”

“I’m guessing she didn’t take too kindly to all of… That.”

“No, she didn’t. Miss Frost tends to see non-psychics as… Lesser, for the most part. She favored me heavily over Ellie, it- It bugged me, too, but Miss Grey and the professor already had a lot on their plates, so we were stuck with each other. I’m grateful for the things she did for me, don’t get me wrong, but… I just don’t see things the way she does. She thinks I’m naive, and I don’t think anything I’m capable of saying or doing would change her mind on that.”

“What makes you naive?”

“Treating you as an equal. Most people. My telekinesis is on a cellular level. Atomic, in theory. That in combination with my telepathic abilities puts me at a level-”

“Omega. That’s what it’s called, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called. She’s an omega-level telepath. I am, too. She’s the one who taught me how to read minds, actually. Before, it was just the control – I know of at least one person who’s better than me at that, though. My telekinesis is what makes me omega-level. I’ve even been experimenting with waves,” you inform him, making sure he hears the last word in the ear you’re farthest from. He jumps, giggling. 

“That’s so neat!”

“Thanks. By her logic, though, I should be treating her as if she’s beneath me. But she’s not too in the loop on my telekinesis. It came to me later in life.”

“Oh, like her turning to diamonds. Stress can trigger it, right? That’s why… You know. They induce stress.”

You nod.

“So, what was it?”

“After the verdict. But I didn’t get it down to the cellular level until I saw you for the first time on that computer,” you inform him. “You wanna talk about shattering lightbulbs?”

“No, really?”

“Every single one in the school. And a couple outside. I think I heard someone complain about their headlights being broken, too.”

“Aw! All for little old me!” he coos, grabbing you and lifting you as he squeezes you in a suffocating hug. 

“Jeez, I can’t fuckin’ breathe,” you huff, and he puts you down. 

“Wow. You’re just, like, so cool. Seriously!”

“Let’s hurry up and get to the office.”

“Excited to see her again?”

“Nervous,” you admit. “What if I accidentally-?”

“You won’t. You’re stronger now, right?”

You nod. The two of you make it to Office D quickly, finding Eloise staring at the screen with wide eyes. Damn it. 

“Fuck, I… I tried to tell you.”

“No, no, it’s… Actually, I was curious about the resolved cases. You’ve… You’ve really saved that many people?”

“Well, some of those cases have to do with personnel that had to be… Handled.”

“Oh, okay,” Eloise says, nodding. “Still, this- This is a lot.”

“I’m sure if you had a record like that, it’d look similar,” you assure her. 

“Mutual respect. I know Miss Frost’s a bitch, but get used to it,” Eloise insists. 

“How’d she know we ran into her? It’s like you two are on the same wavelength,” Wade remarks. 

“You two ran into her? Gosh, I remember how obsessed she was with you. I think she just wanted to take credit for you, but it was kinda creepy.”

“There’s a void in her life that she tried to fill with me, but I couldn’t fit in. Kind of like my adoptive parents.”

“Telepaths – always better with the whole psychoanalysis thing,” Eloise remarks. “Anyways, I think I found one for you. You wanna take a look and make sure I’m doing this right?”

“Oh, sure. May I?” you ask, and she gets up, allowing you to take your seat. You read over the summary, seeing which sources she got her information from. “Yeah, perfect. You catch on quick. I’ll get right on that.”

You print out the memo and grab it before getting out of the chair. Oh, you are so back. You can’t wait to suit up this evening and get back out there. 

“I don’t get chess metaphors,” Wade whines. 

“Huh?” Ellie asks, looking up from the computer. 

“Something Miss Frost said when we ran into her,” you clarify. “She invited me to lunch and congratulated me on… Ugh, how dramatic.”

“Ah, chess. Remember how she used to make us play over and over?”

“Yeah.”

“You always won. I hated you for that.”

“I know. You never believed I wasn’t making you make bad moves.”

“I was a sore loser,” Eloise admits. “I’m surprised you never joined the team, though. They definitely could’ve used you.”

“Everyone wants to use me,” you reply. “That’s why I stick to myself these days.”

“Fuck, yeah, that- That makes sense. I always knew it was a burden on some level to have that kind of power, but it really does affect everything in your life, doesn’t it? At least it’s easier to know who to trust.”

“Except for him. And my biological mother. No idea what’s going through their heads.”

“And Theodore,” Eloise says softly. 

“And Theodore. But he was a little too young to have mastered lying, so it wasn’t too difficult.”

“You should take Wade to his gravesite if you haven’t already. I see it when Yukio and I visit Rob, it’s really- I mean, when you’re ready, you should. Sorry, I get ahead of myself sometimes.”

“No, that’s a… That’s a good idea.” You turn to Wade. “I was just thinking about going to lunch, do you wanna do that and then go?”

“Sure,” Wade says. “Yeah, that’s- Sure.”

You used to read to all of the children, creating illusions in the air to accompany the stories and using your abilities to make them less restless. It brought you joy to comfort them, the ones who were even younger than you were when their mutations manifested. 

When Teddy came along, though, you had to focus on him. He was in a private room in the medbay. Nothing could be done for him other than giving him nutrients and hydration through an IV, and some medication to ease his pain. 

But you tried to do something for him. A private bedtime story session. He couldn’t see your illusions, you couldn’t ease his fear or pain, but you could read and keep him company.

“One more,” he’d say. And there was always one more, even if you had to text Logan and ask him to grab another from the library. 

“One more,” he said that night. “Just one last one.”

“It’s not the last one. Maybe we should start doing chapter books,” you suggested. “I could read to you until you fall asleep, and the next night you can tell me the last thing you remember.” 

“I think this is gonna be the last one this time. I really don’t feel good. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just get cozy, and I’ll read to you. It’ll be okay.”

“You’re a good sister. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Teddy. What do you want me to read?”

“Goodnight Moon.” Of course. It was his favorite after all. 

“In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of– The cow jumping over the moon. And there were three little bears sitting on chairs, and two little kittens, and a pair of mittens, and a little toyhouse, and a young mouse. And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush… And a quiet old lady who was whispering: ‘Hush.’ Goodnight room.”

“Goodnight room,” Teddy echoed, his always-tired eyes looking even sleepier. 

“Goodnight moon,” you continued. “Goodnight, cow, jumping over the moon. Goodnight, light and the red balloon. Goodnight, bears. Goodnight, chairs. Goodnight, kittens, and goodnight, mittens. Goodnight clocks, and goodnight, socks. Goodnight, little house, and goodnight, mouse. Goodnight, comb, and goodnight, brush. Goodnight, nobody. Goodnight, mush. And goodnight to the old lady whispering: ‘Hush.’ Goodnight, stars, Goodnight, air. Goodnight noises, everywhere.” 

You heard the ringing of his heart flatlining, and closed the book. You could hardly blink, let alone get up from the chair. You just sat and watched him grow cold before the night staff finally made their way to him, gently lifting him and placing him on a stretcher to be taken to the county morgue.

[fckwritersblock]

Focus

Ez Reyes x Black Reader

Description: Drabble. I was literally listening to Chris Brown To My Bed

Don’t know what this is but…enjoy I guess lmao currently editing a few other one shots & catching up on the Mayans and when I looked up Ez was on my TV so. 

Everyone was drunk and shit and I was sick of their shit. The plus side no one seemed to be paying me any attention anymore. Pulling out my phone I searched for the number before sending a quick texting.

Come get me querida

I figured if I didn’t drive everybody might think I was knocked out in the trailer and leave me the fuck alone for a little bit. Angel would definitely take the hint if ot was locked. Not too long after that my phone buzzed with a response.

Why should I?

Y/n.

You’re no fun.

about 30 minutes after I sent that message I got another one tell me to come outside. I jogged out the door and hopped in her car before she could completely stop. Last thing I needed was for someone to see her and start asking questions. I was already in some shit, I didn’t need to add anything else to my plate.

“El presidente know you coming?" She smiled turning around to head back to her house.

This girl loved to tease me about this prospect shit. Got a shot in any chance ate got.

It’s ok though.

I got something for that ass tonight.

I rolled my eyes, "You know I don’t have to tell that man everything I do."

She laughed hard at me, "Yeah right. You on a time limit and everything now boo. You sure you ain't gotta be back at a certain time? Run some errands? Hold anybodys dick while they piss? Or did daddy say his little bitch can sleep over tonight?"

She started talking to me like I was a baby pinching my check with one hand after we pulled up to a red light. Y/n laughed as I swatted her hand away before I placed my hand on her thigh leaning in towards her ear, "Why you being funny?"

She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on the steering wheel as she pulled off. “Why you close for? I'm driving nigga you can't distract me."

Grinning I slid my hand up her thigh. I bit my lip at the fact that she was wearing a dress.

That's my girl, make that shit easy for me.

"Ez stop." She giggled, driving with one hand as she pushed

my hand away with the other.

"You don't forreal want me to." I glided my finger over the outside of her panties.

Lace.

My favorite.

Barely anything there.

They were that much easier to soak and and even easier to destroy.

"Ezekiel" She was breathing heavy, her eyes darting all over the place as if someone was watching her, "I can't focus baby."

I laughed, rubbing her pearl a lil bit harder as her legs slightly parted a bit more. I don’t even think she realized she was opening up for me. More like muscle memory.

"Better learn to control it baby, cuz I know you don't really want me to stop. In fact," I slid my fingers through the thin fabric, "Something is telling me you loving this shit ma."

She bit her lip to stop her moans from coming out. I rubbed my fingers around her clit, slipping all in her wetness.

"You're an ass..." She moaned out, her eyelids looking heavy. I could feel the slight roll of her hips in attempt to create more friction.

"You love it though," I dipped my digits inside her waterfall, "How wet this shit is, don't even try lying babe."

Y/n struggled to drive the rest of the way to her crib. I played around in her wetness, leaving her no choice but to enjoy it.

Soon as she stopped the car I leaned over to her, planting soft kisses on her neck.

She moaned out, turning the car off and opening her door but

not able to get out.

"Ez...." She rubbed the back of my head as I kissed on her neck,

"We gonna make it to the bed this time babe?"

She was practically putty in my hand.

I laughed in her necking, making her giggle, probably tickling a bit.

"You know we gon' try." I spoke into her ear.

Uh huh.

Yeah right.

Soon as we hit her front door we were all over one another.barely able to get the door shut.

"Ez please make it to the bed." She moaned into my mouth.

I laughed sliding my hands down her ass, picking her up and placing her on my waist.

"Where's the fun in the bed?" I joked, suckling on her neck, moving on down her chest.

"Have we ever done it in a bed Ez?" She leaned her head back

giving me more access to her body.

I laughed kicking her door open, "Hell if I know Y/n."

She bit her lip as I lowered her onto the edge of the bed. I smirked, hovering over her, easing my body down on hers.

She was already tryna pull my pants down with her feet before I could even get situated.

"Wait a minute baby," I started rising her dress up her body. "Now you know," I kissed her left thigh, licking circles to her panties, “I gotta eat it," I did the same exact thing to her right thigh, "Before I beat it."

[leiawritesstories]

Emrys’s Waterfront Café

Same universe as In The Empty Gym. Rowaelin. College AU. Enjoy!!

Word count: 2,391

Warnings: language, innuendo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hurry up, Ae, you’re gonna be late!” Lysandra squealed, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Aelin carefully finish her mascara, cleaning off any stray smudges. 

“Calm the hell down, Lys!” Aelin called, “I have twenty whole minutes, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but what if he’s early? Aeds literally showed up half an hour before he was supposed to for our first date.”

“Lysandra.” Aelin walked over and placed her hands on her roommate’s shoulders. “Calm. The. Fuck. Down. I’m not going to be late, and your masterwork isn’t going to be ruined.”

“I know, I know,” Lys sighed, “I’m just really fucking excited for you!”

“You’d think you were the one going on the date,” Aelin snorted, returning to the bathroom mirror to give herself a last once-over. 

“Bitch,” Lys snickered.

Aelin shrugged. “Hey, I can’t blame you. Rowan is, as you and Elide never ever stop reminding me, the hottest freshman lacrosse starter.”

“Bitch!” Elide called from her room, where she was seated cross-legged at her desk, typing away on her laptop. 

“Love you too!” Aelin returned, blowing a kiss at her suitemate. She twirled one of her loose curls around her finger, toying with the golden strands. 

“Hand off!” Lys batted Aelin’s hands away from her styled messy bun and the loose, framing strands falling out of it. “I didn’t spent an hour on your hair just so you could ruin it!”

“Nah, you spent an hour on her hair just so Rowan could ruin it!” Elide cackled.

“El!” Aelin shrieked, flushing under her light makeup. “Shut up!”

“So you don’t want to kiss him, then?” Elide waggled her eyebrows wickedly. “Pity, that. If Lorcan’s that good a kisser, imagine what the rest of the guys on the team can--”

“Okay hell no, El, I do not need that image in my brain! This is a first date, goddammit!”

“Uh huh,” both Elide and Lysandra chorused. 

“You’re the worst,” Aelin groaned, grabbing her cute little mini backpack and tying her high-top Converse. “I’m leaving now.”

“No goodbye for us?” Lys stuck out her lower lip. “And after I spent all that time helping you get ready.”

“Thank you, Lys.” Aelin gave her roommate and best friend a quick hug, ducking into Elide’s room to hug her too. “Okay I really have to go now.”

“Bye!” her roommates called, waving from the door as she headed down the hall to the elevator. 

~

Down on the ground floor, Aelin took a couple of deep breaths and checked her phone again, having heard it buzz while she walked towards the doors. She found a waiting text from Rowan. 

>i’m outside the door now 

So Aelin exited her building, a grin slipping onto her face when she saw Rowan waiting for her, casually but nicely dressed in dark jeans and a Henley, sunglasses on his face to block the bright, early-spring sun. 

“Hey,” she greeted, sliding her own sunglasses on. “So where are we going?”

“That’s a surprise,” he grinned, falling into step next to her. “You look gorgeous, Aelin.”

“Thank you.” She blushed a little bit. “My roommate insisted on helping me.” She cast her eyes over him, appreciating the view. “You look pretty damn great yourself, if I do say so.”

He huffed a little, pushing his sleeves up his forearms. “Thanks.”

Her eyes fixed on his left arm. “I never got to tell you how much I admired your tattoo!” She peered closer at the intricate design. “What language is that?”

“Wait you recognized that it’s a language?”

“Yeah, of course. I do study linguistics,” she quipped. 

“God that’s so cool. It’s the Old Language.”

“Damn,” Aelin whistled, “it’s beautiful, whatever it says. Where’d you get it done?”

“Part of it at Lion’s, some of it I actually did myself.”

“No way!” Aelin exclaimed. “My uncle Gavriel owns Lion’s!”

“Gav’s your uncle?” Rowan’s brows shot up. “Shit, I can kind of see it. Gav trained me, taught me everything I know about tattooing.”

“Good with your handiwork, are you now?” Aelin teased, clamping a hand over her mouth when she realized the joke had slipped out. “Fucking hell, I’m sorry, I--”

Rowan chuckled. “I do like working with my hands,” he smirked, his entendre definitely not going unnoticed.

Aelin gaped at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Gods,” she giggled, “I never would have guessed your mind’s as far in the gutter as mine is.”

“Baby, my mind is the gutter,” Rowan drawled, leading Aelin up to an older pickup truck and opening the passenger door for her. “Your carriage, milady.”

“Thank you, good sir,” she preened, stepping up into the surprisingly clean cab. She tried her very best to ignore the throb that shot through her at the nickname he’d used. Rowan loped around to the driver side, got in, and started up the engine, backing out and heading out of campus. 

“You mind if I put some music on?” he asked once they were out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, go ahead!” 

Rowan fiddled with his phone for a moment while they sat at a stop sign, putting on a classic rock playlist. Aelin grinned, tapping her foot along to the beat. 

“You’ve got good taste, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“In music and in women, it seems,” he shot right back, grinning at her.

Aelin flushed. “Bet you say that to all the girls you take out.”

“I’ve never taken out anyone as stunning as you.” Honesty shone in his green eyes. 

She hardly knew what to say, so she quickly changed the subject. “Now will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Still a surprise, Aelin,” he smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. “Still a surprise. Nice try though.”

She sighed in fake exasperation. “Fine then, keep your surprises.” A new song came on, and she popped up in her seat. “I love this song!”

~

Rowan took her to a cute little café down by the riverfront, holding the door open for her like the young gentleman he was. 

“I love this place!” Aelin gasped when they walked in, a gleeful grin spreading over her face.

“You’ve been here?” Rowan looked shocked, and a little disappointed.

She impulsively rested a hand against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you, Rowan. Yes, I’ve been here. A lot. Started coming right around the beginning of the year, when I had to study and Googled all the places that were open late and served coffee.”

He chuckled at that. “Well, I can’t blame you for that. How often are you here?”

“Oh, I--”

“Aelin!” exclaimed the café’s owner, coming to greet them with a pair of menus in his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you today!”

“I didn’t know I was coming today, Emrys,” she grinned, giving the jovial older man a quick hug, “but Rowan here brought me.”

“You chose well,” Emrys told Rowan, leading the pair to a table by the windows. “Aelin knows she’ll be well fed if she comes here.”

“Emrys,” Aelin groaned, “he didn’t need to know that!” Emrys just winked and headed back to the kitchen. 

“Hey hey, I’m trying to impress you here,” Rowan smirked. “It wouldn’t do for your insatiable appetite to pretend not to exist just to make me feel better.”

“My insatiable appetite is, I’m sure, going to be easily satisfied by you,” Aelin purred, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Rowan coughed, his face flaring red. “Aelin!” 

“What?” she asked innocently, batting her lashes. 

“We’re in public!” he all but squeaked, furtively glancing around to see if any of the other guests at the café had overheard Aelin’s little joke. 

“Calm down, Rowan, you look like a bird who’s just had his feathers ruffled,” she teased, flipping her menu onto the table. 

“Don’t you need to look?”

“Nope! I tend to order the same thing whenever I come here. Besides, even if I did order something different, I’ll bet you Emrys is back there cooking up my usual.”

Rowan had to laugh at that. “Damn, Aelin, he really does know you too well.”

She grinned. “Yeah, he does.”

~

As they were leaving, Aelin carrying the paper bag of their leftovers, Rowan slid his hand into her free one as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She glanced up at him, a soft little smile curling up her lips. They headed down to the riverfront hand in hand, Rowan tugging Aelin down to his favorite spot. 

“I’ve never....never taken anyone here,” he admitted, a little sheepishly.

“Never?” Aelin’s brows shot up. “Seems a little serious for a first date.”

“It might be.” Rowan sat down on the old wooden bench, patting the space next to him. “But I’ve got a feeling you’re the person I want to bring to this place.” Blushing a little, Aelin seated herself next to him, so close she could feel his breath against the top of her head. Another inch over and she’d be leaning into his side. 

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, drinking in the peaceful view of the river and the city, the cool green shade of the trees around them, the warm spring sun gilding the buildings and the ripples of the river. 

“I’ve been coming here since I was a little kid.” His voice soft, distant.

“You live here?” She turned her head to him.

“Yeah, I’m from the western part of the city, so sort of close to campus but far enough away that we never had to deal with crazy drunk frat boys.”

Aelin snickered. “Bet that was nice for your family.”

“Sure was,” Rowan chuckled. “I found this place when I was in grade school. I’d been out riding my bike around and I came down to the riverfront and I was exploring, and then I happened upon this little path. So of course I followed it, and here we are now.”

“Here we are indeed,” Aelin grinned. “It’s so peaceful, Rowan. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” he murmured, sliding his arm around her shoulders and tugging her gently against his side. She leaned into him, fitting so naturally against his side. As though they’d been made to fit together.

And they sat there by the riverfront for a good hour longer, talking and joking and laughing with each other, until Rowan glanced at his watch and swore a string of terrible words in German. “Fuck me, I’ve got practice in an hour!”

“Not here, I won’t,” Aelin purred, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Shit, I--”

“Is that a promise, Aelin Galathynius?” His eyes darkening. 

“Maybe,” she hummed, widening her eyes.

“Well then.” Rowan swallowed harshly. A smirk danced across his face. “Too bad I prefer not to go there on the first date, baby.”

“A true gentleman,” she smirked, standing and pulling him along with her. “Does that mean you’ll ask me out again?”

“Can I actually surprise you the next time?”

“Of course.”

“Then may I take you out again, Aelin?”

“Yes,” she replied, her smile broad and joyful, “yes you may.”

Rowan’s grin didn’t leave his face the whole drive back to campus. Aelin could practically see the gears turning in his head, planning what he wanted to do for their next date. 

“Aelin!” he called as she hopped out of his truck. 

“Yeah?”

“Text me a list of all the places you have gone while you’ve been here! I do want to surprise you this time.”

“Okay!” she called, pushing her door closed. Rowan idled in his truck for a moment, watching her stroll over to the sidewalk, then shifted into park and jumped out of the cab, catching up to her in just a few bounding strides. 

She halted, raising one blonde brow. “Did I forget something?”

“This,” was all Rowan said as he closed the distance between them, kissing her gently. He felt her lips curve upwards against his as she returned his kiss. God, it was just as incredible as Rowan had hoped. 

“You’ve got practice!” she gasped as she pulled away, her lips a little redder. 

“I’ll make it,” he grinned, a little breathless himself. “Text you later, Ae!”

She waved over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss as she headed up the sidewalk to her dorm building. Rowan grinned like an idiot as he returned to his truck, kept grinning all the way to practice.

Where his team captain took one look at his stupidly giddy face and yelled, “PAY UP, BITCHES!”

“What the fuck, Lorcan?”

Lorcan Salvaterre, a junior and the captain of the team, grinned wickedly as he collected his earnings. “You kissed her, yeah?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Then I won the bet!” Lorcan crowed, incredibly proud of himself.

“I--You--What--” Rowan took a deep breath. “You dicks made a bet?”

“Hell yeah we did!”

“God,” Rowan grumbled, laughing wryly, “I should have known.”

~

Aelin waltzed back into her dorm with a huge, dopey smile plastered onto her face. Rowan had kissed her. Rowan. Had. Kissed. Her! 

“EL!” Lysandra hollered. “You owe me fifty!”

“Fuck!” Elide yelled, hurrying into Aelin and Lys’s room. “How the fuck do you know?”

“Look at her,” Lys smirked, gesturing at Aelin and her expression. 

“Well shit,” Elide whistled, slapping fifty dollars into Lys’s hand. “Congratulations to both of you.” She winked broadly and returned to her room.

Aelin’s eyes narrowed at her gleeful roommate. “You made a bet?!”

Lys just smirked.

“Bitch!” Aelin squealed, her face flushing. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Babe, the guy’s head over heels for you. I bet Elide he’d kiss you on the first date, and I appear to be right.”

“And what did Elide bet?”

“Third base!” Elide yelled from her room. 

Aelin’s face went bright red, her jaw dropping open. “ELIDE!” she howled. “NO!”

“Yeah, yeah, you want to go on at least four or five dates before you jump his bones,” Lys cackled.

“Both of you suck,” Aelin groaned, flopping onto her bed.

“But you loooooove us!” Lys crooned.

“Yeah, I do.” 

The memory of that kiss burned bright in Aelin’s mind, causing her to look up from her homework grinning like a maniac at random times. And giving her wonderful, wonderful dreams that night. Oh, she couldn’t wait for their next date.

~~~~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed or if tags don’t work!

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@loudphantomdragon

@flora-shadowshine

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@julialovebooks

@nesgoddessofdeath

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@story-scribbler

@nicolivesinbooks

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@maeclin

@gracie-rosee

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@skeletons-and-wildflowers

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@themoonthestarsthesuriel

[windona]

For prompting night: Jaime finding out Khaji Da has an intense dislike for something almost bizarrely random (flavor, sound, tv show, whatever you find most entertaining).

Atmosphere: 30.7 Barr, 57% humidity, 78 degrees Fahrenheit.

Hector and Nadia had not texted about any supervillain attacks. None had been detected while on patrol.

Jaime had eaten his dinner at 1.35777 hours previously. He was gliding on the wind currents through the sky, curving on the flow as he angled downward and lightly touched down.

Ghrelin and leptin levels indicated that Jaime was slightly hungry. Training along with puberty had increased his appetite, but there was a 57.67% chance that the recent increase in hunger predicated a growth spurt.

Scanning the food vendors, Khaji Da processed the information to identify the optimal snack. Protein for muscle, calcium and vitamin D for bones, sufficient calorie profile, and of course a taste profile that would be appealing to Jaime all needed to be accounted for.

"Hey, they have limited edition chocos?"

[[Chocos are not the optimal snack. Carrots with hummus currently appear to be the superior option.]]

"Yeah, but depending I might not be able to get them again," Jaime whispered before exchanging money with the man at the newsstand. The man shrugged and gave Jaime his change: people in El Paso had long grown used to the quirks of the city's hero.

Jaime unwrapped them, and took a bite. Alerts went off.

[[WRONG. The chocos are POISON.]]

Jaime froze. "What? What are the effects?"

Khaji Da ran the chemical interactions. The results. [[None.]]

"...How is it poison?"

The man at the newsstand stiffened, but that was inconsequential.

[[The flavoring is WRONG.]]

"...Uh. You've had dulche de leche before."

[[Dulche de leche is made of milk and sugar. This is not and it is WRONG.]]

"Oh. This isn't a soap tasting cilantro thing, is it?"

[[<I> do not have genetics.]]

"Yeah, it is, huh? I guess mama will be happy to know all her cooking is fine."

[[It is nutritionally complete and not WRONG.]]

Jaime sighed, and crumpled up the cookies before throwing them in the trash. "That's good to know. Just warn me before I buy a food you don't like the taste of next time, okay?"

[sunshineseung]

Voice Messages from Lee Felix

dedicated to @spilledtee and her lovely felix 🐥 anon who is very hot and sexy :) I hope you enjoy, El!

4:12 pm

Hey Y/n! I’m sorry for bothering you at work. I know you’ll be home soon, but I just wanted to remind you how much I love you, hehe. I didn’t get to say goodbye this morning because I was still sleeping, and I feel really bad about it. Okay, love you, bye~

4:33 pm

So, I was thinking… what if you came home early? I know it can be hard to get off work early, but I really want you home with me right now! I just wanna cuddle with you and kiss you and love you. I still feel bad about not saying goodbye, and I wanna make it up to you. Hope to see you soon, love! Bye bye :)

4:46 pm

So, I guess that’s a ‘no’ on the coming home early idea? I just spent a few minutes setting some things up, so when you’re on your way home, please text me and let me know! I want to be ready for when you get home. You’ve been working so hard, I want to reward you… wink wink… hehe. Love you, see you soon!

4:50 pm

Mommy~ come hoooome!!! I love youuuu~ ^^

4:54 pm

That wasn’t enough to get you to come home? I’m sure you’re listening to these! You’re just not answering to tease me! I know your games, mommy! You can’t fool me! If you’re going to tease me while you’re at work, then I’m going to break a few rules if you don’t mind. What if I start to play with myself while you’re gone? Doesn’t that make you want to come home, huh, mommy? See you soon, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting. ;)

4:57 pm

Mmm, oh, mommy~ feels so good. My hand feels so good, but it’s nothing like your pretty mouth, mommy. Thinking about you going down on me for being such a good boy… although I’m being a bad boy right now. This is what you get, mommy. Bad little kitty Lixie because you won’t pick up your phone! ‘M gonna cum all on my own because you’re being a big meanie. Are you coming home soon, ma’am?

5:01 pm

Fuck, fuck… oh my god mommy, remember that vibrator you got for me awhile ago? I just want to let you know that it feels really good on my cock… fuck. Really good! I thought I’d give it a try since you’ve been ignoring me, and I’ve almost cum twice already. I won’t want to make a mess just yet though. Remember earlier when I said I set things up? I meant I put on a skirt for you, but since you’re running late, I guess this skirt’s gonna get covered in my cum already. Too bad, I think I look really cute. You want a picture mommy? I’ll send you a picture of me in this skirt. I’ll put on your favorite collar too, don’t worry. I can’t cum without your name dangling from my neck. I’m your property, right mommy? Your perfect little toy. Anyway, I have to get back to breaking mommy’s rules. Love you! <3

5:04 pm

Ooo, this pillow feels so good… your body pillow’s between my legs right now, mommy. I’m rutting my cock against your pillow like the pathetic little slut I am. Isn’t that what I am, mommy? Not just any pathetic little slut, I am YOURS. I’m all yours, and that means only you can put me back into place. Hh, this pillow feels so good, mommy, I might have to cum. Want me to cover your pillow in my cum, huh? I already got my precum on your pillow… so messy. Your messy kitty’s gonna cum all over your pillow. Hurry home!

5:07 pm

Uh oh… mommy, I made a mess!!! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking straight! I�� I… I got cum all over your body pillow. I’ll wash the cover, I promise! I’ll clean it up! I’m so sorry! Please don’t punish me! I’ll be good when you get home, I swear! I love you with all my heart. You know I’d never disobey you, but I’m just sooo needy. I’m still needy, mommy. Please come home!

5:09 pm

I washed the cover! You should be home soon. If you’ve been listening to these, I’m so sorry. Please go easy on me. My ass still hurts from last night’s spanking. Pl- oh, is that your car in the driveway? … oh shit.

[morvantmortuary]

for the request game, 64 + Hector. I can't stop thinking about it lord help

64: "I better leave my mark on you so everyone knows you're mine"

1. I’m sorry this took so long bestie, feel free to bonk me with a foam bat :’D

2. I’m sorry for what’s about to happen, bestie

el quiere sangre -

warnings: death scare, someone watches reader sleep, possessed!Hector, yandere behavior, ghosts, corpses, marking, possessiveness, some gore, dead person making less than wholesome insinuations to the reader. potential dead dove do not eat; we’re going scary and not smutty here.

reader notes: Hex’s Reader, established relationship! Reader uses ‘They’ pronouns, but Hex still refers to them by fem petnames and endearments in spanish bc those are what I know :’D Otherwise Reader is fairly neutral in all other aspects! Any tweaks to maintain that or to fix Hex’s spanish appreciated, as always!!

You knew the seance probably hadn’t gone well when Hex didn’t text you back that night. Or early the next morning.

Your concern was confirmed the following afternoon, when not only one but both of the twins were at the front door when you knocked and neither one looked like they’d come remotely close to sleeping.

“Oh! Hi there, sweetheart.” Maxi gave you his best attempt at a smile, but the circles under his eyes were darker than usual, and you could tell from the wrinkles at his elbows and knees that he was still in his dress shirt and slacks from the day before. “We, uh. Weren’t expectin’ company today. Sorry.” 

Rora was lurking against the wall behind him - her hair a frizzy mess, her dress similarly rumpled, and her mouth poised like she was sucking on her teeth against a bad taste. 

You blinked before you remembered to speak - it was unlike anyone in the family to look so rough in front of company. Sure, you’d been spending more time around the House lately, but you thought you still qualified on some level. No one had let you see the basement yet, for example.

 “No, you’re fine! Totally fine, no big deal, ” you said, looking between the two. “I hadn’t heard from Hector yet, so I thought I’d swing by and see if anyone, um, needed anything. …Rough night, huh?” You tried to smile even a little at your own bad joke. Hex had warned you that sometimes seances left him a bit worn out, sometimes for a couple of days. He’d made it sound like getting over a bug, though, or something as inconvenient as a common cold.

But the way Maxi’s smile immediately dropped to reveal his bone-deep exhaustion, and Rora glared at the floor like it insulted her personally, you immediately realized that Hex had been selective in exactly what he told you.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, looking between the two. “Sorry, if that was, um. Bad taste. I didn’t know— He didn’t tell me—“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Maxi said, gesturing for you to come inside. “Just.” He ran a hand under his glasses as he shut the door behind you, muffling a sigh into his palm. “We didn’t want to have to do it to begin with, and then things just kept escalatin’, and the person we were lookin’ for kept puttin’ Hex through his paces—“

��It was a goddamn mess,” Rora cut him off bluntly, folding her arms over her chest. “Ectoplasm everywhere, and we just barely got what we needed. He’s still a mess.” She jerked her chin up to the second floor, towards Hector’s room in the back of the House. “I can’t remember the last time it went that badly, and he’s been doin’ this for almost thirty years.”

You looked from her to Maxi as you slid out of your shoes, who was shooting her a warning glare - something that gave you the slightest pause when you saw a faint red reflected in his eyes, a reminder that even the softie of the bunch could still be a bit frightening when you didn’t expect it. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?” You should’ve known the lack of contact was a bad sign - normally he at least sent you a joking ‘I lived, bitch’ selfie, but today there’d been not so much as a whisper across the static ether. You kicked yourself for not thinking to come over earlier.

“He’s fine,” Maxi soothed, holding up a hand. “Took me a minute to get his vitals stable when it left him, and he spent the night on an IV drip in the prep room.” His mouth flattened into a hard line for a moment at the memory. “We at least seem to be past the part where he keeps purgin’ ectoplasm.”

“For now,” Rora remarked over Maxi’s shoulder, still leaning against the wall. “What?” She lifted a hand in a languid shrug as Maxi shot her another look. “It’s come back before. We could just be in the eye of it before he starts leaking purple from—”

“Can I see him?”

Your voice - having gone up a couple octaves, at least, as the twins were sniping at each other - caused them both to look around. You weren’t entirely sure what your face was doing, but it must have been sad enough that both of them immediately looked more guilty than annoyed with each other.

“Of course, hon.” Maxi said, his smile all sympathy. “He’s just upstairs, I’ll take you.” He gestured for you to follow him, and you hurried behind his long strides towards the staircase.

“He’s been askin’ after you,” Rora drawled, tilting her head to look at you as you passed by her. “…I think it’s him, at least,” she added, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

You heard Maxi sigh ahead of you as you reached the second floor. “Don’t mind her,” he muttered to you, slowing down so you could catch up with his long strides. “She’s only grouchy when she’s anxious.”

You looked from Maxi over the bannister again, making sure Rora wasn’t lurking in the parlor below before turning back to him with a furrow in your brow. “But… she’s always like that,” you whispered, not taking the chance of being overheard.

Maxi gave you a good-natured wink. “Family secret.” The smile faded just a bit as the two of you turned the corner towards Hex’s room. “Hex’s channelin’ has scared her since we were little. Scared all of us, really, but probably Ror the most. She can’t… see ghosts quite like we can,” he explained quietly. “So for her, it always looks like he’s havin’ a seizure or somethin’. She’s missin’ most of the context and has to bear with it until it’s over. I can usually see what’s happenin’,” he added, frowning now. “But that doesn’t mean I can help, really. It’s all him.”

You stared at him, feeling your jaw drop slightly in horror. Hex had never mentioned anything of the sort to you. “Holy shit, why is he doing this if they’re that bad?”

Maxi’s eyes fell to his feet for a moment. “We don’t like him to, but he insists he can take it,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I keep tryin’ to explain to him that ‘can’ doesn’t mean ‘should,’ but… well, you know him.” He gave you an exasperated side-long look. “And there are certain things we need that only the dead know, so…” He shrugged half-heartedly. “He volunteers.”

The two of you stopped outside a familiar door, clumsily painted a faded shade of black and covered in faded and blurry polaroids that were at least a few decades old by now. 

“Last I checked, he was sleepin’,” Maxi’s voice had lowered to a whisper. “If he still is—“

“It’s fine, I’ll just wait with him,” you whispered back, shaking your head. Even if he wasn’t awake, the idea of leaving now felt impossible. You were trying not to picture him unconscious on the other side of the door, wracked by whatever the fuck had just put his body through hell. The very idea made your chest ache like you’d been punched there.

Maxi smiled, but the weariness of it aged him a decade. “That’s fine, sugar. He’ll be happy to see you when he wakes up.” He turned as if to leave you there, but immediately stopped, as if just thinking of something. You watched his face, seeing him briefly worry his own lip as he chose his words. “…If he comes to and doesn’t seem… himself,” he said slowly, meeting your eyes. “Or if anythin’ feels off, in any way - even if you don’t know why - you holler for me and Ror, okay?” His eyes were serious again, moving between you and the door. “He should be fine,” he repeated, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was for his sake or yours. “We’re well outside the usual window for a relapse, but… still.”

“Define ‘relapse’.” Your mouth felt dry, and you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest. Not… protectively, per se. But something about the way even Maxi seemed hesitant, of all people, left you feeling ill at ease.

Indeed, he sighed, briefly rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes, when he was younger, we ran the risk of somethin’… resurfacin’, for a bit,” he said. “Somethin’ that might not have given its hold up on him - not yet, anyway. It’s been a long time since that’s happened, trust me. Years and years,” he reassured you quickly. “I’m only sayin’ somethin’ about it at all just to be overly cautious, y’know?”

“Oh.” You felt your shoulders relax as you nodded. “Cautious is good, yeah.” You smiled the best you could. “I’ll let you guys know if anything’s spookier than normal.”

“Much obliged.” Maxi returned it with a grimace of his own. “Now, if you two’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go try not to fall down dead on the couch. Text me or Rora if he’s ready to eat somethin’.”

“Thanks,” you whisper-called after him, and he waved over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. 

You turned back to the bedroom door, and caught yourself taking a deep breath before you realized what you were doing. What were you nervous about? It was just Hector. Your Hector. He wouldn’t be feeling well after… whatever the fuck that thing did to him, but even if he was just a glimmer of the clever, chatty weirdo you knew him to be, you’d be content.

Smiling briefly at the thought - and tapping a vintage Selena sticker stuck to the door for luck - you finally twisted the knob and stepped inside.

Hex’s childhood bedroom was dark to begin with, but despite the bright sun outside the House, it seemed completely engulfed in shadows with all the thick curtains drawn over the windows. You stood uncertainly in the doorway for a moment in the small cracks of light from the hallway, the silence within feeling somehow… thicker, than usual. Almost ominous.

Like you weren’t the only one in the room.

A flicker of movement in the dim caught your eye as your vision adjusted, and you stared at the bed until a shape swam into view —

A bundle at the center of the mattress, wrapped in an old quilt and stirring restlessly. A soft, unintelligible mumble and another roll of the lump revealed Hector, his mouth hidden by his blanket, his eyes closed serenely in sleep.

Dumbass, you scolded yourself. Of course you weren’t the only one in the room. You felt yourself exhale and your shoulders soften, your heart aching at the bruise-like shadows you could make out around his eyes in the dim light around the blackout curtains. Hex had a way of always looking like he was anticipating something when he was awake - a feeling of never quite sitting still even when the two of you were lying on the couch, as if expecting something or someone new to enter unannounced at any moment. It was only when he slept that you ever got to see him looking so at peace, so… young. For a moment, it was easier to picture him as he might have been as a boy, carefree and sweet. Away from… this.

You crept towards your usual side of his bed on tiptoes, carefully easing yourself onto the mattress over the covers so as not to jostle him too much. “Hey, baby,” you whispered as you lay down, your eyes at last adjusting to the pressing dark. “It’s just me, okay?”

Hex made a faint questioning noise, his eyes fluttering open like there were weights attached to his eyelids. When at last they seemed to fix on you, he mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out, but immediately scooted closer to you across his bed.

You cooed softly to him, wrapping your arms around his thin shoulders as he settled next to you with an exhausted sigh. You pressed your forehead against his feverish one, trying not to shrink away from the heat and sweat of it as you felt his arm squirm through his tangled sheets to wind around your waist.

“Que tal, Bonita?” he mumbled, and you fought the urge to wince at the way his voice sounded cracked - like his vocal chords were bruised.

“Hi there, Sexy,” you joked back, hoping your voice didn’t give away just how hard this was to see. You’d seen Hex sick, of course - a virus here or there, a bad flu once - but this was beyond any of that. He looked like it hurt to fucking blink. Indeed, when he did, he looked bleary and barely conscious. “Maxi and Ror told me you weren’t feeling so hot,” you whispered, snuggling to him. “So I’m here to be your lowly jello-fetcher while you recover, okay?” You were trying not to panic at just how ironically hot he felt through his covers; since the two of you had started sleeping together, you’d always known him to run cold, to the point you’d have a fluffy blanket all to yourself in the winter months. For him to be shirtless and still warm through the thin cotton sheets between you was… new. It scared you.

But Maxi and Rora said he was better than he had been, so. You’d have to trust them on that one.

“You hungry?” you whispered, hopeful.

But Hex only groaned, shaking his head as he withdrew into his blankets.

“Okay, okay, don’t sweat it,” you soothed, following him with your arms still around his shoulders. “Don’t sweat it, baby, there’ll be plenty of time for that later.” You felt him ease back against you, hugging him tightly as you tucked yourself under his chin. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Yo se,” Hex murmured, burying the end of his nose in your hair. “Te amo, Querida.”

“I love you too, babe,” you whispered back, listening carefully as his breathing quickly slid back into the deep rasp of sleep. You closed your eyes, trying to content yourself with just being close enough to hear him, to know he was recovering even if he hurt to look at. You made lists in your head to try to pass the time: of things you’d run back to your place and grab once he was awake, so you could camp out here for a few days; of dishes you thought you could try if he was having a hard time keeping stuff down - Rora and Maxi had mentioned ectoplasm, what the fuck was that? Was it anything like in the Ghostbusters movies? Of things you apparently fucking needed to Google, not realizing quite what it meant to have a medium for a lover —

You made lists until your breathing fell into sync with his, and Sleep carried you, too, away down its dark river.

You were so far gone, you didn’t notice when something else woke up.

It wasn’t the rustling that stirred you, or the broken-sounding giggle. It was the cold.

Hex had been so warm next to you that you’d eased into his heat, eventually rolling over so your back was against his chest. When at first the heat only disappeared, you continued to sleep, comforted by the weight of his quilt.

When the temperature dropped further, your dozing brain figured it was just the House’s rickety-ass air conditioning system kicking on at last - it was already temperamental, but in the summers it could be downright fickle, still as the grave one minute and then chilling everyone in the vicinity in the same hour.

…But this was something else.

You only woke up when you started shivering, pulling the quilt tighter around you until you were nearly tangled in it. Not quite wanting to open your eyes yet, you rolled over, one hand reaching out to feel for where Hex had obviously gotten up to go to the bathroom, or hell, even rolled off the mattress in a particularly restless dream.

Your hand skimmed flesh that was stone-cold to the touch.

Your eyes flew open, panicking. Oh god, oh god oh god what happened—

“Hex?” you croaked, squinting into the perfect impenetrable black of the room. Had it gotten dark outside? How long had you been asleep? How long had he?

He was still just asleep, right?

There was no answer. The figure beneath your hand, undeniably cold, stayed perfectly still.

You whimpered, the sound rising from your throat unbidden as your free hand frantically scrabbled across the mattress for your phone. You swear you’d had it with you when you walked in, you were keeping it close in case you needed the twins—

But that had been in case Hex got sick, or started running a fever.

No one told you he might not wake up at all.

The whimper in your throat rose in volume as you tried to get your brain to work, wanting to yell for someone to come help. This had to be a mistake, this was a nightmare, this couldn’t really be happening.

But your hand on his skin - his bare shoulder, you realized now - moved slowly upwards, desperately for a puff of breath of a pulse of warmth. You felt nothing, still, skimming his neck and finding his hair hanging in his face.

“Hex,” you demanded, your fingers desperately brushing his hair away as you still groped for your phone. “Hector, babe, wake up. Wake up right now.”

The only heat in the room seemed to be pooling behind your eyes as you begged yourself not to cry. This was a bad dream. This was a bad dream, or a prank. He was going to sit up laughing any minute now at how scared you’d been, how little it took.

But something in you knew that wasn’t true. Hex was a tease, but he wasn’t mean. He would never play a joke on you that made you cry.

He’d die before he’d do that, he was always telling you.

You let out a shaky breath as you finally found your fucking phone, fumbling not to drop it. “Hector, wake the fuck up and talk to me, goddammit.”

The dim light of your lock screen - a selfie of him ambushing you with kisses as you laughed - failed to penetrate the darkness around you, and you felt your panic begin to combine with a sense of claustrophobia.

You fumbled with your phone, trying to flip the flashlight on. Under your free hand, you felt Hector twitch ever so slightly, as if stirring from a dream.

“I’m awake.”

You jumped at the sound, feeling your own breath gush from you in a stuttering half-sob. “Hex, oh my god. I was so scared, you can’t do that to me.” You flipped your flashlight on at last, angling the phone upwards -

And seeing someone staring out of Hector’s face that was definitely not Hector.

You couldn’t explain it: it was his face, of course. But the expression - the grin, the rictus split of the lips - was entirely wrong. He didn’t smile with that much teeth, that much exposed gum. His lips were purple, like he’d been starved for air. His eyes were the wrong color, even: rather than his warm dark brown, staring out from between tangled locks of his hair, they were a sickeningly pale blue in his face. 

Or at least, from what you could see of the irises. The pupils, in the dark of the room, seemed to fill every available centimeter of space.

Worst of all - it still didn’t look like he was breathing.

The person wearing your boyfriend’s face stared at you, laying perfectly still with his nose an inch from yours on the pillow.

You stared back at him, struggling suddenly for words.

The room between you two fell completely, utterly silent.

The only light source in the room shook with your hand as your brain raced. He hadn’t moved yet. He was just… laying there. God knows how long he had been laying there; you realized with a sick jolt that you could’ve been sleeping for hours with this… thing right next to you, staring at you.

Remembering Maxi’s words from earlier, you took a breath as slowly and subtly as you could, trying to ready yourself to scream.

“Try,” croaked not-Hector, watching you from the pillow. “And see what happens.” His grin only grew wider, to the point where it threatened to tear the corners of Hex’s mouth.

You froze, your breath dying in your lungs. “…What are you?” you exhaled, staring at the thing next to you.

It didn’t blink, it never twitched save for its lips. “Dead.”

Somehow hearing it, having it confirmed, was worse. Of course it was dead - nothing living smiled that way. Nothing living had eyes that color blue, like they’d been soaked in some sort of preservatives. 

“Where’s Hector?” you whispered, the tears quickly returning to your eyes.

“Having his turn in the dark.” The thing clicked its teeth against each other in two sharp bites to punctuate this, then followed it with a laugh like a wheezing cough. Unbidden, you suddenly glanced towards the shadowy corners of the room, as if you felt something else standing there watching you. You couldn’t tell if the ringing in your ears was just fear, or the tail end of a distant shout.

You swallowed, trying to cover for the fact that you were definitely about to piss yourself. “G-give him back.”

“No.” The thing stiffly shook Hector’s head, and you covered your mouth as his neck made a noise that sounded entirely wrong. “No, no no, I like it here. I like this.” It gazed up at you and you wanted to vomit. “I like waking up next to you.”

You shivered, wanting to roll away but scared that moving would cause… something. Something worse. It took you a minute to try to breathe, your next question barely audible: “What do you want?”

“What we all want on the other side.” The too-pale eyes slid down to your neck, then slowly, torturously back up again, entirely silent in the process. “…To feel warm again.”

A black tongue moved wetly over the thing’s teeth, and as you finally went to scream, a withered hand shoved itself from under the covers to stick rotting fingers in your mouth.

You didn’t know when it pulled you under the sheets, but there was fabric everywhere - on your tongue, twisted around your wrists so you couldn’t thrash and between your legs so you couldn’t kick free. You were suffocated by moldering coffin breath as the thing above you laughed in a high pitched giggle, blue eyes still somehow luminous in the shadowy bedclothes. Every time you went to scream, you found cloth or hair in your mouth, and more than once you wretched, feeling like you’d drown in your own gag reflex. The thing holed up in your boyfriend, meanwhile, was pinning your chest with a chest that didn’t feel like Hector’s, like the chest of anything living - it felt too soft, somehow, and cold, like something left to rot in water. 

You felt something cold and wet drip onto the skin of your neck, and it felt like river water falling from the thing’s mouth, the black tongue inching closer and closer to your pulse —

Something shoved you both off the bed, like somebody had leapt on top of the covers in a blind attempt at a pile-driver. You cried out as your head hit the floor - thankfully with the old rug between you and the hardwood, but still hard enough to hurt.

You could breathe again, though. You sat up as fast as you could, tearing the sheets from over your face like a caul and practically drinking your breaths. Everything was still cold, and heavy, but you were out from under the dead man.

You looked around, spotting the soft outline of your overturned phone on the carpet, and snatched up the light to point it towards the sounds of the thing being attacked.

Then you wished you hadn’t.

The thing wearing your boyfriend’s body was sitting upright under the sheets and shrieking to bring the house down, furiously flailing at someone else that seemed to be under there with it. You heard hideous gagging noises, like a drowning victim throwing up brine, and the sheets quickly became soaked with a putrid-smelling dark liquid. The other figure wrestled the thing down and slammed his skull backwards against the hardwood floor once, then twice, causing you to panic as you wondered if that would somehow give Hex a concussion. You realized someone was yelling in a language you couldn’t recognize alongside the dead man’s screaming, and there was a third voice in there somewhere, wailing like the damned.

You looked around, terrified of another spectral assault, before you realized a full minute later that the screamer was you.

The dead man was losing, and at one point the water that hit the sheet was a pinkish color that made you scream even more. If he was bleeding, was Hector bleeding? Was Hector in there dying? What if he couldn’t get back, and his body strangled to death on whatever that was?

You screamed again as something banged loudly over your shoulder, like something crashing hard into the wall. For a moment, you thought something was trying to bust through into your world, another unholy terror - until you realized that was only the door.

“Fuck, it’s jammed!” You heard Maxi on the other side, and something hit it again, hard enough that you were surprised the door didn’t buckle. “Get me the shotgun. MAGGIE, GET UP HERE—“

But the sounds of outside were quickly drowned out by what sounded like the roof threatening to cave in, and you looked up, screaming as you saw what looked like a shower of disembodied arms reaching down through the ceiling. They swung backwards and forwards, groping blindly, and as they got closer to the floor you sank lower and lower towards the carpet, afraid they would try to grab your hair or your neck.

The struggle next to you on the floor suddenly had your attention again as the dead man wretched like something was pulling his esophagus out through his mouth, and you heard the sound of fabric tearing. A glimmer of purple slowly grew under the dense quilt, as if someone had lit slow-burning neon, and as you watched, it glowed until it was brighter than your phone.

Horrified, you watched the body suddenly throw the quilt off and sit up, panting. 

It was only when it forcefully pushed its hair back that you saw the eyes you knew.

“Hijo de puta, Duquesne,” Hex groaned, rolling onto his knees to wretch as he held his hair back out of his face. You watched, horrified, as black gunk like rotten plant matter ejected itself forcefully onto he floor. He sat there, panting, sounding on the verge of sobbing as he rocked back and forth to prepare for another wave. “Fuck you, you dead motherfucker—“

“Hector,” you croaked, and his eyes snapped up.

“Querida?“ he looked up at the sound of another rafter snapping, watching the ghostly hands wildly grabbing in his direction now. “What’re you— fuck, MAXI, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU BRO?” he yelled towards the door.

“I’M RIGHT HERE, HOLD ON!” You heard the sound of something clicking, then a loud crack like a car backfiring in the hallway, causing you to nearly jump right into a ghostly palm trying to grab at your face. “Fuck. HE JAMMED THE DOOR.”

You heard something scrabbling at the door like claws, like an animal was trying to dig underneath the door frame.

“I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED FUCKING BRONZE NAILS, YOU PRICK!” Hector bellowed, grabbing the hand next to your face and squeezing until you heard something squelch sickeningly. The hand in front of you glowed a bright purple and something above you wailed, dragging the appendage away from his grip as if it was broken. 

“YOU’RE THE ONE THAT DIDN’T WANNA WAIT TWO DAYS FOR PRIME, DIPSHIT!” Maxi yelled back. “Fuck, Rora—”

“Get out of my way.” You watched the door suddenly glow around the edges with an ominous shade of green, then heard what sounded like someone snapping a whole box of dry pasta in half one piece at a time. “C’mon, little girl,” you somehow heard Rora cooing over the din around you. “Your turn.”

Mesmerized in your fear, you saw something small begin to slide under the door, Rora was shoving pieces of fine china through the crack into the room.

You heard something scream in the rafters and whirled around, only to see Hector had just bitten into one of the hands in front of his face that had gotten too close to the back of your head. While the creature above you was obviously trying to pull it away, Hex only yanked it by the wrist and bit down harder, until you saw its thumb fold in a way it shouldn’t. It was only then he let it go, spitting something grey off to the side. “WE NEEDED THE MOON, I TOLD YOU—“ Hector ducked another hand, this one getting close enough to grab ahold of one of his ears for a moment. He swore through gritted teeth, twisting the wrist hard in his hands. “SOME HELP NOW WOULD BE FUCKING GREAT, YOU TWO!”

“DON’T RUSH HER, SHE’S DOIN’ HER BEST!” Rora yelled through the door. “Here, Maxi, give me the damn gun—“

“Be my goddamn guest,” Maxi spat back, and you heard something thud against the door again. This time the door itself seemed to glow a deep red…

But if you stared long enough, you realized it wasn’t the door that was glowing.

It was something in front of the door, something large that seemed to be blocking it. Something that seemed to pulse now with the red light, like the raw, scabbing flesh over a healing wound.

The little white pieces continued to pile up at the bottom of the floor, then sort themselves again, doing an odd little spiraling dance like debris in water. Eventually, they began to fold together into something, to build upon themselves one at a time with an alarming speed. It was only when you saw the skull fold itself back together out of flat little shards that you realized it was Magnolia, Maxi’s skeletal house cat. With a growl, she lunged at the pulsating door - and clung to something fleshy, dragging her claws down it and leaving bright green scratches behind her.

Horrified, you watched as the thing like a skin graft lifted itself off the doorframe, revealing itself to be some sort of creature trying to shove poor Maggie headfirst into a suddenly gaping, oozing mouth. Magnolia let out an eerie echo of a yowl, throwing herself at the thing headfirst and tackling it to the floor.

 Hector swore again, narrowly pulling you away from one of the hands. “You know what, fuck this.” He closed one eye as he looked up at the ceiling and began muttering something that was definitely not Spanish or English or any language you knew. He pointed with the index and middle fingers of his right hand and pulled back with his thumb, and you saw something worm-like in his familiar purple start to form and writhe around the extended digits. He made a sudden sharp gesture, like he was flinging it at the ceiling, and overhead you saw the spindly wraith arms suddenly lit up like there was a purple firework amongst them. The slimy, worm-like object spread across the ceiling and between the arms like a fungus or a root system, curling around the limbs and seeming to tighten around them painfully.

 Something in the attic wailed, and it sound like it was a crowd of people in terrible pain. 

You watched the hands turn on themselves, snatching at each other’s arms - only to scream when something grabbed the back of your shirt.

“It’s me!” Hector pulled you roughly across the floor so your back was against his chest, curling around you like a ball as soon as you made contact. “It’s me, Preciosa, I got you.”

“Hector!” You spun around to look at him as best you could in his tight grip, checking his eyes to avoid last time’s mistake. “Hector, what the entire fuck is going on?! Are you okay?”

“It’s okay,” Hector put one of his hands on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him and out of the path of a grasping hand that seemed to wither into a skeletal form before your eyes before crumbling to nothing. “It’s okay, it’s just some residual bullshit. It’s almost over.”

“Who the fuck is that?!” You pointed over his shoulder at the soaking wet quilt that seemed to sit up by itself, like there was a body from the embalming room underneath. 

Hector turned, following your gaze and swearing loudly. He looked back to you with wide, slightly panicked eyes. “Baby, tell me right now: do you trust me?”

You checked his eyes again, paranoid now. “It… is you, right?” you asked, your voice drowned out between the screaming creatures overhead, the sound of another aborted gunshot, and poor Magnolia caterwauling as she wrestled with something twice her size.

Hector leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. In his eyes, you saw a soft purple swirl of what looked like distant stars.

“It’s always me,” he said softly, and somehow you heard him over the cacophony of wailing around you. “And I’m going to give you something so you’re always mine.”

You stared at him, confused, your cheeks wet with sweat and bile from god knows what and your own tears - but you nodded, wordlessly.

Hex smiled, somehow soft despite how absolutely exhausted he looked, and he took your shoulder gently in one hand. He leaned down, finding your pulse - exactly where the dead man had been going earlier, you remembered with a wave of nausea - and kissed it gently —

Before you gasped in pain, feeling something cold and sharp puncture skin.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, and you whined in fright as you felt something drag through your flesh to tear it. “It’s okay, I swear you’re okay, I’m not gonna let anything hurt you anymore, just breathe. I got you, it’s just gonna hurt a little right now while it takes—“

Your hands flew up to seize at his wrists, wanting it to stop, to pull away whatever he was holding. God, it stung, you swore you felt your own hot blood flicking against your face as it felt like he was carving your throat open. 

But before you could establish a good grip, you saw something glow in a bright light you’d never seen before just out of your line of sight.

Hector sighed as if entirely absorbed in whatever was glowing on your neck. His eyes were soft, as if he was gazing at something sacred, despite the fact it hurt like all get-out. You gasped in turn, the wound now burning like something was being branded into you.

You gave another strangled cry when you saw the silhouette just behind his shoulder drag the quilt from its face, revealing the bloated flesh of a drowned man. Your mind reeled, panicking: if that thing had been hiding in Hector’s body — where did it get its own?

Hector saw your face and realized something was wrong, but time felt like it was moving in slow motion. He turned too late, just as the drowned man grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled backward—

But something bright green hit the intruder full in the face, dragging both the corpse and the necromancer to the floor.

You clapped your hand to where light seemed to be leaking from your neck, scrambling back to the end of the bed as you watched an enraged Maggie shove her claws into the eye sockets of the imposter beneath her. You watched, horrified and nauseated, as she freed her feet one at a time with a sucking squelch noise, the discolored milky eyeballs of the corpse speared on each of her feet. The corpse let out an unholy scream, splattering more murky brine as its head thrashed furiously.

In the distraction, Hector yanked himself free from the corpse’s grip, giving a muffled whimper as he sacrificed a good hank of his own hair in the process. He scrambled back with you, his hand shaking with fingers extended in front of him again as he landed back against the bed frame. 

But Magnolia seemed to be well in control of the situation, now ripping the corpse’s black oily tongue straight out of his jaw with her little needle teeth and standing triumphantly on the corpse’s collapsing, soggy chest as it writhed and gagged on more brackish-smelling bile.

The hands above all retreated as the door burst open, filling the room with a red so bright you thought it was fire, at first — until it was accompanied by a near-nuclear green just behind it.

“Maggie, move!” Rora called — but something about her voice was… unfamiliar. 

You saw Maggie leap nimbly onto the floor, and shrieked as the corpse seemed to explode with the force of a gunshot. Hector grabbed you and pulled your head against his chest, shielding you as you heard another loud bang and felt more cold water droplets against your face.

Under Hex’s arm, you saw Maxi and Rora walk into view, realizing they were indeed the source of the colored lights. 

You’d never seen them look like this before - not too unlike when Hector was… possessed, you guessed. Rora’s hair was wild around her from an unseen wind, her lips and the y-incision scar on her chest black as though with rot and age, her cheekbones ferociously prominent as though her skin only barely covered her skull. She tossed the shotgun to the side of the room and stepped hard on the corpse’s knee, and you heard it pop loose from its socket with a sickening noise. The crack almost seemed to reverberate down the corpse itself, and you watched as joints seemed to slide out of place in a wave of force, the thing howling in pain. 

Maxi knelt down next to her, and your stomach turned: his face looked… wrong. Like an accident victim without the funeral makeup, the flesh along his cheeks looking less solid and more like it was loosely holding his jaw together in thin strips. The red light shone through many vertical wounds in his face, and through them, you could see a tongue that looked like it’d been split in two. He kneeled in front of the corpse-like thing, peering at it with perfectly black eyes as though studying it. 

When he turned and said something to Rora, you couldn’t recognize the language. But something in you churned, as though some primal part of you wanted to get away from it as fast as possible. Like you shouldn’t be hearing it at all.

“Don’t look,” Hector whispered, trying to block your vision as you saw Maxi extend a hand with fingers like pointed bone towards the corpse itself.

You didn’t see what he did, exactly — but through Hector’s fingers, you could still see just enough.

Before your eyes, the corpse - still staring at you with unseeing too-pale eyes - seemed to eat itself inwards, flesh shrinking to bone, bone shrinking to dust, dust piling onto the carpet. 

Magnolia fell with an unceremonious rattling sound onto the floor, still chewing determinedly at the tongue in her mouth.

It took a moment for the twins to stop glowing, and a moment after that for the lights in Hector’s room to flicker back to life. You jumped at the sound of his laptop on his bedside table suddenly reviving, the rapid dialogue of one of his favorite old shows blaring through the tinny speakers in the relative silence.

You realized, with another sickening jolt, that the dark when you’d first walked into the room hadn’t been something he’d done on purpose. Something had been in here with you two the whole time, and had been holding the room in its sway.

Hex at last loosened his grip, letting you sit up. “Look at me, beautiful — you okay?”

You leaned back, studying him to make sure he still looked like himself. Like a human. “…Yeah,” you said at last, slowly. You didn’t know what you were, really, your head processing so much at once. 

You nervously glanced out of the corner of your eye, making sure the twins looked relatively normal before you let yourself look entirely. 

Rora was back to her usual self, her scars no more than a soft tissue on her décolletage that you only saw if you knew it was there. She was walking over to where she’d thrown the gun, picking it up and studying it with pursed lips before removing the empty shells and putting the safety back on.

Maxi was still kneeling next to the pile of corpse dust, human again but still frowning in deep concern. “They’re gettin’ better at that,” he mumbled. He shot Hex a look you didn’t quite understand. With a sigh and a slight crack of his knees, he got back to his feet. “We’re gonna have to figure out how, if we want to keep the House intact. …Maggie, honey,” he added, nudging her gently with the toe of his sock. “Spit that out, that’s nasty.”

Magnolia growled, clicking on her tiny toes with her prize under Hector’s bed, where she continued with her grisly chewing sounds. If anything, it just sounded like she was chewing faster.

“Claro, later.” Hex waved a hand at Maxi impatiently, still looking you over with concern. “Did anything grab you, love? Does anything hurt? How does your neck feel?” He added, glancing again towards the spot where you remembered it burning.

You took a breath to answer - and hissed as your skin moved, reaching up to the place where your neck still felt like there was an open wound. “What did you do to me…?” You pulled your hand away, expecting to see blood… but found none. Just a thick, viscous fluid that glowed with an odd purple sheen.

Hector opened his mouth to answer, looking oddly proud of himself —

“You didn’t.” 

You whipped around (wincing again), seeing Rora’s shocked expression. She frightened you further by crossing back and dropping abruptly to her knees in front of you on the carpet, one hand taking your chin to tilt your head further to one side so she could see your neck. “Hector, what the fuck.” She turned, glaring at him. “Did you tell them what this was?”

“What?” Hector gestured defensively to Maxi. “He did it to his!”

“Not on purpose.” Maxi was gazing at you with similar concern, kneeling down next to his sister. As a new tingling pain made its way up your neck, you distractedly noticed how eerily similar they were when they were that close together, despite looking fairly different when they were apart. “And I sure as hell didn’t do it the old fashioned way. Fuck, Hex, those lines are raw.” He winced, glancing at your face before looking back to Hector. “We gotta get some disinfectant on that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doctors, I definitely should’ve asked Duquesne to wait a second so I could scrub up first,” Hex muttered bitterly, folding his arms as he glared at the twins. “I made a call. It was the right one.”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” you asked, looking between the twins and Hector with a mounting sick feeling.

“I told you, Querida,” Hector said softly, holding up his unfolded pocket knife, where the blade seemed dulled in the low light by a dark viscous fluid. “I put my mark on you, so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Rora closed the space between them so they were practically nose-to-nose, her eyes blazing. “Did you tell them what you were doing or not?”

“It was going to happen anyway, we all know that!” Hector gestured frustratedly with the still-unfolded knife. “I didn’t have time for it to happen the new way, Duquesne would’ve jumped to them next—“

“We could’ve handled that without this, Hector,” Rora said sharply. “This is something else. This is permanent.”

“No the fuck we couldn’t, Rora, I could barely handle that,” Hector spat. “It would’ve killed them if it had gotten to that point. I wasn’t about to let that happen. And they are permanent.” He said, gesturing furiously to you. “They’re mine. We knew that.”

“Did they agree to it, though?”

“I asked them if they trusted me!”

“Oh, fuck, Hector, you know that’s not—“

“Shut up.” Maxi growled over his shoulder. Hector and Rora turned in unison to glare at him instead, as if annoyed he’d interrupted. “For god’s sake, the pair of you, we have enough to deal with already. We can talk it out later. Here, hold on,” he pulled his already loose tie off completely, folding it up and holding it to the spot on your neck. “Hold this and keep some pressure on it, hon, okay?”

“I can handle that,” Hector snapped, sliding over to put his hand over it instead. 

“Then do it,” Maxi spat, getting to his feet. “I’m gonna go get the goddamn gauze. You’re lucky they don’t need stitches.”

“I knew what I was doing!” Hector called angrily after Maxi. He waited until he’d carefully yet firmly held the ruined tie to your new mark before turning to Rora, glaring again. “I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Rora drawled, her face skeptical as she sat back on her haunches. 

“Goddamn it, Rora—“

“Is it supposed to burn?” you rasped.

The two of them looked around as if they’d forgotten you were there, despite Hex being the one to press the makeshift bandage to your wound. Immediately, both their faces softened, and they shot each other a slightly guilty glance.

“Only for a little while,” Hector said softly. He lifted the tie carefully, peering at the mark. “It’s just settling in. Making itself at home in your skin, that’s all,” he explained. He smiled his crooked smile at what he saw, and you at least relaxed at him looking normal again, if still slightly tired. “It’ll feel better in a couple hours, I promise,” he added, leaning over to kiss the corner of your mouth. “And you can have whatever you want when you get hungry, okay?”

You let yourself smile just a little bit, your head still feeling like it was swimming. “I thought I was here to take care of you.”

Hector leaned back to look at you, frowning and clearly confused. “Is that… what you were doing here?” He hesitated a moment, looking back over his shoulder to Rora for confirmation. “I don’t remember you coming over after…” he trailed off, concerned.

Rora met his gaze and hemmed for a moment, clearly unsure how much to say. “You were out cold, after,” she said at last, her voice low. “They got nervous and came over. Apparently you hadn’t texted them in a while, or something.” You could tell she was trying to be flippant, but her face couldn’t hide the way she still seemed worried. “…You looked like roadkill, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Hex laughed, but something about it sounded false. “That bad, huh?” He sucked his teeth thoughtfully, looking back at where the tie covered your mark with a new grimness. “Huh. So I was cutting it close with this, then.”

“That’s part of it, yeah,” Rora sighed, suddenly looking tired.

You felt your eyes go wide, looking from Rora to Hex. “Are you going to be okay?” You weren’t sure quite what was happening - you didn’t know how the fuck necromancers worked, and honestly who could blame you when they talked in code around you half the time. But the idea that Hex could look as sick as he had before from… whatever he’d done to you made you feel a new kind of queasy.

“Fine,” Hector reassured you immediately, kissing your forehead. “I’m gonna be just fine, gatita, don’t worry about it. I just might want to stick to chill hangs for the next couple of days, that’s all.” He kissed the spot next to your ear, the one he knew made you shiver pleasantly. “So don’t get any ideas, huh?” He didn’t move, speaking so you could feel him smile against your skin.

You giggled before wincing again, the literal pain in your neck giving another insistent spike. “Yeah,” you agreed with a careful nod. “That… sounds good for me too, probably.”

Something thudded to the floor next to your thigh, and you had to try not to jump. 

“It’s my phone,” Rora sighed, leaning back against Hector’s bed and closing her eyes. “Pick whatever sounds good, my delivery app is hooked to Maxi’s credit card.”

“Goddammit, Aurore.” You looked around with the other two to see Maxi standing in the doorway with a neatly arranged tray of bandages, antiseptics, and a magnifying glass next to a tiny pair of tweezers. He was frowning deeply. “I just had a whole argument on the phone with the bank today about how all the burrito bowls at weird hours were from someone skimmin’ my card.”

“What? I don’t have one of my own,” Rora said, her lips pouting with false innocence. “Dead women don’t get credit cards, Maxi, you know the government throws a fit about that.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you up and died, then,” Maxi sighed, kneeling down in front of you.

You saw Rora stick her tongue out at him over his shoulder. 

“And you could’ve at least not ordered extra guac every time,” he added, as if sensing that even if he couldn’t see it. He gently nudged Hector’s arm so he would put down the tie, and leaned forward, appraising your new mark with some teeth-sucking of his own. “Well, your hand was steady, I’ll give you that,” he muttered, giving Hex a sideways glance. “…You all good?”

“M’good, just drained. Give me a day and I’ll be conjuring circles around your ass as usual,” Hector muttered back. But you swore you saw him straighten up just a little at the compliment, whether he realized it or not. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Apparently,” Maxi muttered, adjusting his glasses as he studied the mark some more. He glanced up at you over the frames, his eyes softening. “How’re you feelin’, sweetheart?”

“…I— Okay, I think,” you said, glancing between them. You winced as Maxi carefully dabbed some hydrogen peroxide on the wound with a wipe. “…Kind of still processing, to be honest,” you added quietly. Between the adrenaline whirling through your system, the pain in your skin, and the fact that you were pretty sure you weren’t going to be able to sleep tonight without jumping at every sound, your body was finally feeling everything that had just happened. Not to mention, the longer you sat there, the more you started to feel like there was something… else, under your skin. A second heartbeat, almost, alongside yours. You swallowed. “Today was a lot.”

All three Morvants made varying noises of understanding and agreement, as if you were talking about having to show up for jury duty rather than surviving whatever had just succeeded in temporarily possessing Hector and the House.

“Well, this’ll heal up just fine,” Maxi said softly, carefully applying a bandage to the spot. “I’ll let Hex talk you through the basics of it — he’s the one who put it there, after all,” he added, giving Hex another look you couldn’t read. (Hector gave him one back that you definitely read as irritated.) “But basically… well,” he hedged, clearly trying to figure out how to say something. “We think of it as… declarin’ someone part of the family.” He gave you a smile, shy smile. “Or at least, as intertwined with it.”

“‘Inextricable’,” Hector murmured under his breath, his eyes distant and hazy as if looking far into the past. 

“Congratulations, I’m sure you’re thrilled,” Rora said flatly, sitting with her eyes closed again. Both men gave her a withering glance over their shoulders.

You slowly looked from them to Hector, feeling an entirely different type of fluttering in your system. “…Is that true, Hex?” You’d heard him call you permanent, in the aftermath of things. But so much had been going on, it had run off you like rain while your nerves were still swimming with whatever fire had been placed in them.

Hex’s eyes returned to yours immediately, as if you saying his name had woken him from a dream. As he continued to keep eye contact, you saw something you’d never seen before: he seemed… flustered, almost. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, closing it again. His gaze turned inward, and you felt a new edge to the fluttering in your stomach. It was unlike him to so at a loss for words, especially for so long - since you’d known him, he’d always had something to say, some flippant response on the tip of his tongue at all times.

The worry that this prolonged silence caused you must’ve been written on your face because simultaneously, without even a look between the pair, both twins reached forward to give Hector a soft ‘thump’ on the back.

Hector shot them both another irritated look before turning back to you and taking a breath. “…We don’t always… do it that way, anymore,” he said slowly, nodding at your neck. “Sometimes, a mark like that just… shows up.” He glanced briefly at Maxi, who pointedly was still fussing with your bandages. Hex looked back to you. “We don’t always know how, though. So I figured, y’know, give it enough time and it’d just… happen,” he said quietly. He sucked the inside of his cheek, still somewhat restless. “But we didn’t have time, Querida,” he continued with an exhale. “So I thought I’d... improvise.” He went to push his hair out of his face, wincing visibly when his hand skimmed the raw patch of scalp the imposter had grabbed. 

You leaned forward instinctively, hand up to soothe the hurt and causing both Hex and Maxi to start slightly. 

“Sorry! Sorry,” Maxi muttered, quickly smoothing over the bandage that might have warped. Hex set a hand on his shoulder, and Maxi froze, glancing between the two of you. “Actually, it looks fine,” he said quickly, giving you a hurried smile you assumed was meant to be reassuring. “Uh, Rora and I will go figure out dinner.”

“We will?” Rora opened an eye, and Maxi fixed her with a pointed stare as he picked up the tray he’d brought in with him. She looked between Maxi and Hector, who gave her the slightest jerk of his head towards his bedroom door. “We will,” she said, standing up and popping her back with a sigh. She gave you a dry smile. “Don’t worry, sweetpea. It’s a quick learnin’ curve.”

Maxi was holding the door open, waiting for Rora to leave before he glanced back to Hex. “…Do you actually want me to call FT?” he added quietly, glancing between you and Hector. “Because I’m sure they’re probably done for the day, or nearly.”

“C’mon, you were gonna call them anyway.” Hex gave him a knowing smirk. “...But sure.” He nodded, as if thinking this over. He looked between you and Maxi himself. “Might be nice.”

Maxi nodded, giving you a last reassuring half-smile, before slipping quietly from the room and closing the door behind him.

You could feel the confusion etched on your brow. You’d met Maxi’s partner before, of course - it was inevitable, with the pair of you spending so much time at the house - but you couldn’t help but wonder what they had to do with all this. What had the others meant, that these… things, could show up on their own time?

You wondered what the fluttering was next to your own pulse, feeling so rapid it was almost like a second panic that wasn’t yours.

You looked to Hector, worried — only to see him staring at your bandage with wide, liquid eyes. 

“Hex?”

He met your gaze, looking like a sick little boy caught out of bed with the dark circles under his eyes. “…I would’ve done this different,” he said at last, his voice slightly raspy as the day seemed to be catching up with him too. He reached up with a finger, tracing the edge of the bandage as lightly as possible. “I would’ve waited for it to show up on its own, Querida, I swear. I know you’re mine,” he added in a hush, his eyes back on yours with a new softness to them. “I know it as sure as I know the Veil. As the stars in the sky.” He smiled, and you saw a flicker of his usual self. “If these things can just… happen, if they can just bloom on skin… then I would’ve waited. A hundred years, if I had to.” He took your hands gently - almost tentatively - in his, intertwining your fingers. The guilt returned, his eyes darkening. “But that thing felt like it wanted to tear me in half.” He shook his head. “And I couldn’t… if it got to you, I wouldn’t have been able to…” He trailed off, turning inward again at the possibility that clearly haunted him.

“Hey.” You pulled your hand loose to reach up, running your fingertips lightly through his beard and watching the tension in his forehead relax as his eyes closed. You waited until he opened them again, cupping his cheek. “You said it yourself: you made a call.” You gave him the best smile you could. “And I trust you, Hex. I do,” you emphasized, seeing him grimace. “I know you would’ve only done… this,” you gestured to the bandage, the thrumming still present underneath. “If you thought it would keep me safe.”

“That’s all I wanted,” Hex said quietly. His now-free arm wound around your waist, pulling you flush to him. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. 

You closed your eyes, enjoying the contact… and froze, feeling the thrumming in your neck slowing down. The longer the two of you stood there, the slower it became, until it moved like a weird echo of your own heart.

“…What,” you started, swallowing your nerves down. Hex leaned back so you could see his face, and you met his eyes. “…What does it do, though?”

Hex studied you for what felt like an age before he gave you a smile you couldn’t quite read — something adoring, and yet at the same time, the tiniest bit melancholy. “It means you’re mine, Preciosa.” He let it hang for a moment. “It means no one can hurt you… but me,” he added, almost as a whisper. His eyes were sharp, and his grip around your waist tightened. “And I swear to you, I would—“

“Die first,” you finished for him, holding his gaze. “I know, Hex.” You leaned up, kissing the end of his nose — and watching his face melt into an expression of relief. “I know.”

You would know much more by the end of the night, the three Morvants and Maxi’s partner fielding your questions over pizza at the kitchen table. The entire time, Hector held on to your hand under the table, squeezing it as if he seemed to know whenever your heart sped up in your chest.

When something thudded ominously upstairs during a quiet portion of the meal, the group of you barely looked up. 

There were more pressing matters at hand, now.

[*markiplier voice* IS THIS THE MARK OF ‘87?!

anyway. thank you again for your patience, rosie <3 idk for sure how the whole mark bit will play out in the actual arc coming up, but this was a fun hypothetical for sure. :) it was good to write some spooky shit, I obviously missed it.

thanks to everyone who read this far! sending you sweet dreams ;D]

[menofchaos]

Coco x Reader

Note: Inspiration for me is hit or miss and I’m sorry about that but I appreciate everyone who still follows me and reads my stuff. This is a prequel of the last Coco/Reader I posted!

She frowned when she heard the loud rumble of engines. She looked up to see two bikers parked in front of the shop. One of the artists walked up to the front desk as they took their helmets off. One was tall with a gray patch in his beard, lighting a cigarette. The other was slightly shorter with black hair past his shoulders, his eyes intense as he looked around.

“Spotted some Mayans, huh?” the artist, Kyle, grinned, “All the girls think they’re hot. Especially Angel.”

“Which one is Angel?” she asked as Kyle kneeled down at the cabinet next to her, opening it.

“The tall one,” he said as he looked for some supplies, “The other one is Coco.”

“Coco?” she repeated as the two men headed down the restaurant next door, “Like El Coco?”

Kyle laughed as he stood up with a stack of stencil paper, “So you know that story.”

“My mom used to tell it to us when we were kids,” she explained, “Why is he called El Coco?”

He shrugged, “Not sure but I know everyone calls him that. Like since he was younger. He can be one scary ass dude,” he said before walking off.

~

Coco groaned softly when Letty banged on his door, “Coco! Wake up!”

He rubbed his eyes and checked his phone, “What?”

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t get up,” she sighed, “Come on.”

He sat up and answered a few texts, “Alright, I’m up. I need a shower.”

“Hurry up,” she returned before walking away.

As he woke up, Coco felt different. Lighter, almost. He looked in the mirror as he buttoned his flannel. He finished getting dressed and walked out of his room, shrugging his leather on.

“Leticia!” he called, “You ready?”

“Yeah!” she called back from her room, “Just fixing my hair.”

Coco went into the kitchen to make himself a quick breakfast as he waited. Letty came out as he was eating.

“You eat?” he asked.

She nodded, “I made some cereal. You’re acting weird.”

“Why?” he frowned as he cleaned up his food, “I can’t make sure you ate?”

“No, you’re like…not grumpy,” she watched him, “It’s weird.”

He laughed and grabbed his keys, “Come on before I change my mind.”

She followed him out of the house and into the car, playing her music as he drove. He smoked a cigarette, laughing as Letty danced in the front seat. He pulled up to the tattoo shop, the feeling getting stronger. Something was about to happen. He couldn’t explain it but he knew. He opened the door for Letty and she headed over to the jewelry case immediately. 

Coco smiled softly as he watched Letty look over everything excitedly. He walked up to the receptionist, who was watching the piercer talk to Letty.

The receptionist looked up at him and smiled, knocking the breath from his lungs. This was the feeling. Her. Coco swore he could see her eyes widen for a moment.

“Can I help you?” her voice was slightly raspy but he wanted to listen to it forever.

“Uh…yeah, she has an appointment for a belly button piercing and I have a session with Kyle,” he murmured.

She pushed some loose strands of her curly hair out of her eyes and collected some forms as Kyle walked up, “Hey man,” he fist bumped Coco, “Ready?”

~

She woke up slowly and stretched before looking at her phone. She sat up in a panic when she saw she was an hour late. She ran into the shower and quickly washed her body, her long hair tied up in a messy bun. She texted her boss that her alarm never went off and she would be there soon. She got dressed in a pair of black denim shorts and a shop shirt. She grabbed her boots, pulling them on while putting her phone and keys into her backpack. 

“Where you at?” Kyle asked over the phone as she drove.

“I woke up late,” she explained, “I’m on my way.”

Kyle started responding but she couldn’t hear over the loud scrape of metal and glass as she watched three cars collide in the intersection. She slammed on her breaks and swerved, avoiding a collision herself. Her ears rang and as the smoke settled, she heard Kyle calling her name.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” he asked.

“I’m good,” she murmured, “I avoided an accident but other people didn’t. Let me go make sure everyone is okay.”

~

Almost three hours later, she walked into the shop and dropped her bag under the reception desk. She took a deep breath as she sat down.

“You okay?” the owner asked from the waiting area, “I heard what happened. Do you wanna take the day?”

She smiled softly, “No, I’m okay. Just had to give statements and stuff. Then there was some traffic. Thank you, though.”

Today was not her day. She had been at work for an hour and already kicked out three teenagers with no parental consent and Kyle had to physically remove a man who yelled at her because his tattoo artist moved. She came back after a cigarette break and a phone call to her best friend.

“Thank you for that,” she looked up at him.

“No problem,” he smiled, “My next appointment should be here any minute, I’m just gonna go set up my station.”

She nodded and picked up the ringing shop phone, making an appointment. The bell above the door chimed and a young girl walked over to the jewelry as Valentina, the piercer, spoke to her. She watched with a smile before someone else approached her desk. She smiled and looked up to greet them when she realized it was Coco standing in front of her. She felt her heart shatter when her eyes met his.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Uh…yeah, she has an appointment for a belly button piercing and I have a session with Kyle,” he told her, seeming nervous.

Kyle came up and greeted him. Coco went in the back with the young girl, Letty. She came back out alone.

“My dad wanted to make sure it’s cool he pays all at once,” Letty told her, “For me and him.”

She nodded, “Absolutely fine. Do you feel okay?”

Letty smiled, “I’m fine, she was really great.”

 They were in the shop for a few hours. Coco’s leather was draped over his arm and his shirt was unbuttoned, a black bandage covering his side.

“Go wait by the car,” he told Letty quietly.

“Our lovely receptionist will book your next session,” Kyle grinned, “See you around, man.”

“Thanks,” Coco nodded.

Kyle walked off, “When do you wanna rebook for?” she asked him.

“Next month,” he watched her quietly.

She booked his appointment and he paid for his tattoo and Letty’s piercing. He signed the receipt, handing it back.

“Will you be here?” he asked.

She smiled, “I’m planning on it. You can see me sooner if you want.”

Coco grinned when she gave him his copy and her number was written across the top. Letty made fun of his cheesy smile the whole way home.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

93 for ❄️:

---

Eddie exhales. “Okay. I, uh… I trust you.”

And he does. For whatever reason. He does. 

ix.

A few days later, Eddie books the weekend of the Cardinals game off from work no issue. Bobby is practically giddy to send him off.

“This will be good for you, Eddie,” he says. “I’m really happy to hear you’re meeting, well, literally half way.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Eddie says, cheeks a little warm. There’s something about encouragement from Bobby that goes further for him than most people. He sees why Buck is sort of hooked on it. It’s easier to believe in yourself, when Bobby believes in you.

For a second, Eddie has the strange urge to tell Bobby everything. To come out to him. To tell him all about therapy and Charlie and that he really is doing better. He’s being better. He thinks Bobby would be proud of him. 

But he doesn’t say anything. 

His mouth simply doesn’t open when his brain tries to convey the thought. 

▪️▪️▪️

Buck is, of course, ecstatic for him. 

They chat about it while restocking the engine that afternoon. He’s tried texting Charlie about it, too. But he must already be traveling to see his brother, because he hasn’t replied yet. 

“Man, this is great,” Buck grins at him when Eddie explains the situation. “This is going to change things. I can feel it.”

“You can feel it, huh?” Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Buck insists. “He’s going to be surly at first, but then he’ll realizes how much he misses you, and he’ll go back to El Paso, and your mom will annoy him-”

“Wait, what?” Eddie asks. 

“You think you’re the only person on earth who finds her annoying?” Buck asks.

“Should you be insulting my mom?” Eddie asks, genuinely unsure.

“Yes,” Buck replies. “After what I witnessed in May? Yes.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie mutters.

“Anyway, your mom’ll get on his nerves, and he’ll be less angry, and he’ll remember, hey, Dad is never this uptight, and boom, you’ll be booking flights to go get him,” Buck says. 

Eddie smiles softly. “I think it’s a bit more complicated than that. But I appreciate your optimism.”

Buck shrugs. 

“Name one time in my life I’ve ever been wrong about…” Buck trails off, looking at a point beyond Eddie. His expression changes. “Uh, hello? Can we help you?”

Eddie looks over his shoulder to see a tall, familiar looking man walk into the station. He’s dressed in street clothing, bouncing car keys back and forth between his hands. It takes Eddie maybe three seconds to recognize him in person, rather than over Zoom. 

Charlie.

Charlie… 

Why is Charlie here?

“Charlie?” Eddie asks. 

Charlie stops short. “Eddie?” 

Buck looks between them. “You guys know each other?”

“Wh-why are you here?” Eddie asks. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell you where I worked.”

“You work… You work here.” Charlie’s face is pale. “This is… Oh, Jesus.”

“You’re not here for me,” Eddie realizes aloud. “You’re here for…”

His brother.

All at once, the dots connect in Eddie’s brain. Like tiny, individual puncture wounds. The brother who’s an addict. Dead sister-in-law. Dead niece and nephew. Both of them left their home state… Now, all Eddie can see is the identical hazel of their eyes. Oh fuck. 

“Eddie?” Buck asks.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie blurts. “I had no idea. Eddie, I had no idea.”

A fourth voice enters the conversation, a few paces away from Buck and Eddie. 

“Guys, what’s going… Charlie?” 

Bobby. 

---

I can't quite give you 99 for 🪞, because of reasons. Gonna wrap up the first chapter after this snippet. So here's something:

---

Another shrug.

Fair enough. How does a kid know how to screen a potential parent? Again. She’s just six.

“Well, how about this,” he suggests. “I’ll tell you a bit about me, and you can stop me and ask whatever you want? Or tell me anything about you?”

“Okay,” she says, then takes a sip of juice. 

“Alright, so,” Buck says, then trails off a little. This is harder than he thought. “Well, you know I’m a firefighter. And that’s kind of my favorite thing. But… Uh, I also like to cook. And be active.”

Why is he saying this like it’s a dating profile? 

“Uh, okay, and… I have an older sister. Maddie. I have a niece. My best friend, Eddie, he’s also one of the firefighters you met… He lives around the corner. He’s super fun.”

Dove looks a little overwhelmed with all the information. None of this means anything to her. At least not yet. 

Buck takes a deep breath and recalibrates. 

“Have you been to the zoo before, Dove?”

She shakes her head. 

“Well, I really like to go to the zoo. Maybe you and I can go together sometime?”

Dove considers this. 

“Okay,” she nods. “To see reptiles?”

Buck smiles. She really likes those reptiles, huh? 

“Absolutely,” he promises. “There’s a whole big building full of them.”

“Cool,” she says, a coy little smile on her face. Like she’s nervous about finally getting something she wants. 

“What’s your favorite reptile?” Buck asks. “Crocodiles?”

“And turtles,” she says. “And tortoises.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re super cool, too.”

“They take their houses with them,” she announces. 

“They do,” Buck nods. “That’s pretty neat.”

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Not a prompt exactly, but Fenrys filming drunk Lorcan being soft and silly with Elide and then showing him the next day

What Happens in Vegas... Part 2

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre - Answered Prompt

Elide and Lorcan wake up to find a video Fenrys took of their wedding ceremony.

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language

1658 words

*******

The first thing Elide noticed when she woke up was that her head felt like it was being crushed by a cement truck that was playing dubstep.

She groaned and then winced at the noise before turning to bury her face into the solid chest of the man lying next to her.

Lorcan wasn't any better. He felt like his head was going to explode if he moved too fast. But when he felt Elide press closer to him, he instinctively wrapped an arm around her, wincing, too, as the movement sent a wave of nausea through him. He used what little coherency he had to keep the stomach-churning feeling at bay.

They both slept restlessly for another hour before managing the harrowing act of sitting up. Well, Elide sat up. Lorcan tried to lift himself and deemed it too much work, so he threw his head back down into Elide’s lap, groaning as the movement made his head spin. She could hear a distant buzz that sounded like a phone notification.

Propped against the headboard, Elide took a steadying breath and slowly started to feel like herself again. She let one hand rest on Lorcan’s head while she ran her fingers through his hair and had the fleeting question of why she was wearing one of his earrings on her finger.

The buzzing kept coming and she saw her phone on the nightstand light up as message after message came in.

Wanting nothing more than a large cup of coffee, Elide grabbed her phone to see why she was being bombarded with messages. If the sound from across the room was any indication, Lorcan’s phone was also receiving dozens of texts. It made her pause a moment to wonder what the hell happened the night before.

The moment Elide opened the group chat, memories of the previous night flashed in her mind.

The casino. Drinking. Lorcan. A chapel. Elvis.

Oh gods. Elide looked down at the hand still in Lorcan’s hair and stared at the ring on her finger. Her pinky, not her ring finger, because it only fit on her pinky; she cringed as she remembered how Lorcan had removed his earring as an impromptu engagement ring.

Engagement ring.

Holy Hellas. Holy fucking Hellas. Engagement ring. Wedding. She and Lorcan had gotten married. In Vegas. By a fucking Elvis Impersonator.

She couldn’t stop the hysterical laugh that escaped her. This wasn’t a situation she ever thought she’d be in. She kept laughing even as Lorcan twisted his head and looked at her in bewilderment while groaning at the loud volume of it. She couldn’t help it.

Her laughter soon died as she realized she wasn’t freaking out. It was insane and impulsive and totally not like her to do that, yes—but it wasn’t bad. She wasn’t upset. When she thought about being married to Lorcan...her heart felt happy.

She smiled down at his face which had turned to press into her stomach as he wrapped an arm around her so he could use her to block out the light. The situation was unconventional, but so were they. And it made for one hell of a story

Elide went back to scrolling on her phone and tried to find the start of the messages from last night.

The first few were with Fenrys. It seemed she or Lorcan had called him to be the witness for their ceremony—why him and not someone else, she didn't know—and he responded immediately telling them not to say ‘I do’ before he could be there to record it.

And then he sent a video.

Elide shook Lorcan’s shoulder and waited until he grumbled something incoherent and turned his face towards her phone before pushing play.

The video was shaky but it clearly showed Elide and Lorcan standing in a chapel next to a man wearing an Elvis costume. Elide had Lorcan’s earring on his finger and Lorcan...Lorcan was wearing a veil pulled back over his hair. All the while Fenrys flipped the camera back and forth to show the couple and then his own excited face.

Lorcan’s arms tightened around Elide as he watched the video. He blinked once and sat up, rubbing a hand down his face, before looking pointedly down at her finger that still held his earring. When his eyes met hers again, they were worried. As if he was unsure what her reaction to all this would be.

“Did we…” He asked, brows furrowed,

“Yeah,” she nodded, glancing down at he finger again “we did.”

“We got married.”

“Uh-huh.”

“In Vegas, drunk off our asses, by Elvis?”

“Yup,” Elide answered with a ‘pop’ and finally let the grin that’d been aching to show itself, spread across her face.

Lorcan searched her face for any panic, but finding none, offered a small smile in return before resting his chin on her shoulder and gesturing for her to play the video.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Elvis said, monotonously.

The Lorcan in the video nodded vigorously and replied “Yes, Mr. Elvis, sir. I want to make this woman my wife. Elide, El, ‘Lide, you are the coolest, most badass lady I know. Way better than Gala-what’s-her-face and more beautiful than...than..”

“Fenrys?” Drunk Elide suggested, giggling as Fenrys protested and shook the camera.

“Yes,” Drunk Lorcan agreed, “you are so much more beautiful than Fenrys.”

And then Drunk Lorcan lifted his hand and booped Drunk Elide on the nose, sending her into another fit of giggles.

Sober Elide was trying her absolute hardest not to laugh at the recording because Sober Lorcan looked like he was going to throttle Fenrys for getting evidence of this on video.

“And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Elvis droned on.

Drunk Elide swayed as she laughed and then abruptly got herself back together before nodding. “I do. I do. Yeah, I take him to be Mr. Lochan. Mr. Lorcan Lochan,” Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan laughed while Sober Lorcan glowered and Fenrys hollered a cheer from behind the camera.

Drunk Elide kept talking. “Lorcan, I loooooove you,” she slurred the words, “I love that you’re a big ol’ grump to everyone but me, cause I’m adorable as fuck. And how when you hug me I feel like I’m wrapped up in the best blanket. And I really love your dic—”

Sober Elide snorted and Fenrys almost dropped the camera from laughing, effectively cutting off the rest of Drunk Elide’s vows.

“By the power vested in me, by Hunka Hunka Burning Love, I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may—”

Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan ignored the rest of what Elvis was saying, by pulling each other into a frenzied kiss. She had one leg hitched around his hips with his hands gripping her ass as her’s clawed at his back.

The camera suddenly flipped around to show Fenrys’ grinning face as he wiggled his eyebrows. “There you have it, folks. Mr. and Mrs. Lochan.” He grinned at something behind the screen, most likely Drunk Elide and Drunk Lorcan trying to stumble out of the chapel.

“Hey, man!” the sound of Drunk Lorcan’s voice echoed throughout the video as Fenrys narrated about him talking to a stranger passing by. “Have you met my wife?”

A moment passed and they could no longer hear Drunk Lorcan or Drunk Elide, but Fenrys kept grinning maniacally into the camera as he said “ Aelin, Rowan, you might have to give up the newlywed suite tonight!”

Then the video cut off.

Elide was quietly laughing as Lorcan groaned into her shoulder. He grumbled, “I am going to kill Fenrys. He sent that to everyone didn’t he?” And almost as an afterthought, he asked through clenched teeth, “Was I wearing a fucking veil?”

Elide couldn’t hold it in any longer and hunched over in a fit of laughter. “Lorcan, you make such a pretty bride.”

He growled and nipped at her shoulder. “Not funny.”

“Extremely funny.” She corrected and pulled the group chat back up. Sure enough, it was filled with responses.

“Rowan says 'Congrats, I hope you both have massive hangovers.'” She snorted at his next text, “'Aelin is pissed you ran off and got married without inviting her.'”

“Why did we invite Fenrys and not anyone else?” Elide asked.

“No fucking clue.”

She rolled her eyes before going back to the texts. “Aelin then writes 'I am so PISSED at you, Lochan, for not inviting me to your wedding! How can there be a ridiculous, Vegas wedding without ME involved....but congrats, I guess. I expect all the details once you and hubby sober up.'” Elide laughed, making a mental note to call Aelin after she has some coffee. “Then she sent a winky face and a bunch of eggplant and donut emojis.”

Lorcan grunted in acknowledgment.

“Aedion sends a thumbs up, and Lysandra writes 'My favorite part—besides Lorcan in a wedding veil, which will forever bring me joy—was when Elide talked about Lorcan’s dick.' And then more eggplant emojis.”

“Why are these people your friends?” Lorcan asked as he sat up again.

She laughed and caught the smirk on his face, “Don’t even try with that, Lochan,” she winked, “they’re your friends too.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted. “No, I am not going by Lorcan Lochan, no way.”

Elide laughed and got out of bed, finally noticing the piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. She picked it up and turned back towards him grinning.

“Lorcan Lochan, it has a certain ring to it.”

Lorcan just rolled his eyes but gave a small, resigned smile to his wife.

Wife.

Lorcan let a broad grin emerge as he thought about the diamond he had stashed in his sock drawer at home and realized that he’d get to replace the earring on Elide’s finger very soon.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @bisexual-genderfluid-loki @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @ladygabrielli1997 @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon